Flames Reign

Chapter 3

Skarr found himself scraping his bulky paws across the iron roads of the Black Citadel, keeping his eyes locked to his imprecise path and baring a deep scowl. He didn't dare look to see if he was being watched, in fact, he knew he was being watched. His reputation proceeded him. The Charr could hear the growls and snickering of the other beasts that saw him, remarks that burned fierce anger in his heart.

"Traitor". "Coward". "Scum".

Without much thought involved, the beast passed into a black alley besides the Hero's Canton. It was a vile place that would give any sane creature a lump in their throat, an old ruin walkway adorned in thick suet, dirt, dust, feces and worst of all, the scent of dead flesh. This was the place drunken Charr would wake after a heavy night on the whiskey, or a place you'd expect to find a half beaten war band member, clubbed and left in the slums for insubordination.

In the dark place, a gleam from another beasts gold eyes caught Skarrs attention. Not inspiring fear, but making his back straighten in a sense of fight. He knew what was coming.

"You gotta' lot of nerve comin' down 'ere, cub." A snarl sounded in the void. "Last time you got lucky, this time, your gonna hurt."

Skarr remained his usual apathetic self in his response, confidently so. "What? Sharpened your butter knife this time?" He was used to facing boastful Charr in this alley. Ones that would try giving him a thrashing for his reputation. Skarr knew this, he went looking for this trouble, maybe sending a message to other would-be-shaman haters.

From the dark, three more sets of feline eyes opened leaving Skarr out numbered; four to one. That is, at least, if they dared to try a street brawl. "You wanna bleed, cub? Ten dimes says i'll be the first to make him fall." One of the animals sounded. "Nah', twelve says I take his tail as a trophy!" Slyly, the sound of unsheathing weapons rung.

Knowing he was in for a fight, Skarrs heart missed a beat; adrenaline fueled his veins and his eyes lit up in a lust for blood. Two beasts lunged for him out of the dark, one of them silenced mid-air with a swift fist to the maw; the other plunged it's thick nine inch blade into Skarrs shoulder, almost bypassing his clothing entirely.

The Charr roared with excitement as Skarr paused, clenching his shoulder as an agonizing pain began to sink in. A flame ignited in Skarrs chest as fury began to file down at the pain. He felt numb, almost emotionless besides this one strong feeling. Resentment.

(To be continued...)