Sorry for the updates!

Okay, Maybe I lied. I have the inspiration bug, and re-wrote the entirety of the intro for "Vulperia United", adding over three thousand more words. OKAY I SWEAR I'M GOING BACK TO RECONNECTED LIKE A GOOD LIL BOY! Enjoy <3 (I couldn't just let this absolute gem sit without being fixed up properly.) I haven't lost an ounce of motivation for Reconnected, I just REALLY wanted to get this down on paper before the concept and premise lost me. I am incredibly proud of this, as it's the first time I've tried my hand at fantasy writing, but I think I did a damn good job, if I do say so myself.

Vulperia United

Black screen> outdoor sound effects

(Three sheets to the wind, Scott Buckley)

The winds softly whisper outside my tent, carrying promises of victory and honor.

A warm sun, soft dew… and thousands of vulperian troops rising from a restless slumber.

What a beautiful symphony to wake up to, and what a beautiful day for war.

Today is the day… the day the Frost Wolves learn their place in the world… underneath a Vulperian claw.

A yawn tears from my heavy muzzle, and my muscles stretch to their limits as I prepare for the battle looming on the horizon.

???: “Master? Are you awake yet?”

The familiar voice of my squire, Pollus, tentatively echoes past the tent flaps.

Vulterus: “Yes, Pollus, I’m up!”

A happy giggle sounds off in response, one just as excited as I am.

???: “I hope you’re not sleeping naked again, because I’m coming in!”

Incorrigible squires… he’s lucky I love him so.

Vulterus: “Yes, you little fiend, I’m decent.”

(Insert Pollus happy)

Pollus: “A great day for a battle, master! A great day indeed!”

Pollus: “Are you ready for what lies ahead? I hear the soldiers speaking your name through the camp…”

Pollus: “They say the Frost Wolves are calling you ‘The Shadow of The West’, and it seems our own troops have taken quite a liking to the title as well, sire!”

I grumble a bit as I sit up straight, my towering head nearly brushing the roof of the tent.

Shadow of The West, huh? Kinda cool… I don’t mind that… I don’t mind that one bit.

Vulterus: “If it’s increasing morale, then who am I to revoke such a title?”

Vulterus: “Besides, those Frost Wolf scums do have a knack for poetry…”

Vulterus: “It sort of rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? ‘The Shadow of The West.’”

I repeat the title, enjoying the way it tastes.

Pollus giggles again, bringing me my breastplate.

(Pollus smirk)

Pollus: “Ever the humble one, aren’t you, master?”

Pollus: “Far be it from me to contradict the great and mighty Vulterus! Oh no, sire, I’m just the squire, after all!”

His mischievous grin spreads wide, like a pup that got away with stealing a quick coin.

Cheeky bastard… knows just how to get under my hide…

Vulterus: “You’re so very lucky I favor you, Pollus. Oh, so very lucky.”

Vulterus: “Any other master would have had you drawn and quartered for such insolence!”

He starts to fasten the breastplate to my torso with well practiced care… which I should hope he has, considering how many times he’s had to do it.

Pollus: “Aye, and I’d deserve it too! But tell me, Vulterus, if you had me drawn and quartered… who’d keep you entertained with such lively banter!”

Pollus: “You wouldn’t make it a day without me, and you know it!”

I mean… he’s right.

These long marches would be far more boring if that damned weevil wasn’t around all the time.

He finishes fastening my armor to my shoulders, and steps back to admire his handiwork

Pollus: “There you are, master! Just as devilishly handsome as ever.”

Pollus: “The jet black fur, the height, the bulk, the muscles! I’m surprised you can even walk with all the women that throw themselves at your footpaws!”

I scoff loudly at his remarks.

Vulterus: “Gotcha, Pollus! How can you label me as having an ego when you go around saying such flattering things to bolster it!”

Pollus, who is now fastening greaves to my calves, flashes me a sly wink.

Pollus: “Because I didn’t say they were true… but you believed them all the same!”

Dammit…

No matter how hard I try, I can’t get a paw up on him in these silly battles of wit.

Vulterus: “Clever squire indeed.”

Pollus laughs, shaking his head.

Pollus: “So tell me, Vulterus the great and humble… is the armor too tight? Do I need to loosen it a bit? Wouldn’t want you tripping and slamming your muzzle in the mud in front of the whole Vulperian army, now would we?”

I get to my feet, flexing my foot claws and wiggling my toes.

The cool metal is rigid and unyielding, but there’s just enough space for me to keep my grip if I needed to make a hard turn.

Vulterus: “Flawless as always, Pollus.”

Vulterus: “I guess now it’s my turn to stroke YOUR ego… if such a thing existed.”

Pollus passes me my gauntlets, forged of black ore like the rest of my war attire, which I hastily put on.

Pollus: “It exists… but that doesn’t mean you’re ever going to see it.”

His eyes soften, and his normal playful smirk gives way to a grimace of genuine concern.

Pollus: “You… you are going to come back… right?”

Pollus: “Promise me this isn’t going to be the last time I see you?”

My breath catches in my throat, and it has nothing to do with the heavy armor.

War is always a risk… but I have never lost a battle yet, and I don’t intend to have that change today.

Vulterus: “I know that day will come… eventually… but it’s not going to be today, Pollus. I promise you that.”

He looks up at me with affection heavy in his eyes, and something that might just be a hint of a tear, even if he’d never admit it.

Pollus: “As much as I still need you around, your troops… your people… they need you even more.”

Pollus: “I don’t need to tell you how much they admire you… do I?”

Pollus: “Vulperia would be a nation in shambles if it wasn’t for you.”

Pollus: “And as much as you hate it when I say things like this… but… dammit… I admire you too.”

He wipes a paw at the back of his eye, and shakes his head to ward off these sudden sappy emotions.

Vulterus: “Don’t fret, Pollus. Some mangy Frost Wolf isn’t going to be the thing that takes me down.”

Pollus passes me my visored helm, and raps his short claws against my breastplate.

Pollus: “Well, thank the gods for that!”

Pollus: “So, tell me, Vulterus… are you nervous? Apprehensive perhaps? It’s best to handle such feelings now, rather than on the field!”

Gods, he certainly can be clingy sometimes, even if I know it comes from a supportive place.

Vulterus: “You know this isn’t my first battle, yes? I HAVE done this before, many times…”

Pollus frowns at me, giving me a stern look that screams of disbelief.

Pollus: “Yes, but you’ve never lead a battle as a general before today, sire.”

Pollus: “Forgive me for having your best interest at heart… but if you’re certain that the nerves aren’t getting the better of you, then I should tell you that the other generals are waiting for your arrival.”

Shit, how could I have forgotten something so important…

Well, on the bright side, it’s not like I can be punished for tardiness anymore, given my new glistening rank.

Vulterus: “Ah, of course… I uh… I should probably be there… shouldn’t I?”

He shakes his head, just as surprised by my forgetfulness as I am.

Pollus: “Yeah… I’d say that’s probably a wise choice. General Thorne isn’t particularly known for his patience, as you well know.”

Pollus: “Now that that’s squared away, are you going to make an appearance, or mope around your tent all day?”

Pollus: “The troops need their leader! I already have your thragg saddled and ready for you.”

I laugh a little at his eagerness.

Seems someone was up early… or perhaps I’m merely up late?

I’m probably up late…

… Definitely up late.

Vulterus: “Yes, little squire, yes. I’ll make my way to the generals’ tent now.”

Vulterus: “Thank you, as always Pollus, for your service.”

The metallic thud of my greaves clanks off the soil as I step out into the camp.

A piercingly bright sun shines overhead, a good omen for victory.

Vulterus: “Oh, Pollus?”

He glances curiously at me as I glare at him over my shoulder.

I give him a wink before donning my visored helm, concealing my muzzle and face.

Vulterus: “Try to stay out of trouble this time, yeah? Wouldn’t want to have another debacle like last time, now would we?”

He bursts into laughter, and raises his paws up, feigning innocence.

Pollus: “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about, master! Now get a move on, you fat lug!”

I dodge the small pebble that he throws at me and it whizzes harmlessly by as I chuckle along with him.

Seems I CAN get under his fur after all.

I turn back, and lumber off into the bustling war camp.

The thick scent of salt and steel permeates the air as soldiers prepare for what’s to come.

Every tent is buzzing with life and energy while the final preparations are underway.

Squires scurry about, gathering armor and weapons as they bring them to their masters.

Birds flit and flap overhead, enticed by the promise of plenty of carrion for days to come.

I stretch my arms high above my head and start to make my way to the front of the camp where the generals’ tent is.

Pollus: “SIR!”

My footpaws pause mid step, and I look over my shoulder to see what my incredibly annoying squire has to say.

Vulterus: “What is it, Pollus?”

He rushes towards me, a large scabbard draped across his arms.

Pollus: “You almost forgot your sword again, you dumb brute!”

I walk over to him hastily, drawing the weapon from its leather home, briefly checking its sharpness.

The black blade glitters in the morning light, dazzlingly bright and perfectly whetted.

Ah, Soul Rend… what a terrible name for such a beautiful sword.

Pollus: “It looks just as hungry as ever, master… make sure you feed it well out there.”

He shoves the scabbard into my chest, and I fasten it to my belt.

Vulterus: “I will, Pollus… I will.”

As I trek through the camp, certain that I couldn’t possibly have forgotten anything else, I can’t help but notice the whispers and glances the soldiers throw my way.

‘By the gods, it’s The Shadow!’

‘Ayy, squire! Come take a look! It’s General Vulterus! He’s gonna lead us to victory!’

‘What a sight to behold you are, sir! I wish you luck out there, not that you’d need it!’

They all bow respectfully as I pass by, well aware of the respect their fearless new leader deserves.

Well… as fearless as I can be… I’m not a god, after all.

To be honest… I AM quite a bit nervous… so thanks for pointing that out for me, Pollus… ungrateful bastard.

I strut up to the generals’ tent, and hastily push my way inside.

It seems to shrink around me as my towering height enters the confined space.

My brawny shoulders nearly span the entire width of the entryway, and the deliberate conversations being had grind to a halt as my presence is made known.

There is a large wooden table in the center, circular and strong, covered in maps and scrolls dictating our strategy for the day.

Surrounding it are two armored Vulperians, both glaring at me with scowling expressions.

General Thorne and General Taxadar… just as grumpy as always I see.

General Thorne: “Ah, Vulterus. How considerate of you to finally show up.”

I remove my helmet, setting it roughly down on the rigid table.

My cocky smirk doesn’t do much to help their sour moods, but I brandish it all the same.

Besides, gotta cover my ass somehow… better to play it off than let them know I’m actually really sorry.

Vulterus: “You’re very welcome, General Thorne! Unlike you, some of us actually do work around here, and require ample amounts of rest in order to be in peak fighting condition.”

He grumbles and shakes his head at me. The aura of disappointment around him practically fills the whole tent.

General Thorne: “Watch your tongue, insolent pup… the emperor might favor you, but you’re always going to be a greenie in my eyes.”

I look down at him, my vastly superior size lending itself to my blatant disregard.

Vulterus: “And favor me he should, General Thorne. Even someone as crotchety as you can’t deny my prowess on the battlefield, and neither does the emperor.”

Vulterus: “Or is it your proposition that I am undeserving of the title of ‘General Vulterus’? A bold claim to make on a day such as today, if I do say so myself!”

Seems like my bantering lessons with Pollus are paying off in dividends… I wouldn’t have had a tongue this sharp a few moons ago.

General Taxadar: “Can you two women quit stroking your tiny cocks and focus on the matter at hand? We have more important things to do than bicker over who has the biggest ego!”

My footpaws carry me forward, and I sit down in one of the chairs around the table with a heavy thud of metal on wood.

Vulterus: “Practical as always, Taxadar. Shall we begin?”

Thorne takes his seat as well, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he turns his attention to the map.

General Thorne: “Would have started half an hour ago if someone had an ounce of respect…”

General Thorne: “Alas, you’re right, Taxadar… let’s explain to the pup our plan for the battle.”

I lean forward, my head casting a lengthy shadow over the map as I try my best to be attentive.

They are far more experienced than me… even though I may not feel like a general quite yet, I do still need to pretend to be one.

General Taxadar: “As we were discussing before your arrival, General Vulterus, we intend to split our army into three portions. One constituting half of our forces, and the other two in quarters.”

General Taxadar: “The main segment will be led by you, General Vulterus.”

‘Lead by me’… it seems so foreign to hear even still.

Something I’ll definitely have to get used to in the coming moons.

Vulterus: “And what of the other quarters? What role will they serve?”

Thorne sits up straight, fidgeting with the fastens of his armor.

General Thorne: “The remaining two divisions will be led by Taxadar and myself… these frost wolves come from mountains, not forests…”

General Thorne: “They will stick to the main path, and approach EastWard field directly, preferring the open ground than the confines of the trees.”

General Thorne: “That’s where the remaining half of our army will hide, on either side of them in the safety of the woods… and when the time is right… we’ll flood them.”

He slams his paw onto the table with a resounding crash.

General Thorne: “Just like that… quelling the Frost Wolf incursion into the dust, right where they belong.”

My metal breastplate clanks delicately as I lean back in my chair, pressing myself against its firm support.

Vulterus: “So tell me, what role does the main force play in all this?”

General Thorne grins, wrapping his muscled paws across his chest.

General Thorne: “You, young pup, our infamous ‘Shadow Of the West’… will be the distraction.”

General Thorne: “The Frost Wolves are honor bound creatures, and they will be chomping at the bit to be the one to take down the mighty General Vulterus, and they’ll never suspect a thing.”

General Thorne: “Your responsibility is simple… buy as much time as possible for our flank to get into position.”

General Thorne: “And if you’re lucky… you might just survive!”

My fur bristles beneath the confines of my armor.

What the fuck did he just say?

I’m… I’m the distraction?

This isn’t a distraction.

THIS IS SUICIDE!

They… they’re trying to off me.

Vulterus: “You can’t be serious… you do understand this is suicide, yes?”

Vulterus: “You both understand just how many of our own are going to die to enact this plan of yours, yes?”

Vulterus: “Have you no respect for the lives of your men? For the lives of MY men?”

I stand up from the table, my tail thrashing wildly behind me in aggravation.

General Thorne smirks at me, clicking his tongue a few times at my display of anger.

Taxadar reaches out, placing his paw gently across my bracers.

General Taxadar: “Calm yourself, Vulterus. You will not be fighting long before our trap springs shut.”

General Taxadar: “Death is a part of any war, and you are no stranger to it. Everyone knows the risks and dangers of such a daring plan, and we all have our part to play.”

General Taxadar: “We expect… no… we KNOW you will enact yours beautifully, Vulterus.”

His reassuring words manage to calm me down, if only a little.

A fucking suicide mission… I can’t believe it…

But… but if Taxadar believes this is the best course of action, I need to have faith that he knows what he’s talking about.

Taxadar is renowned as the wisest battle strategist in all of Vulperia, and I’m just… well… me.

Vulterus: “How much time is required for this plan of yours, Taxadar?”

He brushes a paw against his muzzle thoughtfully, sneaking a glance down at the map before answering.

General Taxadar: “Given the depth of the forest, and the path we intend to take to ensure our plan remains undetected… I would say no longer than fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes… every second on a battlefield can seemingly stretch out to an hour.

It sounds simple enough, but buying fifteen minutes of active combat is no small feat.

I bellow out a deep sigh, and dig deep, extracting every ounce of my courage.

Vulterus: “Swear it to me, Taxadar. Swear it. Fifteen minutes, and not a second longer.”

Vulterus: “Battling with Frost Wolves is no laughing matter, and you KNOW this battle will be a fierce one.”

Vulterus: “I won’t condemn those men to death should you be late, and I value their lives more than you could possibly know… now swear it.”

Thorne scoffs loudly, drawing both of our attentions to his remarks.

General Thorne: “So now punctuality is important? Quite the contradiction, General Vulterus.”

I snarl, and take a menacing step towards him.

My fangs bare dangerously, and I push my muzzle right next to his with a threatening growl.

Vulterus: “I may be young, but do not mistake my age for weakness, Thorne. You know as well as I do what the outcome would be if we decided to cross blades… General.”

He reaches up high, and condescendingly pats me on top of my bristling head, right between my pointed ears.

General Thorne: “Guilty as charged, Vulterus. Your skill with the blade and claw are indeed unparalleled, but that, my young friend, is exactly why you’re on the front lines today.”

General Thorne: “Besides, your proclivity to theatrics should lend itself well to buying time… just do whatever you have to do.”

I snarl, and butt my head against his forearm, shoving him away forcefully.

Vulterus: “Fifteen minutes. Should you fail, I promise I’ll fucking haunt you for an eternity to come.”

With my final scathing remark, I grab my helm and storm out of the tent to rally my forces.

The air doesn’t seem so fresh anymore, nor the sun so bright.

Brittle ground gives way beneath my thunderous gait, parting like the skin of a rotten fruit as I stampede to the front of the camp.

Pollus: “Everything alright, master?”

The curious eyes of Pollus poke out from behind a nearby tent, filled with concern.

Of course this weevil would be lurking nearby, what else did I expect?

Vulterus: “Not now, Pollus. Get back to the tent and stay safe.”

He walks up beside me, practically jogging to keep up with my massive strides.

Pollus: “That bad, huh?”

Pollus: “What, they’ve got you taking a more hands off approach today? I know just how blood thirsty you can be, master.”

Oh, he could not be more wrong.

Vulterus: “Quite the contrary… now if you’ll excuse me, I have an army to lead.”

He stops mid step, looking hurt at my dismissive tone.

Pollus: “As… as you wish… m-master… y-you’re thragg is all saddled and waiting, as I mentioned before.”

Gods, now I’ve hurt his feelings…

It doesn’t really matter, it’s better than telling him the truth.

He worries about me enough as is, I don’t need to pile this onto his plate as well… no, better I keep him in the dark on this one.

As I reach the front of the camp, my massive thragg is waiting for me, stamping its visceral claws restlessly into the dirt.

He sees me approaching and charges forward, slamming his enormous head against my chest, toppling me to the ground.

Vulterus: “OOF! Down, Scuzzy! Down!”

Scuzzy, my faithful companion on the battlefield.

Him and I have seen our fair share of conflict together, and there’s no beast more noble in all of Vulperia…

Even if he is an ugly son of a bitch…

I guess this might be our final ride together… and he doesn’t even realize it yet.

The thragg’s wickedly barbed tongue flicks out, tickling at my muzzle. He knows exactly how much force he can apply before it starts to cut through fur and flesh.

I swat his head out of the way, and I swear the beast smiles as I roughhouse with him in return.

My paws grip his curbed ears as I use them to heave myself back onto my footpaws.

Vulterus: “Must you ALWAYS embarrass me, Scuzzy?”

He tilts its head, looking up at me curiously with his deep golden eyes.

The dark brown fur across his mane bristles, and he bends low, allowing me to situate myself in the leather saddle across his arched back.

Scuzzy sure does know how to lighten the mood, I’ll give him that… big brute that he is.

Once I’m firmly in place, I give him a soft kick on the flanks, commanding him to rise.

He turns tail and starts to gallop towards the hill near the camp, well aware of where the battle is going to take place

He can smell them on the wind… the Frost Wolves… just over the crest.

Vulterus: “TO ME MEN, NOW IS THE TIME!”

At the sight of me heading towards the ridge atop my bulking companion, horns burl and call forth, heralding that it’s time to begin the short march to EastWard Field.

A cacophony of sparks and steel chorus behind me as the camp moves out, setting a brisk pace in my wake.

Today is the day… in a few hours time, the Frost Wolves will be crushed, and the blood sun will rise over a new Vulperia.

A strong Vulperia… one safe from the threats that terrorize us from the north.

I just hope I’m around to see it.

Tall trees and brush lie far beyond me in the distance, creating a backdrop to the picture I intend to paint with sword and blood… and this field is going to be my canvas.

The sounds of a panting creature pull me from my rumination, and I look down over Scuzzy’s flank to see one of our scouts, sprinting to catch up to me.

As he approaches, Scuzzy lets out a deep growl, warning the scout of the gruesome consequences for getting too close to his master.

Vulterus: “Easy there, Scuzz. Plenty of time for that soon enough, boy.”

The scout holds out his paw to me, a tiny scroll clutched in his fingers.

???: “Vulterus! Generals Thorne and Taxadar send word that their troops are rallying to position on the flank!”

???: “Your strategy worked flawlessly, the Frost Wolves wont suspect a thing!”

A nervous smile spreads across my muzzle.

I’m just the distraction. Frost Wolf pride is what’s going to be their downfall today.

They assume that The Shadow of The West will be seeking glory and honor… but that’s not the case, even if I wish it was.

Today, honor is going to be the deadliest weapon. I just have to hold the line long enough for the flank to work, and when they have nowhere to run, the Frost Wolves will crumble.

They’ll never see it coming, just like Taxadar said.

It really is a flawless strategy. Reputation is a weapon as sharp as any sword, and as precise as any bow… if you know how to wield it.

Vulterus: “Thanks, lad. Best you get back to camp, and make sure it’s ready for our return.”

He gives an exhausted nod, and sprints off back down the hill, shouldering past my soldiers that stretch out as far as the eye can see.

As I crest the hill, EastWard Field comes into view below me.

A vast expanse of tall grass and flowers spread across it, wilting gently in the strong winds.

On any other day, it would be quite a beautiful sight, and a perfect spot for an afternoon meal… but after today… I doubt it will ever be as glorious.

Across the way, I see the Frost Wolf lines starting to form near the woods, and a vicious growl rumbles through my throat.

Damn Frost Wolves.

Tenacious bastards, I’ll give them that. Been raiding and pillaging Vulperian settlements for months now.

That ends today.

Scuzzy sees them too and I feel every muscle in his strong body tense beneath me, but he keeps his pace measured and controlled.

In what seems like only a matter of moments, the tall grass is creeping up beside me, tickling at my black fur as we arrive.

This will be the place where I leave my mark on the world.

This is the place that will go down in history as the place where Vulterus the Conqueror defeated the Frost Wolves.

My soldiers get in line behind me, spanning the entire length of the field, shoulder to shoulder.

Rows and rows of vulperian troops pile in, quivering in anticipation… well aware of what is going to occur in just a short while.

Now is the time.

(Golaith, Scott Buckley)

I hold up my paw, trying my best to stop it from shaking.

They can’t see me falter, not even for a single moment. I have to be the strong leader they all think I am.

I’m not going to let them down… not now… not ever.

I draw Soul Rend, holding the glistening blade high into the air for all to see, and I slowly make my way to the center of the field alone.

One thragg rider, sent to be the envoy of an entire nation… It’s rather silly if you stop and think about it.

I see the Frost Wolf general break rank, and walk out to meet me.

In Vulperia, we value honor just as much as the Frost Wolves, so I know their general wouldn’t dare start the bloodshed without an official declaration.

His silvery fur is a striking contrast to the field of greens, and an even greater juxtaposition to my jet black fur and armor.

Vulterus: “Easy, Scuzz. Not yet boy, not yet… we’re just here to talk… and to buy us a little more time.”

Time to put Pollus’s bantering skills to the test.

The longer I keep this buffoon talking, the shorter we have to fight, which could spare countless lives.

I dismount scuzzy with a flourish, landing in stride as I keep my forward momentum.

Vulterus: “Stay, Scuzz. I’ll only be a moment. Stay here, boy.”

He lets out a whine of protest, but sits all the same, running his deadly tongue over his gargantuan claws to bide his time.

I raise one paw in a gesture of neutrality, and the Frost Wolf general does the same.

I’m a good few feet taller than him, but he doesn’t look any less menacing because of it.

He has a brown scabbard draped across his back, and a handsome leather belt adorned with a variety of furs from his fallen foes.

Fucking savages…

Vulterus: “That’s far enough, Frost Wolf!”

We stop our forward approach in tandem, halting only a few paces away from one another.

Vulterus: “What’s your name, general? I’m sure I need no introduction.”

He smiles at me deviously, making sure I get a good look at his sharp fangs.

???: “Aye, I’m pleased to make an acquaintance of the mighty Shadow of The West.”

???: “Name’s Tariq. General Tariq of The Frozen Burrows.”

I bow good naturedly, sweeping my head low to the ground and averting my eyes in a show of respect… not that a fucking Frost Wolf deserves it.

Vulterus: “Nice day we’re having, isn’t it? The sun is bright, the winds are pleasant, and the flowers are as sweet as ever.”

He pulls his lips over his muzzle in a snarl, pointing one of his hooked claws at me.

Tariq: “Indeed… and yet you shameless Vulperians choose to soil such a gift with unnecessary bloodshed…”

He glances past Scuzzy at the sizable horde at my back.

Tariq: “Looking a little light back there, Eh, Shadow? Couldn’t be bothered to bring the whole army?”

Shit… He’s onto us… I have to salvage this, and fast.

Vulterus: “Hardly. I merely don’t see the need to inconvenience the entire imperial army over a few insolent Frost Wolves.”

Vulterus: “After all, it’s your people’s insolence and unwarranted raids that brought us here in the first place, is it not, Tariq?”

I spit his name out like a chewy piece of gristle, unfit to even be in my muzzle.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he takes a menacing step towards me which earns him a deadly growl from Scuzzy.

I wave my paw back at him, attempting to calm the pissed off thragg.

Tariq: “You dare make such accusations? Frost Wolves are innocent in this and you know it. You’re simply a band of thugs.”

Seems like I got under his skin… his earlier train of thought vanishing from his mind.

Tariq: “Power hungry thugs that won’t stop ‘till the whole damn continent kneels before you!”

Tariq: “Well not us. Not the Frost Wolves. We won’t bow to the likes of scum like you.”

A vicious grin spreads across my face, and I point my black blade directly at his heart.

I’ve got him right where I want him.

Vulterus: “Well, if you won’t bow, then I suppose I could force you to kneel, if that’s what you prefer?”

Vulterus: “Say, come to mention it, we could settle this right now if that’s what you desire, Tariq. Man to man. Vulperian against thragg shit, for that is all that you are to me.”

Vulterus: “It would bring me great honor to return to my forces with your fucking stump of a head in my companion’s jaws.”

Tariq looks at me furiously before throwing his muzzle back in laughter.

Tariq: “A one on one against you? To decide the whole fate of my people? I may be proud but I’m not a fool, Shadow of The West.”

Tariq: “Besides, my army is practically double yours… so I’ll be a gracious host and offer you one chance to surrender before I crush you in my paw.”

Tariq: “Lay down that damned blade of yours, and let’s spare the lives of both of our men… surely even a damned Vulperian values the lives of his soldiers.”

As much as he’s right, I have a job to do,  and I intend to fulfil it… regardless of the cost.

Vulterus: “It’s not the size of the army that counts, Frost Wolf, but how hard it bites… and I assure you, my jaws are far stronger than yours, little one.”

Vulterus: “Fine, if you want to take the coward's way out and deny me the honor of taking your head honorably, I will simply pluck it from your rotting corpse when the fighting is over.”

Tariq: “Silence, Vulperian. You’ve insulted me for the last time… if it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you shall have.”

Tariq: “Let us see just how strong the jaws of The Shadow of the West really are… I’ll make sure to bury you in a shallow grave.”

With that he turns tail and walks back to the front lines of his soldiers.

I hear a chorus of jaunts and cheers erupt from the Frost Wolves as Tariq throws his paw up commandingly to the open blue sky.

Well, I did as best as I could… let’s just hope it was enough.

Don’t let me down, Taxadar and Thorne… please don’t let me down.

Vulterus: “Scuzzy! To me!”

The thragg eagerly leaps to his paws and trots over, bending low so I can mount up.

Vulterus: “Seems you’re getting just what you wanted, eh, boy? You’ve never been the type to complain about a bit of fighting, haven’t you?”

He snarls once more, and quickens his steps, carrying me back to my tensely waiting army.

Well, here goes nothing. It’s now or never.

I spur Scuzzy into a ferocious pace as I ride up and down the lines, his powerful paws slamming against the stones and soil as my deep voice echoes loud enough for all to hear.

Vulterus: “Brave soldiers! Listen to me well, and heed my words!”

Vulterus: “Today is the day we quell the Frost Wolf threat forever.”

Vulterus: “Today is the day that we safeguard our homes!”

Vulterus: “Look beside you, men! Look around you!”

Vulterus: “These are your brothers, your sisters! We do not fight as one Vulperian standing alone, but as one country! As one nation!”

Vulterus: “Our hearts beat as one, our swords swing as one, and together, we shall NOT be defeated by our enemies!”

Vulterus: “Think not of what this means for you today, but think of your families!”

Vulterus: “Today, we fight to protect our wives, our sons and our daughters from those that would do them harm.”

Vulterus: “Steel your resolve, men. The Shadow of The West rides with you, and I will fight until my dying breath!”

Scuzzy halts, rearing up high above the ranks and causing a deafening cheer in response to his dominant display of power.

Vulterus: “WE WILL SHOW THEM WHO WE ARE! WE WILL SHOW THEM WHAT WE STAND FOR!”

Vulerus: “NO LONGER WILL WE TOLERATE THEIR VILE WAYS. NO LONGER WILL WE SIT IDLY BY!”

Vulterus: “TODAY, WE TEACH THOSE DAMNED FROST WOLVES WHAT IT MEANS TO BE VULPERIAN!”

Vulterus: “TO ARMS, MY BROTHERS. SHOW THEM THE MEANING OF THE WORD ‘FEROCITY’!”

I throw my visored helmet over my head, and draw Soul Rend high into the air like a beacon of light and virtue.

My piercing blue eyes scan over the soldiers one last time as Scuzzy can hold back no longer and tears across the field like the avatar of death itself, here to exact his vengeance.

Vulterus: “FOR THE SHADOW OF THE WEST, AND FOR A VULPERIA UNITED!”

Vulterus: “CHAAAARGE!”

The battle cry behind me nearly knocks me off my mount, and the very ground beneath me trembles and shakes with the force of my beloved army rushing to face our foe.

The Frost Wolf horns blare into the air, and I see the first of their ranks sprinting to clash with us head on.

I will not falter.

I will not fail.

I am Vulterus the Conqueror, The Shadow of The West, and I have never known defeat.

Today will be no different, the blood sun shines down upon Vulperia, and Vulperia alone.

The wind rushes past my ears, drowning out everything but the sight of my enemy.

Time seems to stand still, drawing out for as long as I can recall, and yet in the blink of an eye… the battle snaps me back to reality.

Scuzzy leaps high into the air, slamming his paws down to crush the first unfortunate Frost Wolf with a sickening squish.

Snarls and fangs gnash all around me as Soul Rend dances through the air in my paw, severing heads and limbs alike.

Blood splashes up into my mouth as a scream of agony shrieks from beneath my blade.

Metal and claws clash together as each side refuses to relent, unwilling to give up a single inch.

A spear flies right beside me, burying itself into the chest of one of my men.

FUCKING BASTARD!

A terrifying roar echoes from my chest as I begin to cut a path through the front lines.

I just need to hold on long enough for General Thorne. Just a little while longer, and I’ll have my victory.

Adversary after adversary falls to my blade as I tear through them without mercy.

Vulterus: “TOGETHER MEN! SHOW NO MERCY!”

Scuzzy’s jaws rip back and forth, shattering bone and steel without discretion.

I parry a blade strike, and deftly counter, beheading the clueless Frost Wolf with one swift flick of Soul Rend.

My eyes land on my next target when I’m suddenly yanked from Scuzzy's back, slamming hard into the ground.

The breath surges out of my lungs as my spine crashes against my breastplate, and my vision hazes over for just a moment.

As I begin to regain focus, the only thing I see is the curved blade of a Frost Wolf soldier arcing towards my deliciously exposed throat.

I throw my paws up desperately, and a crash of steel surges through my body as my gauntlets deflect the blow.

The very next thing I know, Scuzzy’s jaws clamp down over the soldier's head, enveloping it fully as he rips it clean from the Frost Wolf’s shoulders with a grotesque crunch.

The thragg towers over my prone form and roars, refusing to let any harm befall his master, even if it would cost him his own life.

I roll out from beneath his paws and get to my feet, holding my blade defensively out in front of me as another Frost Wolf charges forward to take his fallen comrade’s place.

Lowering my shoulder, I slam into his chest, taking him clean out of the air with my vastly superior size, breaking his ribs with only one blow.

Soul Rend is all too eager to finish his suffering, spawning a river of blood beneath my armor clad footpaws.

Where the FUCK ARE YOU, GENERAL THORNE!?

WE CAN’T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS, THERE’S JUST TOO MANY OF THEM!

All around me I see the corpses of Vulperians and Frost Wolves alike littering the field of battle.

Scuzzy snarls at my side, looking up to see if I’m okay.

Vulterus: “Thanks for the save, Scuzz… I owe you one, pal!”

He laps his bloody tongue lovingly across my helm, and together we leap back into the fray.

Frost Wolf after Frost Wolf falls beneath our attacks, but for every one that dies, two more take its place.

Wave after wave crashes against us, but like a mountain in the sea, we stand strong… we hold the line.

Scuzzy roars in pain beside me as a Frost Wolf blade plunges into his shoulder.

Fury rises into my throat and I dash forward like a bolt of black lighting, cutting off the villain’s arm before I plunge Soul Rend into his heart.

Vulerus: “YOU ALRIGHT, SUZZY BOY?”

He snarls his affirmation and rips the sword from his flesh, casting it into the enemy ranks.

???: “VULTERUS! HELP!”

My head whips, and I see a pocket of my men, hopelessly outnumbered, falling like flies to a bat in the night sky.

Vultures: “SCUZZY! WITH HASTE!”

I point my blade in desperation at the brawl, and he tears off obediently, barreling down a dozen Frost Wolves in his relentless wake.

Guess it’s just me now…

A parry.

A cut.

A scream… and…

Wait… it can’t be… 

That’s General Tariq, just up ahead!

His sword slashes, cutting down one of my men like a dog with a wicked grin across his evil face.

Oh no you don’t, you fucking bastard. You’re mine.

I pant angrily as I storm towards his position.

Vulterus: “VENGEANCE COMES FOR YOU, TARIQ!”

His silvery ears perk up at the sound of my deep voice bellowing towards him, and he snarls.

Tariq: “BOYS, WE GOT A PROBLEM!”

The heads of a few Frost Wolves turn, and they break out towards me in a charge.

With a twist of the leg I drop low, sweeping Soul Rend out and slicing through their exposed legs like lambs to the slaughter.

Tariq leaps over his groaning soldiers, and crashes on top of my kneeling body, tackling me to the ground.

I lose my grip on Soul Rend, and it falls helplessly beside me.

Tariq’s fangs lock onto my helm, tearing it from my head before I shove backwards, throwing him off of me.

He lands gracefully and charges once more, but this time I’m ready for him.

I sprawl out, slamming my elbow into his spine with a deafening crack.

My enormous body falls on top of him, pinning him to the dirt.

Tariq’s fangs slash out and find their mark, sinking into my muscled calves and the firm bone hidden within.

I roar in agony, and sink my claws into his scruff.

The pain soars through my body like a flock of angry ravens, but I ignore it, nothing is going to stop me from claiming my trophy

Vulterus: “Your tyranny ends here, you fucking bastard!”

One of my paws locks onto his shoulder, and my other wraps around his throat as I begin to pull.

Tariq gasps for air, and his jaws instantly release me with a spurt of gore and viscera, but I don’t relent.

His bones begin to pop, and I feel his flesh giving way beneath my meaty paws as I rip and pull with all the force in my body.

A blood curdling scream is his final epitaph on the world as I relentlessly tear his skull from his body.

 Vulterus: “FOR A VULPERIA UNITED!”

I stagger to my feet, and hold my bloody prize high overhead for all to see.

Vulterus: “GENERAL TARIQ IS DEAD!”

Frost Wolves turn, seeing the lifeless eyes of their once strong leader showering blood onto my black head in a ghastly waterfall.

They turn tail to run, and it’s at that exact moment that I hear the war horns billow on either side of me from the forests.

General Thorne: “FOR A VULPERIA UNITED! CHAAAARGE!”

General Taxadar: “SHOW NO QUARTER MEN! CUT THEM DOWN LIKE THE DOGS THEY ARE!”

Out of the corner of my visor, I see an entire battalion of thragg riders break from the tree line, slamming into the Frost Wolf flank like a shark chasing down minnows.

Hope wells up inside me, and I press forward with renewed vigor.

Right on time, General Thorne, right on time.

Let’s finish this, once and for all.

Screams and wails of agony sound from the rear of the Frost Wolf lines as General Thorne descends upon them with an unparalleled bloodlust.

His thraggs devour everything in sight, snatching up Frost Wolf after Frost Wolf into their mighty jaws.

The opposition’s morale crumbles, and I see them run away from me, only to be met face to face with a vicious pair of thragg fangs and Vulperian steel.

Vulterus: “ONWARD BROTHERS! VICTORY IS NEAR!”

My heralding shout spurs my men forward, and the energy practically sparks from soldier to soldier as foe after foe falls to our blades.

The savage roars of the reinforcing thraggs is music to my ears, and soon enough, the Frost Wolves are fleeing back into the woods.

Vulterus: “SCUZZY!? TO ME, BOY, TO ME!”

Moments later, the blood soaked body of my delightful friend rushes up beside me.

He sees my injured leg and snarls, searching around for any possible culprit.

I lean heavily against him, and the gore seeps through my armor, plastering against my fur.

???: “SURRENDER MEN, THE DAY IS LOST! LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS!”

The plea of the remaining Frost Wolves choruses over the battlefield as they drop to their knees, cowering beneath our might.

Cheers erupt from all around me, and Scuzzy’s thick head rears up to the sky with a deafening roar.

He crashes down beside me, nearly taking me to the ground in the process as I favor all my weight on my good leg.

I pat him lovingly on the muzzle as I attempt to calm him from his frenzied state.

Vulterus: “Easy, boy! Easy! It’s over! WE WON!”