In the world of Agragora, things were not always as they are, races were separate, some were primitive, some had yet to even come into existence. It is in this era that our story begins. On a battlefield of a castle with bloodshed and violence a plenty.
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Amidst the roars of battle and the clash of steel, spearheading the defense of the castle of the Bloodmoon Clan of Vampires was a man looking to be around the age of 20 or so. His hair was black but mysteriously glinted in the sun when not stained with blood as it was now. His ferocious looking eyes were a pale silver with black flecks and his skin was a strangly ashen pale where it could be seen in the holes of his leather armour. His face was not handsome exactly but couldn't be called ugly when it wasn't marred by the look of unbridled rage now painted across it. In each of his powerful hands he held a longsword once beautifully crafted and adorned but now chipped and scratched from the fearsome battle. His name was Ren and he was the sole survivor of the Silverwolf royal bloodline of werewolves. A mixed blood kept as the surrogate son and pet to the Bloodmoon Lord.
The battle that had started outside of the now ruined castle walls had been persisting for nearly three days without so much as a lull and even the wolf prince was finding it hard to keep up his dance of death.
"Keep fighting men!" He roared at his vampiric and lycan comrades. "Your lord is almost finished preparing the ritual! This victory will be ours!"
With that the Bloodmoon warriors around him all gave a hearty warcry, redoubled their efforts to slay the enemy before them. And Ren Silverwolf was not an exception. His longswords cut through foe after foe, deflecting any attack that they could and dodging what could not. However the blood covering him head to toe, making his grip on his weapons slick was not just his enemies blood. Ren himself had sustained several wounds as could be seen by the many slashes and holes in the studded black leather armour he wore. It was nearly useless now but his werewolf blood would not allow him to fall so easily. There were no wounds to be seen on his body from them healing so quickly, even among other werewolves he had an exceptional vitality.
Ren's blademanship was elegant, drilled into him as soon as he could even hold a weapon. With it he had slain 7 commanders and nearly 2000 fodder in this 3 day battle alone. And in this bloody battlefield he struggled to keep his wits about him. The moon had been nearly full the past two nights and with it his wolf blood was restless, fighting to be fully realized in the form of an uncontrolled massacre. Even now his body was partially changed, his muscles bulging slightly under the armour, his eyes tinged yellow, teeth changed to that of a predatory grin, skeletal structure changing to be more angular, ears lengthened and pointed, and even his hands and feet gaining wicked claws made for rending and dismemberment. However, if he didn't keep his composure then he would certainly survive, but this battle would be lost.
Ren continued onward, a whirlwind of death until the appointed time...
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Ren, battered, bloody and exhausted made his way through the castle in which he grew up. In each hand he held his chipped and dull longswords, his faithful companions up to this point. He couldn't count how many enemies he had slain with them in his time as his fathers champion. And now they were nearly destroyed after heading the effort to repell the seige on his home. The holes in his leather armour made it nearly useless as well, and told whoever saw it that he should normally be dead, even for a werewolf. However even now his wounds had closed and he seemed fine save his horribly exhausted state.
"Those bastards, even after all we did as their allies. I'll make them pay for betraying my Father." Ren redoubled his pace through the vast corridors. It was a mark of misfortune to every enemy unlucky enough to have made it this far into the castle. Ren slayed every single one he found without fail. Humans, vampires, and werewolves alike. They were under seige from all the surrounding kingdoms. Perhaps the Bloodmoon Kingdom had gained too much power for their taste, regardless the surrounding kingdoms deemed it time to put down those of the Bloodmoon name.
Upon reaching the throne room Ren found his father, Vampire Lord Typhus Bloodmoon, readying a massive spell. He stood there in the middle of the room, dressed in his black stained armour adorned with dragon designs and magic glyphs. His pale skinned face was serene but betrayed his weariness with the occasional twitch. The blood red orbs that were Typhus' eyes remains closed with his arms outstretched. Like this he chanted and channeled his mana
A massive ritual magic circle glowing an incandescent blue took up the entirety of the room that was big enough to house nearly 1,000 fully outfitted warriors. It was a last ditch effort to save the Bloodmoon Kingdom. An attack spell powerfull enough to level the playing field. No one knew of such a spell till Typhus himself spoke of it. Now it was their last hope.
"Father, I am here." Ren knelt behind his father to report on the battles status. "There have been some breaches in the castle. I'm not sure if the army ca-" However, Ren was cut off by his Fathers strained voice.
"It doesn't matter, they will be able to hold on long enough. Help me with this." He nodded to the glowing circle adorned by arcane glyphs. "Spill your blood upon it and infuse it with your mana. I can't quite finish it on my own."
Vampires are more adept at magic and even possess extraordinary reserves of mana while Werewolves often have no capability to use their large pools of mana whatsoever. Ren was an exception to the rule. Although he couldn't work much in the way of magic he could at least use elementary spells and help with casting in situations such as this.
Ren silently obeyed his Father's orders, he may have been an outcast but everything he had was due to his father. He owed him everything and gave him the utmost respect. Even if his original clan was slain by the Bloodmoon clan, that was simply the way things worked. The stronger side prevails and the losing side is subject to the whims of the victorious.
Taking the jagged blade of his longsword, Ren made a savage slash onto his left arm severing nearly all the blood vessles along the inside of the arm. Like this he sprayed his blood across the magic circle before dropping down and placing his hands upon it alongside his Father to feed the magic circle with not only his lifeblood but also his stores of mana.
The sounds of metal on metal could be heard outside as well as the sound of destructive magic and spells.
Typhus gritted his teeth and poured the remaining amount of his mana into the ritual, "Almost there....this must work....." Ren did likewise stealing a glance at his father's uncharacteristically agitated expression.
'Should this fail, I will slay to my very last breath. I refuse to be one of the weak again.' Memories of his years growing up flashed through his mind. 'Do you feel weak?' the drill instructor would ask, 'Does it fill you with rage to be unable to exert your will?' Typhus' voice echoed in his mind, 'Then make yourself stronger than anyone else. Never alow yourself to be weak.' Ren had already resolved to come out victorious or die trying.
As it neared completion the circle began to glow a blinding white until it was neigh unbearable. "It is complete..." Breathed an exhausted Typhus staggering backward slightly. His unfocused gaze signaled his nearly empty mana pool.
Ren stood and turned back to the doorway leading the the violent sounds of war and braced himself for transformation, discarding his now useless weapons. In this place, it didn't matter if he went wild. "I'll help stall them now. Good luck fa....." However, he didn't so much as take a step before being flung backwards and into the magic circle by a hand on his collar.
"What..!?"
The glow of the circle became a blinding mix of iridescent color and Ren was just able to see his fathers face and make out a few words over the thrum of arcane power.
"....sorry my son...."
Emotions of betrayal, acceptance, anger, and more surafced in Ren's mind. Quickly though, Ren's senses were overwhelmed and he lost consciousness with only one sensation....
Falling...falling.....endlessly falling.....
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If I'm lucky enough to have readers, I'm apologizing upfront for both potential quality issues and the time it takes for new chapters to come out. This is my first time trying my hand at this so please forgive me. And thank you so much for even making it this far.