From a letter dated 8/30/1994:

gttttttth

"Go away," Darkstripes growled to the fur standing beside him, not even bothering to rise to his feet or even look at the fur standing beside his table. The fur had only just now gotten Darkstripes to speak.

"So! The mongrel can talk!" the arrogant fur exclaimed. "Can you do any other tricks? I’ll give you a treat!"

Darkstripes took a deep, calming breath, and took another bite of his hamburger before responding, "I said, ‘Go away.’"

"Yeah, I heard what you said, freak," the fur responded, "but I don’t take orders from mongrels."

"I suggest you do," Darkstripes said flatly, taking another bite, "if you value your miserable life."

"Ooh, a threat!" the fur taunted. "Tell that to my six-shooter, ya half-breed freak."

Darkstripes put down his food and took another deep breath, turning to look out the nearby window overlooking the MrfDogald’s parking lot. Like the restaurant itself, the lot was crowded—even for a fast food restaurant, it was crowded. Darkstripes swallowed his anger and decided he’d rather not make a scene in front of so many furs. Adjusting the fit of his old leather jacket, he paused for a moment before replying, "I’m sure it’s very nice. Don’t you have something better to do than to bug me and brag about your little pop gun?"

"Not until you get the hell out of my town, you ugly, half-breed bastard!"

Darkstripes had just about had enough of this fur’s taunts. "What did you say?"

"I said ‘get the hell out of my town.’ Or are you deaf, too?"

"No," Darkstripes growled, smoke beginning to drift from his nostrils, "after that."

"I called you a ugly half-breed bastard," he explained, "the son of an ugly tiger, who down on his luck, went down to yer average whore for a good time, and, well, you know."

Darkstripes clenched his teeth and extended his claws in the feline equivalent of clenching a fist. "Hmm… you wouldn’t happen to have a first aid kit handy, would you?"

The fur was silent for a moment, struck odd by the query. "I, uh, think I have one in my car…"

"Good," Darkstripes said in a calm voice, "because you’re gonna need it."

"Wha-" the fur started as Darkstripes leaped out of his seat and pounced the fur in one fluid motion. The two slid across the floor, and Darkstripes got his first look at the now-pounced fur. He was just a typical skunk, wearing a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans. As the two slid across the linoleum floor, the restaurant fell silent. The two skidded to a stop, and Darkstripes raised a paw high over his head, claws extended. Darkstripes looked down with pure hatred at the pinned skunk, who looked up with nothing but fear in his eyes.

Darkstripes roared in rage, "Prepare to die, you filthy son of a- "

"Stop! Please!" a female voice cried from behind Darkstripes.

Darkstripes looked over his left shoulder and around his folded wing. Standing a few feet away was a beautiful skunkette. She looked down at the prone duo with tears in her eyes. Darkstripes growled in irritation and turned back to the helpless skunk. Smoke now poured from his nostrils, and he prepared to remove the arrogant skunk’s head from his shoulders with one quick swipe. However, Darkstripes decided that he wasn’t worth it, and retracted his dragon-like claws. He growled again, rose from the prone skunk, quickly left the restaurant, and took to flight.

"Are you okay?" the skunkette asked, wiping the tears from her furred face and regaining her composure. "What did you say to that monster?"

"I just thought I’d be friendly and say ‘hi’," the skunk lied as he rose. "The thing just attacked me!"

"You know better than to talk to mongrels. They’re vicious, unpredictable monsters."

"Welcome to KPET action news. I’m Renata Fayre. In tonight’s top story, a fur was viciously attacked earlier today by some kind of half-breed. More after these messages."

Darkstripes switched off his portable TV and clipped it back onto his belt with an irritated sigh, flapping his massive wings once to remain airborne. He took the time to look down at the furs far below, going about their daily business, looking more like busy ants from this height. He felt hatred and envy toward them at the same time—Hatred for their ignorance and prejudice, and envy for their ‘normal’ lives. Looking up for a moment, Darkstripes swerved around a broadcasting tower, before looking back down at the furs busily moving from building to vehicle to building again, seeming almost comical. Darkstripes pondered his next move, having landed in several towns previously, and being greeted with increasing hostility. Maneuvering into a warm updraft, Darkstripes glided in lazy circles and removed the TV from his belt, turning it back on. The screen came to life immediately.

"Welcome back to KPET news," the TV announced, accompanied by an image of a canine anchorwoman. "I’m Renata Fayre."

"Earlier today," Renata announced, "a local fur, Michael Roff, was assaulted by a half-breed in a popular MrfDogald’s restaurant. Wolfram Blitzen is on location. Wolfram?"

"Thank you, Renata," Wolfram answered as the screen switched to the scene of the restaurant. "I’m here with Michael Roff, victim of today’s attack, who managed to escape with no serious injuries. Can you tell us what happened, Mr. Roff?"

"I doubt it," commented Darkstripes, recognizing Mr. Roff immediately as indeed being the fur he attacked.

"I most certainly can," the skunk started. "I was on my way into this fine establishment to meet with my mate for dinner."

"Where is she right now, Mr. Roff?" Wolfram inquired.

"At home," Michael stated, "where it is safe from monsters such as the one that attacked me today."

"I see," Wolfram replied. "Go on."

"As I was saying," Roff explained, "I walked into this restaurant and noticed this huge monstrosity sitting at a table."

"Can you describe the monster?" asked Wolfram.

"Yeah. It was about six foot three or four, probably weighed over two hundred pounds, and looked like your average tiger fur wearing ripped-up jeans and a dirty black leather jacket. Well, average except that its fur was too gold, and it had huge wings and horns, like it was half demon or something. And smoke came out of its nose." Michael stated. It was a pretty accurate description of Darkstripes, who, although he was only thirteen, had a look and demeanor that made him appear at least ten years older.

"Dragon, you idiot! Half-DRAGON!" Darkstripes growled at his TV. "And the smoke didn’t come until after you pissed me off."

"Anyway," Roff continued, "I walk over to the thing, say ‘hi’ and introduce myself. Heck, I was curious. It’s not everyday you see something that… interesting."

"‘Hey, freak’ is an odd way of saying hi," Darkstripes commented.

"It just sat there," Roff said, "so I ask it if could talk."

"After a while," Darkstripes added, "and not in those words, if I remember right."

"And then it said ‘Do you have a first aid kit handy?’"

"No, that was after you called me a bastard and my mother a whore. Wasn’t that important to the conversation?"

"A ‘first aid kit’ did you say?" Wolfram asked.

"Yes," responded Michael, "a first aid kit. I said I had one in my car, and before I could offer it to him, he pounced me!"

"How did you escape?" Wolfram queried.

"Well, my mate came up behind the monster and distracted it, giving me an opportunity to jab it with my keys."

"Your keys?" Wolfram and Darkstripes said in unison.

"I guess I jabbed it in a sensitive spot," replied Roff, "‘cause the thing got off me and flew away."

"Just try stabbing me with your keys," Darkstripes muttered to his TV, "and see what happens."

"Remarkable," said Wolfram. "Well, thanks for your time, Mr. Roff. Back to you, Renata." The scene changed back to the newsroom.

"Thanks, Wolfram. That is remarkable that somefur could subdue a monster like that with his keys," stated Renata. "And now, Sam Shepherd with sports. Sam?"

"Idiots," Darkstripes mumbles as he switched his TV off again. "No doubt they wouldn’t even consider listening to my side of the story." He clipped his TV to his belt and left the updraft, gliding slowly out of the city limits.

Crickets chirred all around Crimsonne as he crept along the forest’s floor, tracking a rather large deer. Crimsonne was a young red dragon, but rather stealthy due to his length of only eight inches and weight of less than ten pounds. He was definitely less than intimidating.

A sudden movement behind a nearby bush caught the dragon’s attention, and he tensed, slowly creeping toward the shrub. He prepared to attack as the bush rustled again. Suddenly, a large deer sprinted out from behind the bush, nearly trampling Crimsonne, who quickly took chase. The deer’s swift feet were no match for Crimsonne’s flight, and a few quick blasts of fiery breath were all that it took to cause the deer to collapse, engulfed in flames.

"Hehe. That was easy," Crimsonne chuckled to himself as he waited for the flames to die down. "The thing actually ran at me for once!" The flames died down and Crimsonne started tearing strips of flesh away from the deer with his surprisingly powerful jaws, oblivious to the figure now stalking him. Crimsonne began happily chewing on one of the strips of meat, and, suddenly, he was engulfed in flames, along with his meal. The deer was scorched further, and Crimsonne was annoyed, but otherwise unaffected.

"Hey! What gives?" he exclaimed, turning to look at the flame’s producer. He froze as he saw a winged tiger morph standing there; well over six feet tall, with smoke pouring from his nostrils.

"You stole my kill," the tiger replied in more of a growl than a statement.

"Oh… okay, fair enough," Crimsonne said, trying to chuckle as he slowly moved away from the deer. "Uh… who, and what are you, anyway?"

Darkstripes sighed, the smoke from his nose clearing some. "I am Darkstripes. I am part dragon, and part tiger," he said. "Who are you, and why aren’t you a flaming carcass?"

"I am Crimsonne Hai Draconnus III," Crimsonne replied, trying to sound important, "and I’m all dragon."

"An eight-inch dragon?"

"Well, I’m still a young—" Crimsonne started. "Wait a minute! Did you say ‘Darkstripes…part dragon?"

"Yes. I did, Crimson."

"That’s Crimsonne. Crim-sonne: not Crimson."

"Whatever. Why so interested in my name?"

"You must be the prophesied one…the ‘dragon with stripes as black as night’!"

"What are you babbling about?"

"Follow me!" Crimsonne flew off quickly, and Darkstripes followed, leaving the smoldering deer behind.

The trip through the dense forest was long and tedious, and the two didn’t say a word to each other throughout the journey. Eventually, the pair arrived at a clearing with a single hut standing in the center. Darkstripes felt for a moment as if he was being watched, but the feeling passed soon enough.

"Here we are!" announced the tiny dragon.

"So now what, Crimson?" Darkstripes asked.

"That’s Crim—ah, never mind…call me whatever you want."

"How about ‘Redstripes’?"

"Say what?"

"Well, you’re red, and you’ve got these stripes down your back," Darkstripes pointed out.

"Works for me," Crimsonne replied. "Anyway, the seer is inside."

"Oh, joy," Darkstripes muttered as they entered. The interior of the hut was as bland as the outside, adorned only by a low, circular table in the center of the floor. A deeply cloaked figure sat across the table from where the two entered. Great, Darkstripes thought, I go hunting for a bite to eat, and I get stuck in the Middle Ages. Darkstripes adjusted the fit of his leather jacket and scratched his bare chest, mostly in an attempt to see if he was just in the middle of a strange dream. He wasn’t.

"Welcome, Hai Draconnus," the figure said without a movement. "I see you have brought a guest."

"Yes," Redstripes said, "the one of whom you foretold."

"Ah, yes," the figure replied. "The one whose fate is to release the power of the ancient wyrms. It is a clear and unavoidable destiny."

"Fate?" Darkstripes chuckled. "Destiny? ‘Power of the ancient wyrms’? I think your cloak is on too tight!"

The cloaked figure sighed. "You are young still, dragon tiger, foolish and ignorant. But your fate is strong. You cannot escape it."

"Hey!" Darkstripes exclaimed. "I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you insult me. For your safety, I’ll just leave now."

"Very well," the figure responded. "Hai Draconnus, go with him."

"What?" Darkstripes and Redstripes exclaimed in unison.

"Your fates are interwoven," explained the figure, "as well as the fates of two others. You will one day face a great evil."

"Look," Darkstripes said, his voice falling into a low growl, "there ain’t no such thing as fate, and I’m not facing no ‘great evil.’ I’m to busy with those who think I’m some great evil. Redstripes can come with me if he wants to, but as for these ‘other two,’ I think you’re off your rocker." Darkstripes stormed out of the hut.

"Very well," the figure replied, still calm. "‘Redstripes?’"

"Um…" Redstripes answered. "Don’t ask. Are you sure he’s the one? I’m starting to get my doubts."

"I am sure, young dragon. But first, he must overcome his hate."

Darkstripes watched a snake crawl by as Redstripes exited the hut. "What’s with him, anyway?"

"Her," Redstripes corrected, "and she is more wise than anyone in this world."

"Okay, then, Red," Darkstripes continued, "what is this ‘Power of the ancient wyrms,’ then?"

"You don’t know?" Redstripes asked, fairly surprised. "Then I’ll explain. Here goes. When a dragon passes away, his soul is sent to the next world, as would the soul of any living thing. However, a dragon’s soul leaves a piece of itself behind, and infuses all those of draconic blood. It is said that a dragon could call forth these soul shards in a time of great need, and that dragon would then possess all the power of all the dragons of not only the past, but also the present, and the future. This is said to be the most powerful force in any universe. However, all creatures, including dragons, possess a hate toward those who have wronged them, even if unintentionally. A dragon’s hate, however, is much greater than that of any other creature, and as such, should only be directed toward those whose hearts are filled with evil. If a dragon has any hatred toward any beings who are not filled with evil, calling forth such an awesome power would utterly destroy him, as the dragon would be unable to focus or direct such power. It is said that if one dragon could clear his heart of all misdirected hate, he could summon forth the ancient wyrms’ power and survive, but he would be forever changed. The seer has foretold that you will one day call forth this power, but whether you will survive or be destroyed is yet to be seen."

From the pages of Darkstripes:

gttttttth

"This just inned," the lovely Renata Fayre announced through Darkstripes’ portable TV set. "Some kind of winged half-breed fur has escaped from Lifurmore Laboratories this afternoon after killing several guards and lab workers. Reports also state that the half-breed has stolen a research vehicle."

Redstripes flew up behind Darkstripes, his hands full of fruits and berries just small enough to maintain flight. "Wha’cha doing, D.S.?" he asked.

"I thought I’d see what was on the tube. I’d almost forgot I had this."

"Heh. Nifty," Redstripes commented, chomping on a small apple.

"It is reported to be driving southward from the labs in a large white van," Renata explained, "and it has just merged onto the freeway. Animal control is in pursuit. If you are in the area of-" Darkstripes shut off his TV, cutting off Renata.

"Red, we gotta do something!" Darkstripes exclaimed.

Redstripes stared at Darkstripes, and bits of chewed fruit tumbled from his gaping mouth. "What?"

"Think about it for a sec. Who’s the only other winged half-breed you know?"

"Well, that would be you, Darkstripes," Red admitted.

"Then think about this. I’m a half-breed with wings. He’s a half-breed with wings. Maybe he knows something about me. He may even be my, my brother… or… my father," Darkstripes explained. "I intend to find out! We’re going to help him!"

"Help it? What if it’s armed and dangerous?! Dangerous, Darkstripes! As in ‘posing danger to my health or well being’!"

"I doubt he’d refuse our help. And besides, I could probably take him," Darkstripes said as he began to take to flight. "Hurry up, Red. He’s heading toward this area!"

* * * * *

Another animal control vehicle smashed into the freeway divider as it was cut off by the lab van. The remaining truck swerved around the flaming wreckage, and slowed down a bit, the driver rethinking his strategy. The driver, a handsome young wolf, glanced reflexively at his driver’s side mirror and gasped, almost losing control of the vehicle. Three flying figures were visible as silhouettes against the clear blue sky. The first was slightly larger than an average fur, with a massive wingspan. The second was much smaller, barely visible except as a small shadowy speck. The third was far behind, seemingly the size of an average fur, and without wings, but with a red aura surrounding him. The three sped toward the scene even faster than the vehicles speeding below them, and the wolf lost sight of the three as they flew more directly overhead.

"Shit. Now what?" the wolf muttered to himself as he resumed watching the lab van.

"I see the van!" Darkstripes shouted to Redstripes, who was struggling to keep up with Darkstripes’ breakneck speed. "I’m going down for a closer look!"

Before Redstripes had a chance to respond, Darkstripes flew down to the van, and landed on the vehicle, digging his powerful draconic claws into the steel, securing a good grip. Redstripes flew after him. The van suddenly swerved off of the freeway, and animal control was unable to follow, being forced into remaining on the highway. Darkstripes folded his wings and clawed his way to the front of the van. He tapped on the driver’s side window, and the driver looked up at the Dragontiger. Darkstripes gasped at the sight. The driver had the face of a bat, but covered in coarse gray fur, and with a long muzzle similar to that of a wolf’s. It was fully humanoid, and it grasped the steering wheel with wolf-like hands at the end of arms atop the leathery wings of a bat.

The van suddenly screeched to a stop, flinging Darkstripes far ahead onto the rough off-ramp. Darkstripes slammed against the asphalt on his right side, and rolled four times, finally coming to rest on his back. He quickly dove to the dirt shoulder just in time to avoid being hit by a red convertible as it sped by. Darkstripes stood slowly, and grasped his right arm, which took most of the force of the fall. A stream of blood flowed into his right eye, obscuring his vision, and his right wing had gone completely numb. Okay, he thought to himself, try a little subtlety next time. He looked around for Redstripes, who was nowhere to be seen.

The van’s door swung open, and the wolf-bat hopped out, looking for Darkstripes, and not in a friendly way. Gee, Darkstripes thought, maybe this guy is dangerous.

"I’m here to help you!" Darkstripes shouted to the creature, hoping that that would calm it down. The wolf-bat turned to Darkstripes and inhaled and opened its mouth as if to speak, but instead let out an ear-piercing wail that shattered the van’s glass windshield and windows, and brought Darkstripes to his knees, grasping his ears in pain. The bat-wolf grabbed a large shard of glass from the shattered windshield and began to advance toward the Dragontiger. Darkstripes completely collapsed. His ears were ringing and his world was spinning—he couldn’t even tell which way was up. Darkstripes managed to look at the advancing figure that walked up to him and raised the shard of glass, preparing to impale the helpless Dragontiger.

"You will make a fine meal," the creature laughed in a high-pitched screeching voice. Darkstripes could read its lips, but could not rise, his world still seeming to spin. Darkstripes closed his eyes, and then suddenly felt an immense heat in front of him. Opening his eyes, he saw a blazing tunnel of crimson flames, engulfing the bat-wolf, and merely licking against Darkstripes. The tunnel dissipated, and the wolf-bat, engulfed in flames, dove off of the off-ramp and seemed to disappear. Darkstripes managed to rise, albeit a bit wobbly. He looked around to see what happened.

"You!" Darkstripes exclaimed as he saw another furson standing about ten yards away. It was a fox morph, of about average height and weight, wearing a trench coat that flapped in the breeze. His left hand was darker in color than the rest of his fur, separated by a fiery design that circled his left wrist. His arms were extended toward Darkstripes, hands open, palms forward. His hands smoked slightly. His eyes appeared to be miniature infernos, each blazing with its own intense flame. Darkstripes immediately recognized him as the fur who would always be nearby, but never acting, until now. The flames slowly faded from the fox’s eyes as he stood.

"Who are you?! And what do you want from me?!" Darkstripes demanded.

"I," the fox said in an even, well spoken voice, "am FireClaw Fox. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced."

Darkstripes adjusted the fit of his jacket, trying to shake off the remaining vertigo, and trying to hide the pain from the fall. "I," he said in his deep, snarling voice, "am Darkstripes. And you haven’t answered my other question."

"Fair enough, Mr. Stripes," FireClaw answered. "I have been watching you for some time. To be honest, you have piqued my interest. There is something about you, that is… different—unique, if you will."

"The wings?" Darkstripes said, a bit mockingly. "Or maybe the horns?"

"No," FireClaw said flatly. "Appearances are only on the surface. There is something… deeper that interests me." A lone bus came into view on the horizon.

"What are you getting at?" Darkstripes asked. The bus signaled to change into the slow lane.

"You have a powerful fate. One that may change the world, or destroy you… or both." The bus began to turn onto the exit ramp, beginning to slow down as it approached Darkstripes and FireClaw’s location.

"You can’t expect me to swallow this tripe… FireClaw, was it?"

FireClaw sighed audibly. "You are either ignorant, or a damned fool to not believe a fate as powerful as your own." The bus squealed to a stop nearby.

"I don’t have—" Darkstripes suddenly fell silent.

"What?"

"Interesting choice of words. You are not the first furson to tell me I had a ‘powerful fate’ and that I was ‘ignorant’ and a ‘fool.’"

A hiss sounded as the bus’s door opened nearby, catching Darkstripes and FireClaw’s attention. A rat fur hopped out of the bus, followed by a yellow dog carrying a video camera displaying the letters KPET on the side in bold black letters. The rat and dog began to look around.

Darkstripes noticed the pair and let out a low growl. "Great," he said to FireClaw. "The press will just love me."

"Over there!" the dog shouted when he spotted Darkstripes. He, along with the rat, began a slow run toward the Dragontiger. The dog put the camera up to his eye.

FireClaw turned to Darkstripes. "Yes. We’d better get out of here," he said as he began to float into the air, surrounded by a faint red aura. "Let’s go."

Darkstripes nodded and crouched low, preparing for takeoff. He began to extend his wings, then suddenly stopped and grasped his right wing with his left hand, grunting a bit.

"What’s wrong?" asked FireClaw, landing again.

"I took a nasty fall back there. I can’t fly."

"Well, then," FireClaw said, motioning for Darkstripes to turn around toward the newshounds standing a few feet away, "inquiring minds want to know…"