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Chapter 23: Unhappy [continued]
******
Sunbeams probed the hollows of the dormitory, forcing the reigning shadows to retreat into dim corners and crevices where they would reside until nightfall.
Rexis pierced the veil of light, dragging his own kicking and screaming doppelganger from the doorway by its feet. He spent most mornings feeding the birds with Yarith before breakfast; inwardly, Rexis told himself it was not a guilty pleasure, but it was. The toffee-breasted female seemed genuinely interested in him, rather than applying sympathy as foreplay like Trixie.
After all, he was no longer bound by the archaic rules of the Clan. He was his own man and could associate with whichever women he wished.
You used to think the same about Brindle, wheedled a tiny inner voice. Didn’t the Clan have something to say about her, too? Rexis grimaced and clamped down on the voice like an oyster on a diver's finger.
He stepped on another shadow outlined on the ground and looked up; it was Tanté.
“Hey, Rexis, there you are, man,” chattered the diminutive jackal. “I been lookin’ for you man.”
“Really?” Rex arched a brow—he had not seen much, if anything, of Tanté since the incident with Bengo. “What can I do for you?”
“It took me some time, amigo, I had to get the other guys on board, you know? But I really want to thank you, man, for sticking up for me back there. That Bengo guy is loco, man!
“What did—?”
“So once I cleared it with the muchachos, we decided to invite you to one of our meetings.”
“Meetings? What kind of… meetings?”
Tanté simultaneously grinned and fidgeted. “We just a group of, you know, citizens of the Coliseum, man. We talk about important things.”
That sounded good to Rexis. “I’ll be there.”
“You won’t regret it, man!” Tanté was already backing away from him. Pointing at Rex, he called, “I see you in two nights!” and skittered off down the street.
Citizens’ meetings and days in the park, thought Rex, shaking his head. This place is like a city. Then, as he headed for his rendezvous in the park, the Coliseum loomed over him—an undeniable reminder that this was more than a city.
******
“…The hawk goes for the meat, and of course Noakes throws his hands over his face—”
“And the meat was in his hand, right?” interrupted Yarith with a big grin.
Rexis was already shaking with laughter. “Of course! So…” they both broke into uncontrollable mirth as the wolf struggled to finish his story. “So the hawk follows the meat and… nearly takes his head off!” Peals of laughter startled the birds into quick flight, but they rapidly returned.
“Oh, that’s a funny story,” sighed Yarith when she had subsided. Abruptly she changed the subject: “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?”
“Uh, sure,” he lamely replied, frantically scrabbling at the carpet she had just yanked from beneath him. “Of course she knows!”
“Really? Why don’t you bring her along some time? I don’t really know Trixie that well.”
“Well, ah, ah, I uh, she usually spends the morning, um, washing up.”
Yarith said nothing. She just stared at him unblinkingly, like a well-fed cat.
“Well, I suppose I could—”
“Oh my goodness!” Her sudden outburst of laughter caught him completely off-guard. “You should have seen your face…” Rexis joined in, although he privately thought it very unfunny.
“Oh Rexie,” she sighed, placing a hand on his thigh, “you’re so funny.” It was the briefest of touches, subtle and discreet—unlike Trixie’s gratuitous manhandling—and it left a smouldering brand on his leg.
He stared at her for a moment, trying to ignore the faint signals from his neck and his… abdomen… Yarith stood abruptly and twisted shut the sack of birdseed. “Well, I’d better report to the kitchens before Reginald makes me into a casserole. See you tomorrow!”
“Yeah, see you…” He waved uncertainly, but resolve quickened the gesture. “I’ll be there.”
******
The sharpened staves that formed the stockade’s gate reminded Rexis of monstrous teeth. His eyes swivelled to follow his ears and spotted Muda in hushed conversation with a sliver of grey material: Quister, the Chief Loyalty Officer.
“Good morning, Rexis dear,” greeted Quister.
“Morning.” Normally Rexis would be more guarded around the weasel, but he was distracted by the strange grooves scratched into the wall behind them and also missed the strangely guilty look on Muda’s face.
“It’s a fine day,” Quister went on, stepping forward. Something always seemed… off about him. His scent, his voice, even the way he walked were strange. “Best to enjoy this nice weather before the rain tonight. Got to exercise those muscles, hmm?”
He reached for Rex’s bicep but the wolf raised a hand. “I’d best be going inside.”
“Mm-hmm,” the weasel replied, glancing at Muda. That glance disturbed Rexis—it reminded him of Reginald inspecting a cut of meat, or worse, Culkin sizing up a new conquest. “Don’t let me stand in your way, boys.” Rexis made an attempt at a nod that came out more like a neck spasm and entered the stockade door.
“Oh, and Muda dear,” called Quister as Muda was closing the door behind them, “don’t forget what I told you.”
Muda froze for a moment before nodding, and nervously shut the door a bit harder than necessary. He padded silently along behind Rexis, whose mind was ablaze with questions.
“Is that what you were doing during breakfast?” he asked.
“Uh, yes. We were just talking,” the young leopard added unnecessarily.
Rex squinted at him, but had to face forwards as he entered the stockade, where he overheard another whispered exchange.
“…Don’t like it,” Kestra was saying.
“Maybe, but Quister—” Onyx stopped short when he saw Rexis and Muda. “Oh, Prince Charming,” he said dismissively. Kestra grinned wryly.
Rexis sighed and closed his eyes. “Can you please stop calling me that?”
Onyx ignored his request. “Where’s that damn fox?”
Almost on cue, they heard the gate slam and hurried footsteps that brought Culkin into view, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Sorry I’m late.” Rex had a sensitive nose, and right then it told him exactly what “the Culk” had been doing—but not whom.
“I hope you got her name,” Onyx bantered, eliciting snickers from Kestra and Rexis. Muda blushed as Onyx motioned them into the centre of the training grounds. “Now, I’m sure you’re all sick and tired of throwing knives at boards.” He indicated a target at the far end of the stockade, pocked and scarred by their various attempts to throw a blade. Surprisingly, Muda had bested them all, while Culkin narrowly beat Rexis for second place.
They nodded in agreement and the big grey wolf went on. “Today’s going to be different. We’ve done one-on-one combat in every imaginable combination. We’ve sparred, we’ve boxed, we’ve duelled. You've all done well for a bunch of greenies and I respect that. Today, there will be no weapons used.
Gasps of surprise from everyone but Kestra met his next statement. “Today the four of you will go at it in a no-holds-barred melee, every man—and woman—for himself.
“The losers will sleep in the stockade overnight.”
“What?!”
TO BE CONTINUED

Boring update?

I need to read this... Have you got this in a handy PDF or text document format so i can have a bash at it in one go rather then spend an age flicking through it on the forum?

Okay, here is a link. But be warned... I lost my document and had to copy it from the forum, so some of the formatting is missing and replaced with [i] and [/b] and so on.
ALSO: NEWS
During the summer my internet access will be... sporadic, at best. So I must regretfully inform you that updates may be few and far between following this week.

cheers

I'm still alive! My computer is gone right now but do not fear: TSotF is not lost. I hope to post an update within the next few weeks.

Great. I wish I could stay committed like you. And you might want to change the thread title; it still says 'sad, sad news,' and this is not sad news. or, at least, not double sad news.

I'll be watching.

T-T Please update your story Sable Dove. I liked it a lot. Please don't let it die T-T

Oh, and take as much time as you need to get a computer. I like this story a lot too IAL.

BAM
Mild profanity warning.

Chapter 23: Unhappy [concluded]
Rexis stared in disbelief. Culkin asked, “You’re joking, right?” A hard stare from Onyx warned them it was no joke. “What happens to the winners?”
“They sleep in their own beds,” snapped Onyx. “Now form up.”
Rexis watched as Kestra took up a position to his left. Catching the idea, Culkin lined up across from her. Muda filled in the gap, facing Rexis with smouldering determination. Now they formed a square. Onyx took seven steps back, clasped his hands behind his back, and said, “Go.”
Three pairs of eyes turned on him.
“Go?”
Culkin kept his arms folded over his chest, grinning. “What're you doing?” demanded the big grey wolf.
The grin widened until Culkin's teeth showed. “Deciding.”
Rexis' brain sprang into action. Who to take first? Kestra was, in his mind, the most skilled fighter by far; but weeks of sparring with Culkin had taught him not to underestimate the crafty fox. What to think of Muda? Rex outweighed the subdued young leopard by a good thirty pounds and stood a head taller, but he had no inkling of Muda's capabilities. When Muda walked by, Kander's shadow passed over Rexis.
After the second it took him to mull this over, Rexis had his mind made up for him when oh that damn [censored] she just kicked me in the face. Despite the drop of blood from his nose, Rexis could not help a bit of subconscious admiration for Kestra's kicks—each was a work of art. She seldom needed to touch the ground, often sweeping her foot into an opponent's jaw while gracefully tumbling sideways through the air. This particular kick had not required any defiance of gravity, but it was impressive nonetheless.
Turn your fall into a counterattack. Where had that come from? Rex did not remember Onyx or Ochre ever teaching him such a thing. Nevertheless, he quickly shifted his weight onto his hands as they hit the ground and launched his lower body forward into a scissors kick that jabbed Kestra in her shoulder and spun her face first into the dirt.
He was on her in a second. Like two beetles they tumbled about, each fighting for a strong grip on the other. A brief respite found Rexis kneeling on Kestra's legs.
“In more private surroundings I might have enjoyed this.”
“In more private surroundings,” she hissed, “I would claw your eyes out.” Kestra deftly twisted free and moved to kick Rexis off of her, but was hampered by her considerable bosom. He tried to manoeuvre her into a submission hold.
Something impacted Rexis like a missile, knocking the air out of him and igniting a terrible pain in his ribs. He rolled over a few times and tried to stand but a sharp kick to his throat brought him down choking. Eyes bulging, he scuttled backwards, away from his assailant's foot.
Muda pressed the attack, possessed by a rage that was alien to his soft features. Rexis awkwardly gained his feet, blocked the next blow, and hit Muda with a quick, one-two punch that did not even faze him. The young leopard was like a spring, focusing all the strength of his wiry frame into the sharp points of his fists.
Panic constricted Rex's throat as he recalled the terror of his dream. He had never thought Muda capable of doing him serious harm... until now.
Pathetic. He felt rather than saw the figure in his peripheral vision. Pride of Clan Wolf.The mysterious, phantasmal, possibly imaginary black wolf glared condescendingly at him. A slave-bedder gets beaten up by leopard cubs.
Rex siezed Muda's wrist and wrenched it sideways, halting the onslaught; the spectre had spoken a phrase Rexis hated above all others—slave-bedder. Keidrans of high breeding—especially royalty—were expected to distance themselves sexually from gene-tainting slaves and “common Keidrans.” Several village elders and their wives, disapproving of their prince's dalliance with the daughter of slaves, had used the term amongst gossip circles. The inference was that perhaps a “slave-bedder” was not of such high breeding after all, obviously revealing some suppressed genetic inferiority in their “weakness.”
He hated it.
The red encroached on his vision. Muda tried to pull away, tried to block, but there was no stopping Rexis as he clamped his hands around Muda's throat and squeezed.
******
Kestra could not suppress a small twinge of pride at the way Muda tackled Rexis off of her. She of all people knew that a small stature must be carefully utilized to one's own advantage, and had tried to teach the young leopard such. Hearing movement, she sprang to face Culkin, who drew up short upon seeing her still in action.
Ye gods, he was cringing.
“Please don't hit me.”
“Hah!” she replied, swinging. He ducked around her fist and backed up. “If you think what happened when we met has any bearing on this fight, you're sadly mistaken.”
Another swing, another miss. “I don't hit women,” whined the fox.
“No, you just leer at them and sleep with them and touch them when they don't want to be touched, is that it?” She feinted and tried to kick his balls instead, but he yanked his leg up and took a painful blow to the shin, instead.
“They're all willing!” Culkin was getting punchy now, twitching when she moved whether or not it was to strike him. “I'm not...”
“Why won't you fight me?” she growled. “Or would that mean treating me as an equal?” He did not answer; Kestra dropped her guard and walked right up to him. “Hit me!”
“No!”
She boxed his ears. “How does it feel to be treated unequally? Huh?” Another clip to his ears. “Hit me, tough guy!”
“No way!” Culkin's head spun to one side as Kestra raised her stinging palm to slap him again.
“Hit me or I'll smack the [censored] out of you!”
“No!”
“Hit me!”
“ALL RIGHT!” roared the fox as he reared back. Kestra blinked.
Then her lights went out.
******
Blood oozed from Rexis' fingers as Muda gurgled and clawed at them, but his grip did not lessen. Look down on me will they... He darkly imagined Kander between his hands, slowly reaping his reward for spoiling Brindle and Rex's escape. Onyx watched impassively, making no move to halt the strangulation or encourage it. Rexis gritted his teeth so hard that his neck shook and squeezed, watching Muda's eyes roll back.
Beyond them, Culkin suddenly planted a perfect haymaker on Kestra's jaw. She fell like a stone, bouncing a little when she hit the ground. In shock Rexis released his hold, and Muda fell too, frantically sucking air into his starving lungs.
The red evaporated instantly, and Rexis found himself staring down at his enemy's apprentice, ashamed and embarassed by his own cruelty. Muda was rubbing his lividly bruised neck and staring back with an infinite cocktail of fear and loathing.
“Well.” Onyx stirred to life like an awakening golem, startling them all. “It seems we have two gladiators left. Care to decide this, gentlemen?”
Culkin was still looking from his fist to Kestra's vulnerable form and back again in disbelief. “Damn,” Rex heard him whisper.
“Gentlemen.” Time, tide, and Onyx wait for nobody. Rexis regarded his sparring partner in brief admiration and looked back at Muda.
“I hope your b i t c h is dead,” the leopard spat.
Colour drained from Rex's face. He drew back his foot, but stopped; this was verbal venom, and he would respond in kind. “You know what you are?” asked the wolf, bringing his face down to Muda's level. “You're just a sore loser. A pathetic loser who doesn't know when he's been beaten... Just like Kander was.” He hurled the dead leopard prince's name like a knife, and those words had their intended effect: Muda slumped over as if in physical pain. Rexis stiffly resumed an erect position and slowly approached Culkin for the showdown.
Moments were all it took for Rexis to decide that the sound he heard was someone removing a quarterstaff from the weapon stand, but his realization dawned too late for him to interpret Culkin's stunned expression or avoid the blow that split his brain in two halves: One of white-hot, sizzling pain, the other of grey numbness.
He stumbled and unwillingly knelt, limbs sluggish and unresponsive. A distant orange blur was yelling at him, but Rex could not hear what was being said. He just wanted to lie down and take a nap.
Sluggishness was replaced by frantic tension when the staff slid under his chin and jerked back. Muda's knee pressed against the back of Rex's neck, crushing his windpipe. His breathing muscles hauled away like sailors on the mainstay but air stubbornly refused to enter.
“See how you like it,” Muda snarled close to his ear. “You murdering [censored].” Eyes bulging, hands futilely clasping the wood, Rexis' mind descended into a cacophony of panic to which black spots danced across his sight. The stockade grew dim and watery.
That orange blur was right next to him now, yelling something like, “Let go!” There was quick movement, shaking, grunting, and at last the d a m at Rex's throat was breached, spilling precious oxygen into his chest and inflating it with a sharp whistling sound. In a world without light or gravity, sound stubbornly filtered in.
“...part of the exercise...”
“...said no weapons!”
“Let go!”
“—could've killed him.”
Muda's shrill voice rose above the others', carrying a hint of frustrated tears. “You [censored]! Let me go, don't you understand? He's a killer!
“He killed the only person who ever loved me!”
TO BE CONTINUED

I have no idea who I should cheer, and who I should feel sorry for, and who I should hate. All of your characters are too realistic for me to be so polar about them. I think that's a good thing. Yeah, pretty sure that's a good thing.

Great update. I hope you continue quickly and what not, this is probably the best story, or one of them, at least, on the board. ∑:∂≤

No question about it, best story on the board. Good to see you back in action! And keep it up, kitty.

All is not lost.
At least that's what I keep telling myself...
I'm quitting one of my three jobs. School is progressing nicely and I should graduate this spring.
The Sins of the Fathers, on the other hand, is not. I've encountered a bit of a block and I don't know where to go from here. I've always had the ending in mind (and believe me, it'll be a doozy) but I the "in-between" is merely a loose sketch. When I started, Kestra and Brindle were one character and Dylan Rhys had no name.
I have several other projects on my plate right now (including a semi-humorous, collaborative fantasy novel and a sci-fi project called "Pike"), some of which may eventually find their way to this forum, but for now I have devised an exercise to assist me in puncturing my Writer's Block.
I am taking suggestions for what readers wish to occur next in the story. You can kill off all the characters; you can suggest something that contradicts the plot or ignores it entirely. I will not be publishing as part of the story any material based on suggestions you, the readers, produce, so don't worry about continuity. I'm doing this to help me get my flow back.
I shall select the best submissions and try and do a short chapter based on what you suggest. Always wanted to see Teega succumb to her subconscious attraction to Culkin? Your chance has come. Want the captain to get what he deserves? Ditto.
Have fun. I am enjoying fairly regular internet access now. Thanks for sticking with me during the long drought of the summer months and posting loyally.

Jeez, it has been a long time been a since I have been on forum. Story is going very very well.
Ideas on what could happen in the story? hmmmm....this could get very interesting :twisted:
Note* Some of these ideas are competely random, the result from only getting about few hours of sleep.

1.) Brindle mind finally snaps and kills Bunter (sweet vengence :twisted: )

2.) Biggs and Rexis discover their true feelings for each other :shock: .

3.) Reginald reveals why he is so good at cooking Kerdian food, while at the same time leading a revolt against Thorvaldsoon (FREEDOM!!!!)

Thats is all I can do for now, have to go to class. Keep up the great work!

I have destroyed this nonsense. I don't even know why I did it in the first place. Hopefully nobody saw it.

Chapter 24: Unhappy [concluded]
“Dear me.” Heads snapped around as Quister appeared in the stockade. “A serious accusation.” He minced his way over to Muda, whom Culkin released as the leopard relaxed. “Muda dear, is this how you use my advice?”
“I did what you said,” was Muda’s sullen reply.
Onyx boomed, “What did you tell him, Quister?” Quister smiled.
“Onyx, dear, you know it is my duty to investigate such a serious accusation.”
Rexis stood, face hot. Why was Muda accusing him of murdering someone dear? The young leopard had no connection to Horace, or so Rexis thought. “The accusation is ridiculous!”
“Murder is never ridiculous, Rexis dear.”
“You’re certainly an expert on murder,” said Onyx.
Quster flinched. “Nezzer should not have trespassed upon my privacy.” Four Loyalty Officers entered the combat area and flanked their master. “Now, Rexis, will you come with me quietly?”
“I won’t come with you at all! The leopard whelp is mad.”
“So you categorically deny the charge?”
“It is not a charge—it is nonsense.”
Quister seemed about to press the issue, but something he saw in Muda’s face changed his mind. “Perhaps it is, Wolf Prince. I am sorry to have doubted you. Come,” he motioned to his officers, “let us go. There is no murderer here.” Turning to leave, he smiled gently at Muda. “You must not make false accusations, dear.”
Muda sank to his knees as Quister slowly walked past, and Rexis breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully Biggsy would stop looking at him funny now.
“LIAR!” Muda yowled, snatching the dirk from Quister’s waist and raising the blade over his head as he sprang at Rexis. Rexis froze and stared as Muda’s arm suddenly jerked back.
Then all saw the reason: a thin wire ran from the dirk’s pommel to a steel ring on Quister’s finger. The weasel was still smiling.
“Touching a Loyalty Officer’s weapon is a serious offense,” he quietly told them.
His next movements came so quickly that nobody had a chance to move. Now the wire was looped tightly around Muda’s neck, Quister’s hand tightly griped Muda’s on the dirk haft, and Muda’s head was tilted back enough that Rexis thought it must hurt. He instantly recognized the wire as a garrotte, an assassin’s weapon designed to kill quietly and efficiently.
“You now have a choice,” the weasel hissed. “You may die horribly, or you may surrender to me. I will not forgive you for laying hands on my weapon, but I will grant you your life.”
“Hey!” Culkin stepped forward, but two Loyalty Officers pointed their swords at him. He turned to Onyx in supplication. “Come on, big guy, break some heads!” Onyx stared right through him.
Rexis watched in horrific fascination as Quister tightened the garrotte, slicing a thin line into Muda’s throat. “Your choice, my dear.”
Muda made his choice, and released the dirk. Instantly Quister had removed the wire and flung him to the ground. “Seize him,” the weasel said. There was a mild scuffle as all four officers pounced on the defeated leopard and hogtied him.
“Young Muda will regrettably be unable to attend tomorrow’s session,” Quister apologized, brushing a mote of dust from his sleeve. “I am sure you understand. …Onyx dear?”
Onyx nodded almost imperceptibly, eyes never straying from their unseen target beyond the wall. The Loyalty Officers hauled Muda to his feet and began dragging him from the stockade. Quister reaffixed the dirk/garrotte to his belt, paused, and gave Rexis a menacing smile.
“Farewell for now, Prince. We will be seeing you again.”
Rexis’ brow furrowed at that. Quister has scored something… but what?
Kestra moaned and began to stir, distracting him. Culkin jerked as if he had suddenly remembered an important appointment and asked Onyx,
“Hey, I won, right? Can I go?” Onyx nodded. “Great! See you!” He rushed out like a scorpion was clinging to his tail.
Kestra was just trying to sit up when Rexis turned to leave. Onyx, who had not moved for the last ten minutes, clamped a big grey hand on the young wolf’s shoulder.
“You lost. You’re staying.”
Overhead, swollen black clouds belched and began to leak their watery cargo.

Thoughts and comments appreciated.