This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters, locations and the world in this story belongs to the author and copyright law prohibits re-publishing.
*****
As the second last day of the training session had ended, Dax sat by the small fire by his tent and stared into the golden flames. Sitting alone with a flagon of ale, the Alpha of Wolvren drowned out the sound of his thirty or so soldiers in the background. Milling about as they prepared for supper, bathing or getting their wounds tended to by one of the healers. His head tilted to a few groans of pain but he was quietly pleased that his soldiers knew better than complaining with an alpha around who was in a not so pleasant mood.
Every year the alpha took fresh recruits on a 7-night exercise and training session in the Royal Forest behind the castle. Meant to build the confidence of the new soldiers and teach them how to shift forms while in battle. With war being a real danger, Dax knew that these training sessions were essential to the protection of Wolvren.
With the position of the crown being undetermined, Wolvren was recently exposed to raiders and border skirmishes. The previous King had succumbed to the wasting sickness that had been plaguing him for years. With no heirs or relatives, the Wolvren council was currently making the decisions.
Fights with Rummund to the north was beginning to take its toll on the boarder regiment. Rummund has always been a thorn in Wolvren's side and now that a bloodthirsty Warlord with an actual brain was leading them, the dangers of invasion were becoming a reality again. The big, blond northerners had a hard, cold country to call home and one that barely provided any food, not to mention the frost coloured werewolves were notoriously fond of battle.
To the east was the Thalesian Isles. A self-reliant, mineral rich nation of wealthy clans, whose royal family constantly fought to assassinate each other for rule. They allied themselves with Wolvren during the last war. But Dax had heard unnerving rumours of ancient magic and deathly rituals being done with the Thalesian Emperors approval. Dax didn't trust his mysterious neighbours as far as he could throw them. Though small and lithe of body with unreadable expressions and unmatched stealth skills, he knew first hand that the were-soldiers of the Thalesian Isles were deadly.
To the south was the Wandering Desert. A cruel and deadly wasteland that very few ever came back from and within its confines a temple city that none really knew what occurred there. Dax heard of monks worshiping new gods and granting strange powers. He only ever met one monk from the Wandering Temple City, and he was a crazy fool that lost his mind in the desert.
The four nations made up the continent of Lycra. As Alpha of Wolvren, his job as the Commanding General of the Army was to ensure the safety of his King (although he wasn't sure who that was going to be) and kingdom.
Standing at 6'7 and weighing in 320lbs of black muscle, the dark giant cut an intimidating figure. Bald head topped a thick brow that recently was always in a permanent scowl over dark brown eyes and a big nose. He sported a dense black beard that framed thick lips that rarely smiled.
Dax's appearance was one of great shock to many. When Dax was born his mother and the midwife screamed when a dark skin baby boy came into the world. A shock to both parents as they were white with red hair. Both parents stared at their strange baby but were so smitten with their son that they knew they would not love him any less. And six years later they added a daughter to the brood (she came out white with ginger hair)
