The Clan Wars: A Dog of War

Chapter 1 - From Mut to Dog
 'Stupid Mut...' 

 'Watch where you are going, you stupid Mut!' 

''How weary I was of hearing those namecallings... Day after day... Night after night... A life isn't worth much among the ranks of Clan Gorehound. The Mangy Muts... That's what they called us... The lowest of the ranks... 'Who am I?' the reader might ask. My real name has been forgotten ever since my birth. I am not even sure I had a name in the first place... Maybe my mother just tossed me to the side as soon as I came out? A life isn't worth much among the ranks of Clan Gorehound after all...''

''They call me Fang. I am an Imperial. I am sixteen years of age and a Mangy Mut. A scum. A part of the rabble. Just some arrow-fodder this war machine of a clan might send off headlong into battle and watch us get teared to pieces by a brute force of some other major clan like Clan Cave-Bear or maybe even Clan Blood Raven. Maybe that's what makes this clan so deadly? The other ranks get their strength and willpower of watching the Mangy Muts die, before the Iron Hound commands them to attack. It always ends in a blood-bath... those few of us muts that survive and find ourselves a nice piece of weapon gets promoted to the rank of Red Dog.''

''Such a disgraceful title... Yet here I am... I killed my first man yesterday. A Khajiit fighting for Clan... Smoke-Tiger? Clan Shadow-Lynx? Too many clan to keep track off... I still recall the look on his face as I write this down. The expression of someone who knew when everything he had come to love in life ended with a single stroke of a blade. Only this time it was actually a sharpened rock I had fetched from the ground. Mangy Muts aren't allowed to wear weapons during their first fight. We must prove our worth in order to advance.''

''And advanced I did... For better or for worse... When the Khajiit was dead I took the sword from his corpse. Maybe it was a family heirloom? Maybe he had bought it a local market? I never got to knew the story of the man, but nevertheless I thanked the Gods for his death as they had granted me a new life. 'Colleagues' of mine tried to take the weapon of course. Only those who had killed and received a weapon during their first battle would be able to advance. I killed them as well... I proved my worth...''

The year is 4E 193...

"Fang!" shouted a voice from outside the tent. "Fang, you lazy bastard! You still writing that log of yours?"

"What?" he replied. "Uhm... yeah..."

Bori Fast-Hand entered the tent. The Nord had more muscles in his legs than his arms, indicating that he was more fit to run from enemies rather than fighting them head on. Bori was unlike the rest of the Red Dogs. Even though he probably had more kills than anyone of them, he had denied the offer of training to become a Bloody Hound. He said it didn't fit him to fight in heavy armor, especially not when he favored the bow and arrow.

"The year is 4E 193", repeated the Nord when he read the text over Fang's shoulder. "Such a grim text you are writing, pal."

"Fit for a grim clan."

"Aye, that it might be. But look on the bright side", said Bori and placed an arm around his friend's neck. "You can have any woman you want. The girls love a man in suit and armor."

"Girls love dogs, but that doesn't mean that they have to bed them and marry them."

Bori sighed. "You are so bleak all the time, Fang. Sometimes I think you are a little too sensitive for this clan. There is no room for emotionally attached soldiers here, you know? Only merciless beasts of raw steel and iron."

"I know. I was born into this clan and I know what counts as normal and what doesn't", he shrugged. "I think you know personally that I don't quite fit in here. Mostly because of some... irregular circumstances..."

"Besides from being depressive and overly emotional all the time?"

Fang nodded. "You know... I am talking about her."

Bori choked on his own laughter. "You really oughta take home the price for 'Red Dog most likely to never advance further in Clan Gorehound'", he said. "First fact: she is three years older than you. Second fact: she is a Khajiit. Third fact: she is a Flayed Bitch. Fourth fact: Gregorius Tenebrae holds her in high regards. You are more likely to end up wooing a horker than you have a chance to ask that girl out."

"Do you have to be so blunt about it?"

"Not at all", chuckled Bori. "Now come on out and have drink with me and the boys. Perhaps there are some other nice Dogs out there that you might fancy. Dogs and cats aren't meant to be together, you know? Especially in this clan."

Dogs and cats, reflected Fang. "Then perhaps there needs to be a few changes?"

"Changes?" said Bori and sounded shocked. "Don't say that out loud here in camp for crying out loud! To make changes here you need to be a bloody Warlord, the Iron Hound himself!"

The Iron Hound himself, huh?

Chapter 2 - The Flayed Bitch
TBA