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Chapter 1

Sundering

Unfamiliar Skies

By Matthew Charles Engell (Barta)

"For such disorderly conduct, repeated drug use, and absenteeism we recommend drastic measures. Your son has one more strike before he is sent to a Caitan correctional Program."

It was my first day at a new school, on a new planet, in a new solar system, on the far side of the New Gaian Galaxy. I was a stranger, and I never felt more it my life. These kids were all born here, the first generation of a new colony on the outermost ring of United Races Federation space...and I was an outsider from the wealthy capital planet of Ibiss Seven. Their eyes followed me through every hall, and I could see them snickering at my clothes which were considered stylish by all means back home. Even worse, I'd found every class completely outdated or behind my current education level. Capria Eleven was a small tropical colony founded less than 20 years ago, and it was the farthest thing from my home and its vast sprawling cities as possible, which was exactly why my parents picked this personal hell.

About halfway through the day golden sunlight streamed in brilliant shafts through the nearby UV blinders, spilling about the classroom like liquid warmth, and providing hope in the fact that at least this was a tropical colony city. Whiskers twitched as my attention drifted idly, pulled away from the droning Geometrics of Symbology professor and his dull ways. The incessant ringing of a cicada assailed my ears and they laid back flush against my skull, my attention set upon the small piece of translucent glass that adorned my desk. A small likeness hovered there in three dimensions, my unknowing subject sat a few rows before me chewing idly upon his pen. My stylus slipped earning an audible groan of annoyance, and it took a few moments to realize silence had befallen the classroom.

My gaze slowly tracked back to its required target, to find him glaring at me, whilst tapping a foot upon the tiling in irritation. "Master Girion, have you something to share with the class? How about I pull up this rather impressive doodle featuring upon your holo-notes? I'm sure the class would like a display of your formidable art talents."

At that moment in time, I felt as if there was an icy grip wrapped about my throat, my breath squelched itself in a strangled mew as numb fingers grasped frantically for the nearby power cable. I caught a flicker out of the corner of my eye as fingers curled about the thick cable and yanked it free, how long had it been up there? A second? Two? Three?

The small dingy grey and white classroom suddenly felt more like a holding cell than anything else, and the few stifled chuckles that reached my ears stung like hot pokers. I didn't dare look up as I slumped back into my seat, arms folded atop my head and ears splayed...I could feel my tail slowly tucking beneath my seat as a heat fell upon my cheeks. "My world....is officially over...." I muttered to the darkness beneath my arms.

Class and life continued as per usual, and I found myself thankfully alone after a few moments of awkward silence...Which was made even more pointed by the sensation of glares cast in my general direction, or so I assumed...Though eventually I was able to untangle myself from my shame ridden seat and trudge towards the hallway and supposed freedom. Down a corridor or two,

hang a left, and it was the locker with the tail end of "BITCH" in bright neon slathered across it. I was H...

"You know, it's awful rude to go doodling somebody without their permission...." A voice said from behind me as I fiddled clumsily with the lock, my books slipping from underneath my arms a few times as I jumped and fidgeted in a momentary startle. The recognition and dawning was enough to make me suddenly stand straight as a board, slowly turning about to face the behemoth of a man casting an all too noticeable shadow over my form.

"I...I just....th...thought..." And it was at that point that I shrunk back, and my books found themselves spilling upon the floor as I frantically ducked down and set to mumbling. "Thought that..well...your attire is really nice...I mean, y'know? You look good, right?" My hands were doing their best to impede in my retreat, where I was going I didn't quite know but it was certainly not here. Though every time I managed to pick a book up, another found it's place upon the floor.

Eventually I gave up my frantic scramble to collect my belongings, took a deep breath, and managed to look up into those riveting amber orbs. I stood awe-struck, at a complete lost for words as silence fell between us.

Apparently, he was on the football team, which accounted for the well kept leather jacket that adorned his frame. He also had a bit of fashion sense and personality, throw out in the form of numerous piercings and a collar that read "BITE ME" something I'm sure would be a person's last breathing act. My gaze idly wandered away in the silence as it grew and grew, sending prickles up my spine, until it finally focused upon his boots. They were rather nice boots, dark leather with noticeable white cross stitching....Thick leather straps and buckles. "Nice boots...." I quipped almost absent-mindedly.

That earned an almost incredulous glare as I finally focused upon his eyes once again, though he seemed to soften when I offered a wry grin. "It wasn't that bad..." He blurted, almost as if it were an admission, the right side of his mouth upturning in an amused grin.

"Wh-" I started, but soon caught on to his train of thought, fishing my HoloGear from the depths of my satchel. "Oh, well....I've never really drawn Fenran before, not much chance back home. You've got nice features, strong muzzle, healthy pelt...never seen that color grey before, reminds me of ash..." After a moment I had to pause, realizing I was slowly looking him over and doting upon his every feature. The sharp ears, the stern eyes that held an almost melancholy mixture of compassion and commanding presence, the broad form and the lashing bushy tail that seemed to cleave the air. He cleared his throat and I could hear the leather creaking about his form, the muscles slithering underneath taught pelt.

"I could always send you a copy, I mean....It's the least I could do, after....stealing your image and all that..." The Fenran always had a thing about capturing their images, something about stealing their essence or their natural energy. In truth it made little sense, but then again those things usually didn't have to make sense, they just were. "You got a netaddress, handso-" And I caught myself in time, shuffling awkwardly back and averting my gaze as I cleared my throat. "Got a net address?"

"Just use the school one, everyone else does..." He rumbled, slowly pressing in to place a thick hand upon the C locker. That hand was nearly twice the size of my head, the sheer sight of it sent nervous shudders about my form as fur began to bristle, and nerves began to tingle. Nostrils

began to flare, hot bursts of air assailed my face and sent whiskers thrumming with annoyance as I turned away. After a moment of such he eased off, allowing my personal space once again. And I found that I could suddenly breathe once more. Fenran had a thing about personal space, in that they lacked any knowledge of it upon first meeting you.

"You're new around here, aren't you?" He practically barked, as he gave his head a shake and shifted his weight from leg to leg. A gesture that made me feel as if a pendulum of doom were hanging above my head.

"Y-yeah....f-family..." I swallowed, and took a deep breath. "Family just moved..." He gave me an incredulous look, as if I were to continue something accentuated by the slow spinning motion of his index finger. "From.....Ibiss Seven?" I added, slowly narrowing my gaze at the man.

"Huh.....So you're from the inner rings then, aye?" He then gave me the second dirtiest look I'd ever received in my life, and the first was from a women whom flea checked me when I was seven.

"Y-yeah, I guess so....not a problem is it?" I managed, slowly building my courage to actually face the brute, my chest puffing out, and a fair bit of hairball syndrome going on....looked like I'd just stepped out the showers and onto the dryer, no doubt.

"No reason to get all defensive on me kitty," He started, slowly easing his hands up and offering a quirked grin. "I was going to say...You're gunna need to learn to adapt to the life out here, y'aint gunna make any friends looking like you're traipsing around one of the Capitals." And at this he reached out and plucked one of my spaulders from my shoulders, tugging it firmly.

"Eh! That shirt's expensive!" I snapped, teeth gnashing as they churned out the words and an underlying snarl.

"Then maybe it'll remind ya to take em off before you go to the party tonight?" He retorted, before offering another of those self absorbed grins that made me want to punch him right in the spleen. He was already departing, turned about and on his way out when he called out behind him. "Emerald Point! 10 Central New Gaian Time! Don't be late!"

And thus I was left, a rather hot and bothered mess as I watched him saunter away with more than enough sway in his strut to put even the most debaucherous Caitan to shame, which was more than likely myself on this forsaken rock. "Fuck! I didn't even get his name!"

My first day at the Symbological Institute of Capria Eleven was eventful, if daunting enough to make me curl up around a shahara pipe for a week and blitz every last brain cell in one last act of defiance.

Chapter 2

An Empty Home

(Gareth)

Sundering

By Matthew Charles Engell (Barta)

"The United Races cast down the rulers of Earth Forsaken, and from the ashes rose peace and prosperity, for we were free and so alive. And with fusion came the light of a new dawn, the awakened sought New Gaia with the Vessels of the Stars, for their puppeters' strings had been cut..."

As I stepped off the small tramway dock the smell of spices assailed my nostrils, filling me with life and palpable culture. The din and bustle of my home district, Ai'Jahan si Caitan, soon floated upon the air and graced my ears as people jumped, zipped, and walked about the many alleyways and ground level shops. High above Caitan young and old danced about the suspended ropes, jumping gracefully from level to level, grabbing lanterns and fixtures to orient their descent. Vibrant tapestries hung from high on above, silks and satins, banners and honorable house emblems. Advertisements in our native languages buzzed across speakers upon every corner, and the neon lights flashed with every glance, leading the gaze astray.

"Crack your ID Holo Device!? Only 5 credit! All latest games and apps!" Called one small booth as I passed by, whilst another across the way shouted, "Fresh fish! Fresh fish!" And the smell of salmon whisked by and set my mouth awater. I offered them polite smiles and continued on my way, my gaze set high above...

Laiden down so with the many books my schooling and local consulate required, it took at least an hour or so of exploration before I located the elevator to my sky block. And a fifteen minute ride, cramped in with various ornery elders, before I finally reached my front door. It was a small cube, much like any other housing unit in the district of my people...Just enough to fit your standard one cub family.

"Mama? Baba? W? huíláile!" I call out to the dim darkness that is our abode, but recieve no answer except silence....The door quells the life and vibrance as it shuts behind me, sealing out atmosphere as the lights begin to flicker to life.

"Welcome Home, Master Gareth." Calls a sweet voice from on-high, a tooth filled grin soon materializing before me as the Holo Attendant boots up. "The Caprian Symbology Institute has requested that you review your history texts in preparation for tomorrows exam. Furthermore, you are to report for questioning and detention at twelve hundred standard time, to Matron Cecile."

"Ehhhh, and what are they going to do if I don't? Eh?" I quipped as I reached for the virtual intelligence's power button, to which it began replying, "One more infraction and you will be sent to correctional-" Before I cut it off with a grin. "Correctional Caitan Facilities...I know, dipshit..."

I discarded my absurd overabundance of textbooks on the nearest sofa, and set to stripping as I made my way towards the shower. I hated history, all those far fetched tales of planets lost and forgotten, of Earth Forsaken and the Cruel Corrupters. For some idiotic reason that eludes me, and I

believe always will, The United Races deems it necessary though to make these classes and textbooks mandatory. Which means an extra few pounds for any young Caitan to lug around, steeped in our ways of long protecting the physical manuscript. Most races don't bother with physical copies, convenience trumps instinct and culture, especially on a newly established planet like Caprian Eleven.

As the steam began to billow and build I stood infront of the bathroom mirror, small mounds of clothing piled at either side as I slowly placed my hands all about my form....Thin, lanky, just a bundle of twigs with a few strings of meat attached. I wasn't exactly the catch of the day. There were deep bags underneath those slitted emerald eyes and I felt about twice as old as I looked....maybe I looked it to others in that case. There were a few locks of silver in the front of my mane, which had once been a deep and beautiful violet and my pelt was now haggard and roughed. A rather load sigh that grew into a groan fell from my maw, and I slid the shower door open and slipped in.

Showers are weird, in that they seem to unlock your deepest thoughts without any effort at all...you just let it all fall away, like the waters strip all the bullshit layers off and just leave you raw. And this shower was the same as any, and left me pondering what the large boy from earlier today had thought of me. I knew quite certainly what I'd thought of him, and as my hands slipped lower to lather...It was apparent my body was aware of those thoughts as well.

An hour later I'd gone through nearly all my things twice, no....three times; And there wasn't anything I'd have worn on the capital of Ibiss Seven that was even moderately acceptable here. I felt out of my element, I had since the day I'd come here....Thrust into a cohort that didn't want me, nor probably even understood me....I was still having trouble with the local dialects. "Maybe I just shouldn't go; I didn't even get his name..."

Eventually I found myself in the kitchen, in nothing but silken leggings, traditional stark white with loose and billowing bottoms. There was a large garbage bag full of spats, courtroom clothing, and all the other useless things I'd tracked through the stars and space from one planet to another. A discarded pen sat beside the family notepad, a message scratched down to excuse myself and remind my parents I needed to go shopping for more clothing, I used the excuse that I'd grown too much for my current digs. That's a straight out lie, I've not grown since I started Symbological Academy, since my first implant surgery. In fact, I'm one of the shortest people in my age group.

As I stepped past the threshold and out into the night air a pleased groan left my lips, my pelt shuddered and muscles writhed and twitched underneath. The fresh and crisp night air flooded my nostrils as hairs stood on end, the world was so alive around me. No more dank and cramped apartment, with it's soft darkness and luminescent lights, suited for one so weary and old, for eyes not used to the light of day.

I set off at breakneck pace, my body suddenly so alive as I launched myself upon the nearest bridge and vaulted over the edge. The world rushed past with so much wind and I was descending with glee before my hand caught one of the lantern lines. Swinging about I managed to guide my fall gracefully and with agile I see the levels whip past me, faster and faster. I land in an augmented roll, instincutally forming a small pocket of air to ease my impact...symbological implant thrumming to life within my grey matter. If there is one thing I enjoy, it is this sensation of flight and landing. The bus is only a few blocks away, I should be there on time.

Chapter 3

A Family Torn

(Blaine)

Sundering

By Matthew Courtney/Engell (Barta)

"WELL MAYBE IF YOU AND YOUR SLUTTY-" "DON'T CALL THEM SLUTS YOU PIGHEADED DRUNKEN BASTARD!" SLAM CRASH "DON'T TOUCH ME!" "BITCH, I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S PIG HEADED!"

......

"I hate it when they fight....."

The door creaks as I step out into the alley, I can still hear their screaming and hollering behind me....There's a fine mist in the air of the Fenran District, and tonight is just like any other....There's hollering echoing from the windows, and the sounds of fighting down ricochets and reverberates down the alleyway. She screams bloody murder, and my blood curdles as the hackles upon the nape of my neck rise to attention. My nostrils flare, and my ears begin to slowly pull back against my skull, I can feel the tension building in my arms. My pelt creaks, or perhaps that's the leather of my gloves as they pull into tight fists, protesting against the strain. A cold wind bites through my bones and soars through the alleyway in a deathly moan, howling and droning it pushes at me....but I do not budge. She screams again, this time I can tell....she is in pain.

The door bursts open to announce my arrival, it hangs limply upon the hinges as I stand livid in the threshold of our dingy kitchen....She lay battered and bruised upon the floor, her maw is torn and rivulets of crimson flow upon the floor....Her breathing is haggard, rattling in her chest, she's not moving very much....He's standing above her, the triumphant loser, a bottle once again in his hands. It takes him a moment to realize I'm standing in the doorway.

"Blaine, She-" My arm finds his muzzle, a sickening crack fills the air as blow whips his head to the side and sends hims stumbling back violently, he crashes into the cupboards and loses his balance. "DON'T TOUCH HER!" I advance as he regains his footing, and raises his fists in defence, such a drunken fool my father is. The sudden burst of life flows through me, adrenaline shot along veins, summoned by wires and silicon lodged in my head....I burst, erupt, and lunge forward in a vicious movement, an obvious and easily dodge blow....The haymaker cracks upon the side of his head, an almost dazed and confused look spawns upon his eyes as he crumples to meet the ground. In the far distance I hear the sirens, I check her pulse....Alive....Good...I call on the family Holophone to report the incident, they know me by first name. Tonight, Cherry is working.....She understands my situation, and she'll try to convince my mother to stay in a woman's shelter. My mother will fight it, and say that he'll change, that he loves her, that's she's just not good enough for him and deserved it, or that she'll never find love again. I give my barely lucid mother a kiss upon the brow. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit Dad..." The words come strangled and forced, and there is a wetness upon my eyes.

As I once again step over the threshold and the splinters of my door, the suffering and pain

of my kind echo through me. I feel their collective sorrow, broadcast unconsciously into the air, into the realm where Greatmother Gaia resides....The Gaia of this planet rejects us still, we are outsiders, strangers, and she does not heed our call. Our children rage and writhe with bodies wracked in pain, they scream for answers and community. But without Greatmother Gaia we cannot form and lean upon what we need, so we resort to the things which heal wounds of the spirit and soul. Alcohol, drugs, violence, and sex...It runs rampant through our veins, and we run like rabid dogs in the streets.

I pass an alleyway, and the corner of my eye catches a female pinned by many males. Her skirt up above her backside, their flesh pressed deep into hers, whilst she claws at the brick wall her face is smashed against. Her tears and blood are the graffiti for these walls, like many others I feel her pain, and I feel her assailants hunger.

I pass by a man upon the streets; his breathing is shallow much like my mothers. There is little fur left upon his arm, the skin has turn to rot and fester with the many puncture holes upon the underside. He looks at me, as if expecting my pity and change. There is still a needle within his arm, and my pity comes in the form of ignorance. You have chosen this path, weak willed child.

The wind blows through me, and I shudder...Rain trickles down my fur, and drags away the sting in my eyes, however the hollow ache remains inside. "ARRRGGGGHHHHH!" A noise, a loud, bellowing, ear-splittening and deafening noise erupts and spills from my maw without control, and the puddle below begins to fill with red. I slowly remove my hand from the nearby bus shelter window; there is glass in my hand. A whimper of weakness escapes my parted lips, and I silence it with steeled resolve....My broken bus stop is as useful as my broken family, and it's all thanks to me. "I ruined their lives, I wish I was never born....." I hear the hum of the hoverbus approaching, and wipe away the sting from my eyes.

Chapter 4

Crossroads (Blaine)

Sundering By Matthew Courtney (Barta)

"You didn't have to reach out like that....."

The glass was cold against my forehead, which was pounding of it's own right...Every light that passed and every sound that managed to drift by my ears earned a low snarl and quiverring of the jowls. The hoverbus came to a slow halt and the female voice rang out pleasantly through the air, "Caitan District" and from that cesspool spilled noise and light, smell and frustration. I tucked my head low between my knees, fingers wrapped about my skull and squeezing with fierce anger, and the bus slowly began to accelerate.

A light thud pushed it's way though the seat my scalp was flush against, and I could feel the seated body slowly turn about until cool bursts of breath graced the nape of my neck. "Fancy seeing you here, han-" The voice cut itself off, coughing as the weight shuffled about once again. It was a familiar voice, but I couldn't quite place it.

A finger soon assaulted my unresponsive form, and I left forth a rumbling snarl of obstinance and frustration, head-butting the seat before me angrily. And from it trickled an almost amused laughter, and an odd scraping sound. My tail set to whipping and lashing against the leather seat, and I spared a momentary upwards glance at the blinding light as my eyes began to readjust, "I've got a killer headache." To which the voice replied by brushing my cheek gently, "You've also got some rain drops on your cheeks, must be pretty bad down there in the Fenran District huh?"

His hand lingered there for a moment, and a finger strayed to stroke just behind my jaw before it slipped away in a fleeting caress. For a moment, I smiled and my tail gave an embarassing drumming upon the seat, but I soon regained my wits and cleared my throat as he came into focus. "You didn't have to reach out like that, it was..." I started but he promptly cut me off with another of those almost amused grins.

"You didn't have to invite me to the bonfire, but you did...Maybe I wanted to reach out?" It was then that he became quite distinguishable, and the face resolved itself to reveal a grin that was far less timid and shy than before. "You're pretty torn up, a few scrapes on your right hand and a nasty headache.....You know...I could help you?"

"No thanks, I don't really need anyone's help right now." And with that I stood to make my way to the back of the shuttle, though even then I was pursued. He stood in the middle of the seats, arms folded across his chest and hips canted ever so slightly.

"Hey, I'm actually not that bad at restorative symbology...Let me take a look will ya?" And I turned my attention away to face the window and passing scenery. "You're pretty stubborn, but I guess that's what they say about the big ones." And soon his hands were upon mine, and though I tried to pull away his grip was quite firm, and even moreso his claws were poised upon my flesh, just indenting and waiting to puncture. "It's a few deep cuts, if you hold still it won't be much of an issue. Just....let me get the glass out alright?"

And that's when I started forcefully pulling away, "No, no, no, no!" Yet those claws sunk into flesh and earned a surprised yelp, which he traded with a sharp grin. "Five...Two-One!" The glass tinked across the floor, there was a sudden flash of blue, and a rough crack, and he was laying in a heap upon the floor. My fist was quite firmly planted in the leather where he'd been seated next to me.

"HEY! HEY! ARE YOU CAUSING TROUBLE BACK THERE FENRAN!?" Came a bellow from the front, and the bus began to decelerate rapidly, whilst groans trickled from the direction of the floor.

I opened my mouth to speak, but out of the corner of my eye caught something shooting into the air. It was his tail, straight as a board and almost as tall as I, slowly rising as he did an odd sort of push up and then pushed himself to his feet.

"No! No! Everything's okay!" He shouted, yawing his jaw and rubbing at it painfully, all whilst shooting me the most arrogant of grins. "Just a bit of foolishness! Nothing to be alarmed over!"

And he then thunked casually down in the seat with me once again, beaming a toothy grin. "So, I'm Gareth. And you, Mr.BigBadPunchyFenran?"

"I'm Blaine, and I'm sorry about the uhhhhh...." I gave a slight gesture to the growing welt upon his jaw, no doubt seriously bruised and aching.

He simply shrugged and reached for my face, thumbs planting upon each temple. "Just don't do it again, alright? Or you might find yourself with an even worse headache." With that the strange blue-green aetheric glow of Symbology began to flow from his eyes and about his digits, trickling and spiraling around in waves of energy.

After a few moments...I didn't even realize that my headache had receded....or that my hand had seemingly stitched itself together. And Gareth was simply massaging my temples with a slightly amused expression upon his features. "Uhhh...."

"You ended up closing your eyes, sort've drifted off for a few stops actually...Looks like you studied hard, or well...whatever you've been up to, yeah?" He'd let his grip fall away, though trailed his touch along my fur once again, fingers in a falling caress. "I'm sure our stop is next, you got all your things?"

I simply nodded in a dumbfounded stupor, cracking what I realized could have been the most idiotic grin, spread jaw hinge to jaw hinge.

Soon the pleasant voice rang out once again, "Last Stop - Emerald Point! Emerald Point!" And I followed him off, still quite intrigued by that unusually long tail and watching it twist and quirk as he sauntered his way out into the night.

Chapter 5 Awkwardly Exposed (Claire)

Sundering

By Matthew Courtney

"Why do I even bother reaching out?"

He wasn't there this evening, the rather handsome Fenran that they all seemed to dote and gover about...circling him like babbling and gossiping satellites of popularity. Rather they stood here and there, like clusters of shrubs in huddled groups...whispering and casting glances this way and that....And every once in awhile they fell upon her, and she felt so naked.

She was never popular, and most definitely not attractive in the eyes of her peers. Her kind were so few within the United Races that they weren't even merited a district per Capitol, forced to live in bitter hatred with the Caitan. Mauzan were considered less than third class citizens, born into filth and disgusting habits, and hardly worth the time of their larger and more impressive brethren. Her arms were spindly, her hands bore only three fingers, and she was at least a third the height of her average classmate. Their emerald, green, amber, and marigold eyes would flicker and glare with disdain in her direction, before their swarm burst into a fit of giggles and snorts.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a small squeak was all that could be forced from her mouth as she met the gave of one of the larger males, a Braunt. She knew him only be sight, a large brute that towered over even all his other peers....A thick brown mane and pelt that glinted and shimmered in the firelight, accented by stark white bone that protruded not only from each arm like but from the sides of his skull. His hooven feet, clad in what could only be described as an armored boot gave a slight stamp against the ground, whilst his brow furrowed. It was enough to set her stumbling backwards down the dark and overgrown paths, not daring to look back.

She found herself standing by the true namesake of Emerald Point, which wasn't so called for the small body of water that sat in the basin below, lit by jade bioluminscent algae. Rather it was for the great monolith of a spire that pierced the sky most violently, thrust defiantly into the clouds it could be seen even from the highest perches upon the Avani Roost District. A great stone and metal construct, laiden with strange and foreign symbols and crytals. It gave off a constant hum, and a soft etheric light that seemed to warm the atmosphere and calm the nerves. Serene and tranquil, much like the basin down below.

"Heh, didn't expect to find you down here....whore..." Came the voice from behind her as the hairs upon the nape of her neck begun to stand on end. That's what they called her, after that night those images were spewed like so much poison across the local network. Whore, slut, skank, and the list went on and on....One wrong click with the wrong guy, and she was that girl who put out. The girl with no self respect, no decency. It made something inside her scream injustice.

Her fists clenched and she turned about in spot, livid, rope-like tail lashing and cutting at the air. There were far more than she'd expected, at least three of the Lyain, a Caitan offshoot, stood across from her idly preening their manes and glaring. How a male could spend so much time twisting his fingers in golden locks was beyond her. "Huh, last I checked you and your little friends here were ten times the man-whores I could ever even manage to be. Oh, and I mean....little." Her gaze slipped down below their belts, a wickedly devious grin slithering across those petite features.

"Lookie-here boys, looks like this little Mauze needs to be taught her place, don't you say?" He gave the most vile of chortles, shooting both his little cohorts a wry grin as he began to advance, a low bass filled rumbling in his chest, tail idly swaying and cutting at the air. There was an almost predatory stalk to his gait, each step coming faster as he began to ball his fist.

She had very little choice as she was backed down, and before she could even call upon the most basic symbological defense he was upon her...he lunged and struck out with such speed that it barely registered to her gaze. Dashed violently back against the gigantic stone structure, she felt the breath burst from her lungs and escape her as she began to choke violently.

"Looks like somebody's all squeak and no bite, what's wrong little slut....Cat got your tongue?" She felt his hand wrap slowly about her neck as she gasped and choked for air, grip constricting at a creeping pace until she began to spasm and claw at his arm weakly. This only earned a few more chuckles of amusement, and soon she felt the strength draining from her arms as her vision blurred.

Lack of oxygen made the moments seem to drag as a fist balled about her tiny shift and ripped it asunder, exposing her to the cool night air. She weakly tried to cover herself, but he brushed her frail oxygen starved arm away effortlessly and set that thick paw to work....Slowly trailing up her thigh to rest inches away, she felt so numb, her gaze slowly fading into the distance. "It's over....and all because....Why? I never did anything? I just wanted to be loved....was that so much..." A burning built in her eyes, and it trickled like unseen raindrops upon her cheeks.

It happened with very little warning, as the world faded she could barely make out the sudden rumbling, the quaking and the .... she gasped as the ground rushed to meet her suddenly, and air seeped into her lungs like a sweet embrace. Disoriented she could barely make out the forms that swarmed about her, soft gentle cloth like the kiss of a moth brushed across her face, and the dust stirred up all about her. There were thick crunches and heavy stomps, snarls and guttural grunts, yowls of terror and howls of triumph and rage.

As the commotion began to abate a hand thrust itself through the dust and dirt, thick and dark it was a mottled brown with sickening white claws. From the forearm extended a great bone protrusion, sharpened like a blade and freshly bloodied. "Can you stand?" Rumbled a deep bass filled voice, so thick and mighty the sheer force carried with the words reverberated through her to the core. For a moment she simply stared in disbelief, before laying her petite hand within his, and he lifted her to stand and draped a thick leather jacket about her form.

Three figures stood about her, and as the dust resolved she could discern a Caitan, a Fenran, and the Braunt from earlier. "We should get out of here, they'll come about sooner rather than later." Said the Braunt, a thick armored bood nudging a prone figure upon the ground.

"Uhhhhh.....Blaine, Thamos! T-the...the tower!" The Caitan was tugging frantically upon the Fenran's jacket, a finger extended to point behind her.

And the Fenran turned a most morose and dour expression upon the Caitan. "I know...."

Copyright © Matthew Courtney/Barta All characters and the world within © Matthew Courtney/Barta