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No More Opals, pt 2

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The feel of a septum yielding to the firm impact of his knuckles had become as familiar to him as an old friend by the time Ferren saved a despite Werber woman from the crowd abusing her. There had been six-- four humans, a Pumani and a Gnome. The Werulf honestly didn't understand why there was always one of the Shortfolk in any mob-- was it because their small stature gave them some kind of compulsion to surround themselves with the strength of a group? He honestly didn't care.

As usual, Ferren chose to start with the Humans; they were usually the ring leaders anyway. Despite his Master's often-spoken statement that death was often the answer, Lord Muscroft just as often said that killing should be avoided whenever possible, and the Werulf could smell the fear of the crowd when they realized that one of His enforcers had taken notice of their actions. He figured two Humans laying on the street would be enough to make the others flee; he wasn't correct.

Although the remaining Human and the Gnome turned tail and broke ranks, the Cat Man stayed. Only once Ferren was close enough to sniff at his final opponent did he realize that his assessment of the situation had erred; he was facing a Tygr, not a Pumani. In the Werulf's experience, most Pumani could be capable fighters but they tended to be lazy, or at least indifferent. The Tygr, on the other paw, were often much more capable warriors. Both were Feyonesti, of course, but it was the difference between a house cat and a tiger-- the fact that his opponent blackened his fur with soot explained his initial misunderstanding.

The Werulf watched as the Tygr slid into the stance more common among the Plainsfolk-- Humans who practiced a very unique form of unarmed combat-- an art of the martial sort known as 'The Touch'. Ferren had fought such warriors before and he was not concerned. Growling, the furred Enforcer gave his opponent a single chance to leave without severe injury. "Leave. Now. It is over."

The Tygr spat on the ground, his voice coming out in what was probably an attempt at an intimidating growl. "I don't think so, mutt. You disrespected my friends, and for what you did, you gotta pay."

Ferren paid close attention to the Tygr, not so much his movements or his words; he was more interested in the faint line of a scar he was certain he'd seen beneath the Cat Man's shirt. Flicking an ear, the Werulf moved into his best boxing stance; he'd learned the art from several warriors in service to his Master since it was less lethal than using his claws. He took a half step back to keep away from the Tiger a moment longer so he could get the words out. "Street Sweepers?"

The Tygr grinned, attempting to intimidate the Wolf with his teeth in a sneer. "Oh.... scared now, are you?"

Gangs weren't all that uncommon on the east side but what didn't happen every day was for one to rise to a degree of prominence as to be known as a distinct criminal element. Most gangs were created for mutual protection and survival of its members-- nobody in the Maan could care. When a group like the Street Sweepers made a name for itself it was never anything good; in their case, it was their constant reliance on violence to get what they wanted. Unfortunately for the Tygr, such actions were against Lord Muscroft's wishes, and what He did not like, Ferren did not like.

The ashed-fur Cat Man flicked an ear, slowly rising up out of his combat stance. "I haven't even clawed your face-- don't tell me that the cat has your tongue? Speak up, Mutt... I wanna hear you beg for y--"

Claws and fists were not the limit Ferren's skills when it came to combat; he had been intimately trained with many kinds of warfare. His master often said "A well placed knife can do infinitely more than a squad of swordsmen." and he was not wrong. The Tygr's gaze slowly lowered down to his chest where Ferren's perfectly aimed dagger had found its home; the ten feet between them did little to affect the Werulf's aim and his strength guaranteed that the blade had slipped through the Cat Man's fur to the hilt. Without another word, the Tygr fell backward,landing with a 'thump'; all that was left for him to do was bleed.

Ferren reached down to offer a paw to the battered Werber. She shied away, cowering from the Wolf despite her easily being 25% larger than he. Sighing, he doffed his cloak and slowly lowered it around the woman. "I am here to help."

It took at least ten minutes before he managed to coax the Werber out of her shock; he spent that time treating her wounds to the best of his ability, speaking to her calmly and softly. Ferren learned that the woman's name was Garna, and that she was a resident of east town. The Werulf asked her about the gang and why they were accosting her, to which she explained that she served a local launderer; she had received her pay for the week and the Street Sweepers had mugged her. After that, they decided that they wanted to hurt her because they didn't think Wer belonged in Maan Ellis.

Finishing off the last of his first aid, Ferren offered her an encouraging smile. "We belong here just as much as they do... perhaps more. Good people belong in a Maan-- trash like them belong in a garbage heap."

Only recently recovered from her shock, Garna looked almost ready to return to it when her eyes meandered to the Tygr; the man was laying flat on his back, empty, vacant eyes staring up at the dark night's sky. The blood had stopped seeping from his chest. "I-is... he.... dead?"

Ferren calmly stood and walked over to the Tygr, already knowing the answer. In order to more calmly address her he reached a paw out and rested two fingers against the thug's neck; his other paw unceremoniously pulled the blade free from the corpse. After wiping his weapon off on the dead Cat's shirt, the Wolf looked back to the woman, stating in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. "Yes. He will never harm another ever again."

As if looking for anything else to focus on aside from the corpse, Garna's eyes shifted to the two unconscious Humans. "And... them?"

The Werulf went to inspect the first man; raising the sleeve on the Human's shirt, Ferren saw no ritual scar and, checking the other arm, he saw the same. When he went to the second man, however, he saw the Street Sweeper scar right away. "One is unconscious... he should awaken soon."

Garna leaned forward "A-and... the other?"

Ferren raised the man's head and deftly drew his blade across the Human's throat. "Bad life choices."

She jumped up and away immediately. "You KILLED him!"

The Werulf wiped his blade off a second time before returning it to the holster inside his jacket. "I did, yes. Now he cannot harm anyone else. The two corpses were members of the Street Sweepers-- the lucky one over there has a chance to make better choices."

Garna was not placated. "But-- you KILLED him!"

Ferren glanced to the black, finger-less glove on his dominant paw; four Opals decorated his knuckles-- one was dark black, one was smoky gray, one was misty white and the other was a beautiful ivory. Two of them were covered in blood. "My Master teaches that we should be less afraid of retribution and more of those who would harm their fellows."

The Werber seemed to be stuck on the same thought. "You KILLED him!"

Sighing, the Werulf simply shrugged. "Perhaps... but, bad men do bad things. I saved the world more grief than I caused by doing away with these two."

The statement finally seemed to knock her free from her repetition. "But-- killing people is EVIL!"

Offering Garna a calming smile, Ferren leaned against the alley wall, making sure she had plenty of space to avoid causing her any additional anxiety. "Yes, it is... but the world is not black and white, Ms. Garna-- there are many shades of gray."

Holding up his paw for her to see, his comment was immediately processed as she stared at the stones. "You have Opals?"

Although many in the world didn't fully understand the power of Opals, anyone with even the slightest knowledge of folktales, karmic lore, or history understood the truth. "Killing these men turned the second one gray-- if they had been worth saving then I would have at least three black Opals, but I do not."

Surprisingly, the explanation seemed to completely placate the she-bear. Smoothing out her fur, Garna rose to her full, impressive height, and inclined her head. "I... I thank you for the rescue regardless. I don't know what they would have done if--"

Ferren held up a paw. "Stop. Do not trouble yourself even thinking about it..." he paused, looking at the empty hole in one of her ears. Although he'd been raised among the Werulf, Ferren had been exposed to Werber at a young age-- the only clan of Werber living in the Egnol Ellis Plains, at least. Female Werber did not often wear much jewelry and they only pierced their ears when they had a child. Likewise, they would only remove that piercing for a singular purpose. "When was your loss?"

Garna's eyes cast down to the ground. "Two winters past. He was four. I've felt lost ever since..."

The Wolf was not an emotional being; he had long-since divested himself from that weakness, but he was able to understand pain and seeing someone suffering from it did not bring him any joy. "Do you believe in providence, Garna?"

She looked back up, her big, brown eyes zeroing in on the Werulf. "What do you mean, Providence? I believe that Seir Kadan looks out for all of the faithful. The Father God helps us find our way in--"

Shaking his head, Ferren took a step closer, holding out his paw. "No... I mean something much more tangible. My Lord is always seeking those who have experienced loss-- especially those seeking a better world. Perhaps, you have the time to meet Him? I am certain He would be interested in hearing from you."

Whether she was encouraged by Ferren's obvious belief in Him or perhaps just as her way of repaying the Werulf, she agreed.

* * * * *

Love was not a strong enough word to describe what Ferren had for his Master. Lord Muscroft was his all; the Human had provided him anything he could ever have wanted without having been asked, and required nothing in return which the Wolf would not willingly and happily offer. Over the several years in Lord Muscroft's service Ferren had learned so much and become much greater than he ever could have hoped while living in the backwards, authoritarian tribe into which he had been born.

Several of his fellow tribesmen had chosen to join Ferren on his journey to the Maan with Lord Muscroft; far more elected to stay on the tribe lands, but nobody could deny that they owed everything to Lord Corwin Muscroft. Ferren saw an echo of his own devotion in Garna when she was accepted into their Master's service. While her own dedication was unquestionable, Ferren felt no jealousy as he knew that her service was in response to her own needs, not those of their Master. Ferren knew innately that he was Lord Muscroft's favored servant; he could feel it in His every command, and also in those times when He didn't need to say a thing to the wolf.

To say that he and Lord Muscroft were lovers would have been a gross mistatement and done an injustice in describing their relationship. Ferren knew the Human intimately, but their union had been singular, and it wasn't so much sexual as it was a spiritual joining. The Werulf knew his Master well enough to know that Lord Muscroft had no interest in physical pleasures and, after his own son was born, Ferren knew that his time with his mate had been at the behest of his family, not from personal desire; in their mutual disinterest in physical pleasures they were kindred spirits.

When he and Lord Muscroft were together the experience was so much deeper than carnal; it was divine. Ferren never felt the need to seek it again and his Master had not initiated since; the Werulf was confident that he never would, and not just because Lord Muscroft was married. Ferren knew that Lady Elizabeth was his Master's rightful bride and the Werulf had nothing but respect for the Human woman.

Lady Elizabeth made Lord Muscroft happy in the capacity for which she served-- it certainly wasn't sexual with her; as far as he knew his Master had never touched her. Insofar as Ferren could tell, his Master hadn't married her for an heir since, according to the manor staff Lady Elizabeth was barren, and unable to conceive. Regardless, Ferren's master treated her well and she seemed to be relatively content with her life at His home; far less so than the Werulf, of course, but comfortable nevertheless.

Garna, as it turned out, was to be employed as a handmaiden for Lady Elizabeth; not so much a gift, in Lord Muscroft's eyes, rather, she was to be trained by His wife in all the things a proper Nursemaid would need to know. It did not make much sense at the time, but no one objected. The Werber was moved into the manor immediately and Lady Elizabeth was given a task with which to occupy her time; the two became fast friends and, once more, Ferren was overwhelmed at the aptitude Lord Muscroft had for bringing joy to his followers.

It wasn't until two years later than Ferren fully understood the significance of Lord Muscroft's request. That began with a simple declaration from his Master one morning over breakfast. "Ferren?"

The Werulf always felt the same joy hearing his name spoken by his Lord. "Yes, Master Muscroft?"

"I desire your assistance today. The time has come for me to summon my familiar."

Although Ferren didn't know much about magic, he knew enough to know that his Master was proposing a powerful ritual, and wanted him included. "I am at your command. Always."

Lord Muscroft stood, walking past the others collected around the table; the Human always enjoyed breaking his fast with a collection of followers but, as he made his way toward the exit he gestured for Ferren alone to follow him. The Werulf did so, tail wagging freely. It stopped however, once they were out of the room. Handing Ferren an Opal, his glorious Master gave him a new order. "Bring Lady Elizabeth's corpse to the ritual room in the basement. Make it painless."

It didn't take long for the shock to wear off; at that point Ferren's tail picked up speed: he alone was worthy of his Master's most important work. "At once, Master."