The Rain
Prologue; Dunderdale

It rained the day he visited Dunderdale, so much that the fields had become lakes and the roads were soggy. Horses slipped as they trod and mud splattered against walls and beams. Nobody wanted to go outside and those who did had their cloaks tied up and hoods over their heads to protect their faces from the cold bite of the winds. Dunderdale was small, a farming town with a tight nit community. They had little but loved what they had. Sadly, so did other, lesser friendly folk. The Lawmen often liked to abuse their powers, taken extra undue taxes or bully their way into the beds of women to scared to fight against them...

Eventually the day turned to night. Not much was done, the fields could not be tended as they were flooded and there was no trade passing through for the markets to be manned. So, most folk were holed up in the tavern with the warm fire, good food and strong ale. A merry gathering, to sing the blistering typhoons away!

But a stranger did visit Dunderdale that night… the white tiger. A few saw him walking down the muddy slurry that was now the road. At first just a figure holding a tatty umbrella, bravely walking into the rain. His red cape flew behind him, tousled and wild, naught but that peculiar half-moon pendant holding it in place. His hood flapped around his face as the wind bothered the fabric. It wasn't until he passed a break in the tree line that the beam of moonlight fully revealed him. Tall and strong. He must have been a warrior, gladiator or something. He wandered, barren of the clothing people so desperately wrapped around their bodies right through town.

The rackety door to the tavern was pushed open, and the white tiger wandered in, tatty old umbrella stowed at his side. He kept his head bowed, red hood wetly slumped over his face. Keeping all but the strong white furred chin covered in fabric, or a flickering shadow cast by the nearby fire. His fur was soaked through to flesh, yet the man did not tremble as he calmly walked between the bustling tables.

Eyes were already upon him. This male was most certainly impressive, but it was likely his nudity that caught their eyes the most. His sheath and, for that matter balls were certainly as proportional to his powerful build as one would expect.

The soft notes of the nearby piano kept a playing, some happy little tune most in the tavern were merrily singing along to. The tender, a tall but skinny vixen lady adjusted her grubby, brown apron while she approached the tiger. “Can we help you?” She asked, aged head cocked to the side curiously. A none to friendly tone in her voice.

The tiger rose his paws and placed them heavily upon the bar while he slotted neatly upon a bar stool, “Mug've ale and a room, please.” He spoke calmly, yet his deep voice showed no sign of ill intent. In fact, he sounded almost friendly.

The vixen relaxed some, “And a towel, too? Less you plan on drippin' all over my floor?” she spoke, tone suddenly far softer than before. Without checking for a reply, she shoved a mug beneath a large, sideways barrel and dumped the pump. “I am sorry to say we have no rooms free tonight... marshalls've rented 'em all while they're staying.” She rolled her eyes while slumping the mug, and ale in front of the tiger, right between his paws.

“What was that eye roll for, miss?” A man, dressed in fine, dark leather pipped up. A powerful looking, dark furred wolf but a none to friendly look and a grin that simply made ones gut churn.

“Eye roll? I don't believe I rolled my eyes, sir,” the vixen held a paw over her rather ample bosom.

Yet the wolf was having none of it. He stood suddenly, which made the fox step backwards. “I do not like your tone...” he walked slowly beside the tiger, then obnoxiously hunched forwards, a leather gloved paw reaching forwards to grip its edge while his other rested threateningly over the handle to his sword at his hip.

The vixen held her paws up. “I don't want trouble...”

The wolf's brow rose and his smirk grew, “Well how about a little respect...? Or I'll have this place raided... I think you owe us some extra tax money, don't you...?” Judging by the start badge pinned to his dark tunic he was a Marshall. His attention lazily dragged to the tiger next to him, who was in the middle of taking a gulp from his mug. “'s yer name, stranger?”

“Am just passing through...” the mysterious male replied calmly.

“Hah, that's a funny name,”

“That's a funny toothpick...” The tiger nodded downwards, towards the wolf's sheathed rapier while setting his mug down carefully upon the wooden bar top.

The wolf frowned. He quickly lifted his paw from his sword, and ripped the tiger's hood down...

It happened in a flash, the tiger stood. A paw gripped the wolf's throat in a grip akin to a vice. He turned the wolf to shove his back against the bar and his other tore the Marshall’s blade from its holster and held it's handle up high. The sharpened tip held dangerously close to the wolf's nose.

The bar went silent. All eyes focused upon the commotion. The wolf was left staring, wide eyed up to the tiger. Over his broad snout, three scars bent as he scowled. His bright, blue eyes bore a furious glare upon the Marshall.

The wolf gripped the tiger's wrist, “I said, I was just passing through... are we going to have a problem, dog?” he spoke, a growl lining his voice. Lips curled upwards as he spoke, exposing the fangs of a predator...

The wolf gagged a few times, then shook his head rapidly. With a nod, the tiger effortlessly tossed the dog to the side, sending him crashed to the floor on his back with a rough huff. The tiger calmly placed the sword upon the bar, then sat back down. Picked up his mug, and took a long gulp again...

The wolf scrambled up to his feet, a paw rubbing his throat. He started to wander out the bar, knocking over the odd chair on his way, “You are going to regret that!” He pointed towards the tiger. When he neared the door, he yanked it open. “You'd better leave town, right now!” With that, the wolf pulled his hood up, and left. The door slamming behind him.

The tiger sighed. Then stood. He bowed to the vixen, “I will be right back...”