A chilling wind swept through the Grey Forest, carrying with it a scent of blood. With it, mixed the faint sounds of battle. The foul odour that disturbed the tranquillity of the forest had travelled far. Originating from lands to the south, by those who cared little for the wilderness. These trespassers preferred to rend the earth apart, ripping away roots to scavenge from the dead rather than nurture the natural world.
The putrid smell seeped into every corner of the forest, even reaching as far as the iron caves nestled deep within the heart of the Forest, high on the Grey Mountain. Within the deepest cave, a massive creature lay dormant, his rusted fur undisturbed until now.
A low growl echoed through the dark stone walls as the chieftain stirred. The low growl turned into a roar, reverberating through the entire forest. As the ground trembled beneath the force of his roar, the trees seemed to shiver in response. As the echo of his rage faded away, many shapes in the dark began to shift.
The message was clear: Chief Ironfur was awake, and his wrath would be unleashed upon those who dared to disturb his sacred lands.
Amber eyes flickered open dangerously, beginning to adjust to the darkness. It had been a while since he had awakened. At first, his strides were leisurely, stretching his massive form before he gracefully transitioned into long, powerful strides on all fours. Despite the tight space, Chief Ironfur managed to pass through the tunnels with ease. He navigated through the pitch-black passageways effortlessly, for he had roamed these caves throughout his long life, far beyond the memory of men. As one of the ancient Wolvegren, he bore the spirit of nature within him, connected to the land for generations.
Emerging into the night air, Chief Ironfur's nose crinkled in discomfort as the wretched scent assailed his senses once more. The foul odour brought back haunting memories of when he was just a cub, memories of a devastating war that had nearly wiped out his entire tribe. The pain of loss, the image of his fallen family, it all resurfaced, but Chief Ironfur had endured and risen as the leader of his people.
Stretching to his full height on his hind legs, he let out a powerful bellow, signalling his presence to the world. As he waited, other members of his tribe moved around him, groggy and disoriented from their abrupt awakening. Mothers and cubs huddled together in the safety of the caves; their confusion was evident in their quickened intakes of breath.
From a nearby cave, a familiar silver furred Wolvegren emerged. “Greypaw,” he greeted the female.
She grumbled in response clearly annoyed at the spontaneous awakening and joined him on the side of the mountain. “Who dares disturb our rest?”
He growled, echoing her displeasure, then shifted his gaze to the east.
“Vermin,” he said.
He was glad to have the seasoned warrior by his side. She stared down the mountain with ancient yet no less sharp green eyes. As she detected the foreign scent, her fur bristled.
"They’re here," Ironfur confirmed, knowing that words were unnecessary.
Greypaw shifted uneasily as her gaze fixated on the east, where the sounds of battle faintly echoed in the distance. Dangling around her neck hung the symbol of the soothsayer, a rusted chain with an encased green gem. As she focused on the noise in the distance, the gem glowed, filling her with energy, causing her eyes to dilate.
"The lowland tribe’s engaging with the enemy,” she said confidently.
Ironfur’s ears perked up. What troubled him was not just the horrid stench of Swine, but the human scent mixed within it. “I can smell man-lings."
Greypaw nodded. "Yes, their scent is unmistakable. They’re fighting too."
"Are they the ones who’d brought this blight to our lands?" Ironfur asked solemnly.
Greypaw shifted uncomfortably, analysing the assault of senses that wafted through their homelands. “I cannot judge from this distance.”
A low, fierce growl rumbled from Ironfur's throat as memories of humans flooded his mind – memories of their treacherous nature and insatiable hunger for power. It had been the humans' duplicitous ways that had nearly wiped out his people in the past. Determination sparked in his amber eyes, and he nodded sharply, signalling his tribe to follow.
The Mountain Wolvegren emerged from their caves, one after another, instinctively falling in line behind their rusted-furred leader. The ground trembled under the weight of their massive forms, and the land seemed to acknowledge their presence, the trees remaining undisturbed as the bear-men moved through the forest with practiced ease.
For generations, the Wolvegren had served as nurturing guardians of the forest. Their existence was intertwined with the very fabric of the land. The forest provided for them, and in return, they protected it. This sacred connection had guided Ironfur throughout his life, driving him to uphold the ancient customs and traditions that maintained the delicate balance.
It was this same devotion to the balance had forced him to make tough choices. He was forced to exile his own son from the forest, a cub who’d shown no respect for the harmony of nature and instead fixated on lifeless metal objects. It had been a painful decision, but as he glanced around at the thriving forest under his care, he knew it had been the right one.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
It was the same love for soulless things that created the Swine and fostered hatred in men.
As the Iron cave Wolvegren caught sight of the battle, a collective roar escaped their lips. The air was filled with the thick stench of blood and the cries of pain. Their teeth bared and talons elongated in response. Far below, the lowlands tribe had been surrounded, their matriarch covered in blood and looked past exhaustion. Ahead in the distance, the Swine army numbered in the tens of thousands, while the remains of the Lowlands tribe were barely a hundred.
Greypaw growled, her eyes glowing green, “Sister!”
Humans stood to the southern flank of the enemy, raining rocks from above as some speared the climbing Swine. Blood stained the forest, as some Swine broke past the Lowland Wolvegren and passed through the lines of trees in the forest.
Rage boiled within Ironfur’s heart as he eyed the desecration of his land. The invaders were infecting the soil itself with their poison. Ironfur turned his massive jaws to the sky and roared into the night as loud as he could. The echo ripped through the battlefield, forcing the combatants to pause momentarily in shock.
As the ground shifted beneath him, Ironfur scanned his surroundings, and with his warriors at his back, he lunged forward with powerful strides down the hill and towards the enemy. The earth flew by as he sped towards the enemy. A light flashed as Greypaw ran beside him, filled with green energy.
The Swine turned in fear at the sight of hundreds of Wolvegren emerging from the forest. They attempted to turn and face the enemy, but they were helpless before the overwhelming force. Ironfur's rage reached its peak, boiling his blood and driving him to charge straight into the Swine, crushing the lesser creatures under his immense weight. His warriors followed him without missing a beat, pushing past the disoriented enemy.
A massive rock tore free from the jagged cliffs to the north, sailing overhead with a trail of green light.
Greypaw's gift thudded heavily into the ranks of the Swine on the other side of the river, collecting dozens of victims as it rolled through the tightly packed ranks of pigmen. The Wolvegren's attack, combined with the onslaught from above, threw the Swine into disarray, causing panic and confusion among their ranks.
"Crush these vermin!" roared Ironfur as he bounded through the river, crushing the mass of bodies as he made his way to the other side of the riverbank. The Swine’s' tight formation and lack of cohesion made Ironfur's hunt far too easy, as most of the pigmen trampled each other just to try to get away from the towering wall of fur that massacred their brethren underfoot.
Within a matter of seconds, Ironfur's warriors had pushed into the enemy ranks and cut a path through the mass of pig flesh. The Swine screamed and screeched as they were cut down.
"Follow them, men!" echoed a human's voice, yet Ironfur ignored the insignificant creatures.
As he lost himself to fury, blood matting his thick fur, he continued to charge forward. The front of his legs burned from the hundreds of cuts made by the lesser creatures' armour as they were flattened under his powerful claws. He roared in frustration as the pigmen began to run away in fear, rather than stay still and die like good pigs.
"Cut them off!" he roared, splitting from the group and dividing his warriors. Greypaw took a few hundred warriors with her to the right, while he led warriors to the left, spiralling through the fleeing creature's ranks. He knew he had to overwhelm them here and now, to stop any future invasion.
Just when he thought they had the upper hand, an insidious ripple ripped through the ranks of the Swine. Instantly, the pigmen paused in their panicked retreat, only to swiftly turn around and bear down on them with their weapons poised for attack. It was as if some sort of dark magic had overtaken them, turning off their instincts to flee and transforming them all into brainless fighters in a split second.
Suddenly, his victorious charge had turned into a deadly mistake. It was then he could feel it in the air—a perversion of the natural law of the land. A dark magic that controlled flesh and spirit was infecting the very air around them.
"Fall back!" he roared. But it was too late. He had taken his warriors too far.
Having lost most of their momentum, the Wolvegren were still moving but were now surrounded on two fronts. Ferociously, he smashed and ripped apart every Swine he could get his claws on, but it wasn't enough. There were just far too many of them.
A bark of laughter echoed from behind him. He spun to see a tall figure garbed in dark robes on the western bank of the river, just above the sea of pig flesh, holding what looked like a dark tome in his hand.
A shiver of fear rippled through his entire being as memories threatened to overwhelm him. It was a human with a book very much like the one that had ended the lives of his entire family. In that moment of distraction, a rusted spear passed through his fur and dug deep into his leg. He roared and tore the shaft free and ripped its owner into two then threw the corpse into the mass of pigmen around him.
Ironfur cried out in anguish and could see that his men were quickly being overwhelmed all around him. A green light flashed on the other side of the battlefield as Greypaw sent a burst of power at a group of Swine that had dog-piled on her, sending dozens of Swine into the air and crushing their allies under their own weight.
As he turned back to the magic man with trepidation, a peculiar sight met him. The humans who had, until now, been throwing rocks from above, had scavenged armour and weapons from the fallen Swine and were currently running across the shallow body of water.
A look of understanding flickered in Ironfur's eyes as he realised their plan and stared at the robed magic man with eyes of hatred. The robed figure, too focused on controlling the Swine, had no awareness of the humans who were on his heels.
Ironfur swiped at the approaching Swine who dared to take his attention away from the pivotal role of the tiny humans.
An arrow sailed through the air and pierced the robed man in the back. He barely moved, so focused on controlling the horde of pigs that he didn't relent control until a man with a longsword climbed up beside him and with a powerful swing, lopped his head off his shoulders.
As the head fell to the floor, the power that rippled through the Swine army faltered, and the confused pigmen paused.
In that moment of confusion, Ironfur bellowed as loud as he could, bringing his warriors back to their senses. “Slaughter these damn pigs!”
Despite their injuries, the Wolvegren fell into position and continued their assault, now followed by their newfound regiment of humans, who charged down the Swine with precision. Together, they fought against the corrupted horde, determined to preserve the balance as allies.