The wolves of the Ancient city of Remignon are not like common wolves. They stand on two legs and can fashion their own tools and weaponry. Let’s hope that saves them when the humans start to encroach upon their land. As Tybalt and his friend Regulus drink themselves into a pleasant stupor at a tavern, The rumble of machinery is heard in the distance. And the whole town goes quiet. Only when they return to camp do they notice something is amiss…..
Among the dark silence that permeated the forest at night, there was one building that was livelier than ever. The local pub, Wolf’s Paw, was crawling with people. Among the mirth and laughter, there were two wolves who were sitting quietly at their table, sipping from their tankards. As they felt the pleasant buzz slowly creep across their minds, they began to lose focus. These wolves were impressive, to say the least. Soldiers hired to protect the city of Remignon.
They were polar opposites of each other. The one was a massive black timberwolf, named Regulus. His entire body was rippled with muscle. This wolf looked like he could tear a tree down with his own two paws. He stood at an impressive seven feet tall, and looked like a giant sitting at the tiny table, drinking from the puny tankard. He had a massive warhammer slung across his back, and gleaming gold-plated armor covering his body. He had a streak of navy blue running down his forearm, and the birthmark was only slightly covered by the shining bracers. He had a worn expression on his face and his grey eyes were half-lidded as he fell into a buzz. The other one, Tybalt, was decidedly less impressive.
His fur was also dark, but more of a maroon hue. Almost the color of dried blood. He wore a cloak around himself, so you couldn’t see much of him. Occasionally when he moved his arm you could see the gleam of shining armor similar to the other one’s. He slowly put down his tankard and slid his hood down, so it rested on his shoulders. His face was his most impressive feature. His eyes were pure black, and if you looked at them in the right light, one of them had a sinister red glow, the other had a pleasant blue shine. His maroon fur was marked with black around his muzzle, giving him a dangerous appearance. These were no ordinary soldiers. These were mercenaries, hired out from one of the outlying villages. And by the look of it, they were friends. The red wolf turned to go, standing next to the massive black wolf. He stood a good 2 feet shorter than his friend, making them an odd pair.
As they turned to go, the bartender came up behind them and tapped them on the shoulder. They stopped in their tracks, but did not turn around or otherwise acknowledge his presence. The smaller wolf reached into his pocket and gripped something while the bartender spoke.
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