Alexander Khri'pher (1) Alexander Khri’pher, a young Bengal tiger, charged hard with his wooden practice sword held high in both paws directly over his head. As he came close enough to his opponent he swung down as hard as he could. His father, General Dolmen Khri’pher, raised his wooden blade horizontally, easily blocking his fifteen-year old son’s attack. Dolmen then side stepped, swung his blade around and brought it across the back of his unsuspecting son’s head, making the young tiger yelp in pain and stumble forward. Alex regained his composure quickly and turned around to look at his father and got into a ready stance again. He scanned over his father whom was dressed in his complete armored outfit with his real sword strapped across his back. Most of his outfit was chain mail but his chest and back plate, his upper arm guards, and his upprt leg armor was made of the strongest metal to be found. On his chest and his right shoulder was an elegant black dragon, holding a long sword in one paw and a blue shield in the other. Its wings were spread wide and its head tilted back as if roaring in triumph over a great enemy. The simble of the dragon was that of the 'Order of the Dragon', the knights were of the Draconis village. Dolmen’s actual sword, rightfully called Soulroth, was undoubtedly the most intracate and buetifull piece out of anything on him. If it weren’t for his chest plate, you would see four, one inch thick, black leather straps, one over and one under each arm, connecting in the middle of his broad chest to an iron ring. Those straps held his sword sheath securely to his back. The sheath was wrapped in leather and engraved with an unbelievably intracate tribal design. The handle and hilt were decerated with a stunning dragon motefe, the handle being the neck and head and the hand gard being it's wings. At the end of the handle in the dragon's open mouth was an inch wide red jule, simbalizing the un-extenguishable fire that all Khri'pher's were said to have deep within their soul. On the sword blade, close to the hilt, was carved each name of every Khri’pher to ever brandish the sword. Alex dreamed of having his name carved on that sword, right above his father’s. He knew the day would come for that honor to be bestowed upon him but the thought of that made cold chills run down his spine in anticipation and fear. The fact that his father would most likely die the day that he was able to carry the sword scared him as he didn't want to loose his father, yet the antisipation of weilding that sword into battle and slaying his foe with ease, spilling their evil blood upon the earth with that very sword, excited him above all else. With that sword he would help bring justice to the unrightfull and hope to the disserving just as every Khri'pher before him had done. “You didn’t have to actually hit me father,” Alexander stated calmly as he charged at his father again, this time going low, for his legs. He stepped to one side but quickly spun to the other with his wooden sword outstretched, trying to trick his father. At first he thought it had worked but Dolmen simply jumped over the attack. When Dolmen landed he jumped back to avoid his son’s second spin. When Alexander stood back up again he was a little dizzy but completely ignored it as his father attacked with ruthless speed and stregth. Dolmen made a powerful down stroke at his son but Alex spun to the side. “Of course I did son,” He stated when he and his son regained there footing. “How else are you supposed to learn?” He scanned his exhausted son over once as the child recovered his breath. Alexander was about eight inches shorter then Dolmen but was still extremely tall for his age, making a full 6’1” if he was standing up straight. It was almost hard to believe that the boy was nowhere close to the height that he would become. At this rate, he be much taller then his father’s 6’9” by the time he stops growing. Dolmen watched as his son’s long, thick tail flicked behind him slowly as he waited for the next attack. He was dressed in a simple pair of pants, leather boots that came half way up his lower legs, and a loose white cotton shirt. His actual sword was slung behind his back, just like Dolmen’s as that was the way that their family was always taught to use it. His sword was just a simple two-handed long sword. His white fur was a brighter white than his shirt and his black stripes only added to his elegant look. His deep red eyes seemed to give a demonic look but he actually had the kindest heart Dolmen had ever seen. He was very much so starting to fill out with muscles but nowhere close to what he was going to reach as time and age passed. He was only fifteen after all. After a while of silence, so much so that one could here birds chirping far off in the distance of the vast forest, Alexander became impatient of waiting and attacked. He ran forward with incredible speed for someone his age, and jabbed his wooden sword at his father. Though he didn’t expect his son's move, Dolmen was quick with a side parry, a second vertical block, and a spin, witch he used to bring his wooden sword to rest on his son’s shoulder, just slightly touching his neck. Dolmen chuckled as his son slowing put his practice sword on the ground, and dropped to his knees in defeat. “You’re still to slow my son,” Dolmen stated as he offered his paw to Alexander to help him up. “A very accomplished fighter but not good enough to beat your old man. You will make a great knight someday.” He pulled Alexander to his feet and stepped back. “No offense father, but one day I will be even greater then you,” Alex stated proudly as he dusted himself off a little. “Which reminds me father, when will I get your sword?” He asked as he bent down and picked up his practice sword. Dolmen thought for a few minutes before answering. He sat down on a nearby stump, beckoning his son with short wave. “Come and sit with me son, I think it’s time you learn about this sword.” Alexander was all too happy to comply. He walked over to his father and sat down beside him, his tail twitching back and forth just slightly in anticipation. When it came to learning his family’s history or something of the sort, he was always willing to listen intently for as long as needed. He wanted to become a great knight one day, and had learned that the only to do so was to listen to his father’s teachings. A knight is supposed to teach his squire after all. Dolmen reached up over his shoulder with his right paw and drew the sword swiftly. It shimmered brightly, almost magically, as he held it out in front of him, slowly moving it through the air. The sword was hideously heavy for something it’s size, but the white tiger had no problem moving it like it was as light as a feather. “This sword, Soulroth,” he started, almost singing the words. “This has belonged to ten generations of Khri'phers, including me. It has been handed down through the years as a priceless family air loom, but unfortunatly as an object of death.” Alexander noticed a twinkle in his father’s eye as he spoke. “Your tenth great grandfather, Senmoth Khri’pher, forged it from the iron he had collected from a mine that was said to be haunted. He had been dared by his friends to go deep into the deserted mine and bring back some sort of evidence that he actually did so. When he came out of the mine, he was holding a large chunk of iron, which was supposedly cursed by the dead spirits but he believed that it had been enchanted. He went to the local smithy to have it turned into a sword as a reminder of his conquests. He was very prideful in his ways, as I've taught you that a knight must never be, but always insisted on having some kind of tangible evidence of every thing he did. When he was drafted into the military, he took the sword with him. He was the only fur in his regiment to return without one scratch on his body, which suprised most everybody as he was with what they called 'the Suicde Aquad'. They were given the jobs that no one else would escept because if actually survived, you were more then likely to be knocking on death's door. This convinced him that the iron in the sword was magical and decided to send it through the family lines to protect every Khri’pher after him. He named it 'Soulroth' after the mountain that the mine he got the iron from was carved into.” Dolmen ran his free paw over the ten engraved names near the hilt of the sword. “Not one single Khri’pher has died in battle as long as they wielded Soulroth.” Alexander listened intently to his knowledgeable father. He rubbed his paws together and ventured to ask what he thought was a stupid question. “Father, do believe that the sword is enchanted? Do you think that’s why you’ve never lost a battle?” Dolmen chuckled a little under his breath as he re-sheathed the sword with ease. “No son, I don’t. I believe the reason that I’ve never fallen in a fight, is because I was taught by the best, my father, Arthur Khri’pher.” Dolmen almost begun to cry as he thought of his beloved, but un-fortunately late, father. Arthur Khri’pher was a kind man, as was every other Khri’pher, and loved his son more then anything in the world, and taught Dolmen every thing he knew. “I don't believe in magic, even though I have been witness to many sorcerorrs that pass through. I just think that their wonderfull magic is nothing but a trick. I do, on the other hand, believe in family tradition. I think it is a very important part of ones life to show respect for his ancestors by continuing what they started.” He placed a heavy paw on his son’s shoulder. “You will get Soulroth when I see you’re ready, and I promise I will not make a mistake in determining that day. When that day comes though, take the sword with great honor, no matter what circumstances you are receiving it under.” Alexander saw another twinkle in his father’s bright green eye’s as the older Bengal comforted his son. Alexander also noticed his father’s right ear twitching backwards a little. Alex knew exactly what that meant, as his father had taught him many things, most of all to be aware of every thing. Dolmen was telling his son that something was behind them. Alexander sniffed at the air a little. No doubt about it, a new sent was in the air, very distinctively canine. It had to be more then one, possibly two or three, but no more. Alex tried to turn but his father squeezed his shoulder, stopping his movement. Another thing his father said was to never let someone who was sneaking up on you know that you were onto him or her. It was best to let your attaker believe you have no idea, let them get cocky enough to drop their gaurd, and then surprise them. He looked down at his fathers left paw for another signal. Dolmen held his paw flat so his son could see it good enough. “You must wait for the correct time to get what you want,” he said, talking about a time to attack but making it sound like he was still talking about his sword. Alexander watched his father open and close his fist twice, signaling to wait to the count of ten. Dolmen then pointed to his foot and started tapping. Alexander counted the taps carefully. One, two, three. “Don’t worry father.” Four, five. “I will not push the matter.” Six, seven, eight. “But when the time comes,” Nine. “I will,” Ten. At the final tap, both Dolmen and Alexander screamed, “ATTACK!” and moving with what could be considered as impossible speed, jumped up, reached for their swords and drew them, turned in opposite directions and swung at their attackers. Their attacks were blocked but both attackers and defenders simply stood there, holding their weapons in place against one another. Alexander looked upon the person that tried to attack him. It was a young wolf about Alexander's size, and to add insult to injurie, dressed just like him. His fur was all jet black, except for a streak running down his entire right arm that looked like a bolt of lightening. The streek itself actually crossed his chest but of course one couldn't see that unless he had hi shirt off. His weapon of choice, a hallabird. His name was Trent Khan’tresh, son of Kryn Khan’tresh, whom just happened to be standing in front of Dolmen and was also holding a large hallabird. Kryn was decked out in full iron armor. They each stood there, snarling at each other as they held their stance, until they all pulled back and started laughing hysterically. Dolmen and Alexander sheathed their swords as Kryn and Trent dropped their hallabirds to their sides. “When are you going to realize that no one can sneak up on me, Kryn?” asked Dolmen, as he hugged the wolf. Kryn patted his friend and commanding officer on the back as they hugged. “As soon as I take your place in the ranks, old friend.” They both stepped back from one another, one paw on the other’s shoulder. “I’m afraid that I’m not here for fun and games though. Come, we must talk.” Kryn lead Dolmen off to the side as their son’s talked. “I know that you and your father aren't that stupid, Trent,” Alexander stated as he playfully smacked Trent's broad shoulder. The wolf was exactly like Alexander in every way but their species. He was fifteen years old. Learning how to fight and all the things about being a knight from his father. He was the same height as Alexander, and the same muscle build, as both were growing muscles but nowhere close to what they would get before reaching their max. Today he was even dressed the same. If it weren’t for Alexander being a white tiger and Trent being a wolf, they could easily be passed off as twins. Trent smiled widely as Alexander got a little cocky. “I know, but you’ve got to admit that I’m getting better. And plus, I may not be able to sneak up on you, but you can’t sneak up on me either,” Trent said proudly. He twirled his large hallabird in his right paw a little bit as he spoke. “Our fathers are the best knights within hundreds of leagues, and we’re lucky to have them as teachers.” “Tell me about it. I’ve been my father’s squire for about two years now, and I wouldn’t choose anyone else as a teacher. With his help I went from a little kitt stumbling his way around life to a great swordsman.” Alexander clicked his tongue a little as he thought back to when he first became his father’s squire. He was horrible with the knight’s code and even worse with a sword. “So, why are…” he began to ask what Trent and his father had came out to the forest for as both Dolmen and Kryn came back. Dolmen picked up the few of the extra practice swords he and Alexander had brought as he said, “Son, you and Trent go back to the village and go inside. We will be right behind you,” Alexander looked at his father a little confusedly. His father never ran him off like this. “What’s wrong father? Is there any way I can help?” he asked worriedly. Something must have been wrong if his father didn’t want Alex with him if there was business to be taken care of by a knight. Usually his father jumped at the chance to show his son what it was like to be knight, but now he was shooing him off. Kryn patted both the boys on the shoulder and said, “No. This is way to dangerous for a couple of squires, now go.” Trent began to protest, as he thought of himself as pretty good for a squire, but Kryn stopped him. “I said no son. You two go to the inn and stay there, no matter what you see in the mean time. You are highly skilled for squires, I'll give you that, but this is way above your level. Besides, your mother," Kryn said as he looked at Trent, and then turned to look at Alexander. "And your sister would kill us both if we let you get invovled in something like at your age. Now go.” It took no more on either Dolmen’s or Kryn's part to get the boys to listen. They simply turned around and walked for the village as their fathers had ordered. They walked rather fast, mostly because the way their fathers had looked meant serious trouble. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As Alexander and Trent came up on the village, their curiosity was driving them crazy. “What do you think happened?” Trent asked as they entered the village. "It must be something really bad if they called in both the highest ranking knights in the village at the same time." Alexander thought for a moment but had no clue what was going on. “I don’t know, but whatever… holy shit!” As they came around the corner to the town square, Alexander grabbed Trent’s arm and pulled back the other way. They both peeked around the corner carefully. In the center of town was a large contingent of knights, enough to be a small army, all in black armor with a red ‘X’ in a darker red circle on the chest and right shoulder. The one that seemed to be top rank was a very large jackal, standing tall and honorable with his paw resting on the handle of sheathed sword. He was even bigger and stronger then Dolmen or Kryn. At his side was a very large broad sword. Close to the hilt it was serrated, giving it that last little savage effect. It was longer then most swords ever were, and more then likely much more heavier. The handle was an elaborate spiraling design. His fur was dark brown, almost black, and shined in the sun. His men looked very bored, some fidgeting with their weapons as if just waiting for the order to massacre everyone in the large village. Once Alexander and Trent regained the ability to move, they slowly backed away from the town square, finding a different way to get to the inn. They started noticing that the entire village was deserted, as everyone was inside their homes, hiding in fear of the intruders. Alexander and Trent found their way to the back door of the three-story inn and made their way upstairs. They got to the highest room possible and peeked out the window down at the town square. Dolmen and Kryn were now there, accompanied by a good number of knights, almost as much as the intruders had. “What do you think is going on?” Kryn whispered softly as he stared down at the town center. Alexander thought for a second and came up with only one logical answer. The intruders were obviously rebels, or evil in some other way. “They probably want either to take everything of value or to kill everybody. Look at them all; every fur down there is waiting for something. Probably the odder to kill.” Alexander watched intently as his father walked up to the intruders. Dolmen’s had his hand as close to the dagger at his side as possible with out actually looking like he was. The vicious looking jackal, in very elaborate black armor, began to walk towards Dolmen. They both met about the same distance from their fellow knights. They bowed just slightly and as they straightened out, Dolmen stuck out his paw. “I am general Dolmen Khri’pher.” He waited for the other knight to shake his paw, but the intruder did no such thing. Dolmen lowered his paw and looked up at the jackal. “May I ask of your business in this village?” The jackal finally smiled and answered, “I’m not quite sure that you really want to know that but very well. I am Veren Duthjack, and as you have probably pieced together, these are my knights. I hate skirting around things so I’ll give this to you plain and simple. I’m here for all treasures and every young fur able to wield a weapon. Either we get what we want or every person who objects to us will die. Just as a little extra incentive, if you meet my terms, I will keep my men from having their way with the women, but if you resist, after we kill all objectors, I will allow them to do as they please. It has been several weeks since they have known the imbrace of women, wheather it be willingly or not, and it's quite hard to keep them in their place as it is. A fight will do to rawl them up even worse.” Alexander and Trent almost passed out at that threat, but Dolmen and the other knights kept their composure. Dolmen stood to his full height, but still had to look up at Veren. “I do not mean to be rude but do you even think that we will give up everything you want without a fight? Your request is rather steep.” Duthjack chuckled a little, looking down at the smaller Bengal Tiger. “Actually, no I didn’t. No body ever gives up that easily. I just always like to put all the cards on the table, allow them to at least have the chance to avoid the bloodshed of their people.” Dolmen smiled for a moment, but inside he was screaming for help. “I thank you for your act of kindness, though it was quite meek, but I’m afraid you know my answer.” Veren's smile disappeared from his long muzzle. “Very well general. I really do detest violence, if only people would just give in a little more easilly. But, if you really must be like all the rest, then so be it. There is a field about two leagues north of here, be there in three hours.” He turned around, nodded to his second in command, a very large black bear, and they all left. Dolmen lowered his head and sighed deeply. ‘There was no way around it,’ he thought to himself. ‘Blood will be spilt this day. But it will be spilt to protect our people’ As Dolmen walked back to his troops, Alexander and Trent were still watching from the window of the inn. Trent, still quite dumbfounded, looked over and Alexander and smiled. “I know that field they’re going to, let’s follow them and see what happens,” he suggested merrily. Trent always jumped at the chance to watch his father in combat, as did Alexander, but Alex had a bad feeling about it this time. It felt like something deep inside was telling him that this time would be different from the rest. “I don’t know about that Trent,” he started warily, trying to find some reason to get out of it. “Our fathers told us to stay here, and you know what happened last time they caught us following them to battle.” Trent playfully slugged his friend in the shoulder, but barely made the large tiger even flinch. “Yes I do, we got stuck cleaning out the stables for three weeks, but that’s beside the point. Come on man, don’t wimp out on me hear.” Trent looked at the uncertain and motionless form of Alexander as the tiger stared out the window. Trent picked up his hallabird that he had laid down beside himself, preparing himself to leave as he remembered the one thing that could make Alexander do anything that he was dared to do. “Come on ‘Kitty Cat’, lets go. Would some cat nip change your mind?” He smiled mischievously as Alexander snarled at him, gripping at a dagger at his side. “Trent, you know I hate your damned cat jokes!” Alexander yelled, his eyes turning an even deeper red as they did when he got extremely outraged. “They’re hitting way bellow the belt and you know it! If you don’t stop using them I swear I’ll beat the shit out of you!”
Copyright © 2004 Draco Streaver |