In the darkness you can’t see them, you can only hear them. The pounding of the paws and loud breath creeping out their jaws. If you’re lucky you will hear a growl before they pounce on your back or that is what the books say. Berserkers haven’t been across the ocean in over a hundred years and not just Berserkers none of the dark races have been seen. Due to this, the number of soldiers declined by thousands in the past five decades, including guardsmen a job that used to cause tournaments yearly of people competing for the job.
In the farthest village northwest of the United Foundation, two guards were on watch. The village of Castillo only inhabits 56 people. Normally a village that size would be unguarded besides two wolfhounds customarily guarding a tribe. However, Castillo is the closest inhabited area to the Drowning Sea so there’s always at least one guard but normally two guards are located at the watchtower or sometimes scanning the beach.
The two guards were patrolling on the outskirts of the village, where trees meet sand. One of the guards was a short petite girl with brunette hair. She was only up to the shoulders of her companion, but she looked mighty with a three-foot axe covering her back. Her companion was a male tall and brawny, he had dirty blond hair slightly poking out of an iron helm. “I can’t believe we have to patrol this backward village every day.” The man said kicking the sand, “Who would want to attack this place?”
The girl finally chimed in, “Well it’s the place they landed last time, Cravoc” Cravoc crossed his arms, “I know that Cylla” he said with a little venom, “The foundation is having the tournament at the Colosseum this year. Nobody outside the Angelus family has been inside in generations” Cravoc looked to his right, a proud look plastered across his face. However, He found Cylla was no longer walking beside him
He began looking around emphatically right to left yelling,. “Cylla! Cylla!”
Cravoc stopped yelling at the sound of a twig breaking accompanied by an inhumane scream.
“ Cylla” he yelled again running into the forest with his shield drawn.
He was about ten feet into the forest when he found her axe lying on a tree bed. The handle was made of oak wood very slender at the base but thick by the blade. The blade of the axe was covered in a black liquid that smelled of rotten flesh. The smell made Cravoc a still young warrior heave up all of his dinner. He didn’t have any time to process the axe further as he heard a snarl and only by instinct did his shield take the full force of an attack.
Cravoc whirled around catching a glimpse of his attacker, the sight he saw made his blood run cold. Ten feet away stood what he would have liked to call a wolf yet couldn’t. Wolfs no longer were wild beasts but companions and protectors of small villagers, and pets to powerful families. They became so well domesticated they no longer are wolves but wolfhounds, a perfected hybrid between a dog and wolf. They could protect people as full blooded wolves, but they no longer needed to hunt, taming what makes them wild.
The beast in front of him was still a hunter, an apex predator something they haven’t been for humans in a long time. It looked like a wolfhound but larger and more vicious. The wolf-like creature was at least a foot taller than a horse and about as wide as one too. What was most frightening were its two canine teeth that could be seen reaching out under its lips looking like two daggers that could pierce whatever it wills.
The wolf-like being also lost the eyes of a wolf. Where wolves can have beautiful sky-blue eyes, this wolf had complete pitch-black eyes, lightless. Even without being able to see where it was looking, Cravoc knew the beast was taunting him, as the wolf like beast showed bronze blood dripping from its teeth and snout. Rage filled Cravoc as he saw this, he wielded Cylla’s axe and hauled it at the beast who bit through the axe as it disintegrated, becoming a regular axe without its true user.
Cravoc began to shout in anger and agony as the last part of his companions soul perished. He charged the beast having no hope, or option but to sacrifice himself to stop the beast. There was another growl from behind Cravoc that he’d never heard as with one swipe of its paws the second beast took his head clean off.
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The villagers were awoken by the sound of growling and whining. One of these villagers was a young boy about the age of 15. He awoke from his bed startled by the sounds of the hounds. Cyrus was the village hunter, which made the hounds not guardians but his companions and partners. He jumped from his bed quite frantically and slipped out his door.
Most villagers homes are one story with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Cyrus’s mother and younger sister share a room while Cyrus has a room of his own. He lives on the other side of the house from his mother and sister which isn’t far but it’s across the kitchen allowing him to leave without waking them.
The town of Castillo is a small square shaped town with only four streets, two of them being rows of residential houses most built from old tree wood, and the newer houses closer to the end of the road made of limestone.
Cyrus left his families house, surprised to find his elderly neighbor Mr. Densi looking south toward the commotion.
“What wrong with ye hounds Cyrus.” Mr. Densi asked. Heading this, Cyrus almost tripped over his feet. Catching himself with the help of his door he answer, “I’m checkin' Mr. Densi, it’s probably just a fox”.
Cyrus began jogging until he heard a whimper coming from the wolf house.. At the sound of the cry, Cyrus began running ran to the outhouse at the edge of the village square.
He was expecting to find a hound with a fox in his embrace, only to find a hole ripped in the outhouse wires, blood trailing from the jagged edges into the night.
Luckily, Cyrus was the village hunter and craftsman, he’s dealt with life and death situation. He’s had to fight with his hounds becoming a predator circling prey. The blood marks and trail were the same as when he and the hounds outmatched a prey, blood drops encircling each other A cold chill seemed to blow in the air.
Cyrus taking a quick breath, quieting his now pounding heart he thought of the best solution. Biting down his fear and anger he made the best choice for his village, he picked up his pace turning around running down the road towards the village hospital, situated at the front of the same road as the outhouse roughly a hundred yards away .
The hospital was one of two places that had a bell, but the town hall bell was smaller and quieter not meant to wake people up. The bell at the hospital was about three buckets wide and loud enough to reach all four streets. Reaching the bell, he Swung the rope lighting up the sky with metal on metal, as the whole town was alerted.
Throughout the village, you could hear the yells of the villagers rushing off, there feet scattering on the dirt road. Some villagers even helped by clanking deer antlers to alert the town. Majority of the activity was coming from two rows east of the living quarters.
. However, one road farthest east where the crops and resources are kept you could hear the chattering of wolves, almost hyena like as villagers screamed in agony.
Cyrus began running towards the screaming for the moment forgetting about what could have got the hounds. Guards from the nearest city called Nerillo should have been alerted by the bell. Finally, Cyrus reached the opposite end of the village smelling blood, mixed with wheat and fresh citrus. When he turned down the far East street he was struck with horror.
Four wolf-like animals with haunting black eyes were ripping into one elderly woman and man.. They must have smelled his fear or anger as all four stopped attacking, sniffing the air leading to the end of the street where Cyrus stood thirty feet away.
Blood and guts were dripping from their mouths and snouts, Cyrus could hear the old man whimpering and moving until he finally stopped. Seeing this Cyrus grabbed the nearest stake from a house, his teeth clenched as he gripped the stake.
Cyrus looked at the monsters ready to die for his village, his family. A growl could be heard as man and beast charged at another nobody knowing if the man or beast growled louder. As they were about to clash a necklace appeared decorated with a silver dog tag floating in front of his face burning bright yellow.
Cyrus was staring in shock at the glowing dog tags that he didn’t notice a prism of yellow hot light wrapped around Cyrus and propelling the light like a shield at the beasts, howling in fury as they burnt to a crisp.
Once the light faded Cyrus stood alone with four burnt spots the size of wagons in the dirt road, the same size as the monster wolves. Cyrus was breathing heavily his normally pale face was flushed, his orange freckles and hair covered in soot. Blood dripped from his ears and nose, his eyes bloodshot red as he collapsed on the burnt dirt road. As Cyrus collapsed he was overcome with victory, yet this would be the last time he ever saw his village standing.