Prologue-Southwater University
#1 of The Mask
The first thing you noticed about Darren was the mask. His other clothes were just the same as everyone else. He walked just like the rest of them---laughed, cried, even screamed like the rest of them. The only thing that made him any different was that mask. Many tried to guess why he wore it; to hide some disfiguring scar, or maybe to hide an embarrassing cowlick in his fur. The speculations only became more ridiculous from there. The fact was, nobody really knew why he wore the mask, only that he'd worn it since anyone could remember, and that no one had seen him without it.
Darren attended Southwater University. It was a podunk school in the middle of Black Marsh county; a seemingly insignificant plot of land in the lower east end of the western territory. Few people lived in the area, and even fewer could afford---or even get admitted to---an establishment of higher learning, so it was rather astounding that it was one of the highest ranked schools in the country, and therefore one of the most exclusive.
Southwater University existed primarily due to the contribution of one major donator. An elderly gentlefur by the name of Colonel Fulton, an eccentric gray raccoon, had passed on after a particularly rowdy night in his estate where many an exotic blend of alcohol were known to disappear. In his shortsightedness he had not yet written a will, and as such, the entirety of his estate---built mostly on his investment in the automobile when it had first been presented to him---was left to his closest living relative; a scholarly youngster out east who believed in the furthering of education in all areas of the world. Thus, Joseph Southwater returned to the town that his uncle, the Colonel, had told him never to come back to almost twenty years ago, and established Southwater University.
Darren lived with the furthest descendant of the Southwater line, the current dean of the University, a Mr. Randall Southwater and his wife, a rather quaint mouse named Sarah. As such, Darren was one of the few young furs in the town who had received any kind of proper education, and with his bright nature, he had no problem getting admitted to Southwater University without any "aid" from his father.
The only real problem people saw with the situation was that Darren was very obviously a canine---most likely a husky to be precise. His curled tail protruding from his rear and dark-furred patterns up his arms and legs remained in deep contrast to the soft gray fur of his father, with his large, bushy tail, and the thin, whip-like tail of his mother, and her short white fur. Not only could mice and raccoons not bear children together, but it was more than obvious that Darren was not theirs by the fact that he had merely showed up one day. Everyone in town wondered and gossiped about the controversial arrangement of Darren as the Southwater's son when he appeared eight years ago, but no one bothered to ask because questions weren't appreciated in that sort of town, and so it remained that Darren was just an oddball child growing up in Black Marsh county with the rest of the children; playing like them, running like them, and wearing that mask.
But that's not important. It's not the where or the why that's important. Not even the what, because even though all great things begin as what's, the truly memorable part of any story is the who; and our story has as much to do with Darren as it does with another young canine by the name of Samuel Fuller, a slim-built wolf who lived on campus at Southwater and studied in the prodigious English program.
He had grown up in the Northwestern Territory, just North of Messa a few miles, and his parents were fairly well off. When he came out to them at the age of fifteen they told him that they would love him no matter what, but that absolutely nothing of a queer nature was to occur under their roof; this included the banishing of his boyfriend-at-the-time Troy from the premises. Full of youthful vigor and a refined taste for hopeless romance, he found a job, and emancipated himself at the age of sixteen. With a place to live, and someone to come home to at night, he thought his life was perfect, but three months later, Troy decided that he wasn't ready for the kind of relationship Sam wanted, and disappeared from the face of the earth with not so much as a forwarding address.
Sam entered into a severe depression and quickly accrued an astounding amount of debt and dues, and in the end had to move back in with his parents---who were much more supportive than he could have possibly hoped for. He dropped out of his junior year of high school a month before it was over, unwilling as he was to attend. After four months, some intensive therapy, and frequent visits from concerned friends, he eventually got back on his paws, but a certain liveliness was missing from his step, and his ears always drooped just a hair. He eventually decided that he wanted to pursue his old dream of becoming a writer, and returned to school, focusing single-mindedly on his studies and graduating with honors and a way-above-average GPA. He still wasn't satisfied though, and thus decided that he wanted to go on to higher education. In an attempt to remove himself from the petty distractions of the city, he chose a small school down south, applied, and was admitted with a dean's scholarship into their English program, and because of his emancipation and his complete concentration on school above everything else, his average yearly income was determined by the amount of change he found on the floor, and his financial aid added up to a full-ride.
And so he headed off to Southwater University in order to start over again and earn a degree which in all practicality he knew would be rather useless, but at least his life had a meaning again---and so he went.
On a side note, he was fairly average young fur; nothing of severe consequence to mention. He had slender limbs and slight curves rounding off his stomach. His fur was silver-gray all along his back and sides, and discolored blonde hairs---a birth defect--- gave the appearance of golden shimmers in the dusk of night. A patch of white formed a blurred diamond down his neck, and ripples of white showed down his arm, and---no, no, no, I'm wandering again. This doesn't tell you who he -is-, and -that- is what is important.
Perhaps the best thing would be to simply start out on the story, rather than trying to explain everything. I'm getting on, and I can't say things as I used to, but then again, perhaps there are some things that just can't be said, and -have- to be told.
Our true story begins at the end of Freshman Orientation Week at Southwater University. The trees were just beginning to show the edges of fall on their leaves, and even the humid southern heat was dampening for what was sure to be a rather subdued "winter". The dorms were buzzing with excitement and talk of parties and booze, and the staff hurried about from one space to another, trying to explain as they went the workings of the university to the over-excited youths who had come from all across the country to pursue their dreams, experience the world, and learn their craft.
It was the 21st day of the seventh cycle of the year, somewhere between the hours of 8 and 8:30 in the afternoon. It was cool, humid, and raining buckets. The freshmen were allowed to retreat back to their dorms early because an untimely power outage in University hall had forced them to cut the safety demonstration short, and only three furs seemed un-phased by the fact that they were all soaked to the bone while others ran around them in both directions holding umbrellas, or binders above their heads to shield off the offending moisture. Let me tell you, no matter how many times you're exposed to it, you will -never- get used to the smell of a rain-wet dog.
Those three furs, nor the single fur heading the opposite direction just around the next corner had any idea how much one encounter could change a life. But they were about to find out, and it wasn't going to be pretty.