Red's Tales

Sun, 25 Nov 2007 22:28:09 GMT

Wish I could share my Christmas tree with you
Wish all my holiday dreams would come true
The lights, the carols, the softly falling snow
The stockings hung with care by the fire's dimlit glow
Wish I could share my Christmas tree with you

Wish I could share my Christmas wreath with you
And all the garland, holly and ivy too
Sitting by the fire watching the Yuletime log
Laughing softly as we drink some old egg nog
Wish I could share my Christmas wreath with you

Wish I could share my Christmas song with you
And tell you how much I love you
But you won't be here for the holiday
Instead you'll be so far away
And I won't be able to share my Christmas song with you.

Henry's Song

Wed, 21 Nov 2007 09:24:04 GMT

When I was a lad, just a simple lad
I laughed and played and had a jolly time
I chased frogs and jumped and ran
I never thought it could get better
Never any better than this
But all that changed the day I met Anne

I thought I had been in love before
I loved as I should, but lived as I shouldn't.
Yet never thought myself less than a man.
My heart was incomplete, my song went unsung
The stars never came out at night
But all that changed the day I met Anne

So Anne, Anne, won't you love me?
Won't you come and be in my arms?
Won't you woo me with a kiss
And send me to my bliss?
I fall victim to your charms.

Now my world knows color and my sky knows day
My heart laughes out loud with merry old tune
Life has invigorated me with a new plan
I sing and shout, I jump and skip
I know I'm in love
Ever since the day that I met Anne

Fri, 12 Jan 2007 01:48:28 GMT

Do you truly love me?
Often I wonder that of my friend...
Good ones are hard to find
So few and far between

Let me in and let me help, she says,
Open your doors and your heart.
Vent your anger and your sorrows
Ease your pain on my shoulders

Could I learn to love again?
Have they come to save me?
Each doubt plagues in my mind over and over
Else I lose myself again.
Still they remain to ease my soul,
Earning my love and trust forever.

Alone

Thu, 11 Jan 2007 23:59:05 GMT

Lovers waiting in the shadows,
Only turn out to be more shadows
Not promises of dreams come true.
Everytime I try, I lose a piece of myself,
Learning to be bitter and hate and accept
You will never come for me.

Gone

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 00:23:22 GMT

She walked out of that door
And out of my life
And she was gone, just like that,
My heart yearned so much
To call her name,
To tell her to wait,
To tell her how I feel.
She brought out the best of me
And made my soul laugh with delight
Her smile brightened my day
And her frown made me weep.
But I loved her so much
That I let her go.

Turn Around

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 00:21:36 GMT

One day sadness just overcame him
His overcast heart just felt so heavy
As if it were made of lead.
He looked around - all he saw
Were the blues and the greys.
His very soul just drooped
Like the wise old face of a basset hound.
Then he saw something.
He turned around
And unfroze.
There before was a spirit of life
A smiling face,
A hand to hold,
A companion to talk to,
A lover to love.
His heart inflated with love and warmth
And he knew he had turned around.

La Realite

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 00:17:30 GMT

Somewhere a star is falling
Shining bright in a sky of black
Hope is uncovered.
Somewhere the water trickles
Sounding the drums of life.
The journey has begun.
A rose. Silent in all its glory.
Blooms with endless beauty,
Stinging the eyes of the blind
Crumbling to the ground in disarray.
What's the worth?
Nothing...
But wait...
The aroma of love
Buried in my heart forever
Makes wishes upon a star

The Window

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 00:14:15 GMT

As I look out my window,
I see a world locked in slumber.
I think the sun forgot to set his alarm
Because it doesn't seem he's up.
The ground is wet with tears.
Why is God crying?
Is it something I did?
As I look into my window,
I see my soul locked in slumber,
My soul is wet with tears.
Why am I crying?
What have I done?
Still, it is so still.
The window seperates my world from theirs.
They do not understand.

Carpe Diem

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 00:10:20 GMT

Marching along, one by one,
Like a horde of ants.
Columns and ranks form the day.
A century of men gleaming like light
Leather carefully shaped
Bronze firmly hammered
Each man fighting for the Eagle
Yet none with a future.
Only one man wields his destiny
As his weapon
And he leads them forth calling,
"Carpe diem!"

Oppression

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 00:08:30 GMT

Outraged, I screamed in anger
People got scared and ran
Prejudice has plagued me,
Restricted my freedom
Emotions come forth,
Suffocating my thoughts,
Suffering from my loss
I'm so lost
Outside in the darkness
Never to shine my light

Seeds of My Mind

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 00:05:44 GMT

A trail of ink releases a character onto the blank page.
So the story begins, chapters upon chapters pour out
Plots of conflict and victory that flow out together.
The ink stains the pages and the page is marked.
Morals and deeds drift and settle in the mind like seeds.
Herry, plant your seed!
As soon as the story ends, the pen is put to rest
In its dark lonely drawer.

To Every Girl I've Ever Loved

Sat, 11 Nov 2006 02:45:05 GMT

To Hell with you!
That's my mouth longs to scream
But my heart holds it back
Afraid to lose its dream.

I think of choices made
And chances lost
And I stare at you silently
Loving you at any cost.

But what cost is that
That I may one day have to pay?
I have to break your heart
So that I can say what I wish to say.

No, I'll stay quiet
Because you're happy and that's your right.
I only pray your eyes
Shall never fall into my sight.

Or I know I would lose myself again,
Fall down once more into dark despair.
And I'd give myself to the darkness freely,
Because I know my dreams lay there.

An Empty Heart

Sat, 11 Nov 2006 02:37:37 GMT

This emptiness I feel inside
When will I finally find
The peace I need to find within
Without having to commit a sin

I see it, I feel it, but not yet know
Why you seem so
Far Away out of my Sight
Maybe someday I just might

What I feel in my heart, my mind does not
How many times the two have fought
Over stupid, serious, and happy things
Or sometimes my heart just flies away with wings

Every time I think of how you're with him and not me, makes my heart shatter
Whatever I think I feel for you now doesn't matter
But still my feelings won't go away
I guess those are just here to stay

The Adventure Continues! Battles and Glory!

Sat, 14 May 2005 02:39:20 GMT

The battle had been met and the blood of many had been spilled. Many had fled to the halls of Valhalla itself as they screamed glorious ends and when it was said and done, the carrion vultures had their feast and man had their glory and their revenge. The carrion birds have it better. Glory does not fill one’s belly alone.
Night fell upon the Vangali encampment. Tents glowed with the ambient glow of watch fires, illuminating as well the canine heads of many Koru mounted on pikes on the camp circle. Many more corpses lay still not more than 100 meters from the nearest tent. All that could be heard was the gentle rapping sound of a hammer striking metal.
“Ho, Brother Kendricks!” boomed Corran’s voice; causing the young fox to look up from his handiwork, repairing his armour from another sword slash damage. “Another battle and those Koru curs scatter before us like geese before wolves! A good day’s killing, I think… You didn’t do half bad, young Kendricks, that is for a dirt-dwelling shadow-slinking Vulpan cur!”
Redtail only raised a corner of his mouth and smiled, nodding. “You didn’t do half as bad, you frozen-brained mange-ridden Vangali tom that you are!” he replied with a serious tone. Corran stared at him for a long moment, and then both dissolved into hearty laughter as Tamar only watched in silence from behind the flames of the fire.
And so dawn break and the hunt resumed. The Koru horde had fled west, the Vangali hot on their heels. The raiders had thrust deep into Vangal and the Tigers had struck back, blocking them from the passes that would lead back to their homelands. Then came the harrying, until they broke into small bands, each seeking escape in all directions… Already Corran had warriors rounding up their prey in the north, west and south, but one particular band, Jovu’s bloody hounds, continued ever eastward and it was this that Corran’s pack pursued never-ceasing. Leading the way was ever-faithful Redtail, guiding them towards their quarry. Always trailing behind was ever-distrustful Tamar, his eyes always glaring at the young Vulpan with outward envy. And so the trail wound ever onwards like a winding serpent through the rocky foothills, but the Vangali pressed ever onward.
It was at a river ford that Tamar approached the walking Redtail on his horse and smiled kindly down. The kind of smile only a viper would smile. “Redtail, my friend… if I may call you that… I wish to apologize for my unreasonable hostility… This whole affair has me distrustful and on edge… I have seen you in battle though and you are honourable and worthy of being called friend… I wish to make it up to you! Borrath and I, once this business of ours at hand is done, are headed towards a village in northern Cerenia for a few days worth of carousing where the ale is sweet and the women are willing. What say you join us?”
Redtail merely shook his head and smiled friendly. “It is tempting, but Labienus is my goal…” he explained, but Tamar waved his gauntleted paw.
“Come, friend Kendricks! Ale and strumpets! The milk and honey of Labienus will surely wait and still be there in a week or two, but please let me make up for misjudging you!” he said jollily, “Come now, what do you say?”
Redtail removed his helmet, brushed his short head fur with his paw, and smiled. “Ah, why not indeed?! I’ve fought hard. I could use a rest before moving on and I’ve never seen Cerenia either, although I never sounded too interesting….” He laughed merrily until suddenly a shout from up from on the other bank. Both fox and tiger raced to up front to where one of the Vangali trackers crouched in front of a dead corpse.
“See here…” explained the tracker as they approached, “This hind here is half-butchered and abandoned in a hurry, not even stiff yet from the cold! They must be feeling pressed to snatch a few cuts of meat to fill their bellies and abandon the rest. They cannot be too far ahead…”
Corran approached the group, having overheard, the great Tiger Lord merely nodded his weary approval. “Yes, but we are weary as well and the sun hangs low. We will stop here and feast on venison ourselves. When we awaken with full stomachs and fresh muscles, we will meet Jovu.”
And so, the Vangali warriors made camp with the speed and ease of long custom. They had marched and ridden far, but they could not rest yet. Not until sentries had been set, wood gathered, and shelters assembled from branches and blankets. The meat from the stag was tested for poison, the fires lit, and the feast begun. Only then could they stretch tired and sore muscles. Only then could those not on watch let down their guard. For those, it was a reward. For others like Tamar, it was opportunity.
Silently, the young Vangali lurked in the shadows, studying the young Vulpan as he ate and swapped tales with the others. He smiled a ruthless predatory smile… soon… A noise behind him and the Vangali turned, drawing his knife to find his friend Borrath standing behind him, looking down.
“I don’t understand,” whispered the other Vangali, “Why do you bother with him, Tamar?” Befriending him, then spying on him? We kill the Koru; he leaves on his fool’s quest. All will be well again.”
Tamar shook his head, gesturing Borrath to come down beside him as they gazed down on Redtail. “No,” he whispered, “He won’t leave. Corran will talk him out of it. He’ll warn that damn fox of what Labienus is truly like! No… I want to help our friend Kendricks reach what he’s after. I want to see him go to his precious Labienus and experience its many wonders!” He sat up and turned to Borrath. “I have a friend in the border kingdoms who sells grain to those fiends. He’ll help us sell them something else, something they’ll be glad to have, and we’ll be glad to be rid of!”
And so as villains plotted, heroes slept in the night’s cold air. All but Redtail. He had found a place by the fire close enough to the blaze for warmth, but far enough to prevent night blindness. His blood was up and his muscles twitched beneath his skin, as if yearning for tomorrow’s slaughter. Already his tail was wagging in anticipation of battle! And as for his comrades… Redtail paused and reflected on his newfound comrades. All his life he had been told that the Vangali were savage beasts, unprincipled, little better than Koru hounds. They rutted, ate spoiled meat and would kill any Vulpan for little more than his boots and blade. Yet, here he was among them, seeing them for who they were. They fought like men. They loved their icy hills and frozen plains and snowy forests and spoke of their prides with warmth. They laughed and bled like any other. What of the Koru, then, he wondered. Raiders, brigands, murderers, but what were they like, at rest in their own dens in their own homelands? Redtail yawned and stretched out, pulling his cloak up over him, letting his eyes drift closed. These were thoughts for another day. Tonight was not a night to muse on the nature of man or beast, but to sleep, to rest from the day’s long hunt, and prepare himself for tomorrow, for tomorrow…
The Vangali found the Koru an hour past daybreak. The warhounds had been creeping along silently, looking for a place to turn north, then west, for the long race home. Instead, all they found was Vangali steel and their own blood…. They fought desperately; knowing their only hope of survival was to win through. But they were far from home, deep in hostile territory, hope swiftly dwindling… Still they would fight to the end if they had to. Down to the last dog. Which is why Jovu surrendered!
The grizzled one-eyed war hound fell to his knees in front of Corran and offered his blade in return for the lives of his men. Redtail watched impassively, although every hair on the fur of his back was standing up. Something was wrong here…
“I accept your surrender, worthy opponent,” intoned Corran as he took Jovu’s blade from the warlord’s paws, “You will die at sundown. Your men will be stripped of weapons and be ransomed, but not harmed if they do not resist…”
Jovu could only bow his head as the Koru began to hand over their weapons. Better to live to fight another day. Redtail continued to watch, then began to gather his equipment. His business here was done. The battle was over. The Vangali would turn back and return to their villages, which meant that he had gone as far as he would with them.
Tamar gestured to Redtail as if indicating that he and Borrath were ready to go if he was still willing. The Vulpan warrior nodded and slung his equipment over a horse, deciding it might be best to ride the way to the village, when he felt the presence of the great Tiger Lord at his back.
“Brother Kendricks, I feel that this is our farewell then… Shall I not convince you to turn back and become one of us perhaps? You are a good man and a fine warrior,” Corran asked gently as he removed his great war helmet from his great shaggy head.
Redtail smiled to his comrade and shook his head. “I would, but I must move on. I have seen so much, but I would still see more. Know that if you ever need me, you may send for me.”
Corran merely nodded and grasped Redtail’s forearm in brotherhood. “I understand,” he grinned, and then grew more serious. “Please though let me guide you from Labienus. The tales you’ve heard, they’re….” The howling of an arrow interrupted his words and a massive trunk of a shaft sprouted from a Vangali warrior’s chest nearby, dropping him.
The reaction was instantaneous as Vangali steel were drawn as one, but it was too late, monstrous draconic creatures rose up around them, surrounding them, armed with massive maces and cleavers, all bearing helmets that concealed their snouts. Their tails cracked menacingly, their wings folded back.
As the Vangali army struggled to gain into position from this sudden ambush, two figures slipped out unnoticed. “Tamar,” panted Borrath as they reached the safety of the woods, “I thought you arranged for them to meet us in the south with Redtail!”
Tamar only scowled. “It must have been that damn merchant who betrayed us! It seems he offered to sell a richer prize, the cur! Let us flee. I do not wish to be a slave. You can go and fight and stand with our people, but I value my hide!”
And so the battle raged on, the monstrous dragons tearing into furred flesh, crimson blood darkening the soil. It was here that Jovu found a fallen blade and sawed his bonds free, yet instead of running for freedom, he tossed arms to his fellow hordesmen and wordlessly, unhesitating, they hurled themselves into the fray, seizing more weapons where they could, fighting barehanded where they could not, but always fighting. Here was the true stripe of the Warhounds of Koru. And so two bands of blood enemies now depended on each other, fighting back to back for their very lives.
Redtail fell back for a brief moment as one of the dragons fell with a crash. “Corran! What ARE these things?” he cried as he brought his bloodied blade to bear again.
Corran turned his head only to shout, “These? These are your Labienians! These are the peaceful, serene creatures of wonder you are so eager to visit! Now what you….” His words were interrupted by a cry of pain as a spear to the gut brought him to his knees, yet still he fought on!
Jovu saw the Tiger Lord fall and so he raced to his aid, dodging mace swings, yelling, “We need a change in tactics to retreat!” He looked around, before spying Tamar and Borrath near the forest away from the battle. “Look, there! You have comrades over there! If they would strike from the outside, it would open up a gap for us to escape through!”
Redtail nodded as his blade swung through another scaly throat. “You guard Corran! I’ll get them!” Jovu nodded and Redtail lowered his helmed head and charged as far as he could to the edge of battle. “Tamar! Borrath! Come! Help us to escape! Your people need you!”
Borrath grabbed Tamar’s bicep and turned to him. “He’s right… there could be hope!” he exclaimed. Tamar only wrenched his arm away from Borrath and sneered.
“You fool!” he exclaimed, “All he’ll do is get us captured or killed too! There is no hope. Come… let’s go…” With that, he turned his back on the battle and disappeared into the woods. Borrath gave one final glance, then followed.
Redtail watched them leave, and his rage bubbled over into a roar. “Filth! Worthless manges! The hounds are flea-ridden murderers and even THEY have more honor than you!” he roared as he lifted his sword and made ready to chase after them, but then Labienian bronze met thick Vulpan skull, crumpling the young fox warrior to his knees, feeling the blackness swim around him, and then he knew no more.
Soon it was over. The dragons surveyed their handiwork, and then gave soft grunts to each other, going to work. The dead were discarded. The living, dragged to sledges. Northward they trudged into ice and snow. And a wind arose around them. A fierce north wind, that built in strength and fury until it was like a towering fortress wall….

The Adventure Continues - We Learn of Our Hero's Quest

Fri, 13 May 2005 23:05:47 GMT

“Well, Kendricks of the Redtail. Again, I offer you thanks. May I ask you to stay and help us quell our fires? I would speak to you more…” said Corran evenly as he rode off towards the rescue effort. Redtail merely nodded, unearthing his great longsword once more, wiping it clean on the tunic of a fallen Koru and sheathing it on his back beside his great battleaxe, then walking down towards the village, leaving Tamar and his fellow man, glaring daggers at the Vulpan’s back.
And so the day drew on long. Even after the flames of the fires were quelled, the flames of the pyres had to be lit. And so, Corran, Lord of Vangal and Redtail stood and watched the fallen burn, creating a great column of black smoke. In the reverent silence, Corran turned to Redtail, who was watching and spoke.
“Amongst our people, we believe that this is our way to the Great Halls of our Ancestors. We do not bury our dead in the earth and stone and trap them to the dark underworld. Instead, the smoke rises to the heavens above, a stairway for the souls of departed to reach our Great Halls. Such is our way.” Corran paused a long time, studying again the silent Vulpan youth who now listened intently, then broke into a great grin. “Come, enough melancholy, let us feast to the lives of those who now feast in the Life Hereafter!”
And so, as night fell, a great feast arose in the Great Hall of the Vangali. All manner of beast and fowl and salad and drink were made available to the men who sat at the table of the Great Lord of the Vangali. And at the Tiger Lord’s right hand side sat the guest of honour, the warrior Redtail. Redtail had chosen a finer set of clothes, even though they still looked rough, he owned no such fancy attire. What use were they for a man of his life? To the Lord’s left sat his young daughter, the woman Redtail had saved earlier, the young tigress Kiara who watched Redtail with adoring eyes, much to the jealous glare of Tamar. Tamar had long ago asked for Kiara’s hand shortly after her first mate’s death, but she had refused him, or merely put him off for a while.
“The Koru horde comes every season, as they often do and we beat them back as always, but now it seems they come more often and are more bloodthirsty,” Corran was explaining to the young warrior fox, “The cycle of violence is ever increasing and I fear it will wipe us all out…. Tell me, Kendricks… You seem to have seen a battle or two. The marks are upon you… Therefore, I must ask, but not of suspicion, but rather of need, what brings you into my lands? What draws you from your forests and come among us like this?”
The young warrior turned away and paused. The Vangali Lord knew right there from seeing the flicker of distant fires in his hooded eyes that whatever reason he offered would not be a lie, but neither would it be the full truth… After a moment’s time, the fox spoke softly, not with the hard edge that he had spoke with til now.
“The Old One, that is what we called him, came to us from the South, I remember when I was merely a pup…” Redtail began, “He had been a warrior once and had conquered many lands in his lord’s name and had fought many battles and seen many sights. He told me many tales of those lands, of lands richer, softer than even our own… Tales of gleaming cities, of wolves and badgers and otters and many other wondrous peoples, of a multitude of foreign gods and their temples, either glorious or dark and terrible, of riches, and wonders, and exotic women, dusky, pale or fiery, lounging amid satin pillows…”
Corran smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Indeed, Kendricks, I have seen some of those sights, yet the way you describe it, I wish to see them again and more! But tell me, young fox; those lands lie to the south by Shalari past the border kingdoms. Why come north at all?”
Redtail folded his hands and leaned forward against the table, his eyes meeting the Vangali Lord and spoke lowly, “I have… had enough of the southern lands and their cities. Enough for a while. I have been told of another land, far to the north. That is what I seek… The land of Labienus… Where there is eternal summer, where feathers fall from the sky in place of snow, and where elegant spires of basalt and marble tower over pleasant lands, rich with precious stones and metals. The people who dwell there are tall and beautiful who feed only on fruit, know neither disease or decay nor death and live lives of serenity and contemplation. All around them, beautiful dancing girls play the music of lyres and pipes, and they live in peace with all manner of bird and beast, from the lamb to the griffin and milk and honey flow in streams from the hills. And when they tire of their lives, they simply die and their bodies are cast from the walls into the winds that carry them to be united with their gods…. I have little interest for music or meditation, but such wonders and magic, I would see them with my own eyes….”
Corran sat there, listening, then shook his head, “You would go to Labienus willingly? It is not…” the tiger lord paused, seeing Redtail’s glare intensify and waved a paw to quell the fox’s temper before it spilled out of control, “Never mind… Your anger is much that I would not challenge your desire… I only... ask that you… delay your journey a while longer… Tomorrow, we track the Koru horde and visit punishment on them for their bloody-handed butchery. Join us, and when we’re done, we will see you to where it is you wish you go…” This statement caused certain unrest and unsettlement amongst the Vangali at the table, but Corran silenced them with a paw as Redtail bowed his head to answer.
“Vulpans have no love for any other people, especially the Vangali… but we hate worse the Warhounds of Koru and after what I’ve seen today…. I shall join you…” Corran grinned at Redtail’s reply and slapped him on the shoulder with a hearty roar, beer was poured, and the feast went on.
Soon night blanketed the Vangali village and the tigers were able to set aside toil and war planning and beer, at least for the night. Able to give in to grief for those lost to them. Or those seeking comfort amongst those who survived. On a night such as this one, Tamar crept through the shadows, a clutch of wildflowers in his paw. He paused by a window to check his reflection, then continued on to Kiara’s hut and knocked softly, calling her name. After a few minutes, he called her name again, scowling… Still silence…
“Kiara, look, you have made your displeasure with me known, especially over my behaviour as of recent, by throwing cow eyes at that idiot fox to make me jealous. Now come, girl… Let me in… Kiara?” Tamar tried to peek through the window when he spied movement behind her hut. His paw going to his hidden dirk, he crept into the shadows and froze when he saw his beloved Kiara stealing away into the shadows into another shadow where there stood a decidingly vulpine form. As he watched the two embrace an intimate embrace, wildflowers slowly fell to the ground and hatred burned in twin orbs that rivaled only the watch fires of the sentries that night.
The next morning rang loud with the sounds of war! Horses were armoured, as were tigermen as they were fitted with chain mail, plate mail, spear and shield, sword and axe and all manner of weaponry until a fighting force was assembled, Corran at the head of it.
Studying his assembled forces, he looked down at Redtail who was approaching his horse and tilted his head. “Ho, Kendricks, mount you a horse, you ride beside me!” he smiled a brotherly smile.
Redtail smiled briefly, and then shook his head. “Nay, I wish to help your trackers track. We Vulpans have a gift for tracking, but I would still like to learn more.”
Corran merely threw his head back and roared in laughter. “A fine warrior you WILL make, young Vulpan! Very well! Lead us forth to find this meddlesome Koru horde! Remember, Vangali, we fight for our village, for our people, for the blood of those cursed dogs! Forth Vangali!”
And so, the Tiger Lord of the Vangali thundering ahead and with jingling of mail and the creak of oiled leather and the pounding of hooves, northward they flew along the path of the fleeing horde. The heavy, sweet smell of the pyres still lingered in the air, but beneath that, another scent lingered. It smelled of adventure of possibility. Of wood smoke, snow and the cold acrid tang of death...

Our Adventure Continues - We Meet Our Hero...

Fri, 13 May 2005 21:30:51 GMT

Silent footfalls drummed their way towards the dark brooding forest. Frantic panic-drawn breaths broke the silence of the wintry plains. Fierce growls echoed behind the white tigress as she stumbled against a root. If she could only make it to the forest. If she could only make it to the forest, there would be hope…. For her and the sleeping cub she carried cradled in her arms…
She glanced over her shoulder. Her pursuer was still behind her. The men were gone on their harvest hunt. They would see the smoke of their burning village and return, but it would be too late. All that had remained behind from the hunt were the old, the young and the frail. No match for the hound raiders from the northern lands. The raiders like the one…
She felt the hound’s weight knock her off her feet and she fell to her knees, almost dropping the cub in the process. She could feel the filth of the animal above her, the fetid breath of alcohol and rotting meat, the rough touch of his grappling paws.
“Ah, you’re but a fine one, aren’t you?” the black-furred hound growled into her face as he shoved the cub from the tigress’s arms into the soft snow and settled above her, pinning her to the icy slush, “So young and round with such soft fur… You’ll make fine sport…” He grinned a yellow fanged leer over her as his paws roughly grabbed the tigress’s heaving bosom.
The tigress closed her eyes, waiting for this to be quick and through and may the Gods spare her young cub’s life, when she heard a soft yet firm voice. “You there.” The hound stopped what he was doing and turned to see who this newcomer was. Certainly none of his other Koru raiders had followed him after this one little bitch. Let him have his fun, there would still be pillaging left for him when he got back. So who? The flash of silver steel silenced his thoughts and then the hound thought no more as his head tumbled from the rest of him in a spray of crimson.
The tigress flinched away from the blood spray, and then looked up at her would be savior. There stood a young fox, clad in brown cloth. A simple tunic and leggings, almost peasant simple, yet some of the intricateness of the designs on the great fur-lined cloak that he wore about his shoulders. A simple and crude battle helmet adorned his vulpine skull from which shone two hard blue eyes that glowed with an insatiable battle thirst. From one leather-gloved paw hung a great longsword that seemed to have seen many a battle, yet few in its current owner’s hands. It was simple yet it just emanated a sense of strength and power. No ornamentations or the like, just cold naked steel that dripped red from the blood that it had just slaked its thirst with. A similar battleaxe lay across his back in a leather sling and the tigress could only imagine if any other weapons lay beneath that cloak.
The tigress began to sob, terrified of the frightening visage this vulpine warrior presented, but he paid her no mind, his head turning toward the nearby smoke and flames and the shrieking cries of the dying. Screams and shadows, swords rising and falling. The flickering light of the flames made of them dancing demons or ravenous wolves. The young fox remembered other fires, other screams and the unholy joy that they can bring. And so his jaw set in a grim line, he set forth towards the carnage of battle.
Surveying the battle scene was Master of the Koru Warhound Horde Jovu. Jovu was an old grizzled dog that was partially blind in one eye, yet he did not allow it to impair him in any way. For to show signs of weakness in the horde was to mean loss of leadership as well as loss of life. So was the way of the horde, the way of his very people. He had won his rank through blood, sweat, tears and more blood. Here was where he belonged and so here, he would stay, amidst the flames, amidst the battle. This here was where he belonged truly.
One of his warriors, a young cur named Jarl barked an alert as the young fox came into sight. “Master, a swordsman approaches! He is not one of the Vangali, yet not one of us, either!”
Jovu turned and studied the figure for a few brief passing moments, then scowled and looked away. “What of it,” he growled, “It is only a wanderer. Take Var and Banal and deal with him.” Jarl snapped to attention and grabbed up his scimitar, gesturing for two others to follow him.
“You there!” Jarl snapped as they drew nearer to the young swordsman. “You picked a bad day to come calling, stranger! The Vangali are ours to deal with, and if you stand against us, you die with them!” The young warrior only paused in his tracks, his sword not yet even dried from the first hound’s blood. He grinned a predatory unsettling grin, his eyes cold with a hungry light, then took a more comfortable grip on the hilt of his longsword.
“Making war on women and children is honourable for you, is it? To deal with, you say?” growled the fox as he hefted the sword above his shoulder, “Then come forward, curs, for where I am from, men deal with others as men!” He snarled and charged forward, steel flashing in a bright arc, followed by crimson spray. The hounds lunged forward, their axes and scimitars swinging, but meeting cold frozen air, but the fox’s blade never missed, not once. Three hounds had come to greet him, now three corpses lie at his feet. The vulpine warrior had not even broken a sweat nor seemed out of breath.
Jovu roared with anger and ordered more of his warriors forward towards this brigand. This fox was barely more than a whelp; he should be no match for full-grown fighting dogs, yet a match he was. Whether out of skill or luck, the fox had chosen his place well. A heap of stone guarded his left, a brush-filled gully at his back and before him and to his right, his longsword wove a bloody web of death that none could break through. Nevertheless, they were many and he was but only one. And surely, for all his speed and power, he would have fallen swiftly. Surely… yet…
The rumble of approaching hooves sounded over the ridge. One of the Koru raiders yelled out a warning to Jovu who perked a ragged ear. The Vangali men were returning from their hunt. He had no desire to face down any of Corran’s tigers in battle. They would flee for now and let the Vangali struggle to deal with the flames of their village. He barked a general retreat and so they fell back from their pillaging and their battle with the warrior fox, although many now lay dead at his booted feet. Jovu glared at the fox with his one good eye, swearing silently an oath to himself that they would meet again in battle before taking flight himself.
The fox stood, waiting for the approaching horses bearing their riders, shoving the bloodied tip of his sword into the soft snow and hard earth, reaching down to pick up his fallen cloak, brushing dirt and snow from it, settling it back over his shoulders. Behind him, he could hear the young tigress from before approach, but his attention was focused on the band of tigers, in shades of orange, white, and black, approaching him. Most of the tigers broke off from the pack, seeking their homes, their loved ones, but a few remained to approach the fox.
“By the White Khan, what has happened here?” demanded the one at the head of the pack. This was Corran, Lord of the Vangali, Masters of the Frozen Lands. He tipped his great white maned head down as he removed his battle helm, his blue eyes meeting the fox’s own fierce eyes. “This fox…”
The tigress pushed past the fox and spoke up, “No, Lord Corran… It was not this noble warrior, it was the Koru. This one came and slaughtered many of them to protect us.” The fox turned to her with a raised brow, yet said nothing, returning his steady gaze to Corran. The Tiger Lord shifted uneasily in his saddle. Something about this young fox’s eyes seemed to challenge everything about him. A deep unquenchable fire within that sought to burn and devour all he sought.
A young tiger to Corran’s side, one with cunning features and a look in his eyes that spoke of deception, rode up and whispered into the Lord’s ear. “My Lord, this one is a Vulpan. Their kind does not wander alone from their dark forests except to steal money, women, crops or to just make war. He’s a spy. Maybe worse…” Corran glanced at the younger, then at the fox, and shook his great head, nudging his horse closer, but the youth would not let up. “Do not worry, my Lord, I will handle this.” The young Vangali dismounted his steed and approached the warrior fox, an arrogant leer in his face.
“Well, kit? You are exposed for what you are and you may consider yourself captured. So speak. Are you scouting for an attack? A thief perhaps. Or are simply Vulpan filth in the pay of Koru now?” he sneered. The Vulpan’s blue eyes widened as if insulted, his face scrounging up in disgust, then spitting warm spittle on the tiger’s boot. It had the intended effect as the Vangali’s short sword flashed from its scabbard and lunged out towards the fox. The Vulpan did little but to sidestep and thrust his fist out in a heel palm strike into the Vangali’s muzzle, then come swinging around with the opposite fist into a solid blow to the temple, dropping the tiger like a stone.
Two more Vangali leaped forward to the aid of their fallen comrade, but the Vulpan merely snatched up his great longsword and leveled the point at the fallen warrior’s throat. “Stay back, both of you, curs or I swear to you, this one gains a second smile. A redder one, at that!” The Vangali warriors halted in their tracks, various weapons at the ready, each eager to taste the young vulpine warrior’s blood.
The Vulpan lowered his head down and scowled at his fallen foe. “Do not speak of me as a “kit” again. I have spoken as a man at a warrior’s council since I have seen 15 summers. I have stood and sent dozens of warriors to the Gates of Hell. Can you say the same? Or is talking your only true skill?” the young fox scowled, then straightened and addressed Corran. “You there, on the horse. I suppose you are leader of this village. Is this how you treat those who save the lives of your mates, of your litters? I had hoped better of the Tigers of Vangal.”
Corran only quietly studied, whether he felt anger or not, it did not show in his great maned head, before he nodded. “My apologies, noble warrior. To see boon friends and merry wives dead, it seems none of us are in good temper, least of all Tamar at your feet. I thank you for your aid. May I ask what is it that they call the one whom I owe the very lives of our people to?”
The Vulpan shoved the fallen Tamar aside where he was instantly helped to his feet by his fellow countrymen and nodded. “My name is Redtail. Kendricks Redtail.”

The Adventure Begins!

Fri, 13 May 2005 21:20:57 GMT

At long last, the writer's block ends! And now, let my tale unfold!

Thunder rumbled the windows outside and lightning flashed as the hard sounds of rain drumming the window kept today strictly an indoor day. However, the youth did not care. They had their toys and indoor games to play with. Their tails to chase, their dolls to have tea parties with.
But all that lay forgotten for a moment. Young Nathan had asked Old Sema to tell them a story! A story from Old Sema! Such a treat was a wonderful treasure to each of the young pups as they scampered their way to the carpet that lay out before the rocking chair that contained the wizened old dog. Truly, “Old Sema” was a wonder to behold. No one knew exactly what her heritage was, for she displayed all manners of features, each lending to her uniqueness in their own little way, from her wise hazel eyes that saw little or nothing anymore to her mismatched ears, one straight up, the other flopped over.
Young Todd, her caretaker, settled a blanket over her lap to keep her warm, even though a fire crackled in the dim room, lit only by a fireplace and a few candles. Thousands of scrolls littered the back wall and all about her lay quills and parchment, for she wrote often, but her true love was telling the stories and especially to those who sat before her. All bore some sort of mismatched ears or russet-coloured fur of some sorts, each bearing their own piece of her as legacy. But it was those bright blue eyes shining out from each one of them. Despite her near-blindness, she could always see their wonderful blue eyes and it brought a wonderful smile to her wrinkled lips.
“Now, then, young pups, you have come here for a story, have you? What should I tell you tonight?” she asked, although she already knew what story they’d ask for…
Nathan, the oldest, piped up, “Tell us a story of Grandfather again! Tell us one of his adventures!” Old Sema smiled fondly and stroked the young pup’s hair softly. She closed her eyes and remembered what it was like. How many summers since he rode to Valhalla itself and had left her to tell his tales? Too many… yet so few remained of them apart… It brought comfort…
She opened her eyes and smiled again. “Very well,” she began in a soft tone that commanded total attention from everyone in the room as it always did whenever she told a story.
“A tale, like all tale, should begin a long time ago in a land far, far away… and indeed it was… A land of wonder…. An age of dreams, where everything was possible and so it was… Shining kingdoms like blue mantles beneath the skies and stars lay spread across the world as far as we knew it… From the Wolf Lords of Honehe to Shalari with its dark-haired women and tall towers of mystery, the noble Riverkings of Lontra and chivalrous Xiana, Muerta and its deep unknown shadowed tombs, Artagus whose riders wore armour of finest iron and swords of purest steel, but the proudest of them all were the Lions of Aquinas, whose empire reached to the great expanses and beyond until no man could walk from one end of their empire to the other in his lifetime, so great were their power… But it is far to the north, that our tale begins, in the Frozen Lands of Vangal, and adventure awaits…”

Sat, 19 Mar 2005 18:21:01 GMT

Well, it was about time I brought him back. Yes, folks. Luc Artagus, Immortal at large. I've got some good ideas for him and I want to post them here, but before I do, I thought I'd get you guys better acquainted with some of his earlier adventures. Our first few installments will deal with his origin. It was never fully completed, but the beginning is always a good place to start, isn't it?

The concept of Highlander and the character of Methos and any other Highlander character to be found in these volumes is a worldwide copyright and trademark of Davis•Panzer Productions, Inc. and Gétéve.

Don't sue me.

The lone figure stood alone, overlooking the river. The sky was as normal, dry and grey as he watched the Tiber and its various traffic. How long ago was when he was first here? Luc Artagus turned away from his window and sighed. He had never liked this apartment. He preferred home, the villa, with his wife, Eva...
He had left her in capable hands for this business trip, swollen and heavy with child. He had always been proud of that. He was one of a kind, even though he was one of a kind in other ways... For that, he was hated, for that he remained in secret.
He moved to the cabinet by the kitchenette and opened it and took out a small china cup and poured himself a cup from a teapot that he knew dated from 18th century, when was it? His thoughts were interrupted by the sensation. Shit, Luc thought to himself.... He heard the knock a few moments later and he moved to the door, keeping an eye on the silver-braided katana on the inside of the door. The handle was right next to the doorknob as he kept an eye on it when he opened the door.
“Adam, what are you doing here?” Luc spoke with mild surprise as he recognized the ancient Immortal on the other side. He knew Adam’s secret, that he was the Immortal legend Methos and easily doubled the two thousand year old Immortal’s impressive age. Out of courtesy and his elder’s request, he said nothing though and knew he should say nothing.
“Been a while, Luc..... How’s Eva? Still pregnant?
Luc nodded, inviting his aged friend in and watched him pass, watching the chiseled lines.
***
60 BC - Plains of Gaul

The chiseled lines of the soldier in front of him were all that he saw as Lecii Argatimax slashed his way through the man in front of him with his massive war blade. He grunted with approval as the lines parted, revealing muscle and bone beneath. His brother beside grunted approval. Erik was grinning underneath his thick braided brown beard as he spun his axe around into the leather armour of another.
“Like a pudding, eh, Lecii?” he grinned as he called out in their Arvenian tongue, but the grin was lost as he looked down to the bloody tip of a gladius protruding from his sternum.
Lecii howled a shout in protest before he felt a sharp cutting sensation across his back and he knew that he had let his guard down as he sank to his knees, while turning around at slicing the soldier’s knees as more soldiers gathered about him and thrust at his body with more swords. It took four more stabs before he fell the rest of the way as his face hit the mud.
***

“So what brings you here?” he asked Methos as Methos sat into a chair, quite uninvited. He offered him a cup of tea, but the other Immortal refused it.
“Simply put.... Alexander,” the ancient Immortal replied evenly.
Luc took an involuntary step back and shook his head. “Thought he died some time back”
“He didn’t,” Methos replied. “Do you have any idea where he could be?”
Luc shook his head once. “Haven’t seen him in years.” He picked up a glass and dumped the water in into a flowerpot and stared t the damp soil. “And to think I’ve known him forever.”
*** 60 BC - Plains of Gaul

His eyes snapped open in a flash as he gasped in breath. He was still alive, but how? Devil’s work..... Those damn Druids..... He turned with a groan and saw Erik’s dead body still next to him, his eyes vacant with expressionless emptiness of death. Lecii closed his eyes and wished for death. He struggled to his knees, to the alarm of scavenging Romans, and howled another war cry as he sprang forth with his war blade and met another length of steel, this time through his gut as he sagged down against the mud again.....
He woke again, with his face in the mud as he was hauled back up by his shoulders and turned around and opened his eyes into the face of a Roman centurion. “Quod est tibi nomen?” the murderer spoke in his disgusting language. Lecii knew it, but wouldn’t give him the time of the day.
“Mihi nomen ist Caedo Tiberius Ensis. You, my friend, seem to have a hard time dying.”
“Not like you, Roman dog! Your mother was a bitch to whelp you!” Lecii yelled out in his own Gallic language as he reached out and took a grip of the Roman’s gladius and pulled it out with a yank. He frowned at the unfamiliar feel of such a small sword and swore to himself he would never use such a woman’s blade as he thrust it into the Roman’s gut. He pulled it out and got up with a slight struggle, then dropped the blade with a panicked fear as he saw the Roman dog did not drop. “Goddess, are you some demon?”
“No, not a demon. Just unable to die. Just like you. Now will you tell me your name?” the apparently unhurt soldier spoke to the Gaul.
“Lecii Argatimax,” snarled the filthy Gaul, he itched to grab up his deposited war blade, ready to sink the cleaver into this man’s gut.
The Roman in turn seemed to have trouble with the name. Typical, Lecii, thought. Their primitive tongue could not hold such a glorious name. “Look-kee Artigimax?” hazarded the Roman, “I know, it’s not exactly what you said, but you have such barbaric words. Do not fear of calling me Caedo. Call me Alexander perhaps.”
“I have no ears for you, I care not if you cannot die or not”
“Neither can you. the gods have blessed us with this Immortality.”
“Blessed? Your gods only curse our people and our lands with the plague of your Romans.”
The Roman had defeat in his face before he brought his gauntleted wrist up into Lecii’s face before he knew darkness.

Ask Me

Thu, 17 Mar 2005 05:20:48 GMT

If you ask it of me, I will move mountains for you.
If you ask it of me, I will be there right now.
If you ask it of me, then I will give up everything and everyone right now for you.
Just say the word and I will follow you.
Ask me to love you and only you and my heart is yours.
Ask me to fly and I'd soar to the heavens for you.
Just say the word and I shall do as you command.
Ask me to walk the world for you and I will start.
Ask me to breathe for you because each one is with your name on it.
Ask me to make you laugh and I will tell every last joke I know.
Ask me to die for you and my life is forfeit, but for you.
Just give the order and I shall obey.
Ask me to touch your heart and I will speak to you.
Ask me to love you and I will tell you I already do.
Ask me to come for you and I will go.

Lonely Fox....

Sat, 05 Mar 2005 03:25:19 GMT

I woke up this morning with thoughts of you
Woke up happy then i turned blue
I came to remember that you weren't around
Made my smile turn into a frown
If only I cold hold you one more time
If only I had just a little more time
I am not asking for forever yet, just one more day
To have you around and tell you what I want to say
Tell you I love you without holding back
To keep a love that's true, keep it on track
To feel your skin as I hold you through the night
To tell you how you make even the darkest day seem bright
Oh the things I'm missing out on and the things we can share
At least you know how much I really care
I guess now we will have to talk in my dreams
But we will make it real for all it seems
For without you I am not whole
Cause when I left I left with you my heart and soul

I Know You're Mine...

Sat, 05 Mar 2005 03:14:52 GMT

With every lonely sparkle in my eye
It seemed to be that time was flying by

Who would have known that this was meant to be?
I never would have thought that you'd be loving me.

I never thought anybody would love me without feeling obligated
But I guess those thought are just out-dated

Now here I am with this amazing love you've helped me create
Exasperatingly I still remember our first date.

It should be considered a crime
That you stole my heart in such a short time

But I'm happy just knowing you're mine!

Have I Told You Lately?

Sun, 13 Feb 2005 11:14:52 GMT

Have I told you lately just how much I love you,
Or how your gentle smile can melt my heart?
Have I mentioned how your very words can touch this shattered soul
And still bring me warmth when we are apart?
How I feel when I do not have your arms to hold me close
Or how empty my life would seem if you are not there.
If you never find out how much it is you really mean to me,
Our hearts will beat on, lost, lonely, sad.
Never knowing their true mate, never being free...
And so I give my words to you, across the miles,
To bring you all the special feelings that you've given me.

I love you.

These Were Our Days

Sat, 12 Feb 2005 00:01:36 GMT

I stand here in the midst of the wreckage
Lonely in the center of my mind
I think of the faces that have been here
The names still on the doors
And I remember.

These were times when we were young
When some didn't know better
And others knew far too much
Where titans clashed
And poets dreamed

This is the jungle I was hardened in
My rite of passage, my circle of fire,
Where I bled, where I wept
And now only halls of silence
Answer my cries

These were our days when we were young
When laughter filled these now-silent halls
Where dreams were dreamed
And plans were made
And hopes for tomorrow were laid

Yes, when I look here at the wreckage,
I will say I was here.
And so were they.
Gods, monsters, titans, poets, boys.
But we all left as men