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Story / General Furry Art
Species Canine (Other)
Size 120 x 80
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It was a simple day in the valley of Tai-estwar, one like many others. The people living in the fertile bounty of nature were grateful for the blessing they were facing, for it wasn’t an easy life, but that didn’t stop them from enjoying it.
These people were all members of the same clan that ruled over that valley for generations. That clan, going by the name of Ves-und, used to be a tribe of wolf people, until one day a strong leader emerged from the pack and decided to guide his people to a brighter future, future that was now in this valley.
For Pizzafur, it was indeed paradise; it was the land of his ancestors, where he was raising his kids with his wife. He was a simple fellow, considering the product of his labor the only thing that truly mattered to him.
He was a black furred wolf, his fur a tad shorter than the average, but still pretty much in the norms. He was known by the people around as gentle neighbor, caring more about his family then personal wealth. Maybe some people didn’t like him too much, but these weren’t vocal about it; what would be the point of expressing such a thing?
Night fell on the valley, the dark blanket inviting the inhabitant to the realm of dreams, guiding them toward a new day. It was always the same ritual for the people of the valley, generations after generations; none of them challenged the rule of darkness, for they longed for the comfort of day.
But something was wrong tonight, something that disturbed the peace of this tradition. Pizzafur wasn’t asleep, busy helping one of his neighbours, not caring about the falling night. He was about to return home when he saw smoke rising from the horizon, originating from where his home was. Was an event happening without him being noticed? Or was it something else? He decided to hurry toward the site, to make sure everything was alright.
His home was on fire, the wood that composed the building not resistant to the flames that started devouring it. He searched for his wife and kids, but was unable to find them, until he felt a blade on his neck, the cold whisper of steel stunning him, forcing him to turn around, to witness a scene that would mark him for the rest of his life.
His family was there, in front of him, holden hostages by what seemed to be bandits. He didn’t recognize the foxes, but he knew that they were thieves and brigands, for who would attack a farm in the middle of the night without a purpose?
``Farmers are so useless these days; they pay, but the money is never enough, unless we scare them. Don’t feel bad, for you will have a purpose now’’ said one the brigand, taking his weapon and without hesitation, striking down his family.
``Nothing like sending an example to make the other pay more; but what are going to do with him?’’ said another one, still holding his blade on Pizzafur throat, disgusted by the fact that their captive was now sobbing.
The pain was too much to handle; to witness the death of his loved one in front of him, while hold to the tip a weapon was enough to send him into shock. Nothing mattered anymore; his family was his world and now it was gone. Why should he survive?
``Why don’t you end it now? You could end the misery now and stop this game; just do it…’’ said Pizzafur, hoping that they would end it.
They didn’t respond to him, leaving the silence guide him for a moment, until one decided to talk. ``You really think that you could get away that easily? No; you will survive, but with a little… gift from us’’ said a dark faced fox, taking a knife from his pocket and with a precise strike, gave him a mark, a strange yet permanent scar.
The pain was too much for him to bear, as darkness welcomed him, leaving him numb for a few hours before his conscience would rise again. As light hit him, he regained consciousness, realizing that the light was dimmer then usual; the pain was unbearable, as he now missing an eye, the cruel parting gift from the bandits.
He stumbled for a while, trying to find a shelter, until he found the local tavern; the owner was an old friend of his and upon hearing his story, decided to give shelter.
He stayed there for months, not taking care of his hair which grew to a respectable length, focusing more on covering his scar and thinking about his life.
Until one day, when he had enough; that day was the moment he decided to venture forward, to find those that wronged him and to avenge his family…
It was a simple day in the valley of Tai-estwar, one like many others. The people living in the fertile bounty of nature were grateful for the blessing they were facing, for it wasn’t an easy life, but that didn’t stop them from enjoying it.
These people were all members of the same clan that ruled over that valley for generations. That clan, going by the name of Ves-und, used to be a tribe of wolf people, until one day a strong leader emerged from the pack and decided to guide his people to a brighter future, future that was now in this valley.
For Pizzafur, it was indeed paradise; it was the land of his ancestors, where he was raising his kids with his wife. He was a simple fellow, considering the product of his labor the only thing that truly mattered to him.
He was a black furred wolf, his fur a tad shorter than the average, but still pretty much in the norms. He was known by the people around as gentle neighbor, caring more about his family then personal wealth. Maybe some people didn’t like him too much, but these weren’t vocal about it; what would be the point of expressing such a thing?
Night fell on the valley, the dark blanket inviting the inhabitant to the realm of dreams, guiding them toward a new day. It was always the same ritual for the people of the valley, generations after generations; none of them challenged the rule of darkness, for they longed for the comfort of day.
But something was wrong tonight, something that disturbed the peace of this tradition. Pizzafur wasn’t asleep, busy helping one of his neighbours, not caring about the falling night. He was about to return home when he saw smoke rising from the horizon, originating from where his home was. Was an event happening without him being noticed? Or was it something else? He decided to hurry toward the site, to make sure everything was alright.
His home was on fire, the wood that composed the building not resistant to the flames that started devouring it. He searched for his wife and kids, but was unable to find them, until he felt a blade on his neck, the cold whisper of steel stunning him, forcing him to turn around, to witness a scene that would mark him for the rest of his life.
His family was there, in front of him, holden hostages by what seemed to be bandits. He didn’t recognize the foxes, but he knew that they were thieves and brigands, for who would attack a farm in the middle of the night without a purpose?
``Farmers are so useless these days; they pay, but the money is never enough, unless we scare them. Don’t feel bad, for you will have a purpose now’’ said one the brigand, taking his weapon and without hesitation, striking down his family.
``Nothing like sending an example to make the other pay more; but what are going to do with him?’’ said another one, still holding his blade on Pizzafur throat, disgusted by the fact that their captive was now sobbing.
The pain was too much to handle; to witness the death of his loved one in front of him, while hold to the tip a weapon was enough to send him into shock. Nothing mattered anymore; his family was his world and now it was gone. Why should he survive?
``Why don’t you end it now? You could end the misery now and stop this game; just do it…’’ said Pizzafur, hoping that they would end it.
They didn’t respond to him, leaving the silence guide him for a moment, until one decided to talk. ``You really think that you could get away that easily? No; you will survive, but with a little… gift from us’’ said a dark faced fox, taking a knife from his pocket and with a precise strike, gave him a mark, a strange yet permanent scar.
The pain was too much for him to bear, as darkness welcomed him, leaving him numb for a few hours before his conscience would rise again. As light hit him, he regained consciousness, realizing that the light was dimmer then usual; the pain was unbearable, as he now missing an eye, the cruel parting gift from the bandits.
He stumbled for a while, trying to find a shelter, until he found the local tavern; the owner was an old friend of his and upon hearing his story, decided to give shelter.
He stayed there for months, not taking care of his hair which grew to a respectable length, focusing more on covering his scar and thinking about his life.
Until one day, when he had enough; that day was the moment he decided to venture forward, to find those that wronged him and to avenge his family…
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Canine (Other)
Size 120 x 80px
File Size 15.2 kB
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