In the vast land of the Holy Empire, there is a place that attracts many different kind of people. It's a town bordering a long and particularly high mountain range. Said town is growing to the size of a large city in a fast, organized manner and soon, will become a center of great commotion. With its impetus, that commotion will span almost all of known world. Captain Bork however, could not have possibly known that at the time.

Bork, was a brawny man late in his thirties. He has been working hard for his position of a colonel in Holy Order of the Empire for almost twenty years, however his current rank was that of a captain. His most distinct and almost fanatically protected trait was an impressive beard that was tied up in braids. It has been sprouting from his broad chin for as long as ten years, which gave him both admiration, respect and from some jealous types, even scorn. Currently, his thick brows were furrowed in deep concentration. In front of him on an ornamental table of oak polished wood, that filled almost whole of his office, was Ulysses the 3rd. A little model of it, actually. Real Ulysses was a pride and joy of the Holy Navy, a true miracle of human ingenuity and engineering. It span almost seven hundred meters, was capable of flight and its cannons could pulverize any enemy at incredible distances. Ulysses was one of a kind flying fortress. The model itself cost almost all of captains three months of pay, including traded rations, so he was rather desperate to not make any mistakes. He moved his big hand ever so slightly, closer with utmost care not to damage his precious possession. Tiny paintbrush held in his fingers, closed to the vicinity of the steering wheel. Ulysses model wasn't small, but it sure was, very delicate.

"CAPTAIN! SIR!" There was a loud shout and a bang. Doors to captains office were being knocked with enough force for them to be on the brink of falling out of their hinges. Borks fist clenched on a broken brush very tightly as a sigh of relief escaped his mouth. If he hadn't been on guard and started just a second earlier, three months of renunciations might have disappeared into thin air. With hand full of tiny splinters, he sat down and dumped wooden remains of the brush from his palm to the trash and again focused on the door.

"Enter." As Bork voiced his order, a stout man in his early twenties entered the room with a pep in his walk. He stopped right before the model, trying to perform a standard salute with both of his arms in the air. Seeing his adjutant crudely waving his hands so close to Ulysses, made Bork exceedingly nervous. As sad as it is to say, the man that came in was not cut out to be a soldier. The only redeeming quality he possessed, was his willingness to obey orders. However, no ammount of persuation to drop out of service would work due to the mans obsession on an unrealistic idea of proving himself. You see, lord of this city has many offspring. He also has a problem with what to do with all of them. Having no better alternative, some are sent to military, to excel or at least gather some merits. Cutting it short, young prince Mongbock is an idiot, and one of many at that.

"What do you want Ravan? I almost ruined Ulysses there because of you. If it's damaged, it will be your pay that will be cut." Bork stared his adjutant down, at the same time trying to calm his dangerously elevated anger. Unfortunately for poor captain, his anger management levels will end up being tested again.

"Sir, there is a report of a god showing up on lower floors. It said that one of the guards have already been killed!" Bork thought, that it was an unusual report. Gods do not normally interact with mortals. Apart from few that indeed invest in human matters, rest keep to themselves. Humans and other kind of people do pray to them, wishing for boons and blessings, but rarely ever receiving them. To be frank, most are simply bored of humanity. A god showing all of a sudden in a little border town on the edge of nowhere, dead center in prison, killing people left and right, was as probable as Bork becoming a new emperor. To top it off, gods are bound by the covenant and they are not allowed to kill mortals, except for few extreme cases. Captain placed his head in both of his palms. The only thing he needed to ruin the rest of his day, were some delusions his subordinates produced after one to many beers.

"Ravan. You are an adjutant and a commanding officer of defense corps. If you are going to spout idiocies, then you might as well have done something worthwhile. How about you go train with recruits on the square for once, instead of wasting your time believing in fake reports?" Bork moved his forehead, resting it on one of his wrists while shooing Ravan away with his free hand.

"Sir, but..." Ravan tried to force the issue, but had to leave immediately when met with captains outburst of "Get OUT!".

Normally, Ravan Mongbock would leave without a fuss, but this time was different. His nose itched. He had a feeling that the report was true, that the chance for him to gather merits and rise within his household was about to present itself. He pondered for a minute, standing in front of his superiors office and when a light of thought struck him, he made his way to the barracks.

Bork on the other hand, was trying to cool off using some breathing technics. When that didn't work, he closed his eyes and created a sheet of white paper in his mind. He stretched both hands and placed them on the ornament table in front oh him. Local physician already told him many times that he should learn to control his anger. Several minutes passed and Bork calmed enough to grab another paintbrush.

Facing the captain, on the beautiful brown table, there was a little pedestal. On that pedestal, in all its beauty and glory Ulysses the 3rd radiated a calming and serene aura. Its elegant sails and tiny mates were calling Bork from across the deck to grant them their wish. And their wish was to be touched by delicate bristles. With slow, trained, dexterous movements, he submerged his brush in blue paint and when last droplets fell, he moved his brutish hand closer to his precious model. He stopped a centimeter from the little wooden head of Ulysses admiral. Borks suspended hand trembled. There were loud voices and sound of hurried footsteps just outside his room. He perked his ears and listened, but after a good minute, there was nothing but a blissful silence. Convinced that whoever it was moved away, he stuck his tongue out and started painting his beloved model.

"CAPTAIN! SIR!" Without waiting for permission or even having any decency to knock first, Ravan stormed the office with a loud shout, making poor captain jump high up in his chair. Behind the adjutant trailed a guard whose, unsurprisingly, threat detection levels started to rapidly raise. His danger avoidance sense hit a critical, allowing him to move aside in time.

"RAVAN!" At that particular moment young noble of Mongbock lineage was struck by something with such speed and force that he ended up lifted from the ground and flung back to the corridor.

Captain Bork stood up from his chair. Walked to the still opened door and closed it. Afterwards, he moved back and sat down rubbing the bridge of his nose with his trembling fingers.

"Tell me, what is this all about?"

"C-captain my n-name is Rosh, p-private Rosh. I m-maintain watch on l-lower f-floors"

"Relax Rosh, I am not going to flog you, unless you'll act like that idiot Ravan. Take a deep breath and start from the beginning." He tried to make his voice as calm as possible, but whether it was to late for that due to his feat of throwing things or the guard already being on the highest possible alert, Bork gave up.

"Y-yes sir. For todays shift, Me and Ral were responsible for the fourth floor of the dungeon. I went to the barracks on the second level for a bit and Ral was about to interrogate the beast girl spy that scout unit caught." Roshs voice trembled and his face looked pale, almost green, it was just like he would have seen a ghost. That pulled captain Bork out of his musings about his model and forced him to actually pay attention. It was clear that this private was in some kind of shock. He would understand if such reaction was from a soldier that just faced his first battlefield, but privates like Rosh hardly ever had an opportunity to see true war and prison guards on far away borders with the wild, were almost never sent to front lines. The area of expertise of such people were mostly torture and acts of cruelty. When it came to battle, they weren't very useful.

"When I got back, there were four people in her cell. That is, Ral, cat kin spy caught by seekers six days ago, some other beast girl in rags and..." Rosh stopped for a moment, but Bork did not rush him. "...and, Ral died. He was... on the wall and simply, died. There was... a god there. A two meter tall man in black, green armor. His eyes glowed with gold and black. He looked at Ral and died. He just, died." At that point captain Bork thought that, that was enough. It was clear that Rosh exaggerated greatly. It must have been a knight of foreign country using some elaborate teleportation and ending up in a wrong place. However, there also is a slim chance he was sent here on purpose and that he has a very clear goal. Bork couldn't dismiss this possibility, no matter how small it was.

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"Rosh, look at my face and take a deep breath. Focus, this is very important. Describe, the girl, in rags. Try remembering all the details you can. Tell me how she looked and how she acted." Gaining this information was an imperative. As the captain of this prison, Bork could dismiss exaggerations of his soldiers, but he has to check on the known facts that already hold true. It was extremely important to him to check if what Rosh was about to tell him, was consistent with his own knowledge about one being, that is secretly held in these walls.

"The girl, sir?" The private lifted his head, gazed at the ceiling and closed his eyes trying to recall how the girl looked. "She was, umm... I guess she was very pretty? Sir?" Vain on Borks forehead protruded menacingly. This must have given Rosh a push, since he hastily followed with a more proper explanation. "Oh, sir, I think she had several tails. If I am not mistaken she was of a dire wolf variant, with a human face, body and posture." Hearing this, captains menacing aura deflated like a balloon. He didn't want to listen anymore. The only thing he wanted, was to go back to his precious model. However, he still had to confirm. If he ignored this, it could end up with him having a hell to pay.

"Rosh. Tell me exactly, how many tails she had?" If Rosh said that there were less than four... "I am sure there were more than five, sir." ...Then this situation would have been salvageable.

Bork buried his head in his hands and started making sobbing sounds. Surprised by his superiors odd behavior, Rosh did what he thought best to calm him down. "I-its ok sir! It will be fine, its just some beast girl. Don't worry captain!" While saying that, he patted Borks broad shoulder. To his astonishment, it only made big guys sobs even louder. Thankfully, captain Bork was a tough nut. It didn't take long for him to pull himself together. He clapped his cheeks and stood up strengthening his back. "ADJUTANT!" He yelled.

"CAPTAIN! SIR!" Yelling in turn Ravan barged in without delay and saluted with his crude imitation of soldiers manners. His face sported a beautiful footprint of captains boot.

"Get me Lieutenants Valerie and Andol. Have Lieutenant Caraan take command and have him gather all of our troops in the courtyard. Make sure that they create a cordon cutting any possible escape route out of the dungeons entrance." Captain Bork was listing his instructions in rapid succession overwhelming Ravan, who up until now has never been entrusted with serious orders. When it came to it, Borks experience and commanding charisma made up for any lack of aptitude that this young noble might have had. "If any guard is still inside prison, make Caraan pull them out. Do not engage the girl under any circumstances, unless she leaves the dungeon. Make sure you remember that correctly. Now go."

"Captain, what if they free the rest of the prisoners?" Rosh, made a valid observation. However, in Borks eyes non of the convicts kept here were of any threat. Only the girl mattered. This whole place was built in order to mask her own prison. Most of people kept here, were petty thugs or simple dissidents. They were of no particular importance. Murderers or thieves were sent to mines were they would die in time. People of the Races were converted to simple slaves or livestock and after interrogation were sent back to magistrate. Those were rare cases however, since beast people and similar elements started to avoid human settlements, knowing full well what fate would await them if they were caught. Currently, slaves were a hard to get commodity.

Bork stood up and made Rosh help him with putting on his armor and cloak. He reached for his sword and fixed it to his belt. "Rosh, follow me." He opened the door with firm movements and walked out of the office. One of his lieutenants was already waiting, squatting with his back leaning against the wall. Andol wore a condescending look on his face. His mouth was no better as it lacked any respect for either the captain or anyone else.

"Capt'n! I was surprised you mobilized Valerie. She is even more of a loose cannon than I am. So? What's going on? Mind tellin' me?". Having said that, Andol smiled from ear to ear showing up his teeth and then heaved himself up using his greatsword, that was as tall as him. First of Borks lieutenants, Valerie, was a last resort that captain Bork was intending to use. Still, he preferred to leave nothing to chance in upcoming confrontation.

Bork narrowed his blue eyes and started with an order. "I am going to the armory. If you meet Valerie tell her to get her swords ready and meet me there. Andol, this is just for your ears for now, but It is possible we will have to subdue a demi. A very difficult one. Prepare well." Andols brow went up, almost touching his long brown hair. His eyes that were expressing boredom almost all his life, sparked with excitement and desire. "Hoh, you are going to keep the promise? I'll hold you to that capt'n. Do not disappoint me. Please." Andol moved quickly, disappearing in one of the corridors leaving behind only a smell of pricey liqueur.

Moving fast and crossing corridors both Bork and Rosh could see soldiers scrambling in and running in the direction of the courtyard. A loud bell could be heard from one of the tall watchtowers outside of headquarters. After few minutes, Bork reached heavy double door to the armory and produced a silver key from his pouch. These kind of doors were specially made. Only master of locks or extremely powerful force could possibly breach it. In Borks understanding it was practically impossible for anyone to get inside without a key. He inserted that very key into the keyhole and turned it counterclockwise twice. A soft click ringed and the heavy door slid open.

"Bork." A clear voice sounded behind captain almost making him jump. Rosh on the other hand was averting his eyes. Whenever possible, almost everyone in headquarters were actively avoiding Valerie. This went both ways.

"Good, you've come Valerie. Rosh, stay here." Bork shot a quick glance at his lieutenant and walked inside. Valerie kept close on his heels.

"Valerie. As am sure you know, to the north of Holy Empire there is a place called the Great Forest. Many years ago it had a different name. Forest of Spirits. At the time, it was far larger than it is now. With years it shrunk, mainly because of us, humans." He was slowly moving forward, searching for one particular tool. After his little introduction, he waited a bit for a response, but after just few seconds he moved on with the story, realizing that he wont get any.

"That forest is still home to People of the Races. During last seventy years humans have relentlessly hunted for beast kin and we are still at war with that place. Holy Empire is continuously burning up their precious trees. I know you won't blabber this out, but still keep it to yourself, at least for now, because what I am about to tell you is a closely kept secret. Although, I guess you already know all about it. Most certainly because of those eyes of yours and your patron. Seventy years ago, that forest housed a particular individual." Bork ignored rows of armor and weapons, as he stopped his walk in front of an old cupboard and then opened it up.

"The name of that individual was Malay. Her mother is a woman called Kiara, who is still alive and very much kicking. She is a mortal and a beast kin of a wolf variant. Her position is that of one of the elders of the Great Forest." From the opened cupboard, Bork produced two sets of chains. Cuffs on those chains shone with bright violet light and had intricate engravings.

"Now, the important part. Malays father, is a god." He handed the chains to Valerie, who received them in her hands. "A very malevolent god. I won't say his name here, but you probably already know. Most likely it was him, who lead to the capture of his own daughter and to top it off he did it for fun. Though, the lest part is just a speculation." Bork moved to the corner of the armory and pulled out one more key out of his pouch. This one was from black obsidian. No force could possibly bend or brake it. At least Bork knew of nothing that could do that. He looked down at the small case in front of him and used the key to open it. Inside, was a black flute. It had an ominous aura that was seeping to the air around them. Looking at it Bork had an impression that it exuded a foul, rotten odor. It was a demonic tool used in olden days to subdue and capture powerful beings.

"Valerie, if we are in luck, then we will be able to subdue a demigod today. However, If we are not..." Bork looked directly into Valeries eyes. "I will need your help. In her time Malay was said to be exceedingly powerful." Bork picked the case that was shielding the flute with his fingers and moved out of the armory, then he gave it to Rosh. "Keep that with you at all times. Do not open it. Keep at my heel no matter what. If you drop that, I will cut off your head personally." Seeing his captain being in fully serious, private Rosh could only keep nodding.

All three of them marched within now deserted headquarters and after few minutes they walked out into the open air in front of the building. In a large crescent moon surrounding prison entrance stood a good two hundred men in lousy armor. Borks two remaining lieutenants and Ravan in a goudy, unpractical breastplate were located in center of that wide encirclement.

"Is that all we have?" Bork faced a tall man in his fifties. Of all his men Caraan was the most reliable one. Moment later, he received a swift reply. "Yes, captain. There is not a single one of our troops left in the dungeon." Caraan waved his hand and two men in messenger outfit came out nowhere. As always he read his captains intentions two steps ached.

Bork produced a seal out of his pocket and gave it to one of the messengers. "Take the fastest drake we have and go to the royal capital, to commander Morthel at Holy Order headquarters. He will understand when you show him the seal. Stop at nothing and no one, understood?" Messenger gave a salute and run off to the stables. Bork turned to the remaining messenger "Go to lords manor and request for tower mages reinforcements. If he asks why, just tell him one of his sons is in grave danger, I am sure he will understand." When second messenger moved out of sight, Bork yelled "SPEARS!" That command made all the guards point their weapon to the front of the dungeons entrance.

"Do you really think its necessary for all those preparations capt'n, isn't it a bit match? The demi can't be that dangerous, unless it's something like the Witch of the Forest of old." Andol was sitting on the ground with a little bottle in his hand. He shot a questioning look to his commanding officer and took a swing of his liquor.

"You heard the tale of the witch of the forest, I see. That's good. I am sure that even you in your short life heard how dangerous that witch was. I will tell you this only once. Do not underestimate those tales or you'll find yourself, dead." Bork remembered his own dad telling him the very tale when he was a kid and later he read battle reports from the time when she was still active.

Now, it was time to verify if the tale hold true and if it does, the very earth and air could become their opponent.