FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

So, It's been a while, hasn't it? A few of you guys would probably remember my *very* short-lived series, "Andreas", and I regret not expanding on the ideas that it brought to me, or at the very least combining them to make for a longer read. It was only really meant to be an experiment in my writing though, just to really confirm that I could indeed write something and feel confident in my abilities. This story is... something else. This chapter was really only meant to be a one-shot when I thought it up one night, but as I thought about it, and even through starting to write it, I began to think "Hey, this can be a whole lot grander. Something bigger than just one story."

With that said, I'll share with you the idea that came to me. I like to put detail into what I write, but I often find it hard to project what I see in my head into writing. As such, I won't go into *too*much detail about locations or characters, and the like. My aim is to encourage you, the reader, to come up with your own ideas about what these places look like, what these characters look like. I'm also going to put a little bit of lore in here and there. Not enough to make a novel, but just little snippets of everyday life in Prylyn. It's largely up to you; you'll see what I mean. What do YOU think a "Gapmaw" beast looks like, just by the name alone?

Additionally, this story won't feature just one protagonist, rather, a new one will be introduced in every chapter, but they won't be the focus. It'll only until the next one that they will be the main hero or villain of the story. I guess this makes a slice of life *series* if you will. Every character will "pass the torch" to the next character, and to the next, and the next.

I'm not sure if this will work out as I plan, or if you guys will like it or not, but all the same, this chapter will hopefully be the first of many. Without further ado, let us begin the tale of...

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The Land Of Prylyn

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Shorehollow was a nice enough village, if small. Originally built and called home by the Great Elders themselves, it had certainly withstood the test of time, and well at that. Although a seemingly ancient town, Shorehollow still remained a lively place. Through the entire kingdom, the town was well known for having one of the largest produce farms in the land. Were it not for Shorehollow, potatoes and cabbages would have become a rare luxury to the rest of Prylyn. As a land, Prylyn was and always had been diverse, which offered seemingly limitless locales and environments.

The Sagemarshes sat at the South-East, and by them, Shorehollow. They remained the largest forested area that was ever known. To the far West, lay the Great Stone Plains, often said to be the home to lost spirits, with nothing but dead rock and little life as far as the eye could see. As such, not many souls dared to travel there alone. To the North lay the Frozen Wastes, mainly inhabited by the Ice-Folk. The people there were often considered brutal and primitive compared to the rest of the land, but their ability to fish was said to be legendary. Along the East coast were the Rolling Hills, a highly populated and wealthy area, and often considered to be the dream home for every soul on Prylyn.

Finally, in the centre lay the land's capital; Fallcrest, a huge, sprawling, bustling city. The sovereignty that ruled over Fallcrest, and through it, the land, was known as the Redmere. Although having almost all power over the land and its provinces, the Redmere family preferred their simple life of leisure in their luxurious manors and their tall keeps, much to the irritation of those who did not live in Fallcrest. The rich did not seem to pay taxes, it seemed. A revolt seemed inevitable.

But this is not the story of the Fall of Fallcrest, nor the tale of the Redmere Banishment. This is a short tale about a wolf named Hector, and his time with a rather peculiar companion.

The crunch of leaves and twigs beneath light footfalls was the only sound that seemed to pierce the otherwise silent air of the Sagemarsh forests. When there were no more leaves to crush underfoot, there was only the gentle sloshing of a bog instead. Hector knew these woods well. He knew the paths to take that would not cross any predator dens. He knew where the mud was deep enough to swallow a man whole with no warning. Yet the only thing he remained unsure of was where the best hunting spot was. Nimbly, he stepped over a fallen log and almost immediately dropped into a rabbit's burrow. He scarcely heard the panicked scuttling of the animal as it retreated deeper in, desperately trying to avoid the boot that now occupied its only exit, and escape. With an irritated grumble, Hector dislodged his foot and turned, inspecting the hole that he had now made considerably larger.

He found a grin forming across his muzzle, and reached back into his rucksack for a bait and trap. Upon setting the simple snare a ways from the rabbit's cosy burrow, the wolf continued on. Although he was satisfied at his discovery, the feeling would not keep. It was not his first hunt of the day, but it may as well have been. For the past few, short hours, he had caught more scratches and insect bites than actual game. His eyes focused ahead, Hector continued through the woods, even as the light around him dimmed and the retreating sun took on an orange hue.

For the first real time in a few days, Hector began to miss Shorehollow. Thoughts of a warm bed and a meal of warm bread and cheese made his gut grumble and his mind relax. He thought of being able to rest his weary legs and sit by the fire as his mother told ridiculous children's stories to his younger siblings. He always enjoyed their gasps and cries of wonder and amazement at such stories as "The Great Northern Sea Dragon" or "The Scurry-creatures of Sagemarsh." He remembered when he used to believe those stories too. It made him chuckle every time he heard them again. A light rustling nearby woke him from his day dream. He would have scouted far ahead for the source of the noise, but the thickness of the trees served to cut off what remaining light there was in the day. Slowly, he pulled his bow from his back and strung it quickly, fumbling and cursing as his fingers struggled to deal with the thin string. Within a few moments his bow was ready and he had an arrow notched against the bowline, ready for anything.

Even with all his readiness, he still could not see ten feet in front of him. His head turned slowly, his fingers clenching the bow as if it could be ripped from his hands at any moment. He was probably over reacting to the simplest noise, but he hadn't gotten much sleep over the course of his three day hunt.

His breaths soon came more slowly and steadily, and the wolf hesitantly relaxed the string, but he still looked around, listening and looking for any noise, any peculiar sight...And upon further inspection of a gap between two trees, he found one. Just a ways from him, around a hundred yards, he could see the faintest flickers of a lantern.

"Strange," He thought aloud, "I'm nowhere near Shorehollow...what's that flame doing there?"

At first he thought 'Fyre Sprites' , as they were known to lure lonely adventurers on wild, playful chases with their otherworldly glow, but the things never came out so early in the night. Besides, this seemed like an actual flame rather than a glow. His second thought was another adventurer, perhaps lost in the woods, but then he considered that if it was another adventurer, they would not be, well, adventuring so close to Shorehollow. Apart from hunting grounds, he didn't know of anything of interest this far South. With his curiosity piqued and his mind set, he trudged forward through the darkness, trying to find the source of this flame. Within a few minutes, he had found it.

A lantern sat on a haphazard table seemingly made out of deadwood and twine, and seemed awfully close to falling over due to the surface's instability. Beside it sat a crudely pitched hide tent, with possibly the mangiest bed roll he had ever seen. All around the tent were strewn containers and glass vials, all with various flowers and herbs that he mostly recognised as being from the general area. Most peculiar was the fact that despite the equipment and the lit lantern, nobody seemed to be around. Hector slowly stepped forward, closer to the tiny camp, and almost immediately stopped when he saw a nearby bush rustling, as if there were something in it.

Ever ready, Hector drew his bow back and aimed an arrow square at the bush. He couldn't take any chances. It could have been a wild animal, a ferocious beast, a... His thoughts were interrupted as a robed figure stepped from the shrubbery and hurriedly tried to remove a thorny vine that was wrapped around its midsection.

"Oh bother! These confounded shrubs!"

It exclaimed, also muttering an "Ouch!" every-time it tried to tear the vine away and its hand caught a thorn, which it clearly didn't appreciate. Hector paused and remained still, apart from hastily lowering his bow, now that he knew that this figure was indeed not a Maw-Beast with thousands of teeth. Clearly not knowing what to think, Hector spoke up.

"Uhm, hello there?"

The figure immediately raised its hooded head and seemed to pause, before resuming pulling at the vines, while still observing Hector.

"Hello to you!-ow, so nice to see-ow...another face in these...irritating woods! Ow! "

The voice Hector heard was clearly male, but he had a bit of trouble identifying the figure's race...until he spotted the large, red, bushy tail jerking and swaying behind him with every thorny stab. The fox managed to untangle himself from the vines after figuring out to use his sleeves to protect from thorns, and angrily threw the vines away into the forest and out of sight. Hector would have found the situation funny if he weren't so confused. The fox on the other hand didn't seem fazed by Hector's presence, and immediately went about collecting up the various vials and boxes that lay about, and then promptly tossing them into his tent. Amazingly, nothing seemed to break in the fox's violent method of cleaning up.

"I'm sorry about this terrible mess, my friend, I'm afraid I've been rather busy today...and yesterday...and the day...oh, nevermind. You don't want to hear a fox's ramblings..." The peculiar fox muttered as he moved about, sorting more 'valuable' items and putting them on the already occupied deadwood table, where they just toppled over anyway.

"Your ramblings would probably help me at this point..." Hector remarked, walking further into the fox's camp, while narrowly avoiding stepping on what seemed like potion bottles. Still watching the fox move about and finish up clearing his belongings, the wolf spoke again.

"...Who are you? Why are you here, in the Sagemarshes?"

The fox didn't stop until his belongings were packed away, or at least piled in his tent, and he mumbled to himself all the way. When he was done, he proudly stood in the middle of his slightly-less untidy camp, and smiled at Hector as if he were an old friend.

"My name? Well, my name is Roland!" The fox held his arm aloft as he spoke his name, as if doing so added a bit of dramatic flair to it. It did not.

"Roland?"

"Yes, Roland!"

"...Alright...and, why are you here?"

At the wolf's second question, Roland's smile seemed to widen as he planted both hands on his hips and thrust his chest forward proudly, trying and failing to look dignified and heroic.

"My friend, I was sent to these marshes by none other than The Great Alchemist Runi! I am his loyal student and apprentice!"

That really got Hector's attention, but also caused some concern. You see, Runi's name was not only well known throughout Prylyn; it was also revered and even feared by some. Every man, woman, and child knew about The Great Alchemist Runi, even if no one really knew what the man looked like. Many considered him to be one of the Naga folk, or a shape-shifter, or even one of the legendary dragon-people. Whatever he was, everyone knew of Runi. Many tales told of the man often portrayed him as a fearsome wizard, casting spells and bending the elements to his will. One such tale was that Runi was demanded by a pompous, annoying nobleman to make him become as strong as an ox and as sturdy as an oak. The nobleman pestered the alchemist so much that Runi just shrugged and turned the man into a tree. Whether that old tale was true or not, no one really wanted to find out.

So when Roland told Hector that he was his apprentice, it set off some warnings. Not only could this fox be dangerous, but by the way he was behaving, he could have also been a madman a well. Needless to say, it wasn't a very healthy combination by how Hector saw it. Just at first glance though, the fox seemed harmless enough. He didn't seem to be using any spells or consuming magical brews right at that moment, so hector gave Roland the benefit of the doubt and just went along with whatever the fox said...for the time being.

"So...Roland...Why are you all the way down here? In the Sagemarshes, I mean. It's an awfully long way from the Great Stone plains...That's where Runi resides, correct?" Hector pressed, wanting to find out just what the fox's business was so close to Shorehollow.

"Oh! Well, I'll tell you." Hector cringed as Roland dragged the filthy bedroll from his tent and sat on it, but tried to keep his objections to himself as the fox began to speak.

"Runi uses a scrying crystal to see faraway places in the world, but its energies seemed to be running out, so I decided to help him out with it! I tried to perform a spell that would give some energy back... buuuuut...the crystal...well, it exploded."

"It ex-what?"

"Oh, uh, I broke it."

"...you BROKE a scrying crystal."

"...Yes."

Hector couldn't believe his ears. Not only were scrying crystals some of the most sought out and valued treasures in all of Prylyn, scrying abilities aside, but they were also supposed to be unbreakable. Hector once asked an Elder about it and he said they were "Indestructible" or something of the sort, which basically meant unbreakable. To break one would have taken a great deal of skill and years of training...or a significant lack thereof.

"By the spirits of the stone, how did you manage to break an unbreakable object?!" Hector exclaimed, dropping into a seated position on the dirt, lest he have fallen over from amazement. Roland seemed greatly amused, as he laughed.

"Hah! That's exactly what Runi said!" The fox chuckled, though he did frown soon afterwards.

"He wasn't very impressed, though."

"I would say not!"

"...Anyway, he sent me on a very important task, and that's why I'm here!"

"What task is that, Roland?"

Before he answered, Roland leapt to his feet and retreated into his tent, before emerging with a piece of parchment, which he handed to Hector. The wolf looked down and noticed a large, very crudely drawn image of a wild flower that Hector had never seen before. A caption below said; "Speckled and Striped Swampherb Moonlight Flower". Hector frowned, and looked up at Roland, who had sat again.

"Roland, I've never heard of this flower before."

"That's okay! Runi said it was very rare! It only blooms in moonlight, and it only grows in the swamp!"

Hector frowned further. "No, Roland, I mean, I've been everywhere around this area countless times before, at night, in the swamp, and in the full moonlight. I've never seen this flower before. I hadn't even heard of it until you showed me this just now."

The fox's ears drooped beneath his hood. His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" He asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Hector paused for a moment, and it almost pained him to say it, surprisingly. "I mean, I'm pretty sure that this flower just doesn't exist. Not here, anyway. But I don't know of any other place in Prylyn that has a swamp. Maybe Runi told you the wrong place to come to."

Hector was concerned when the fox didn't speak for several minutes. As Roland had bowed his head, the wolf couldn't read his expression, nor even see his face. He spoke softly after a while of sitting in silence.

"Roland. You alright?"

Roland lifted his head, but kept his eyes averted. It became quite clear to Hector that the fox was upset. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but he didn't utter a word. Although he was a stranger, Hector felt a little bit sorry for the eccentric fellow.

"Look, Roland, don't despair! Runi might have just sent you to the wrong--"

"No! Runi does not make mistakes!" The fox exclaimed, leaping to his feet, which served to startle Hector somewhat. Roland began to pace around the camp, his thin fingers plucking at each other; a sign of his apparent distress. "Runi does not make mistakes. " All of a sudden, the fox stopped in place, and smiled, having thought of something.

"Oh, Runi, you fiendishly cunning man! This was all a test! A test of my loyalty! Runi knew I wouldn't find this flower; he sent me here on this impossible task so I could prove myself to him! Oh, I can't believe it has taken me this long to figure that out!"

One of Hector's ears flickered as he became curious.

"Roland, just how long have you been out here?"

Roland looked at Hector, his smile fading slightly as he began to think.

"Well, that is a good question...By my guess; I haven't seen Runi in a long time... I would say, three, four summers?

As strange as a fox Roland seemed to be, he didn't cease to amaze Hector. The wolf was profoundly taken aback by Roland's words; four summers was a long time to be alone, especially in the Sagemarshes. The place was little more than forest and swamp, and not many friendly creatures were said to dwell there. Even in Shorehollow, the threat of a Gapmaw making away with villagers was a constant, if often joked about, threat. The fact that Roland was still living in the Sagemarshes amazed Hector. Not wishing to insult the fox though, he kept that to himself.

"Four summers..." Hector murmured, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, clearly at a loss as to what to say.

"It's a long time. Even if you thought the flower was real, why did you not give up? I would have."

Roland shrugged and sat himself back down on his bedroll, wrapping his robes further around himself to fend off the cooling night air. "Runi said it was very important for me to collect it for one of his experiments, though now that I mention it, he didn't explain what that experiment was. Anyway, I wouldn't dare come back empty handed, so I've been searching ever since."

"That was why you were in those bushes before?"

"Ah, no. I was...relieving myself. I uh... search during the day, anyway."

An awkward silence fell over the two as they sat, with only the flicker of the lantern to accompany them. Hector spoke up once he felt the chill of the night start to freeze his limbs.

"So now that you know there is no flower, where will you go?"

Roland spared a shrug and raised his knees to his chest, rubbing his palms together to keep some warmth in. "I'll just keep searching until I find it! Wherever this flower is, I will leave no stone unturned! No cave unexplored!"

Hector, clearly expecting Roland to be largely unsuccessful in his quest, muttered under his breath.

"No beast unfed..."

"Pardon me?"

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking aloud." Hector pretended to scratch an itch on his nose, simply to hide a smirk that was quickly growing across his muzzle. The glow of the moon soon caught the wolf's eye, and he groaned.

"Agh, I had hoped to have made camp by now, and then go back to Shorehollow in the Morn. My hunt has not been that successful, anyway." Upon looking around, Hector resigned to asking Roland a question.

"Roland, it is late. May I stay by your camp tonight? I would find my own spot, but the thought of walking through the woods at night is not appealing."

The fox's ears sprang up as if he were excited, and he nodded. "Of course, my friend! You may rest anywhere you like. But, that said..."

"What is it?"

"I would like to know the name of the fellow who is sharing my camp."

Hector mentally kicked himself, having completely forgotten to tell Roland his name. With a friendly smile, he extended his hand.

"Of course. My name is Hector."

With a similar grin, Roland took hold of the offered hand, and shook it firmly. "A pleasure to meet you, Hector. I am Roland! I am the loyal student and apprentice of the Great Alchemist Runi!"

"...I know."

The fox's smile dropped again as he looked confused, then it came right back.

"Oh, of course you do! How silly of me."

The more time Hector spent with the strange fox, the more his mood seemed to lift. Maybe it was Roland's beaming smile or how he remained positive, even when in doubt. Hector appreciated his company, and began to admire his bubbly spirit.

By the next few hours, Hector had settled into his new, temporary camp, and the two had their own fire blazing, which certainly helped to keep the cold out. The Sagemarshes always fell below freezing at night, so warmth really was a necessity. Both of them shared from Hector's meagre supply of berries and edible herbs that he had collected over the course of his hunt, but in the absence of any real food, the two remained slightly hungry through the remainder of the night. Hector volunteered to keep watch by the fire while Roland slept, which the fox readily agreed with.

By morning, the fire had well died out and the sun had once again found its way over the Prylyn landscape, though very little made it through the thick forest. Having wrapped himself in furs from his pack, Hector stayed warm through the night and well into the early morning. His stomach grumbled and he was sore from sleeping on the dirt, but otherwise he was well rested and ready to challenge the new day.

Roland was not.

Mornings did not seem to agree with the fox, as he practically stumbled from his tent and sat by the ashes of the fire, his fur a scraggly mess and his eyes drooped. He mumbled a "Good morning." to Hector, before slowly starting to flatten his fur against his body. Without the hood over his head, Hector couldn't help but notice that Roland seemed awfully thin. As he thought about that fact, the more sense it made. Roland didn't seem much of a hunter, and had probably not eaten any meat for well over a few weeks. Then again, maybe the reason why he had lived was because any creature that came across him would not consider him a worthwhile meal. Once Roland had properly woken up and washed his face from a water-skin, Hector spoke.

"So, Roland. You told me that you wish to continue your hunt for the flower?" The wolf said as he finished packing up his belongings.

"Oh, yes. But I'm afraid I don't know where to begin."

"Well...you could start in the Rolling Hills; they're not far north from here. It's a great deal less dangerous than searching around the Sagemarshes. We're not far from the northern forest border, so I suppose I'll take you there. Maybe I'll find some worthwhile meat on the way."

Roland's ears pricked up and he tilted his head, his brow furrowed.

"Why?" He questioned. "Why are you helping me?"

To this, the wolf paused, staring ahead, off into the trees, before returning his gaze to the fox. "Roland... While I honestly think that this flower might not exist, I admire your willingness to make Runi proud. I know that nothing I say will deter you from your path, so all I can do is ensure your safety for a time, and then, simply hope for your success. Maybe you'll even find this flower on your travels."

Roland gave a warm smile, and clapped his hand over Hector's shoulder.

"Thank you, my friend. It...it means a lot to me that you say this. All the same, words will not get me moving! Give me a moment to collect my things, and we'll be away."

True to his word, Roland only took a couple of moments to pack his tent and bedroll into one tight bundle, along with several of his vials and herbs, which he did not seem eager to leave behind. With one final look around the campsite, Roland nodded to Hector and the two were off.

They walked for a few hours, sharing memories to one another and trading outlandish stories. Roland told a particularly good one about his run-ins with several bone-shamblers, and how he defeated them by knocking their skulls right off their bony necks. Though Hector didn't believe it, it was still fun to imagine the scrawny fox punting heads off of living skeletons. The wolf himself shared a few childhood stories, including the time when he tried to set a loop snare in a tree, and somehow managed to become entangled in it, upside down, for two hours straight until he had wriggled himself free.

By the time they had reached the forest border, the Eastern Rolling Hills were easily in sight, barely a few miles off in the distance. Along the coast, lay a beaten, cobblestone path.

Hector took a moment, before turning to Roland with a smile across his muzzle.

"This is as far as I can go. As good as a journey sounds right now, Shorehollow is still my home. Maybe when the farms don't need harvesting, I'll come and have a bit of an adventure. Take the road north. I hear that there is a tavern along the way, where you can get something to eat."

Roland returned the toothy grin, and firmly took the wolf's hand in his own.

"Thank you for your company, Hector. I shall not soon forget your kindness. When I have found my flower, and proven my worth to Runi, I will surely return. May the Great Ones watch over you."

Soon, after saying their final goodbyes, they parted ways. Hector went back into the forest to head back home, and Roland trudged North, forward towards the adventures that would meet him along the way.