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'Tell me Red Queen, have you ever stopped a whole room by yourself?' the words repeated in Alice's mind, offending her more and more each time. "Are you kidding me?" she growled as she reached for one of her blades, her body tensing up as she could feel the presence of her foes, "I do this shit for a living."

The feline chuckled, "I know the feeling..." He remained on guard as footsteps seemed to close in all around them, giving Alice one last look as he added "Best of luck then." He dropped from his stool just in time as several men rushed her, the Bicorn able to cleave a few away before the entire bar had swarmed upon her.

"Slay the Red Queen!" she could hear them yelling as they surrounded her, the location she was in becoming her foes' best weapon.

"Hey cat!" Alice called for the feline as she felt daggers and small swords pierce her flesh, the Oxilyte from earlier sipping the drink that was intended for Alice, "I was wr-wrong... I could probably finish these bastards off with a partner though!"

"Maybe you could," the feline laughed, setting down his freshly emptied glass as the sound of metal cocked in his paws, "I'm afraid as a partner I come at a price though."

Alice's eyes began to shine with her anger as another dagger pierced her neck, "Name it!"

"Five thousand" the feline said plainly as he got the odd drink that would fall from the counter, taking a quick swig.

"Five tho-no, that's bullshit!" Alice growled, quickly wincing as another dagger was pierced into her leg, "C'mon be reasonable."

"You're the Red Queen," the feline embellished the title, "Five thousand is reasonable."

"One thousand!" she counteroffered.

"Three."

"Two."

"Two, my tab at the next inn and your company to Mezeriah," he looked at her with a stern expression, the Bicorn getting her first full view of the Grawn's face, proud and strong in appearance like a wild mountain lion, "That is my final offer."

Several thoughts filled Alice's head as she thought over the deal, wondering why he needed her as an escort to his next destination, "Deal, but I need to make a stop on the way."

"Where?"

"Nitheram!" she gasped as she was cut again, a good five blades hooked into her.

The Grawn thought for a moment, dropping his cloak as he muttered, "Fine, deal." The tall feline was quite something to look at, his arms and legs well-toned and his stance seeming to hold its own sort of power. He wore his chestnut hair in a long ponytail tied together with a band of dark oak, and his eyes were a vibrant green like a wild weed that stemmed towards the sun. He wore two silver gauntlets that seem adorned with various symbols, the Grawn squeezing his paws tightly as he punched the knuckles of both against each other. The symbols shined suddenly, an almost blinding white that soon radiated over the rest of their mass. "Alright, I think the lady's had enough," he said as he stood tall, his fists glowing ominously white, "Why don't you all just politely step back to your tables now."

There was silence at first as the crowd looked in awe at the powerful feline, but soon trickles of snickering began to fill the room, verging into an outright round of laughter. The closest patron stepped towards him, sword in hand, the Weasel spitting out cocky words, "You think a couplea shiny gloves are gonna make us turn the other way?"

The Grawn took one look at the Weasel and pushed his paw forward, the right gauntlet's light shooting out and sending the cocky patron flying to the opposite wall, "Looks like it." He looked over the rest of the room as they seemed immediately more wary, stepping towards Alice, "Anyone else wanna help me dust these off?" Two Lizans stared him down, soon joined by a few more Weasels and a rugged looking Rat. They verged on him as they each brandished a different weapon, seemingly ignoring Alice as they dealt with the Grawn. One of the Lizans was first to strike and he was thrown away with another blast of light. The rest rushed the Grawn in a flood of bodies, trying to swarm him before he could react. He was however very swift and managed to avoid any real strike.

He punched a Weasel's leg and the Rat's arm, swiftly grabbing them as they dropped their swords. He flung them to two different tables, leaving them unconscious in a pile of shattered wood. The second Lizan and the remaining Weasels attacked haphazardly, the Grawn kicking and punching at their extremities. The Lizan let out a pained cough as the fast fighter landed a heavy blow to his gut, dropping breathlessly as the Grawn sent another two Weasels spinning down the aisle. The crowd at the back of the bar quickly rose to their feet, half fleeing out the door as the other half verged onto the fight. Alice rose suddenly before they could reach her new found friend, pulling her sword from its sheets and rubbing it over her wounds. "Back, all of you!" She threatened with quite a strong tone, the gathering mob stepping back as they watched the sword glow bright red.

"The Red Queen brings the curse of the Valcoul!" An angry Rat growled in disgust, the rest of the crowd muttering similar disparities. It didn't not take long until the mob had started a chant, each repeating one word in threatening fashion. "Abomination!" It was loud and clear, and grew louder each passing second. Fury was easily seen in the Bicorn's eyes as she stepped towards her victims, her dark form standing proudly as she began to pull each blade from her body. She raised her glowing blade high in the air, ready to strike, her whole arm suddenly tensing up as paw shaped metal gripped it.

"Red Queen... We should leave." The voice belonged to Grawn, looking up at the taller Bicorn with softness in his eyes.

Alice grit her teeth as she kept her blade lowered, stepping forward with her companion towards the door, the crowd parting in the middle to make a pathway for Alice's fearful form. "This man has afforded you mercy today!" She looked over each member of the cowering crowd in disgust, "I suggest you spend the rest of your evening praying to the gods, you owe them a debt of gratitude." She payed no further attention to the crowd as she left the tavern, taking a moment to tend to her wounds before she departed for Nitheram with the Grawn she was indebted to.

...

"Again." Alandria's voice was calm but affirmative as she watched her pupil study, the young Wolfen continually smacking the heavy branch he held against an old withered stump. It almost looked like a third of a tree, the crumbling bark tattered and gray. The branch he held was the last living thing from that tree and he was told to strike at the stump's core while focusing on the idea of fire.

"This isn't working!" he grumbled in frustration, his shoulders slumping as they grew tired from holding the heavy branch.

"As I have told you countless times dear sister," Toralwenn spoke to Alandria with irritated wisdom, "No Wolfen has ever been born inclined to the ways of sorcery, and being born a Bloodmage does not grant such privilege."

"It is his first session of training brother, it can take many for even the most skilled of us to learn our first spell."

Toralwenn watched as Devan returned to smacking at the stump, thud after thud in vain as he worked up a sweat, his teeth gritting with impatience before he tossed the branch to his side, "This is stupid!"

"Lo'Bek!" Alandria growled to the boy, the pup's ears cowering as he curled up in regret to the disappointing tone of his new name, "That is disrespectful!"

"To'Bek, please forgive me, I lost control."

Alandria smirked with understanding, but her brother scoffed stepping away, "I do respect young Devan, but as I said, Wolfen's are not a magical race, too hot blooded."

Alandria scowled at her brother but pat her student on the shoulder, the young Wolfen picking up his branch and following her out of the dimly lit training room, "Perhaps that is enough for today, we shall return to your training tomorrow."

"Yes To'Bek," Devan said with a gentle smile, "I can't thank you enough for this honour."

The Jackalope smiled as she rubbed the boy's aching shoulder, leading him towards his new home, "Don't thank me yet, there is still many trials you are to face."

...

Devan followed Alandria along the dirt pathway that crept along the side of the central pond of Nitheram, its pretty stream illuminated by lily pads that had been shaped into small lanterns, each housing fireflies that seemed drawn to them. "Pheromones" Alandria had filled him in on their secret as his eyes seemed glued to the sight of them, silent wonder filling his gaze every step of the way. When he finally happened upon her home his eyes lit up and a toothy grin filled out his muzzle. It was magnificent from top to bottom, the frame of the small house carved out of the wood of a tree that was growing into the wall of solid rock that seemed to line most of the surrounding border of the village.

It was the same stone wall that met the waterfall at Nitheram's edge, which poured into the pond and various streams that filled the entire village. Alandria's home was right on the edge of the pond and she owned a small rowboat that was tied to smaller tree by her home. The home itself was simple in design and covered with various roots that held a peculiar flower amongst them. As the sun disappeared along the street side, the closed petals began to open wide, an illuminating light filling the entire front of her home in bright light. He opened his muzzle as if to inquire, but the Jackalope had already stepped inside, the Wolfen chasing after her with excitement.

The inside of the house was every bit as exciting, the vines from outside sprawled inside the house, around each wall, filling the house with their warming glow. "To'Bek..." Devan began but stopped, seeing all the other magical trinkets around the home, scrolls piling everywhere and maps covering the walls.

"I know it's a mess," Alandria said, scratching her head as she felt a tad awkward, "I've been meaning to clean, but with my journey South and the material I had to gather, it's been such a busy time, and-"

"It's wonderful!" Devan nearly shouted as he looked over the wonderful home, still in amazement, "I've never seen anything like it!"

"Well shucks," she giggled as she pat him on the back, "It's your home now."

"I hope I'm not intruding." Devan got fiercely quiet as he had reminded himself just how much he was imposing on her.

She put both her paws on his shoulders and gave him the warmest smile she could, "You're not intruding Lo'Bek, this is your home now." Devan was almost in tears as he smiled back, clutching her into a tight hug as he felt like he had been given a second chance for a family.

...

Rain had reached Alice and her companion at full force upon sundown, making visibility for their travels nearly impossible. The pair had stepped off the roadway to a nearby thicket of woods, and set up camp. The two had enough supplies to share a rather roomy shelter, and once it had dried enough, were able to build a fire under the shelter of their small canopy. "So... Nitheram?" the Grawn asked with curiosity, "Forgive me, but I must have not heard of the recent truce between the Bicorns and the Jackalopes."

Alice was munching away at a slab of meat she had torn from a wild rabbit, the feral creature slain with quick dignity for her supper, "That's because there was none."

"Curious," the Grawn spoke as he stirred the boiling herbs in his pot, keeping it placed carefully over the bright flames of their fire, "If you needed my help to conquer a tavern of hoodlums, what makes you think you stand a chance against their most powerful stronghold?"

"It's not like that," the Bicorn smirked, turning it to a sneer as to not show weakness, "I have a friend there, my oldest friend."

The Grawn nodded, as he scooped a small amount of the herbs with the safety of his gauntlet, chewing them down just as soon as they had cooled, "Very roguish of you Red Queen, aligning with their kind rather than your own."

"I have no allegiance," she grumbled impatiently, "It has always just been me... My village made sure to that when they discovered my Bloodmagic."

"Tragic" the Grawn said with a nod.

"Typical," she corrected him, "...and please, it's Alice, Red Queen is a reputation I built for my own safety, it irritates me in civilized company."

The Grawn grinned as he ate more of his strange herbs, "Well it's a pleasure Alice, my birth name is Andrick."

The Bicorn leaned closer to the fire, rubbing her paws over its warmth, "...and what do you fight for?"

The Grawn laughed as he patted the satchels at his side, the sound of coins jingling out, "I fight for money."

"Just a mercenary?" she sounded somewhat disappointed, "There's got to be more to you than that."

"Aye, there was," Andrick said as he looked to the sky, trying to judge the strength of the storm through the trees, "Many years ago, I grew up with a tribe of many like me. Simpler times, times that grew me into the nature bound fellow I am now. There was once a time the simple tent you see before you was as advanced as my home got."

"Sounds charming," Alice joked as she picked at her meal, "I can't say I picture you as a Landwalker, what with those strange toys of yours."

"These?" the Grawn chuckled as he looked down at his gauntlets, "No, these came later. One day a simple life just felt too simple, as though I was drawn for broader things. You could say I lived an abandoned life as well, though mine was brought on with more choice on my part." He looked to Alice with gentle curiosity, not wanting to purge every detail to this new stranger just yet. "...and how about yourself?" he asked to Alice, "How does an abandoned Bloodmage meet a Jackalope from Nitheram?"

Alice smiled as she looked into the fire, seeing the young cub in her mind's eyes. She saw Alandria's adorable form holding a staff too big for her body, pointed forwards as her fur stood on end, a menacing look in her young eyes. "It went about as well as you'd expect at first," she laughed, stretching her legs out comfortably, "It was on a battlefield she had no right to be on."

"Another friendly rogue?" Andrick asked, his muzzle still wearing a gentle grin.

Alice nodded, "You could say that, she's always been a feisty one. Drives her brother nuts."

"I can't believe they allow an outsider into Nitheram's walls, it is said to be one of Scortheria's greatest strongholds."

Alice's expression darkened a little, "It is... and they don't, we always meet outside of its border. Only the two of us know of the friendship, I dare say her brother would have her tried for treason otherwise."

"Why risk it?" The Grawn asked objectively, "Is the Red Queen too lonely on her own?"

Alice gave the Grawn a mocking pout as she faked a cry, "Oh so lonely, protect me you strange handsome man! Please, I do not wish to be alone, but I can handle it, I have for most of my life." She thought of Alandria again, a smile filling her face as she thought of the years she had known her dearest friend, "There was something about her that drew me in, and I could never really leave that behind, and now that she needs my help more than ever, there is no way I can leave her."

Andrick looked Alice in the eyes as he held back a smirk, "So what does a single Bicorn have in her arsenal that is necessary to the stronghold of Nitheram."

Alice stared back, silently, calmly but clouded, "Darkness... I bring them darkness." She read the Grawn's expression, her eyes meeting the same cold distance in his, a distance that only a hard life could leave behind, "Why Mezeriah? What is waiting for you there?"

Andrick looked down at his gauntlets and exhaled a very weighted breath, "Death... death is waiting for me in Mezeriah."

...

A harsh smoke filled the sky over Mezeriah as fire blazed atop the castle towers, screams still heard across the streets of the kingdom as the slashing of swords ringed out in high pitched slices. "Onward warriors, we will prevail!" a proud Domoka called out as he raised his axe, several of the other boar like creatures rallying to his side as they attempted to fight off the gathering forces that invaded them. They were dark as shadows as they flooded the streets, each wielding a small dagger, yet somehow managing the strength to ward off the Domoka's massive axes. Shadows seemed to wisp behind them like mist everywhere they went, leaving a smell like smouldering ash. "You think you can claim Mezeriah with simple daggers, you shadowy pricks, come face I, Randolyn, breaker of stone!"

The shadowy figures seemed still for a moment before words like hisses were muttered under their breath, their daggers glowing a sickly neon green as their eyes flickered with a misty shine. "Wither Mezeriah, to the breath of Rethias." The movements that followed the words of the pack's leader were swift, each shadowy figure choosing a different target, which was given a quick stab to the gut with their dagger. Most of the Domokas were unaffected by such trivial wounds and half of the figures were cut cleanly in half, their shadows washing away to reveal pieces of the beings' true forms. They had dark brown fur that looked like branches in some parts, the colour almost like soot. They were deer like with twisted horns, their hooves sharp as knives and their paws containing razor-like claws.

"Ha! See what your weak daggers do to true warriors?" Randolyn cheered, his grin soon turning sickly as his small wound sent a burning shiver through his nervous system, "Ahh, wh-what twisted magic is, this!"

"Be still and you'll survive," the figure in front of him spoke as the shadows left him and his surviving warriors, "The Goddess wishes to speak to you."

Randolyn stared into the eyes of the Prayton, his fur unlike the others, brilliantly bright silver, and his eyes, grey blue like a pale sky. "Finish me Rethias, I wish not to speak with your whore!"

Rethias raised an eye and it showed off the scar that covered his left eye, "That whore will soon rule all of Scortheria."

"...and what will you rule?" the Domoka spit on the Prayton's hooves. He looked to his strong warriors, each screaming in agony as foam spilled from their mouths, their snouts dripping blood as they each writhed around in their dying states. "All the assassin's poisonous and cheap magic tricks won't save you from your shame, as you hand over your great empire to that feathered whore, and you can rule her feet, as you suck them clean between battles!"

Rethias sighed as he grew tired of the Domoka's words, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "It is better to rule under a whore, than to be crushed beneath her talons." He looked to the nearest Domoka as he gurgled out a scream. "That warriors blood is boiling," he then looked to another, and another, "Melting organs, quickening disease, blood loss, that one is even being drained of all the water in his body." He gripped the Domoka's hair, his fist balling over the rough Mohawk as he yanked him up, whispering into his ear, "All you were given was a gentle boiling of the blood, and yet you act as though you are in such agony... I assure you, what your men are feeling is nothing short of hell. I am pestilence, and if I am not satisfied I wall make your warriors' deaths oh so slow, now... would you like to cooperate?"

Randolyn grit his teeth as he gripped his axe trying to raise it. The Prayton shook his head, whispering to his blade before sliding it over the Domoka's wrists, the axe slamming to the ground, "Now for the next hour, your arms are paralyzed... are there no teachers here at Mezeriah? You do not seem to possess the ability to learn lessons."

"Fine! Bring me to your whore if you truly believe I will be of any use to you!"

Rethias grinned as he nodded to the group around him, each muttering sick incantations until the group of Domokas made a guttural death rattles, falling to the ground in silence. "We'll be off then," the silver Prayton said with a wave of his paw, the shadows washing off each of his men, "You'll find the blood cooling soon, I didn't charge the spell very strongly... though your arms will be useless for quite a while, for my safety of course, do hope you'll understand." Randolyn said nothing as he sneered at the Prayton, raising shakily to his feet and following him onward.

...

"My lady, he is here upon your request." The Prayton held his arm out as Randolyn stepped into the king's chambers, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he looked over to the table where he had watched his king answer his letters many days before.

The king's head sat upon his desk, removed from his body, blood staining the pages around it as a vicious looking Gold Eagle sat with her talons folder under her chin. "I thought you were told to address me as Goddess" she glared at the Prayton with commanding strength.

"...and I thought you were told of my intensions my lady," he stepped towards a young Hogling who was standing on rather shaky legs, grabbing an offered cup of wine, "I do not worship you like that one," Randolyn followed his finger, "So 'my lady' will have to do if you still wish the employ of my men."

The Eagle glared back at him, scratching a line of fractured wood into the desk, "Very well."

Randolyn was still focused on the subject that Rethias had pointed out earlier, a handsome Wolfen eating a small slab of meat in the back of the room. "You!" the Domoka growled so deeply that saliva feel from his muzzle, "I should have known, you were always a slimy little shit... tell me, does Packrun know of your traitorous nature?"

The Wolfen laughed as he stepped towards Randolyn, his teeth red with the blood of his food, "Packrun is dead Rando, I am the last of the Wolfen, you've read the stories."

"I have," the Domoka spat blood from his own pierced lips at the Wolfen's legs, "I don't remember reading that the last would be chosen from the slaughter of his own people, and besides, Packrun is not the only territory of Wolfen, you'd have to slaughter half of Scortheria in hopes to win that title by default."

"Oh, I plan on it," he growled as he leaned down to the great warrior, teeth lunging for his snout, tearing a chunk clean off, "Soon Scortheria will match Packrun and Mezeriah." He took a break from his speech to chew the piece he had stolen from Randolyn, chewing it agonizingly slow, getting close to his ears so he could hear it slide down the Wolfen's throat, "All of this land will belong to the Goddess and I, and we shall bathe in the blood of every family arrogant enough to call themselves 'Royal'." He spit excess blood into the Domoka's eyes as he was finished with his flesh, stepping over to the young Hogling and grabbing him by the throat, "Would you kindly stop pissing yourself? It's ruining the aroma of my wine."

"Leave the boy be!" Randolyn growled, his feet slamming the floor. Rethias took out his dagger, a single whisper hitting it before the Wolfen held up his paw.

"No, that is unnecessary, I would very much enjoy hearing Rando's opinion."

"What good are the younglings to you," there was desperation in the warrior's eyes, "They cannot properly serve you at their age, you would be wise to train them. They are still young, you still have a chance to leave an impression on them."

The Wolfen chuckled as he took out his blade, running it along the Domoka's neck gently enough to leave a superficial scratch, "You're stalling dear Rando, you don't want me to take your people."

Randolyn's facial expression seemed hurt as he spoke next, "No, I'd see you dead if my arms were working, but I'd rather see you take my people than slaughter them. We are a proud people, if we are made serve evil rather than honour, it will break all we stand for, but at least we shall not perish."

"Such strong wisdom my brave warrior," the Wolfen said sarcastically as he raised his blade, flinging it towards the Hogling, "This was always my plan though, your people are now mine."

Randolyn screamed in an agonizing roar as he watched the young boy's head roll along the floor, his eyes fierce as he reached forward, gripping the Wolfen's neck, "Why did you kill the boy?!"

Rethias' eyes grew wide as he saw the spell had been broken, taking out his dagger and whispering to it frantically. Before he could act the Eagle flew from the desk to him, her talons gripping into both arms, pulling upwards and snapping the bones in both arms. Randolyn howled in pain as he fell to the floor, his breath panting in pain as he rolled about. With the Domoka incapacitated, the Eagle flew to Rethias next, sliding her blade over his neck, "Why was he not bound?!"

"It was unnecessary," the Prayton gasped for breath as the blade was pressed to his throat, "No one has ever broken such a spell so fast."

"He is the strongest warrior of his clan you fool!" she spat at him, her beak crunching down in anger, "You will pay for this with your life!"

"I would not advise that Madame." The voice was calm and sudden, the Eagle turning slowly to look over the room. There were a dozen Prayton filling the room, two holding daggers to the Wolfen and two to the Eagle, the rest waiting for their turn should their brother's fail. Each dagger glowed a dark, piercing red, and each pair of eyes glowed in a sickly blue.

"Goddess," the Wolfen spoke calmly, "I forgive Rethias' failure, perhaps there are other ways he may repay you?" He looked to the group, who seemed to back off the moment the Eagle lowered her blade, "I believe he has once again proven the abilities of his men, this is not an ally we should throw away so casually."

The Eagle glared at the Wolfen, rushing to him as soon as the blades were lowered. She grabbed his crotch and tightened her grip, looking into his eyes, "If you speak to me as an equal again, I will tear off your cock, and eat it like a worm!"

"Our perfect offspring dear," he said cockily, reminding her of their pact, "The last of the Wolfen, and the Goddess of Blood, the perfect child to rule the purest land."

She looked deeply into his eyes and smiled, licking the side of his muzzle as she moaned gently. She turned from him and gripped his cheek, tearing fur from his face, "If you weren't providing me with such a child, I would have already bathed in your blood!"

The Wolfen chuckled as he turned to the still screaming warrior on the floor, leaning down to speak to him personally, "Oh to be in love. To answer your question Rando, I killed the boy because you liked him. You liked him... and I don't like you. Take him to the dungeons!" The Prayton's looked to their leader as they silently questioned the chain of command, Rethias nodding to them as he rubbed his neck, his eyes squinting as he silently calculated his next move.

...

Randolyn grunted in pain as he was tossed into his cell, the damp soft earth atypical to the usual stone of Mezeriah's dungeons. He had to kick up to adjust his posture, his arms useless as they remained broken. "Sleep well Rando," the Wolfen said as he lit a fire in the corner of the cell, slowly blazing high to keep the room warm, "I'll need your strength in the coming days. You are charged with maintaining your people's obedience. Although the Prayton are a fine army, they will not suffice forever, especially should the Goddess grow tired of their arrogance."

"If I refuse?" Randolyn said plainly, the strength to remain angry lost in him.

"Oh there will be much time to refuse," the Wolfen grinned, a sickly, twisted curve of a grin, "...and each refusal will be another one of your precious subject's heads." He looked at Randolyn, the warrior who had taught him so much as a pup, and drank deeply into the satisfaction of his fear, "Disobedience makes for a disappointed Rando, and a softer bed." The Domoka's eyes scrunched up in a confused expression at those words. "Pray my dear friend, that one day, you will get to sleep on stone again."

With that the Wolfen locked the doors and left the warrior to his cell, the Domoka gulping as he felt around on the floor. The ground was misshapen and unnaturally soft and with disgust his fingertips began to make out teeth and hair. He turned his head down, although he did not want to, and set eyes on what he laid on. Illuminated by the firelight were the heads of all his lost warriors, women, and even children, the warrior letting out a long, unending scream as he flailed on the pile, his broken arms offering no hope of shaking him free from the carnage.