Flames Reign

Chapter 1

- CHAPTER 1 -

Thick abyss smog hung over the village of Smokestead. Furnaces churned in a blaze of molten metals and recycled irons, adding to the choked air. Large feline like creatures worked endlessly, wielding weapons, smashing anvils with hammers, producing waves of sparks and noise as they continue to create weapons for the many legions of war. Colossal metal-clad machines would roll by, grinding their crudely shaped wheels across the damaged foliage. The head of these machines carried the face of the Charr; eyes that burned with flames of the engine; ferocious looking felines with fangs that bore out from their muzzles; horns that stretch out from atop their heads in an intimidating fashion, two ears either side, hidden by said horns. Worse, the death-inspiring expression that all of their race kept. The Charr continued their work in the armory, testing newly made mortars, rifles and all types of firearms no matter how potent. The echo of war could be heard ringing from the construction sites; the firing range; even the armory its self. The brutish remarks would continue to be throw between felines, though likely barely heard. Insults about how "human mice could never make steel with as much precision and delicacy as -us- Charr!". Laughter would like soon follow before work continued.

Above the mess and disorganisation of the preparing legions sat another Charr, watching over the armory. Emerald eyes that pierced through the possibly poisonous fog, with an apathetic manner. Yet a black-tanned mask hung over this particular beasts face, with similar dark tanned drapes that rest down him. Hiding his features. One could possibly make out the stripes that lined his forehead and neck. Peach and grey, much to the contrast of his chocolate fur. Skarr had quite distinguishable features even with his garments. Sitting down atop the wall of iron that protects Smokestead, he would lean back, placing his weight on one taloned hand. His free hand simply resting atop his perked knee. Finally, he would have his tail curled around to his right, striped in peach and chocolate - yet its tip a dark shade of coffee.

He sat there. Silent. A wave of realisation washed over him, how small the beasts in the iron works appeared compared to him. He felt a great power over them. An eager dominance over the hulking workers. Yet he took no notice of these feelings - they caused him nothing but trouble in the past, why give into that now? A scent caught his nostrils, causing them to flare with curiousity. The lingering odur of course smoke, burnt fur, charcoal and melting metals clinging to the sences.

"Want some company?" a familiar voice sounded. Skarr grimaced briefly at his misfortune - he prefered being in solitary. He glanced to catch a look at the intruder. Another Charr stood just outside the shadows, with dark coffee fur; deep red patches littering his paws and his mane.  Coasting from his head would be two thick - yet short - Charr horns and clinging to his body would be light garments - royal in appearence - purple and rust in colours. On his face he bore a fanged mask, identical to the colour of his garment but the blades of his mask beam a vivid lumber green. Balthaz Dreadblade.

"I wouldn't mind, you offering?" Skarr replied, he would curl the lips of his muzzle; smirking.

Balthaz would respond with a smirk of his own, baring an array of small fangs from their gummed hiding. "I might be." He sounded. "What you doing up here, anyway? They'll be expecting you back at Hero's Canton." His tone was somewhat dismal - perhaps sad at that remark.

Skarr would nod. His features resenting the idea of going back to the Black Citadel. "They won't miss me for a few more hours. Besides, I don't care if they needed me. Hell, I don't even care if they were being raided or killed off."

Balthaz appeared the better part of shocked, though nothing too evidental. "I know they're cruel Skarr, but that's your warband. Give 'em some respect." He tried speaking in a warm tone, even if Charr arn't known for their compassion. "Besides, if anything did happen to them, you'd be a gladium. That's the last thing you want - believe me!"

Balthaz seemed to grin, showing a range of gleeming teeth and fangs. Though Skarr didn't repay the guesture. "Sorry Balth', I don't share your hate for being a low-life. Maybe being a gladium is what I want.. What I need." He scowled weakly. Contemplating whether adding to his dismal reputation would be better for his future. Balthaz' expression faded into a worried one. He took a few strides closer to the sitting, troubled beast before placing a hand into the threads of Skarr's fiery chocolate mane. The beast would simply remain still, pausing, he let Balthaz maul with him plenty of times before. This comforted him. He not only enjoyed the attention but Balthaz was the only other of his kind who didn't bare a grudge against the cub of a Flame Legion Shaman. But he would never show any liking - at least, not in public.

"Balthaz, you've been good to me, you know that? I appreciate it-" Skarr's words was cut off with a quick yet playful jab to his muzzle.

"Shut it. I don't need your sloppy kitten talk now. Just relax. You said you have a few hours - use them!" Balth' replaced his hand into Skarr's feral mane, though this time using his claws to scratch around slowly. Massaging said places. Skarr's eyes sunk slightly, though tried to remain visably uneffected. He leant back into the massaging as if controlled by some lustful pleasure seeking force. Balthaz knew this; he was pleased by it.

Skarr shook his head causing his mane to wave in delay. He tried to stand, perhaps to move from Balthaz; yet a strange unintended force kept him in place. An intence lustful flutter about his chest, neither pleasurable nore painful, though Skarr did find himself lost in said sensation. "..Balthaz.." He paused, letting the words roll from his tongue contently "You feel good".

Balthaz paused for less than a second, yet hopefully not long enough for Skarr to notice. He found the remark shot him like a bullet to his heart. A burning desire haunted him now. And yet, he simply smiled.