07-09-2008, 09:30 PM
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   "Murder." he said pointedly. "And famine. Bad upbringing, and fools." There was more than a hint of bitterness in his voice. "The four packs were one, originally. They were called a Kingdom then, serving under King Malros, a wolf who had won leadership by felling a feral beast who had been ravaging the land...my great great grandfather, actually. The King was murdered many years after he had won the throne, and his lands were split between his four sons...whose petty bickering during a time of drought caused two of them to kill another. It was only a matter of time before the wolves who had served the slain prince declared an oath of vengeance against their leader's murderers." What a waste. "Politics split the other three apart. Of the three remaining princes, one hated his brothers for killing the fourth and waged war against them, swearing to unite the kingdom again when he was finished. The remaining two could not agree on who would reign supreme once they won the conflict, and so failed to ally themselves, either. By the time I arrived with my student, they were all gearing up for total conflict, a free for all with dozens of wolves on every side." He regretted ever even coming across those wolves...they had been friendly initially...and why not? He looked like a fighter, and they needed fighters. It would have been better if he had died before ever meeting Gronnor just to spare Art the price of his foolishness. It had been there that he had learned his deep dislike of politics...how it twisted valiance, how it manipulated bravery and sacrifice...how sordid ambition could twist the ways of wolves. "Back then I was younger than you are now...and much more foolish. I did not understand the workings of political wolves when I joined a side." ~The lyrics are from the best song ever written. |