Welcome to the Pack

As Markus walked along the stone road that was built through the narrow passage that had formed in the cliff from an old dried up river, he began to notice the pathway to slowly be blocked by an old waterfall. Like the river it had dried up many years ago, and as he got closer he wondered if he was to scale this large face covered in moss and protruding roots of cut off bushes. Looking at the top from the distance he couldn't tell if that was where the road led to, yet as he got closer, he slowly saw a black blotch at the base of the cliff face beginning to form. Approaching carefully it was there where it stood out to him, they had carved through the ground somehow. The idea of tunneling wasn't new to Markus but on this scale it was unbeknownst to him how they managed to achieve this.

So there it stood, 10 feet in height, 5 feet in width, glistening blue against the sunlight with a fresh white sparkle in the center of the stone. On the tunnels walls lay weird metallic lights hung on iron bars, the light as ever bright as a torch but didn't look to burn out instantly like one. The runnel around him was smoothed beautifully with no jagged rocks, or visible cracks appearing anywhere down this mile long passageway. Passing him by on one side was a wagon filled with gems and jewels, then another passed him containing weapons and armour. A few minutes later a couple of families walked past him making their way towards the docks to watch the boats come in and go out. As he came to the end of the tunnel a bright light shone from the exit, the sun engulfing his vision bleaching everything past the exit white as snow for a few seconds and there it slowly appeared. The beginning of the city, their houses made of quarried stone, gery it shone with the tiny crystals sprinkled around the stone glinting back tiny pieces of sunlight. The roofs of each building had these red stone slabs, all made to match each other and fit together nicely and neatly.

The windows were all glass panes, each house seemingly having a different design in the panes' metalwork. Some were flowery and curved around the glass whilst others more japped like the stem of a rose. Further along the road the houses split off into different streets, multiple directions leading to different parts of the city. The signs now written in a foreign language that Markus couldn't understand, the lines were like gibberish to him as he tried his hardest to use the symbols at the end of each word to figure out where he was. Following the signs that seemed to mark out a market hoping along the way he'd find an inn to stay at for his first day. Fabnf slowly seemed to come more and more alive, as the streets became more packed with people of different race and ethnicity. Small folk with long beards walked side by side with folk four times their height with pointy ears. They were the elves and dwarves of this region, unlike in Luik where it was slightly frowned upon to be of a different race. As he approached the crossroads he noted the sound of a morning market coming from his right, to his left seemed to point towards a district for mining indicated by a small pickaxe it would seem on the sign. Forwards seemed to have more of the same houses that extended far beyond his eyes could see.

Heading towards the market noises he slowly came across a small opening in the houses, which revealed above all the stalls and tents placed there a fountain. It was red as a deepened sunset in colour with chimera type animals on its top shooting the water from their mouths into a deep basin below. Each of the animals were distinct from one another, possibly the animals of this region of the world or one extinct from bygone years. One thing he noted though was the eyes, each a different gemstone hune from the area. Some were diamond and rubies others emeralds and garnets, yet the focus of the on looker wasn't on the animals but the tall figure that stood above them. An old king, his sword placed firmly into the fountain, but this sword wasn't carved into it like the rest; it seemed to be real and placed onto it in respect of its many deeds. Markus thought it might perhaps be the sword of the one they were depicting, or a mistake had been made that they had failed to rectify.

Heading through the market that was slowly coming to life he noticed a small tavern that lay just past, next to it stood what seemed to be a bastion, but it couldn't be one there was no fort around. Heading closer he began to have a familiar feeling from before, deja vu struck him as he looked above the doorway. Into the stonework it was carved the head of a wolf howling at a crescent moon whilst a sword split it in two. Realising that this was another base of the Lunar Wolves. Thoughts crossed his mind on how large they were and how much access they had to multiple towns across the world. Yet slowly he pushed open the door and the noise from those inside ripped through the air and echoed out into the streets. The old oak door held back all their drinking noise as many of them partied with their newly acquired pay, others passed out on the floor from drinking too much. As Markus entered the room quietened down as he walked through the hall stepping over fallen bodies trying not to cause a ruckus.

In a foreign language a man at a table spoke to Markus, his voice was baritone and could cut your skin from hearing it, "What are ye' doing here?." he said in his own language before again repeating in another Markus didn't know. Startled by the voice and language Markus fell still, slowly reaching into his pocket and bringing out the ticket he had used with the captain. From the background another man came forth, a small pipe in his mouth looking at the ticket Markus held high above his head.

He cleared his throat and began to speak in a language Markus could understand, "From Lane are you?" he said his face right in front of Markus's, his breath stank of rotten fish, his teeth yellowed to a near brown at its center with black tips. Markus had to take a step back, nearly tripping on a drunk patron on the floor. The man's eyes flickering up to the ticket every so often reading the words written in Markus's home tongue.

"I'm from Lane, yes." Markus replied a little more shaken from this singular encounter with the man than anything before. His body yelled at him to dive away from the man but his brain reassured him of the lack of danger.

"Been a while since I've been to Lane myself." The man continued to talk, taking a puff of his pipe and blowing the smoke into Markus's face. He slowly slid one of his hands into his pockets keeping the other around the pipe. "So why are you here then boy?" He asked, his eyes trying to pierce through Markus's defence.

Markus took another step back, "I was told to search out your boss as I wish to join." The man looked Markus up and down and began to laugh, and soon the whole room started laughing as well going back to drinking. The odd man took Markus under his arm and pulled him through the now rioting hall and dropping him off in a room on his own.

"The boss will be with you shortly." He said softly, closing the door behind him gently. Markus now sat in a room with golden fixtures hung everywhere, a small statue of a wolf on the desk and chairs made of oak and leather sat before a dark oak desk. Markus slowly sat down in one of the chairs closest to the door and waited for someone to arrive. He tapped his finger on the desk as he gazed around the clearly costly room. Then from a distance he could hear the sound of heavy feet approaching the door, they stopped just outside before a massive yawn echoed from behind it. Slowly it swung open and a tired old man walked into the room closing it behind him.

He sat in the chair opposite Markus, his hair white and gray like his skin, his eyes were bloodshot in places but a fluorescent yellow coloured them. He wore a silk robe that was made from the finest of silks and encrusted with several jewels on its cuffs and shoulders. Pulling out a quill and an ink jar with some paper and placing them on the desk he slowly looked up and met Markus in the eyes. A weird sense came about Markus as if he felt safer than usual perhaps due to the man's age.

"So you wish to join the Lunar Wolves?" he asked looking back down at the paper. Beginning to scratch a few things onto it.

"I do, yes." Markus replied swiftly with a bit of eagerness around him.

"Name?" he asked again in the same tone a little raspier than before.

"Markus, Markus Felin." he replied again with haste.

"Age?" the man asked seemingly uncaring of anything.

"17." Markus replied yet again.

"Training?" the man continued to go through his checklist.

"None." Markus said solemnly.

The man looked up at Markus as he thought to himself for a bit, "Well we'll give you some then." He laid down his quill and blew on the paper to speed up the ink drying process.

"So why are you all the way here from Lane, young one." he asked laying back in his chair. A swift rap at the door before a young girl around Markus's age walked in.

"Grandpa, why are you here? Didn't you say this was your day off?" she said, her hair was a deep black like the night sky, her eyes blue as sapphires that lay in untampered mines. Her hair stretched down her back neatly whilst it also parted partially over her eyes and down her cheeks. Her height was similar to Markus but she seemed to have more muscle on her than he did.

"Ah, Aella. I'm a bit tied up as you can see." The old man gestured to Markus in the chair across from him. Aella took one look at him, turned up her nose and began to storm off to the door.

"Father thinks you work too hard… so does mother." She'd say as she reached the door, opening it slightly. "I just want to make sure you're okay, Grandpa." she said as she began to walk out the door.

"I know my dear, I know." He'd reply to her as she gently closed the door. He slouched back in his chair as if the storm had passed that quickly and had winded him.

"Granddaughters eh? What would we old folks be without them?" He slowly pushed himself up from his chair and stretched his old wrinkly hand over to Markus.

Markus grasped his hand and began to shake it, it felt weak and feeble but the man's grip tightened slowly around his hand like a blacksmith's vice.

"Welcome to the Lunar Wolves."