Never really done something like this before, thought I'd try and write a ~1000 word short story around someone else's character! Character belongs to  the-red-wolf

Thunder rolled over the great city walls, a deep booming that came from all around, awakening the red and grey wolf who had been sleeping restlessly. It took only an instant for him to realise what was happening, despite having never heard the great drums of the city being beat so fiercely. He hastily emerged from his bed and donned his armour. A polished silver breastplate, ridged downwards with his cities faction sigil carved in the centre. Seeing the fangs and claws arranged in their star formation on his armor gave him strength. A crimson red kilt went above his leg guards, and the same crimson red shirt kept his armour from rubbing against his grey fur. His helmet was of silver and crimson red as the was rest of his garb, with holes to allow his ears to perk through. The wolfs fluffy red neck fur spilt around the helmet, and under his breastplate. He took up his sword as he began to hear shouts and screams from across the city, screams of pain and fury raised above the deep rhythmic booms of the drums. He clutched the sword tighter in his paw, and emerged onto the polished cobblestone roads of the city.

The usual calm and controlled bustle of the city was replaced with madness. The creatures who inhabited the city had seemed to have been overcome with terror. All manner of critters rushed about the once clean roadways of the city, some in a desperate attempt to flee, others to find friends and loved ones, and a few like Shahf the wolf, who were armoured and ready to defend their kind. The drums beat over it all, and the wolf found himself acting in tune to them – he began to stride against the tide of fleeing creatures, towards the screams and shouts. The sun high above was hidden by thick clouds, its warmth and light stifled. The grey wolf had little time to admire the city, with its effortlessly flowing marble columns and elegant architecture. Green vines covered in purple and blue flowers wound over archways, back alleys were paved with smooth and richly decorated granite, houses and shops were crafted with such care and uniqueness. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and one of the reasons Shahf had decided to end his long travels from his homeland to live here. There was nothing like it in all the world; and an army had come here to take it from them, to bring blood and death to its beauty. The wolf could not let that happen.

The crowd was thick, pushing and tugging him away from his duty, yet he shouldered forwards through canines and vulpines, bovines and avians, as the sound of the shouts and screams grew louder, and the drums wound their way into his head. At some point he noticed a few other warriors were following directly behind him, new found determination written on their faces. Together they strode forwards with grim confidence, as more and more joined their march. The sound of armour and swords in motion grew louder behind him, and Shahf soon realised a group of fifty or so followed in his wake, towards an enemy they had known may one-day land upon their city walls, yet had never battled against. Any fear of facing the unknown had vanished from those that followed the red and grey wolf – united by a common cause, they found there one purpose. It was so fiercely clear what they all must do, there was no doubt or questions left in their hearts. They had to defend what was theirs.

Eventually the crowd thinned the closer the band marched towards the walls, until just a spare few lost and weary souls were left wandering in disorientation. Following the screams, they found the source of the mayhem. The courtyard they had come to was filled with battle. Only a hundred or so of the cities army had risen to fight, facing off against a countless tide of rogue, barbaric creatures. Most wore only cloth trousers, gripping stolen steel in their talons and paws. Their furred chests and heads were bare and unarmoured, and Shahf could see they fought uncaring of any wounds they may receive. Blood and bodies littered the courtyard, the drums behind them still beat in his chest, and the nightmarish screams of the dying rose from in front of him. It was a scene that would make most quake in their paws and run the other way, and for a few seconds, the wolf stood with his fifty men gathered behind him. The moment passed as the wolf raised his sword high above his head, and charged towards the battle. The wind swept the exposed parts of his fur and the smell of death filled his nose, yet he barely noticed it. The ground shook as a band of fifty armed and armoured warriors charged behind him, and war cries were shouted towards the dark skies above. In the back of his head, the wolf knew they were vastly outnumbered, that perhaps the battle would never go in their favour, yet he never once miss-stepped or thought about slowing down his assault. It was the fighting that mattered, the standing up for one’s own beliefs, the will to defend your own land, and give up everything to do so. Win or lose, they would fight.

Shahf took a deep breath as he took the final few steps to enter the fray, his sword held defensively in front of him. The deafening sound of plate and steel colliding and crashing against each other was heard as the group behind him bolstered the cities defenders, and he entered into the struggle to protect the beauty he had journeyed so far to behold and admire.