The towers were all burning, their thick walls of stone. Burning and crumbling. Strong and proud battlements, subtle and delicate spires, they were all perishing. Below them the city of Maurur was dying as well in smoke and fire. The dwellings of the people those towers had been erected to protect.

I admit there were tears in my eyes as everything I had thought so powerful, so eternal, so beyond the reach of others, was reduced to nothing more than a huge bonfire obscuring the morning sun with its smoke of destruction. My tears fell, and I mouthed words of rage and defiance that were utterly impotent. The great city of Maurur was no more. My parents, my brothers, and sisters were no more. My friends, my lover Monah, all gone.

The Knights of the Wolf were no more. We had all been obliterated as the soldiers of the Iron Hammer had overwhelmed us. All of us, that is, except me. I had been stationed at the Crooked Bridge, which separated the great Keep from the city proper. The Crooked Bridge, with its old wooden, creaky planks, and the finely wrought cast-iron railings. On the city side there had been a park where beautiful girls had used to go walking or they would sit in the grass eat, and we had smiled at them and straightened our backs and put out our chests.

That was all history now. When the fire had begun to rain from the sky, and the mighty Gate had been blown open by giants allied agianst us. I had unsheathed my reverse edge sword. Together we had waited, me and my five Brother Knights. we all had the characteristics of wolfs, ears set on the top of our heads, tails, fangs, but most importantly teamwork. like our forefathers we stayed in packs which made us lethal to the iron hammer who had little order. i was 16 at the time only 5”7 160lbs i had long grey hair and grey eyes and like all wolf knights i was lean with muscle.

we where the guardians of the last Bridge of the last Keep of the last stronghold of the Knights of the Wolf. After some dreadful minutes of waiting, while we had listened to and watched the slaughter of the city, anxiously praying that the call to arms in the Keep would be heeded in time. Six pairs of hands that waited prepared to die to protect the stronghold.

Then they had come howling out of the ruin of the city, the hideous creatures I had only heard of in tales. First and foremost the massive frames of filthy, mindless giants of different shapes and hues, but all huge and all had wielded clubs or enormous war axes. There had been blood-crazed men, there had been the ominous, hateful Gray Champions, there had been small, vicious hellcats, the terror of the deep forests, and many more.

Something had seemed to happen to time as they had rushed at us. they slowed as if wading through water in seconds that seemed like hours they where upon us. we let out howls, a testiment of our will and plunged into the heart of the battle. i turned my blade and scliced the tendons of the giants then another of the pack would sclice his throat, an example of our teamwork.

we where inmoveable not losing a foot of ground. we ripped through flesh and armor till it seemed the enemy lost all taste for battle soon they retreated. we letout another long howl, it was cut short by 20 or so hellcats. hellcats known for their prowness on the battlefield viscous adversarys who had eyes that simbolized their moods. the eyes of the 20 rushing to us where blood shot red. we looked at each other nodded and prepared to fight and die.

they came the sheer numbers pushing us back we had no hop[e a single hellcat could go toe to toe with anyone of u. i watched my pack die around me till it was just me and my best friend, we had been through thick and thin together. i cut down only one hellcat and was wounded with deep cuts. i fought another until i just couldnt keep up anymore i closed my eyes and prepared to die a warriors death. my friend let out another howl and shoved me ff the bridge into the rushing water below.


And now I was here, fallen into the river. Watching the city and Order of the Wolf die, clinging onto a piece of wood as the stream took me. Out of danger maybe, but into shame and disgrace.

Later, not much later in terms of time, but an age of effort, I reached the river bank. It consisted of mud, was filled with sharp branches, and hid slippery patches, but reaching it meant I was saved. Gasping I crawled out of the water, deduced that I had arrived somewhere where there was thick grass growing, and let my body go limp with relief.

I had all but forgotten about the rapids south of the River Gate, but all the blows to my head, arms, body, and legs made sure I would remember the experience for the rest of my life. My entire body ached more than after the most intense sparring session I had ever taken part in. Correction, it ached worse that it would have after first taking part in the most intense sparring session ever, and then being disciplined for having a dreadful hangover from some drinking binge the night before. Not that that had ever happened to me. Not often, at least.

For what must have been an hour I lay and tried to regain strength while thinking over my situation. I was on the east bank of the river, alone outside a city that had been taken by an enemy sworn to eradicate the Knights of the Wolf. The tales of the trouble they went through to kill every last one of us because of the words of the Prophecy were gruesome and probably true.