Denton

Denton's Beginning

Freezing, soaked through and so very lonely she just couldn’t sleep. Having not eaten in four days, she knew she must attempt to hunt again. Her hunger pains that much more intensified by the unborn cubling in her belly. She knew she must hunt again soon as her furs, which she wore as a cloak, were rapidly becoming threadbare rags. She would need to keep herself warm; soon she would be travelling through the highlands. Snow would be settling there in a few weeks and she has a few weeks travel to reach her hometown. She would need furs to swaddle the cubling. Still she couldn’t sleep, every breath chilled her lungs. Exhaling a cloud of steam, rising up into the lower branches of the tree she was crouched beneath.

The branches of those very trees concealed another, a figure cloaked in robes of pure shadow. Korban Mrrew'Korr, The Protector of all Tabaxi was perched above watching this Tabaxi female. Having foreseen that this female was important to his race. He decided to take it upon himself to protect her from the harm he had dreamt happening to her tonight. His dream had been vague and cloudy. The only real detail that had stood out was the brightness of her spirit and that had led him here tonight. Stretching out with his senses he took in all that was around him. Feeling the plethora of animals and insects around. He stretched further, encompassing the birds roosting in the trees and the cold form of her and her unborn son inside her. He concentrated on her for a moment and wished he hadn’t, the pain of hunger, cold and a dull ache from traveling flashed through him. Those were pains he had not felt in many decades, they chilled him but he let his consciousness expand further from the tree. Mind extending across the plains primal instinct; hope all felt by the pack of wolves closing on the female. They had caught the scent of her trail, and were intent on stalking her down. They too were hungry; although it felt wrong to deny them this meal her unborn child was too important to let slip away. He had not felt such a spirit in centuries and with his passing growing all the more closer, he had to save the child.

Others such as he would come but time was at hand and the training must begin. Recalling his spirit across the mile of plains to his body, made him momentarily dizzy. He reached for a branch to steady himself; the minds of all that life taken in and exhaled all at once had overcome him. He had to work fast, not able to truly reveal himself limited his options. The female would fear and doubt him more than his warning. He chose to manipulate her, instilled into her fear a desire to flee this place and a sense of comfort in the direction away from the pack.

Gathering her meager possessions, glancing around she fled the hollow in which she was sheltering. Walking at a fast pace she made a break for the trees. The wolves had covered a quarter of the distance by now, but had stopped at this point to search the area she had urinated earlier that night. Leaving their spore and marking the territory for themselves, they then set off again for the trees. The female broke the cover of the trees and found herself in the soft mud of a ploughed field. She slowed as her footing became that much more difficult for her. Heading for the group of farm buildings she saw in the distance. Those were human dwellings, having only encountered the humans of the city. Who were brash individuals, none of which had a sense of tribal belonging. They were a greedy race who even mistrusted their own families. She would not be calling on them tonight; she would set off before daybreak.

The wolves had reached the trees by now, having marked her earlier resting place for all else as their territory. She had made it to one of the buildings by now. Choosing the smallest and shutting herself inside. The door was sturdy and the wind only whistled through the cracks. Now only did she let herself slump to the floor, her head lolling back against the shed wall. Breathing deep and wiping the damp from the fur on her face she now felt safe, she could rest here. The wolves had slowed; they could smell all the livestock around them. The sheep pen a tempting target for their hunger. The bleating from the slaughter was quickly silenced by the fourteen brutal killers who were steadily eating their fill.

Korban Mrrew'korr looked on from the roof of the barn. Reaching out to her, she now felt safe. The bleating had disturbed her. Calming in her the curiosity she felt at the noise so quickly silenced. Another had been disturbed, at all the commotion. The old human farmer and his wife had woken. Wrapping himself in a warm robe and pulling on his boots. His wife hurried to find his pitchfork and lantern. Kissing him on the cheek and closing the door behind him, the wife shut herself away from the scene. The wolves began to scatter at the first signs of the light. Gone before the farmer even saw what had dragged off his youngest sheep. He took in the scene of the slaughter, turning the light from his lamp to the surrounding enclosures. When nothing moved, or ran he turned to the barn Korban was perched atop.

The light at one point touched Korban absorbed instantly leaving only the impression of pure blackness, blended in with the night sky. The barn having been searched, the hay thoroughly stabbed with a pitchfork. The farmer left to search the shed the female was sheltering in. Korban reached out to the farmer, instilling desires to return to bed, to safety, to escape the cold. Anger determination flowed through the man, overpowering anything that Korban could try to distract him with. For an instant Korban played with the idea of killing the man. He could do so, easily and silently. That would be wrong, it was not his way or place to kill. Still focusing on the man he looked on as he opened the shed door. The light shone into the room, illuminating a savage beast. Covered in the furs of dead animals. Fear ran through him, then anger and distain. It cowered from him, it was afraid. A smile crossed his lips; it would pay for that slaughter. Furiously Korban worked on the man’s mind, compassion, understanding. Anger welled too deep within. Then a mix of disgusted satisfaction as the pitchfork stabbed into her. Fear again she still moved, anger as he raised the weapon again. A crack as her throat was punctured her neck broken as well. Still the anger welled up, but fear was overcoming it. How would he feed his family, angered still at the loss. Grasping a leg he dragged her limp form out of the shed and into a paddock. Giving her one last poke he turned and returned to his house.

Korban released himself from the mind of the man. Letting himself flow to the cold mind of the female. Empty now he went to return to his own body where he felt the Childs spirit, warm, strong, scared. He was dying but trying to fight that death as best he could. Returning to his mind Korban was upon the female’s body in seconds. Extending his index claw he slit her belly open, steam rising from her cooling corpse. Reaching further inside, cutting as he went he grasped the cubling. Pulling it free of its dying mother. Cleaning its mouth, it took its first breath crying out into the night. Announcing its arrival to the world.

Gathering the child and the body of its mother Korban left that place. Fleeing until he felt the safety of his own temple. The mother was buried the sacred way, her spirit laid to rest with those of her ancestors. The child was raised as Korban's own, he was to be known as Denton Mrrew'korr.

Korvan's Beginning

In the fifth century of Denton’s protective watch, Denton wed a Tabaxi student of his. She was never to be a protector herself. yet she had an attractive inner spirit, warm and giving. That filled Denton with an inner peace. They were not married long before a cubling was born to them. Naming him Korvan roughly after Denton’s adopted father. It was obvious to Denton even from birth that he too had the Protector way and so began his training.

Korvan was not a satisfied child. No matter what he was given or how much he was taught he still thirsted for more. He would hoard possessions, then trade them off with others in his futile quest to acquire. Combined with his powers of a protector, he became a danger to the Tabaxi. He had coerced a group of Tabaxi to follow him. They acted as his bodyguard, servants and personal slaves throughout his teen years. They fought amongst themselves for personal standings striving to become Korvan’s number one.

They began stealing from their own people. Greed and violence, anger and disregard spawned amongst Korvan’s followers. Boundaries of behaviour were broken, that had existed in the Tabaxi since the time of Shandrah. Two days before the feast of Shandrah, Korvan’s minions went to work. Food stores were raided, alcohol was stolen from the city inn. The city was in hardship the first time for thirty years, food became scarce, people began to starve.

Deliveries of food never arrived at their destinations. Meanwhile Korvan and his people feasted. Denton saw the way his own son was perverting his power. Skills and incantations Denton had personally taught him were being used for evil means. Desperate to save his son he tried to bind him from doing harm, an enchantment of peace and calming. The anger, determination of Korvan was too powerful. His son could not be stopped, so Denton confronted Korvan personally.

Denton made his way to Korvan’s camp outside the main city of tribe Mrrew. No guards waited, just a lone figure stood to meet Denton. The creature was an abomination. An eight limbed monstrosity standing no taller than Denton himself. Seemingly formed of smooth crystal, pulsing with a myriad of different colours. This was the form of a creature never before seen by Denton, or his race.

Inside, a smug contentment showed its form. There was a familiarity to that mind, he had touched it on many occasions. This was Korvan, having mutilated his form to what Denton saw that night. Korvan verbally lashed out at Denton, shouting about oppressive ways. Lack of freewill and anger welled up, wishing to be set free.

Denton never argued back with his son he just turned his back on him and said ‘All those that think like you are no longer a welcome part of our society.’ while walking into the shadows and disappearing from the camp.

Korvan's Return

The Thrikreen established themselves in communities hiding in caves below the ground. Many Tabaxi left the cities to join Korvan. All those that left were disfigured in Korvan’s own image. They were not missed, the looting stopped and peace was re-established amongst the Tabaxi. There would be the occasional raid on a Tabaxi town, by the Thrikreen. It was never organised, few raids got away with much anyway. Decades passed, Korvan’s mother Denton’s wife grew old. Little was seen of the Thrikreen. The Tabaxi grew again re-establishing themselves as the masters of their realm.

One sleepless evening Denton foresaw the Thrikreen attacking a border town. Rushing to their aid in rallying the hunters, to prepare for an attack. Sure enough the attack came. The battle continued well into the night. With the Thrikreen being driven from Tabaxi land. The victory seemed too easy, the Thrikreen could have attacked en mass and easily swarmed the defences. They had staggered their attacks, drawing the fight out. Casualties were high, the victory was well deserved. The Thrikreen hadn’t truly tried, it seemed wrong.

Reaching out with his feelings Denton strove for Korvan’s mind. It wasn’t hard to find, Korvan was acting like a sink. Draining away any excess energy the Thrikreen had to offer. That much energy was getting to him. He was absorbing all that he could. Power flowed through him, it was the most he had ever experienced. Korvan’s mind was split. His mind was open, Denton could feel every nuance of his emotions.

Guilt, flashed through him. He had done something he hadn’t planned on. Anger, she wasn’t meant to react that way. She shouldn’t have screamed for the guards (panic). He didn’t mean to hit her so hard. The blood, the silence then the sound of guards. Panic, he ran, it wasn’t meant to turn out like this. Their bond was strong, it had lasted forever. She was the first person he had loved. Betrayal by his own mother. The blood was still on his hands, guilt. Excitement, this was his first kill.

Denton released his mental grip on Korvan’s. His own emotions pouring from his mind. A scream that lasted minutes, that seemed to drag for days. Denton released wave after wave of pure emotional energy. Touching everyone on the continent, flowing from Denton’s body. Those the energy touched buckled to the floor, wept, or were physically sick. Others went into meaningless rages, breaking furniture, or striking out at friends and family.

Denton’s scream faded into a sobbing weep. Then he stood up raising his cape-covered form from the mud. Drawing all his energy he transferred his form, from that border town. Stepping back into reality, into a room that he knew well. Today his bedroom gave him no comfort. Guards filled the room, towering and crowding around a figure slumped to the floor. She was cold to him, her mind an empty vessel. Her body still warm, the only marks a cut to her cheek and a bloody cracked mess on the back of her head.

He raised her body from the floor, taking her with him. To the island Korban himself had also gone to rest. Finding the cave along the coast, he waved off the illusionary barrier. Stepping inside and following the cave system. Finding the alcove and sarcophagus he had built centuries before for himself. He placed her inside closed the heavy lid, kneeling at her side.

Tabaxi and Thrikreen War

It was over two months before Denton left his dead wife’s crypt-side. He was no longer angry or upset, her passing had been swift. She had not suffered. Korvan was responsible, but not truly to blame. He had not intended upon killing her, it was an accident. Denton was only worried about Korvan’s reaction to the death. A strange mix of anger, guilt and elation had flowed through him that day.

Denton had to return to his people. They could survive without him, but worry and upset had begun to seed itself upon his lands. Denton returned to his temple, to be met by his priests and advisors. Word was spreading of Tabaxi villages and outposts disappearing. The buildings themselves being burnt to the ground. The population vanishing without a trace.

Messengers would never return, scouting parties would fail to report in, or be found strung up by the roadside. The Tabaxi people were slowly being butchered, town by town. The next to fall was not some small low population town or village, it was the Souiss tribe. Their city in siege, the walls broken the majority dead. Few escaped from the burnt Souiss city, the tribal chief Rackar Souiss’iktain allowed as many of his people as possible to escape by the tunnels system from the temple, to far outside the city walls. He stayed himself, joining his own people in the gatehouse, to lead the charge when the walls were finally breached.

He fell that day, but his family did not die with him, his adolescent son was sent away with his wife through the tunnel system. Escaping to bring word to Denton’s own tribe the Mrrew. Barely two hundred women and children escaped from Souiss that day. Those that did survive the assault only three quarters actually made it to safety. The rest being picked off by enemy scouts, or dying from hunger, exhaustion or their wounds. The information those weary survivors brought was invaluable, they now had a name for their enemy it was the Thrikreen, the descendants of Korvan.

Korvan’s reign of terror did not stop, next to fall were the Brast and the Crick both cities being destroyed at once. Each time a city fell a few hundred survivors would appear at the gates of the Mrrew, it was as though Korvan was allowing them to escape. A message getting through to the rest of the Tabaxi that they were going to be conquered.

On many occasions Denton attempted to contact Korvan to find out his true intentions, all he ever seemed to get was the same two emotions, anger and guilt. Korvan would not be stopped that easily with each city that fell the more powerful he seemed to become. Although his training to the protector way was never completed, he was learning some new techniques to the use of his powers. All were destructive, self-motivated angry uses of power. Korvan had lost all compassion and self control he was becoming greedier with every conquest, he was enjoying the thrill of the hunt far too much.

The Finba the second largest tribe, not wishing to stand back and be conquered, marched its army from its city walls to meet the Thrikreen. They were outnumbered five to one, they fought well that day taking twice their number with them. Even the great army of Finba had been slaughtered that day, little seemed to be stopping this unrelenting army. Few survivors arrived seeking refuge at the gates of Mrrew that time. The Thrikreen sought revenge for their losses, hunting down and mercilessly killing all Tabaxi who stood in their way.

The Thrikreen army halted outside the gates of the Kentro, the engineer tribe’s siege engines raining hot death down upon them. Two months passed before the gates of tribe Kentro fell, a week passed before the city burned. Small pockets of resisting Tabaxi forces holding up and selling their lives for all that they could. The Thrikreen army still marched, bolstered with new recruits from every clan that they met along their way.

All went very quiet for many months after that, some thought that the Thrikreen army had been halted by the Throk, or the tribe Sansk. Word continued to flow from those two small cities, only to be simultaneously silenced in one evening. No refugees came knocking on the tribe Mrrew gates, few survived, all those that had went to ground. Protecting themselves from the Thrikreen army still marching through their old hunting grounds.

Three months later, a small party of Tabaxi from the Throk and Sansk tribes arrived at the gates of tribe Frro. Hungry, wounded and weak they were a pitiful remnant of what were once two great cities. They had re-established new leaders within each tribe, leadership going as the customs allow to the strongest and greatest hunter. The one most able to protect them from harm, and lead them to victory.

Victory was never really to be theirs, the Thrikreen army had followed the unsuspecting Throk and Sansk straight to the gates of the tribe Frro. Many escaped fleeing the thirty miles to Tribe Mrrew’s gates. Most stayed and fought, all that stayed died burning in their own city. The fire a beacon sent up into the sky by Korvan himself to tell Denton he was coming, the challenge had been issued all that was left was for Denton to accept.

The fire at tribe Frro’s ruined city still burned when the first Thrikreen forces began to assemble outside the fields of Mrrew. The black furred warriors of Mrrew were ready for the Thrikreen assault and siege. Provisions had been gathered and walls reinforced, they could hold out nearly indefinitely against this foe.

The siege engines of tribe Kentro were now being put to use against their own kind, battering the walls, starting fires within the housing districts. The efficiency of the Tabaxi shone through here, working together they extinguished any flames, repaired any holes in the wall. Returning fire with the help of the remnants of tribe Kentro, from inside the walls. It started to become a war of attrition, the fact was the Thrikreen just had more numbers.

Denton had to do something soon or his people would be conquered, studying the ways of the Thrikreen he noticed one main weakness in their ways. The Thrikreen were very self motivated they only did things for themselves, or for their great leader Korvan. Denton decided to use this to his best advantage, he controlled the minds of a few weaker Thrikreen. Willing them to turn on their brethren, causing great fights and squabbles to erupt within their own ranks. Korvan soon put a stop on this, seemingly monitoring any mental thought directed on his people turning it away with some effort.

The night began in such a beautiful way one evening with the sky lit up with the reds and pinks of early summer. Some believe that it was the blood coloured sky that enraged the Thrikreen into the frenzied state that they were in the night of the final push. Those that were there know the truth that it was Korvan that thirsted for victory. His power reaching the highest point in his life, he felt ready and wanted to show off his newly found powers. He led the charge onto the Tabaxi gates personally, thousands of his insectile warriors swarming behind him.

Korvan appeared to pass directly through the Mrrew gates, whilst his people battered into them clawing their way through. The gate guards quickly fell, along with some of the huntresses that were manning the gate house. Silhouetted against the gate houses tunnel entrance were nine forms. Large, burley, some savage in appearance. The nine tribal leaders had formed up to take on Korvan at once. The fight was long and very bloody, Korvan being wounded at one point in the upper arm. It was not long before one figure emerged alone from the gatehouse tunnel bearing the severed tails of nine of the greatest Tabaxi warriors, casually slung over his shoulder. Korvan had one destination in mind Denton’s temple, his own home for a short period of his life. He knew the streets well, following the twisting roads laid out with the intention of confusing attackers, with the knowledge of a local. He reached the temple doors with the blood of more Tabaxi on his claws, most of which were tied up with the Thrikreen scrambling up to the battlements or pushing through the gap now made in the gate.

Korvan made his way through the temple to Denton’s rooftop sanctuary, were he was observing the battle and awaiting Korvan’s arrival. The conversation that occurred that day is known only by two people and neither has ever talked of what was said on that rooftop. Observers did however see the fight that occurred between the two, Korvan drawing a glistening bastard sword to face Denton’s foot-long claws. The two sparring off against one another, clashing then retreating in a swirl of dark mist. The fight continued for some minutes neither willing to back down the others onslaught.

Denton feinted, drawing Korvan’s sword into an upward arc. Taking advantage of this slight oversight Denton stepped into Korvan’s left flank. Swiping at Korvan’s body, Denton’s claws met only with his sons leg. Korvan having reeled backwards having noticed what his father was attempting. Those claws met with chitinous armour plates, then with flesh. A spray of blood and the thud of a wet limb hitting the floor signified to all that were watching that Denton had drawn the first real blood. Korvan changed his stance, trying to account for the lost limb. He was breathing heavily, with pure anger and the look of the betrayed in his eyes.

Stabbing his sword into a nearby flower bed, Korvan began to weave the ritual he had been teaching himself since he discovered other uses for his fathers powers. A miasma of energy began to form up around Korvan’s body, tendrils stretching out and gripping onto the roof-tops battlements. Korvan began to rise from the floor lifted by his own power, his eyes rolling back in his head. His body flopping as if unable to summon the strength to hold itself upright, whilst his muscles writhed and tensed as if no longer under his control. Korvan moved towards his father, dragging an expanding ball of energy with him. Stopping short by a few metres, before releasing the pure tendrils of energy at Denton. Denton held his ground, holding his hands up as if to hold back the tide of some ocean. The tendrils seemed to lap around a small bubble covering Denton’s body, some managed to get through scorching Denton’s already black fur. The rest were being reflected back to Korvan, who by now was beginning to slump to the floor. The tendrils found their creator again, but instead of filling him with such unholy power they bodily lifted him from the floor and threw him, skidding across the rooftop.

Denton was standing over his limp form almost before Korvan finished his skid. He raised he clawed fist above his head staring straight into his son’s eyes. Instead of striking down into his son’s heart he dropped to his knees and wept. He had seen too much killing within this lifetime, he had lost too many people he once loved. Reaching inside Korvan’s mind still disturbed him, such anger, hatred and loathing all in a single person. Korvan would not give up until he had proved himself to his father. Denton knew what had to be done, raising his fist again and calling upon the strength and energy of his race’s belief in him. Pushing that energy down into Korvan’s body until Korvan’s form flickered then vanished. His form bound for an island never visited before, barren and desolate beyond belief. A place where Korvan could not do any harm for quite some time.

Denton stood up taking in a deep breath, stretching the knots out of the muscles in his back. He took in his surroundings, the place that was once the garden of his wife, now looked after personally by himself was ruined. The flowers trampled, the grass scorched, blood splattered over the paved area. Korvan’s leg left lying in a pool of its own blood, now devoid of its inner light, seemingly dulled by the loss of its owner. Denton strode over to where the leg was abandoned, picking it up and looking at its smooth crystalline surfaces and fur-less appearance. Although the leg would never be walked upon again it still had a use for Denton. Transporting himself to the battlements Denton looked upon what forces Korvan had left behind. The swarm was over powering the main gate, the Tabaxi had pushed back the Thrikreen but was now fighting to keep them from the gatehouse. All looked up at Denton as he arrived, fights stopping and turning their attention upon him. He looked down at them and across at his people, hatred and worry from one source, joy and curiosity from the other. Realising why he was here he raised the leg aloft, shouting out for all to hear that Korvan was dead and the Thrikreen army were soon to follow. Cheers and shouts rose up from both armies, the Tabaxi surged forwards, spurred on with new vigour and strength. The Thrikreen army split, the bulk turning and running, some stayed to fight but were now outnumbered for the first time. With the loss of their leaders guidance they faltered the Tabaxi fighting as a team, slaughtering the disillusioned moving on to the next.

It was not long before the battle was over, although the Tabaxi had won they had suffered great losses. The wounded were attended to, the dead were given proper burials. Thrikreen burned in huge piles outside the main gates, a signal sent up into the sky of the first victory over the Thrikreen.

Denton called a meeting of the newly appointed tribal leaders, their homes were no longer safe. Korvan would find his way home and Denton knew this. They had to leave, flee this place and start again somewhere new. Scouts were sent out information gathered whilst the once great city of the Mrrew was packed up and stripped of anything that might have been of use in their new lives. The scouts returned talking of a fertile land inhabited by peaceful religious folk. Denton knew the place well Korban had often spoke of it to him, he had chosen it as the resting place for his wife as had every other watcher before him chosen it as their final resting place as well. The choice of site seemed appropriate, all were moved out and shipped over to Abeh, the coast they landed on was where they set up their home. They named it Shandrah, as their first act after its creation. The rest is not yet written as the Tabaxi live on making new lives for themselves, contributing to the tribe and the race protecting themselves should the Thrikreen ever return.