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Baile. For as long as anyone still living, whether Vulpes, Lupus, Ursus or even the wise and ancient Testudi people, that is what the world has been called. A world of beauty, of nature. A world filled with gods and spirits. With magic, both old and new. And with stories. Many stories. For Baile meant home, and as everyone knows, every home has its stories. For all of the stories there were perhaps none so important to the life of this world as the tale of a young Vulpes man, whose destiny would bring him face to face with gods, with demons and all manner of being between. And whose choices would shatter the very foundation of the world everyone thought they knew.

Of course our tale doesn't begin with a man, and certainly no legend, but a young boy living on a farm in the arse end of nowhere. No-one could have known the single event that befell this pup would set in motion a chain of events that would change not only his life but the lives of everyone on Baile.

North, a young vulpes pup of around age thirteen, was going about his daily business. As of his seventh birthday, he was given the task of feeding and caring for the livestock on his family's farm and he hated every stinking second of it. Often wishing things would change, which they would in due course, although North had no way of knowing that when he was up to his elbows in manure for the better part of his morning.

His day proceeded like every day, he fed the cows, the chickens and the family horse, also named North by his father.

Spent nearly two hours cleaning the manure from the animals enclosures, although on this particular day it was considerably closer to three--these things do happen when you slip and land in a large pile of shit with an incredibly satisfying squelch. Which only worsened his foul mood.

Finally, he ended his chores by combing out Norths' mane.

"I will never, in a million years understand how you can manage to tangle your mane this badly," North muttered to the horse, who whinnied, or rather, laughed in response.

"If my father hadn't told me magic was the domain of wizards and spirits," he continued, "I would swear on my left ear that you were casting a spell on your mane."

If North the boy had not been combing North the horse in the stables that day, and had he not taken a dip in a manure bath earlier, chances are the life changing encounter between North, the pup, not the horse, and his future mentor would never have taken place.

On this particular day, a contingent of armed men, led by a large, brown furred Lupus dressed in a long grey coat and seated upon a chestnut stallion approached the farm, and while the majority of the men continued on to the farmhouse, no doubt seeking booze and wenches and being sorely disappointed when North's father answered the door, the Lupus by the name of Winston Heatherton took a detour to visit the stables to see if there were any feed for his horse.

Nearing the stable, the man called out to North "Hoi there small fry, I mean you no harm, but I must ask, do you have any feed for a horse?"

Norths response was instant, "Of course we do, this is a stable, what did you expect, fine dining for the upper classes?"

This prompted uproarious laughter from the Lupus, despite the joke not actually being funny, and a response, "Talking back to a witch hunter lad?"

Winston's' words froze Norths blood in an instant, a witch hunter, the harbingers of doom posing as men loyal to a higher power. Despite North obviously being shocked, Winston continued by saying, " Razor wit you have there.Tell me, how would you like to become a wit-"

North immediately shook his head, muttering, "I don't want to become a monster."

With that, Winston shrugged, moseying on into the stable and taking some hay for his horse, before opening a stable bay door and coaxing his horse in.

He turned to North and said, seriously, "My name is Winston, I am a witch hunter in service to the Church of Light and I recommend you and your family stay indoors tonight."

He paused to close the stable doors, and turned to look North dead in the eyes.

"I have come to your farm because the Clergy believes a nightwalker, a vampire, or bloodsucking dickhead as I like to call them, dwells near your farm. I swear upon my sacred oath, that I will do my best to ensure that should the creature be drawn towards your home, I will destroy it and prevent harm from coming to your family your family."

With that, both North the Vulpes and Winston the Lupus headed in toward the farmhouse.

To say the night came quickly after the two of them headed toward the house would be an understatement, like calling falling in shit mildly upsetting. The soldiers were told to eat outside, however Winston was invited to have dinner with the family. Less out of respect, and more out of pants-ruining fear of what he might do if they didn't.

During dinner no-one spoke, a tense quiet covered the delicious meal.

It was during this uncomfortable quiet the Winston took the time to assess North. The young Vulpes was fairly tall for a fox, and his fur was a stark white, only interrupted by icy blue hair on the tips of his ears and tail. Build wise, the lad was wiry, clearly toned but not at all bulky. Most striking of all however, were his eyes, a deep, dark blue, that seemed to burn with a quiet desire to change the world around him.

"Yes," thought Winston to himself, "he would do nicely."

Following dinner, North was immediately told to return to his room, which was more of a decorated attic, but not those terrible attics that terrible people seem to have for no valid reason, while his father confronted the witch hunter.

"I wish to join your militia,' he stated clearly, 'should any monster threaten my family, I at least want to be able to kick it in the mouth while it's alive."

A smile crossed Winston's lips, and he gestured for North's father to join the militiamen that were going to stand guard at the house should the vampire show because, at least in his mind, this was the safest place for North's father to be.

It wasn't long before Winston and his posse set out to hunt the beast, and it was an even shorter amount of time before things at the house went pear shaped in the worst way possible.

Relaxing in his decorated attic bedroom, North was startled by a scream that was cut off as quickly as it happened. And it was at about this point he retrieved a small knife he kept near his bed for wood whittling.

Further screams resounded, each one cut off rapidly, the final one sounding like his father, prompting North to run from his attic to make sure things were okay.

Emerging into the entryway and main room of the house, North was confronted by a horrific sight. Gore and viscera covered every inch of the room, and the smell of torn open cadavers assaulted his sensitive nose like a tidal wave.

Amidst all this carnage stood a lone figure, a young man, likely no taller than North, covered head to toe in the blood of the massacred. North tried to call out to the figure, but as though it noticed his presence, it slowly turned as if on a turntable, and the words caught in North's throat.

It had one clawed, twisted hand near to its mouth, and in its grasp was a heart, still dripping with fresh, red blood that ran down the length of the beasts arm.

It's face was unlike anything North had encountered, a mess of fangs and torn flesh, completely twisted from whatever it was before, with the horrifying sound of cracking bones and tearing flesh, the creature devoured the entire heart whole, then opened its mouth, the flesh either side tearing open with the sound of raw flesh being rent in two to widen its maw.

With a quiver, it unleashed a terrifying scream that shattered any resolve North may have had to fight. Dropping to his knees, North's final defeat at this creature was close at hand, his surrender complete and utter, as below him lay the shredded remnants of his father's corpse.

Acknowledging that it's prey had surrendered, the monster sauntered forward, placing one hand on the young pups cranium, right between his now drooping ears, and prepared to crush his skull. As if by a miracle, the crushing grip never came, instead, a loud whistling, followed by a thud and then a small explosion.

Gore once again showered the room as the creature's arm was blown off in an explosion of flesh, muscle and bone.

"Hey, dickhead," yelled a familiar voice. Diving through the doorway into the house was Winston, a long, curved and serrated knife clasped in one paw, a small crossbow with an unusual revolving mechanism in the other.

As the crossbow quietly whirred to place another bolt into the firing position, the hunter crouched into a low position and kicked off with unimaginable force. With a sound eerily similar to the exploding arm, he unleashed a brutal kick into the vampire's stomach, launching the creature cleanly into the air, and propelling it hard enough to send it flying through the wall. It was at this point that North knew why the witch hunters were considered monsters. In the eyes of the uninitiated it seemed they were custom built to stand toe to toe with monsters and demons, and it showed in that one move.

With a terrified screech, the now even more mangled vampire attempted to scramble away and as if trying to add mystery to the scene, all sources of light, save the soft moonlight, died.

From the shadows came a muttered, "Courtesy of the Church," before another tell tale whistling and explosion, accompanied by horrific gurgling noises.

In the still, dark silence, the only thing that now stood out was the silent, monolithic form of Winston, as still as the night itself. Slowly standing and still in shock, North finally managed to choke out the words he had meant for the monster that killed his father, "Who are you?"

Slowly turning to face North, his eyes now aglow, Winston simply said, "I am one of the monsters, that kills other monsters." With that, he turned and walked out of the gory scene. It didn't take much for North to follow, he had nowhere else to go after all.

Following along after Winston, north finally got to see the carnage he had heard outside. Several corpses lay shredded on the ground, and now amongst them, lay the headless body of the creature that caused all of this.

Its skull had clearly been removed with explosive force, and there were still gurgling noises coming from the cadaver. Finally Winston stopped by his horse and turned to face the young man, "Are you ready to become a monster?" was all he said. And the response, little more than a resolved nod.

To him, this wasn't a choice, in his rage he would ensure there wouldn't be a single vampire left. And so began Norths journey from farm boy, to monster.