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Kagamine Len 19:08, July 21, 2010 (UTC)Kagamine Len aka M.R.
Ferahgo stumbled through the dark dreary forest, looking for a tree stump to sit down on to rest. Walking into a clearing he spotted a stump and quickly rushed to sit on it. Sitting down he let a sigh escape him. Looking up from staring at his foot-paws, he inspected his surroundings. Trees, Trees, and more Trees. Ferahgo snarled. He had been in the Darkforest for as long as he could remember. He was dead, he no longer lived his once great life of being ruler of all southwest land creatures. His ears twitched as he heard approaching footsteps. He turned to the left where the footsteps were coming from, and saw a big, lean, male fox coming his way. As the fox came closer he saw that he was wearing a wolf pelt. Ferahgo quickly got to his feet, as the fox was only a foot away from him now. His kilt of animal pelts swished and he quickly stepped back and went to grasp a knife from his broad, diagonal crossbelt that was across his chest. His claws grasped a small, yet very sharp, knife that’s blade was died black. “My lucky ‘black death’ blade” he thought and held the blade in front of him to show it to the fox with the wolf pelt. The fox with the wolf pelt just happened to be Urgan Nagru, The fox ruler who had once controlled a vast horde in the land of Ice and snow and in the lush green land of Southsward. Urgan laughed at the weasel and his small black knife. “And just what were ye planning to use that thing for?” he asked him tipping his head to the side, questioningly. Ferahgo signaled him to come forward. “Come over here and I’ll show you.” He said to Urgan. Urgan again laughed and licked the wolf claws that were strapped to his paws. “Now, now. I didn’t come to hurt you! I was just coming to retrieve you.” He said and for the first time, inspected this weasel. He was a tall lean thing with sparkling, alluring blue eyes. He wore a broad belt with diagonal crossbelts across his chest, as well as a short kilt of animal skins. Ferahgo looked at the fox suspiciously. “Retrieve me for what?” he asked. Urgan, the self-proclaimed foxwolf, smiled at Ferahgo. “Why, for a meeting of course!” Ferahgo, confused and wary, asked, “What meeting? And with whom?” The foxwolf strode forward and quickly swiped the black knife out of Ferahgo’s hand. “What meeting? A meeting with Vulpuz” he said.
Ferahgo touched his black knife (that was now back in his crossbelt) and ran his paw over it. He was in a bad mood. He had been traveling from place to place in Hellgates, and was very tired. He had stopped to rest on a tree stump when some foxwolf had came and ruined his resting time! The fox had then told him that he came to retrieve him and now they were walking to wherever it was this meeting was going to be held. Ferahgo picked up his pace to catch up to the foxwolf and then set his pace to match his. “Do you even know where your going?!” he asked him in a growl. “Of course. We’re going to Castle Morte. That’s where Vulpuz is.” Ferahgo sighed. “As long as it’s somewhere that I can rest my aching foot-paws.” Urgan nodded and kept walking.
Urgan smiled and looked back at Ferahgo. “We’re here.” He said and pointed to a large black castle. “See? That’s Castle Morte.” Ferahgo looked at the castle and let out a sigh of relief. “Finally. A place to rest” he thought and started walking towards the castle. Urgan grabbed one of the many animal pelts from the weasel’s kilt and pulled him back. “Wait, I have to give the signal.” He said and pulled out a red handkerchief. He took two steps forward and waved the red handkerchief in the air. Then turning to Ferahgo, he asked him a question he’d forgotten to ask. “You are Ferahgo the assassin, correct?” Ferahgo nodded and then asked him a question. “Who are you?” Urgan half laughed. “Im Urgan Nagru, the Foxwolf, ruler of a vast horde from the land of ice!” He said. Ferahgo inspected him. “He could be a good ally or….a good servant” he thought. And for the first time that day, Ferahgo the assassin, smiled.
Ferahgo looked around. He and Urgan were now in Castle Morte. Having been escorted by two guards (The reason for Urgan waving around the red handkerchief) they finally arrived at Castle Morte. “Like what ye see?” a voice called out to Ferahgo. Ferahgo turned to see who had spoken. It was a strong looking male stoat who, by the looks of it, was once a corsair. “Yes and who, pray tell, are you?” The stoat gave a hearty laugh. “Why, I’m Barranca. Captain O’ the Beautiful ship Freebooter! Or at least I was.” He said heartily. “What’s ye name, friend?” he asked as he extended his hand. Ferahgo smiled, his blue eyes sparkling. “This could be another fool that could work for me” He thought as he grasped Barranca’s hand and shook it warmly. “My names Ferahgo, Ferahgo the assassin.” “Ah, an assassin. An honor, I'm sure.” Urgan broke their handshake and growled, “We are going to miss the meeting!” “Aye, we best be getting to the meeting.” Barranca said without even bothering to ask the foxwolf his name. The three villains turned to leave when a voice behind them called out, “Wait! Did I miss anything important?” The trio quickly turned to see who it was that had spoke. It was a fox, a strong looking fox. He had an array of blades, daggers. They were in a crossbelt similar to Ferahgo’s. “Ye aint miss nothing yet, Matey” Barranca said with ferocity and, unsheathing his saber, he threw it at the fox. The fox, not expecting this, had no time to dodge. The saber stuck itself within the chest of the fox. The fox looked shocked but obviously wasn’t, for he laughed. Pulling out the saber, which had no blood on it, he tossed it back to Barranca, who caught it by the blade tip. Barranca looked at the fox, waiting for what he had to say. “Barranca, me old matey, I thought we were friends?” Barranca bared his fangs and snarled, “Ye aint no friend O’ mine, you lily-livered coward!” he then threw his saber at the fox, again. The fox, seeing this coming, side-stepped and dodged the blade. The saber stuck to the wall, quivering. “Still not over your little grudge against me, are you Barranca?” “Aye and I never will be until I can kill you the way you did me. You’re nothing but a yellow-tongued backstabber, Rasconza” the stoat said coldly.