Brindleface Warriors Novels & Stories

RPOV Song: Elephants by Warpaint The world was a blur, armored figures without faces were surrounded by a light haze. I walked by them, hoping to finally find someone I recognized, but each was the same. Nameless faces and faceless names that would soon be forgotten. I touched a few of their metallic shoulders as they passed me, hoping to spark some kind of familiarity, but they continued strolling by without even a glance in my direction.

I couldn't help but stifle a chuckle at the situation. The warriors looked at each other without knowing what to do. One of them mustered the courage to step forward and asked timidly, "May I know who you are, Alpha?" Uncle Daryl pinched the bridge between his nose and let out a deep sigh. "You don't recognize your Alpha?" he said, his voice laced with annoyance. I couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the drama unfolding before me. Uncle Daryl was always a stickler for tradition, and he took his role as the Alpha of the pack very seriously. The young warriors, on the other hand, were a bit inexperienced and naive.

“West Fang and Starfire packs.” I smiled at that. “Seems you see some reasoning?” he asked. The audacity of this man! West Fang was a pack that were filled with warriors, and they made the best weapons. Starfire, on the other hand, is a mine pack. The resources gotten from there are used to boost our wealth. “Isn’t that exploitation, Hansel?” I asked. “Add some respect to my name,” he said with gritted teeth. “It isn’t. This is a fair trade.”

"We meet them head on." The hills rose steeply, dotted with rocky outcrops and thick underbrush. Our forces assembled quickly, wolves shifting in a ripple of fur and muscle, howls echoing as they prepared. I gripped my blade, the elemental hum in the bond making my heart race. The battle erupted without warning. Draven's rebels charged from the treeline, a wave of snarling wolves and blade wielding humans. Fangs flashed in the fading light, claws tearing into flesh as the lines collided.

Still, it was enough to show other creatures that we werewolves weren't someone to be messed with. We also invited the Bloody Fangs. The Bloody Fangs was a group of strongest warriors without any ties to the 3 packs. Their most well-known warrior was their leader, The Crimson Warrior, who was also the most blood-lust warrior in the whole Lupo continent. His nickname came from the crimson helmet he kept wearing as he fought. I had heard that the Crimson Warrior himself would attend my ceremony. That made me wonder if he would wear his helmet or not. After all, no one had ever seen his face.

And when the time came, I would meet it head-on. Blind or not, I was ready. “Everyone is ready to fight,” whispered Kiran, who came up beside me. I could sense the pack gathering around me, uneasy but determined. Their breaths came fast, their feet shifted against the dirt, and their hearts beat like war drums in my ears. The odds weren’t good. We were a fresh new pack, and while I was trained, many of these were not trained warriors. They were fighters, yes, but out of desperation from living on the street. It was not the same as being trained by a seasoned warrior.

His body vibrated as he bellowed, “You think childish tricks will change anything? This is one battle you have lost.” Warriors closed in from all sides, pouring from behind fallen buildings and craters dug into the earth. The air around us shimmered when Brick, Harley, Brinley, and a couple hundred of our own appeared. Brinley’s beastly war cry started the battle. Within seconds, she and the others were lost within the crowd. I could only glean snippets of them in between the thrashing bodies of wolf and warrior alike. Gideon’s eyes darted left and right, taking in the destruction. I prayed he was realizing that despite his numbers, our people had more heart—more motivation than his ever had

It's pretty cool, though. "That's crazy. I didn't think there was anything behind it." I hear Raven whisper from her chair next to me. Atleast we are all pretty shocked by this and it's not just me. "Yes, it's interesting information, but it's not important right now. Any other questions about your appearance or can I continue?" We all shake our heads to let him know we don't have any more questions. "Ok, so more about the prophecy. In the prophecy it states that there is a war upon us that will forever change the fate of the werewolf population. It will be a war between the Rogues and peaceful packs. If the rogues win, our world will be tossed into chaos that's filled with death and misery.

Even now, sweat-slick and surrounded by war prep, he found a way to tease her into a smile. Some warriors, tournament survivors now that had also joined us, moved with particular precision under her command. I caught their murmurs during a water break. One of them, a hulking Willowridge transfer, wiped his brow. “Thought Warrior of the Crest was a gift because of the Goldmoon Alphas. Watched her fight, though… she earned it. Beat me without breaking a sweat.” The scarred Ironbark female beside him nodded. “Luna’s the real storm. Makes you want to bleed for her.”

Someone sang off-key near the barrels. I wove through the crowd, looking for Harrison. Instead, I caught scraps of conversation from a group of warriors. "—took down three rogues before the rest of us even shifted." "The new strongest female warrior. I'm telling you, she's something else." I slowed my steps. The strongest female warrior had always been Valeria — Alpha of the Crimson Fang Pack. They called her The Selene-Blade. People said the Moon Goddess herself had blessed her, and she fought in a terrifying mask — all you could see were her red eyes, glowing. No one had ever beaten her.