My Story brought you by Evil Kitty (I could not think of a better title :/)

Hi everyone, Evil here. I was feeling a little bored and came across and old story I tried to work on during high school. Since some of you know that I dabble in writing, I felt you should see some of my early work before I began RPing in Dofus. Please not that this was a rough draft, so don't be surprised if some things might not make that much sense or if there are spelling/grammar mistakes. One other reason I'm posting this is because I want to know what you, the readers, think. I most likely wont be picking up this story again, but I might turn the world into an RP here. (I just thought that part up as I was typing )

Notes: I make use of some rather obvious race names in the story, but just so there is no confusion, I will clarify before hand.

Dogarians: A race of dog-like humans that resemble various real life dog breeds like Great Danes and Retrievers.

Felinese: A race of cat-like humans that resemble various real life feline species like Tigers and Bob Cats.

Fowlians: a race of bird like humans that resemble real life birds like Owls and Hawks.

I would have added more, but because of school, I lost interest in completing the story. I don't even remember what the entire plot was about, but it might come to me. Anyway, ask question, criticize, or just give it a read and let me what you think of it.

P.S. The title was a work in progress. If I remember plot, I'll post it and see if the title some what goes with the story. Plus, I've made some corrections myself and even put some spaces in between what use to be LARGE chunks of paragraphs.

Crimes Against Me
By Evil Kitty

Prologue

It was a warm spring day at the Carman house, and it was on this day Sara Carman, wife of Feral Carman, was taking a walk through their plantation. Sara liked to take long walks through the plantation on days like this wearing her favorite light blue Sunday dress, and matching parasol. She love the way she could walk without catching a speck of dirt on her nice white shoes, and always watched for large rocks so she would not trip. She loved the fell the breeze run through her cheek fur, and feeling of the occasional butterfly landing on one of the tips of her pointy ears. Her tail would slowly rock back and forth in tune with her steps, while keeping it curled just enough so as not to touch the ground. The only thing she loved more then taking her slow walks, was to grace her family’s slaves with her presents. As Sara approached a freshly painted white fence, she gazed at the dogarian workers with her catlike eyes. The only thing that made this felinese Siamese cat’s walks all the better was to greet her slaves with her southern bell accent, and see them smile as she passed. Feral never liked the way his slaves would drop everything they’re doing, and wave as Sara walked by. Seeing them happy made Feral’s tiger striped fur rise in anger.

“Good morning, Miss Sara! Nice day today isn’t it,” yelled a dogarian great dane from the wheat fields. Sara knew that yell was from one of the hardest workers on the plantation, “Why yes it, Charlie! Oh, how is Roger? I heard what my sons did to him yesterday when they came to visit, I gave them a stern talking to, and made sure they would not get dessert for a whole week,” She called back. Charlie responded in his big booming voice, “Ask him yourself, his is at the apple orchard!” “Thank you Charlie, and say hello to your family for me,” said Sara as she turned and began to walk toward the orchard, but she as soon as she turned away, Charlie’s smile dropped into frown. As Sara approached to the apple orchard, the joyous sound of children laughing hit her ears, and that sound alone was enough to make her wear her biggest smile. When Sara reached the line of trees, a group of five young female dogarian retrievers of various colors crowded around her. In unison the girls said, “Good morning Miss Sara.” “Good morning girls, and how are the apples this year,” said Sara she as gave a polite nod to them. One of the oldest of the girls who was eight said, “The apples are really big and juicy this year. Mom expects they will make great apple pies.” Sara smiled and said, “Well, make sure you keep some whole for yourselves and your families.” The girls all nodded and ran back into the orchard giggling along the way, and when they were gone, Sara made her own way into the orchard. After walking for round for minuets smiling and waving to those who acknowledged her, she found who she was looking for.

Sitting on the edge of a small pond was a dogarian of unknown breed unlike any other. With fur as black as the night with a pattern of curving white ribbon like lines that twist and turn all over his body from head to toe and tail. He wore a vest and shorts made of various rags and cloths sown together, with the shorts held up by a string. Roger was picked on for his odd fur pattern, especially Sara’s three sons, Kimeal, Shara, and Barlow. When Sara first heard about how her sons where treating their slaves, she scolded them saying dogarians are living creature just like them, and deserve to be treated with kindness. After hearing about how Roger gets treated by the other children from the house maid, Sara took it upon herself to look after Roger when ever she had the chance. Looking at Roger now, she could tell his last run-in with her sons was really hard on him. She slowly walked up and sat down beside him to give him comfort. “So how nature’s little gift feeling today,” she asked using the nickname she gave him to make him feel better about himself. She looked at him with a smile, and saw that his right eye was a little swollen. He gave a small sniff then responded, “I’m alright Miss Sara.” Sara quickly stood up and held out her hand to him and said, “Come on Roger, let’s go pick some apples. It’ll cheer you up, I know it.” Roger gave another sniffle took her hand, and fallowed her into the orchard with a small smile.

Back at the house, Feral was pacing the floor thinking about tomorrow’s slave trade, when one of the plantation helpers came running toward the house calling for Feral. “Mr. Feral, Mr. Feral Sir.,” he yelled as Feral arrived at the door. Feral could see by the look on the workers face this was not good news, so he gave the worker a nod to continue. With puffing breath the worker said, “The…Royal Guard…is here…to see you.” Feral knew what they were here for, but before he could give the worker an order on what to do, the Royal Guard arrived. Riding upon pure white houses, five crimson armored knights halted their houses in front of the angry felinese tiger. The one closes to Feral addressed him with a voice that showed he was the leader of the group, “I am Captain Johnson of team Blitz. We have heard rumors that you are harboring dogarian slaves, and from what we have seen, that rumor turns out to be true.” Feral just sneered at the muscle bound human with a dark five o’clock shadow as he continued, “By order of King Vincent the IV, we here by revoke your right to own slaves and ask for there immediate freedom. Resist and we will be forced to take action.” With that said Feral responded, “Well Captain Johnson, I have also heard rumors of your arrival and prepared for it in advanced.” After his response he snapped his fingers, and rising from the corn fields, wheat fields, and the up stares window were Fowliens, Dwarves, and other felinese workers.

A Royal Guard who ware small spectacles, a bowl haircut, and was the shortest of the team, surveyed the attackers. He rode up to Johnson and said, “Sir, I’ve count at least forty-eight attackers. Fifty-six if the farm hands jump in.” Johnson nodded and turned to a now smug faced Feral. “It seems I have you totally outnumbered captain. Now I will be giving the orders around here, now leave MY plantation in peace or fall before my hired mercenaries,” said Feral with a smile of triumph. Johnson looked at all the mercenaries the turn to the one in glasses and said, “Tell me Simon, how long will this take?” The small warriors smiled, adjusted his glasses giving them a quick flash and said, “I say trity to forty minuets…if we plan to capture them.” “Then lets let them attack first, that way we will have a reason to kill some of them,” said Johnson with a big grin. Simon gave a bit of a chuckle and said with a mocking tone, “Captain, you’re terrible.” Feral gave the word to attack and the mercenaries charged the Royal Guards.

When Sara and Roger finished picking apples, they began making their way to the entrance of the orchard. When they arrived a breathless Charley came running to them, “Miss Sara, its chaos at the house. I came to warn you not to go to the house.” “Why, what is going on,” she asked getting worried. “It’s the Royal Guard, they came to free us. But Feral hired mercenaries to fight them, and now their fighting has set fire to the fields! Most workers are evacuating the young and elderly to a safe distance,” said Charley gesturing in the direction of fleeing dogarian slaves. Sara became very worried, thinking her husband mite be hurt, she said, “Charley, take Roger and get him out of here. I’m going to check on Feral.” She began making her way to the house when Charley grabs her right arm so tight it makes her wince in pain. “Miss Sara, I can’t let you do that. You are like an angel among this place, and I do not want to see everyone’s faces when they here you died going back to Feral. And with all do respect Miss Sara, your husband is a basterd,” he said making sure she could not wiggle from his grip. Sara gave him a stern look and replied, “He may be a basterd, but he is still my husband, and I will not leave him.” Charley considered what she said, but before he had a chance to come to a conclusion, Sara reviled her claws and drove them deep into Charley’s hand. He yelped in pain and released her arm, but before he had a chance to grab her again Sara shot off toward the house; what she did not know was that Roger managed to slip past Charley and run after her. Charley would have given chase, if not for a cry of help coming from the direction of the fields.

Three minuets later a shocked Sara came running toward a burning house were the battle took place with a frightened Roger following close behind. By know the Royal Guard had chased the mercenaries to the back of the house were cries of terror rose from behind the house. Bodies littered the yard, some beaten, some scorched, and some bloody, among them, Feral. Tears weld in her eyes as she found a dead Feral lying on the ground in a puddle of blood, a whip in hand, and a hole in his chest. She knelt down and said a quick prayer, when she heard a scream coming from behind her. “Aaahhhh!” screamed a terrified Roger as a wounded human mercenary, with blood running over a closed left eye, grabbed him from behind and turned to a perusing guard. “Hold it, one step closer and the kid gets his neck slit,” he said bringing a jagged knife to Roger’s throat. The charging guard halted and looked down at the two with angry eyes; it was a male fowlian night owl, with a face that showed he could care less about this kid. But the Royal Guards code prevented him from hacking down the both of them with a quick sweep of his large battle axe. Before the mercenary had a chance to make a move to escape, a frantic Sara tackled him causing the mercenary to fall, and his grip on Roger to release. “Roger, run. Get to safety,” she said just as the mercenary’s knife dug into her neck.

Roger was paralyzed with shock and fear from what he saw, and with an open opportunity, the guard raised his axe high into the air ready to bring it down on mercenary struggling to remove Sara’s lifeless body from on top of him. Just as the fowlian owl was about to bring his axe down, he was attacked by a black figure. The fowlian found himself being strangled by Roger, and was forced to drop his axe into the ground so he may try to free himself of the attacking child. With every second that passed by Roger’s claws were digging deeper into the fowlians thick neck, slowly taking away his life. With just enough strength the owl was able to yank Roger off along with some skin and feathers, but just as he threw off Roger the mercenary jumped him and jammed his knife into the exposed neck of the Royal Guard.

With a feeling of triumph the mercenary pushed the now dead guard of a frightened horse, and set his sites on Roger, eager to use him for his escape. But when the human looked into the eyes of Roger, he saw sheer hatred that was enough to make the human drop his knife in fear. “You, you killed her! You killed Sara!” said an enraged Roger as he slowly approached the now frighten human sporting a wet spot on the crotch of his pants. The mercenary quickly tightened his grip on the knife, but as soon as he was prepard to attack, Roger was on him in an instant. The dogarian grabbed the human’s wrist with the knife with such force that it broke the mercenary’s wrist then released it. Now that Roger had disarmed the human he was in control now, and he was furious. The human began backing his way around to horse, mouth agape, eyes looking for anything that mite help prolong his life. That was a mistake, because as soon as he remembered Roger, he found he was gone. Then the human hearse a sound to his right, when he looked he could feel himself wetting his pants for the second time. Slowly approaching him was a small dogarian child wearing a wicked smile, and holding a large, menacing axe that clearly out weighed him. The last thing the unfortunate human mercenary saw was the fire gleaming off the axe head just as it came down.

After Charley felt he had helped enough he told the others he was going to check on Sara. When he arrived at the still burning house, Charley’s jaw dropped. “What the hell happened,” he said as he slowly walked through the yard of bodies and blood, the horse long gone. His eyes began to water as he saw Sara and said several curses under his breath wishing he could have been there to help her. As his gaze strayed to his right, Charley spied Roger, who was still smiling, staring at a dead human. Charley ran over to Roger, feeling relieved he said, “Oh thank the gods you’re alive, Roger… Roger?” When Roger didn’t respond, Charley thought something happened to him. He knelt down in front of Roger and began shaking him, trying to get a response, “Roger…Roger? Say something.” When Charley ceased his shaking, Roger seemed to have been released from his anger induced trance. “Charley, what happened? Where is Miss Sara,” he asked while trying to recall the last few minuets of his life that seemed to have disappeared from his mind. Charley avoided Roger gaze as he said, “I’m sorry Roger but it seems she was killed by one of the mercenaries. But sadly it seems a mercenary got lucky and killed this guard…Come on, let’s get out of here.” As Charley rose to his feet, a sweating, but joyous looking Captain Johnson comes riding toward the two former slaves from around the burning house.

As he approached his smile turned into a slit smug look as he said, “Well well well, that is not quite the look I was expecting to see on a killer like you.” He was referring to a now frightened Roger, he continued, “I saw the whole thing from when you broke the poor man’s wrist. You have great potential my boy. Would you like to come to a place were we can really use your abilities?” Charley was shocked at the captain’s lack of concern for his fallen ally. “How can you come up to us and ask a twelve year old boy to join you, when one of your own men is dead,” he said gesturing toward the dead fowlian owl. Johnson dismounted himself from his horse and walked to Charley, eyeing him as he approached. “Are you the boy’s father,” he asked giving Charley a stern look. Charley responded with a no, and Johnson continued, “Well then first of all, in my years of service to the Royal Guard, I have seen many allies die in combat. He is no different. Second, if you had witnessed this child’s fight you would agree that staying with freed slaves will cause his skills to become dull and useless.” Captain Johnson was about to say more, but he was interrupted with the arrival of the other guards.

When all were present, Johnson asked for a report from Simon. After adjusting his glasses he reported, “Well the battle took longer then I expected, forty-five minuets to be exact, but we managed to capture some so we won’t be questioned about the killings. Sadly we lost Sir. Kimble, Alice will take care of the body. Judging from the intensity of the heat from the flames, I say they will take the whole plantation by the end of the day. Most likely this is a blessing to the slaves, seeing the place of their servitude go up in flames. I suggest we send the slaves to a nearby town to help them blend in with society.” The captain nodded and gave an order for all slaves to meet at a safe distance. Once everyone who was alive assembled outside the burned plantation, Captain Johnson began to speak, “First order of business, I would like to officially say you are all free. You may do has please with out someone telling you when you can and can not do things. Second, I know some of you do not know how to function in society, so we have taken the liberty of informing a nearby town of your arrival. They will help you all slowly work your way into the main stream.” Simon approached Johnson and whispered into his ear, “Sir. What about the dogarian boy?” “ I’ve got an idea for an experiment, if that boy could wield that much strength then perhaps all of his race can. I propose we recruit several others: one girl the boy’s age, and two of the strongest adults, one of each gender,” said Johnson with a wry smile. With that he once again addressed the slaves saying he was looking for recruits. He had all those who were interested line up, and began looking them over. Within an hour he had picked his recruits. With tears in the eyes of the loved ones and new recruits, they parted ways saying goodbye to all they knew.

Chapter 1: The First Day of the Rest of Our Lives

“Tony, are you paying attention,” yells my Dad, “How do you expect to make it in the Royal Guard if you keep getting distracted?” It was recruitment day at the Royal Guard Academy for kids twelve and up, and I had just turned twelve last week. My dad is yelling at me because I forgot to block for the tenth time in a row, but how could one concentrate on sword practice in a dimly lit below ground training room when they where going to join the Royal Guards. Dad continued, “Tony, I know you’re excited to get your chance at being a Royal Guard, but do you think they’re going to take just any kid how wants to join? No, when you get up there, they expect you show them that you are ready. And don’t think just because you are the son of two captains, you can get away with anything you want too. In the RGA I am no longer your father, I am a captain, and the same goes for your mother. We both expect you to show us the same respect you would give to any other captain…ARE YOU LISTENING!” I was still thinking of all the great things I was going to do in the RGA when I was knocked off my feet by Dad’s yell.

“Hahahaha,” came an annoying laughter from my right. Standing in the doorway to the training room was my older brother, Travis. Once his laughing stopped he slowly walked up to Dad and me, while I picked myself up, and said, “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that dad can knock you down with a yell or the fact you think you can get into the RGA.” When he reached us his smile quickly faded into a frown and said with a nasty tone, “Or, the fact I have to waist my time taking you there.” My brother and I have never been the best of siblings, for as long as I can remember, Travis and I have always been fighting. I never knew why he showed such hatred toward me, but I never hesitated to return his feeling in the same manner “Well, maybe if you hadn’t knocked me down stares yesterday you wouldn't have to be punished by taking me there,” I said while folding my arms and giving him an anger glare. “Travis, Tony! Its time to go,” called Mom from up-stares. Travis gave me one more anger look before making his way to the stares while saying, “I’ll be waiting by the door, and I expect you to be there in five minuets or less.” Once he had disappeared up-stares, Dad turns his attention to me and says, “Tony remember, whet ever you do don’t let your anger control you. Letting anger take control will lead to a series of mistakes that could lead to your downfall.” With that Dad announced that training was over and left up-stares with me following close behind him. Upon arriving you up-stares a swell aroma flew into me nose, and I knew right away what it was. “Pancakes,” I yelled as I ran past Dad into the kitchen to see if what I smelled was really pancakes.

Sitting on a large oak wood table that could seat eight people were two plates with three pancakes each. I quickly ran to the table, and seated myself while I grabbed a fork off a nearby counter. While I began to drown my pancake in syrup, my dad entered to the kitchen with a look that said, I wish this day would end already. He sat down at the table and began to eat without saying a word to me. I was to busy devouring my pancakes to think much about it, and figured he was just a little up-set it later. Once I finished off the pancakes, I said good bye to Mom and Dad, grabbed my bag of clothes that were waiting by the kitchen door, and made my way to the door. “What the hell took you so long,” Travis asked as I approached him and opened the front door into a crowded street. I told him I was eating breakfast, and he just responded with a sigh that said, “God, could you be anymore annoying?”

As we exited the house, I took one last look at the street full of different people and races. There was the family of dwarves that lived across the street; a group of elves to my left were looking at a family of Felinese Panthers' produce. The street was crowded with countless others like it was everyday, but the next time I walk these street, I will be a Royal Guard… in training. Travis began walking to my right, toward the RGA, and I quickly followed after him. After ten minuets of walking up the street, Travis stopped and said, “I need go in here real quick,” gesturing toward a floral shop, “and buy Lilly a gift. Now I want you to stay right here while I’m gone, you got that?” I gave him a quick nod and he left mumbling under his breath. As I waited outside the shop, my eyes began to wonder, setting their gaze on an alleyway across the street. I don’t know why but I felt there was something wrong happening in there, so I let my curiosity get the better of me and made my way through the crowd to the alley.

As I made it to the entrance of the alley, I began to hear voices coming from around a corner leading behind the building to my right, “So that’s what happened huh? Damn, I knew dad should not have tried selling them.” As I arrived at the corner I peered around it to see what was going on. I saw three felineians: the tallest of the three, had black fur, and wore a brown shirt, black pants and worn boots, the other two appeared to be twins with golden fur, and both wore white shirts with dark brown pants, and light brown sandals. The only difference between the two was a white patch of fur one of the twins left eye, while the other had a patch of white fur over his right. They seemed to be looking at someone on the ground, but when the tallest bent down, he came up holding the shirt collar of a dogarian. “So, how is it you got out of there alive then,” he asked sneering at the whimpering dogarian. When the tall one had enough of the young dogarian’s whimpering he threw him against the opposite wall. When the tallest began kicking the poor dogarian, I had seen enough. I managed to build up enough courage to rush around the corner and tackle the bullying felineian. The felineian swore and managed to wrestle me off; we both quickly got to our feet, and began giving each other an anger glare. “How dare you interfere with our business,” He said while the other two felineians joined him. They each began to reveal their claws, when a call came from entrance of the alley, “Roger…Roger where are you?!” “Damn it! Guys lets get out of here,” the tall one said, and within seconds, only the dogarian and I remained in the alley.

I approached the dogarian to check if he was okay, he was still on the ground, now in fetal position, crying. When I tapped him on the shoulder he flinched. “Hay, are you okay? The attackers are gone,” I said trying to calm him down. He looked up at me, and then scrambled to his feet while saying, “Tha-thank you, for helping me.” I knew he was still afraid I might hurt him so I held out my hand as a greeting and said, “Don’t worrier, I know you think I may hurt you, but it would go against a Royal Guard’s Code of Justice. And I intend to be one.” He looked at my hand like it was going to become a knife at any second. With a shaking hand he gripped it and we shook hands, just then we both heard footsteps coming from the opposite end of the alley from were I entered. From around the corner walked in three more dogarians: a tall, muscular one, a slightly shorter one with similar muscle mass, and a small one. The tallest was a male dogarian Great Dane, with a fawn fur pattern. The second tallest was a female dogarian Poodle, with black fur. The smallest (who was actually my size, four feet six inches) was also a female dogarian Afghan, with golden blond fur. She also had her long ears tied back with a ribbon resembling a ponytail. All of there out fits seem worn our or torn in places, like they been through a lot traveling. When the biggest one noticed the one I just helped, he quickly trotted over and knelt down to get level with the young dogarian. “Oh no, Roger are you okay? Do you have any cuts or bruises? Didn’t I tell you to stay close to use,” he said, acting like a mother worrying over her child, while inspecting the youngster for wounds.

After his search, he gave a sigh of relief in only finding bruises and nothing more; when he realized I was still standing behind them, he quickly turned aggressive. “You, did you do this to him? If I find out this was your doing, so help me gods, I will make you wish you were never born,” He said rising up to well over six feet and approaching me with clinched fist. He soon had me backed against a wall, I was too afraid by his size to do anything; just be for the big dogarian reached me, the smaller male rushed in between us. With new found courage, the younger one said, “Charley, wait. He…he saved me from Sa-Sara’s three sons.” Upon hearing this, the Great Dane slowly unclenched his fist, and then gave a great sigh. “I look, I’m sorry for scaring you like that, but we have some were to be,” he said taking the one called Roger the arm and pulled him toward the others. As the feeling of fear left me, I felt a little curious as to where they were going. Before they left I asked, “Where are you going? It seems you’re new to this town and I might be able.” The Dane gave the Poodle a worried glance; in turn she just rolled her eyes. “Well were all headed to the…RGA, but we don’t need any directions,” he said. Feeling this might be a good time to make a friend I persisted in staying close, “Well then, lets go together. My brother and I are on our way there as well, and as the saying goes ’there’s safety in numbers’” The Dane gave anther glance at the Poodle and replied, “He has a point, Joyce. We don’t want the same thing happening again.” Once again the Poodle just rolled her eyes, and took the hand of the young Afghan, then headed toward the alley entrance. The Dane turned to me and gave a meek smile and gestured for me to take the lead. Once we exited the alley, my bother immediately spotted me and rush over through the crowd. “Were the hell have you been? If anything happened to you, Mom would literally have my head,” he yelled firing a wave of bad breath in my face. It only took him a second to realize there were others standing near me.

“Oh great, you made some new friends. No doubt there just as annoying as you,” he said as he turned away heading for the RGA, “Well, lets get you and the dog people to the academy.” He paused for a few seconds, probably thinking about what he said. “Wait a minuet, are these dogarians really with you,” he asked and I nodded, “And they’re going to the RGA?” I once again nodded then he responded, “What the hell!? Why is the RGA letting in more demi-humans?” My brother got this reaction form dad, who voices his distain for demi-humans around the house. I heard he was involved in a war forty years ago, and some demi-humans killed his parents. Lucky for Karin, my sister, and I, we didn’t pick up dad’s hatred for all demi-humans. Even the town’s people have gotten use to living side by side with them, but Dad and Travis still don’t like them for some reason.

The big Dogarian stepped up and said, “Sorry if we're an inconvenience, but your bother asked us if we would like to join you two to on the way there. We have papers if you need proof of are recruitment.” As he pulled out the recruitment forms, my brother snatched them from his hands, and looked them over. Mumbling under his breath he shoved the paper back and began pushing his way through the crowd. I gave a shrug and followed him with the dogarians. “Well I think introductions are in order, I’m Tony,” I said trying to be friendly. The young female was the first to respond, “My name is Molly.” “I…I’m R-Roger,” said the dogarian of no particular species, but he kind of looks like the bakers apprentice which is a wolf. Next was the Great Dane, “I’m Charley.” When I looked to the Poodle, she just turned her head away like she was ignoring me. “Her name is Joyce, don’t bother trying to get her to talk, she apparently let a felineian get her tongue-” Said Charley just before he was cut-off by a punch to the jaw from Joyce. The punch sent him staggering into a woman carrying two bags full of produce, spilling them all over the street. Quickly realizing what he had done, Charley began franticly picking up the fruits and vegetables, ignoring the blood dribbling from his mouth. As soon as he had gathered up six items, Joyce quickly stepped over and slapped them to the ground. “What do you think you are doing

And that is all I wrote. I eagerly await your responses.