MOONWARRIORS - Prologue, Part One Birth Of a Legend and Chapter One (edit)

by Rusty Nugent

descriptionSet in the 8th century in Romania when it was still known as Dacia, Moonwarriors tells the tale of a werewolf warrior named Walter Volknor. Once an innocent farm boy, he is out for revenge against Avatar, a master vampire that has slaughtered his family. The werewolf begins a crusade to destroy the evil vampire race. Other compassionate wolves join him in his obsession. Four wolves in particular, Golarin, Bordak, Mary, and Stytentos, aid Walter in his many adventures and become his best friends. Throughout Dacia, fear and honor are heaped upon his name and in due time, he is a beloved champion...more tagsadventure-and-fantasy, adventure-historical-fiction, adventure-romance, adventure-thriller, bloody-battles, dark-fantasy, dark-fiction, dark-humor, dark-romance, demons, demons-fantasy, epic-fantasy-novel-series, erotic-fiction, erotic-romance, erotica-fantasy, erotica-romance, friends, friendship-and-love, ghouls, god, gory, gothic-fantasy, gothic-fiction, gothic-novel, gothic-romance, historical-fantasy, historical-fiction, historical-romance, horror, horror-adventure-action-suspense, horror-thriller, magical-creatures, medieval-era, medieval-fantasy, medieval-fiction, medieval-romance, moonlight, mythical-creatures, mythological-creatures, mythology-fiction, nighttime, pain, paranormal-creatures, paranormal-erotic-romance, relationships-love-story, revenge-killing, romantic-adventure, sorcery, supernatural, supernatural-fantasy, supernatural-horror, supernatural-romance, supernatural-thriller, vampire, vampires, violence, war, warriors, werewolf, werewolf-romance, werewolf-wolf-shifter, werewolves, werewolves-and-vampires, werewolves-vs-vampires, witches
genre Science Fiction & Fantasy

stats Published on 2012-11-13 · 2 total people like it book Moonwarriors


Prologue, Part One Birth Of a Legend and Chapter One (edit)
Chapter 1   â€”   Updated Nov 14, 2012   â€”   27,998 characters
PROLOGUE NEPAL, 1300 A.D.

My new friends, I am writing this account of the life of Walter Volknor at your request. I came to this monastery only a few short months ago to escape the pain of loss. You have all taught me great things about inner peace and how to deal with the sorrow in my soul.
With all the terrible things now going on in my homeland of Dacia, it is not safe to be what I am any longer, nor to announce that you are what you are. Hysteria has gripped my country and where there once was peace and harmony, now there is suspicion and treachery. You, my new found brothers, took me in when I had nowhere else to go. I thank you for that. Your generosity has been astounding. I will forever be in your debt.
Which brings me to the matter at hand. You have requested to become one of my people in exchange for the hospitality you have given. It is at your request that I write these words, so that you may know what you are getting yourselves into and the example that Walter Volknor set for all of my people.
It was by his example that we tried to aspire to. He was a great man who accomplished many things and fought the foulest of demons, the greatest of evils. He and his wife, Knight Mary, were the most powerful warriors of my kind who ever lived. Most of my people are now gone, exterminated by hate and hysteria. If any survive, I do not know of where they could possibly be. Someday, I hope to return to my beloved homeland when it is safe.
My friends torn from me, I fear I may never recover from this painful chapter in my life. For Walter and Mary, Bordak, and Golarin were more than just my friends. They were my family.
Walter and Mary's names held both honor and power. Just the mention of their names sent a shiver of fear through any evil being, human . . . or otherwise. The story of Walter's life began in Dacia in 800 A.D. when he was only twenty and one years old. This is where I will began the tale . . .

PART ONE: BIRTH OF A LEGEND Chapter One

The moonlight caressed the land with its gentle touch as the dark figure crouched quietly in the minuscule covering the foliage provided. The large muscles rippled under the thick shaggy fur, anxious to spring. The werewolf calmed himself and remembered why he was here. To kill a group of vampires that were wreaking havoc on a local village. Though they outnumbered him, the creature was confident he could destroy them all.
Walter Volknor was a werewolf. A thing of beauty, of power, of deep emotion. A thing of gentle, tender kindness towards the innocent; a thing of raw, bone crushing anger and bitter hatred toward his enemies. His power--a gift to everyone else, a curse to himself. His parents had always taught him to use his curse to help others. His parents . . .
Looking up at the stone castle that stood black against the moonlit sky, he found it to be silent and still, as it had been for the last two hours. Not a bit of movement from within its windows. The demons must be out feeding. Not a comforting thought, considering what they preyed upon. Walter felt his hatred of the undead rise up inside him again, making the beast that was part of him eager to kill. He always became eager when he thought of what they had done to his family. What they had taken from him. For Walter, it was personal. So, he made certain that every bloodsucker suffered at his hands. His goal was simple: to eradicate them until there was NONE.
Master vampires were his favorite prey. His family had been slaughtered by one named Avatar and his minions. Walter had never stopped looking for him. He wanted revenge. He had sworn that he would make him pay for his atrocity, and Walter was a man of his word. Someday, he knew their paths would cross again, and on that day, the master vampire would lose his immortal life. Someday . . .
He had become a vampire killer for hire, although many times he had done it for free. All across the land of Dacia, his services were sought to end the vampires' reign of terror. So far, he had no luck in finding the master, Avatar, but he had vowed even if it took centuries, the werewolf would shed his blood. For over a year now, he had annihilated the members of the undead, answering every call for help that came his way. His thoughts once again returned to his family, and he let the memory burn itself into his brain, feeling the pain of his loss nearly overwhelm him.
He remembered the night it all happened, when his world had come crashing down around him and turned an innocent farm boy into a killing machine, and a man of the world.
ONE YEAR EARLIER
Walter stood beside the fence, watching his father and brothers planting seeds on their small farm. His responsibility was to feed the animals, but today his thoughts were not on his chores, but on adventures in some far away land.
A bird passed overhead, chirping its melodic love call, and he lifted his gaze to watch it soar over the open field to the north of their farm.
He had been feeding the animals for most of the day, and now suppertime was quickly approaching. His thoughts now turned from adventure to food, his stomach voicing its agreement to eat. They were simple people, though they were werewolves, who grew their own crops, raised their own meats. His father's voice brought him out of his daydream.
"Walter, the goats aren't going to feed themselves," his father scolded gently, "Finish your chores, would you?"
"Aye, Father," he replied obediently.
He set about his task of feeding the goats, the last animals of the day to be fed. When he was finished, he headed back to the small, two-room, hut-like, thatch roofed farmhouse. There were five of them living in the small house, though his father had begun building a much larger one with rooms beside the old one.
His mother and father, although they were eight hundred and twenty-two, still looked like the youthful twenty-three-year-olds they had been when they had first met. The werewolf curse offered immortality without the cost of your soul or humanity like vampirism did. However, sometimes there were excerptions. Those who chose to use their "gift" for selfish purposes or ate of human flesh became corrupted by evil. Those who could not deal with the agony of the transformation became insane over time, killing anything that moved.
The age of Walter's parents made them what was know as GRANDS among the lycanthrope people, meaning they had the ability to change at any time, though the full moon still caused them to transform against their will unless they were wearing silver. It seemed to hinder the changing process and there were even rumors it could cause death should a wolf's skin be penetrated by it.
His father, Desmond, and his mother, Vondoron had produced three children. Walter, Corvax and Shakara. Walter was the oldest, which meant he was born into the curse of Lycanthropy. His two younger brothers were completely human and knew nothing of their parents' or brother's supernatural abilities. Walter was now in his twenty-first year; his brothers were thirteen and sixteen. Desmond and Vondoron had planned to reveal all to their human offspring once they were old enough to choose for themselves if they wanted to be a wolf and were mature enough to handle the responsibility of the power.

The brothers had often wondered why their parents never seemed to age, but never really asked them why. They also found it odd that three nights
a month, their parents and oldest brother would disappear at night, only to return in the morning with no explanation. As the sun began to sink behind the mountains in the west, Vondoron came out of the house, calling, "Supper's ready!"
"Great," Desmond stated happily as the males headed for the house, a long day's toil behind them.
Walter's long, shoulder-length black hair bounced as he ran toward the house, eager to eat his mother's cooking. They ate a delicious meal of roasted boar, fruit, vegetables, and freshly baked bread. Roasted boar was an important staple of the lycanthrope diet, and Walter's favorite meal. The family ate ravenously, talking of the day's events until Desmond announced it was story time. Walter loved it when his father told his wonderful tales. He spoke of kings, warriors, and the great deeds they had done, the monsters they had slain, the evil they had vanquished.
Vondoron worked quietly on a quilt in the corner of the small room while their father spoke. She smiled silently as a yawn passed from Walter to Corvax, then Shakara. It was getting late, tiredness catching quickly up to them. Desmond decided to call it a night, cutting short the story he was telling. The three siblings staggered tiredly to their beds, crawled in, and were asleep almost instantly.
Walter loved his simple life. His father had often told him that the world was not a simple place, full of lies, trickery, deception, and treachery, ready to ensnare the innocent farm boy. Someday, He would find out for himself. He would have to face it eventually, he knew. He was asleep before another thought crossed his mind.

Desmond turned to his wife who was still studying her quilting intently. He gazed at her lovingly, his eyes full of admiration. "I'm proud of my sons," he told her softly.
She smiled broadly. "As am I," she replied.
He knelt before her, taking her hand in his. "I love you, Vondoron. Thank you for being my wife and the mother of our children."
"And I love you, too my darling,"she told him, her face lit by the glowing hearth of the fireplace, showing the love in her heart.
Putting aside her quilting, she stood. Desmond lifted her into his arms, kissing her passionately. "It's time for bed for us as well my love," he whispered.
"Mmmmmmmm," she growled in anticipation.

The hearth had begun to lose its glow as the embers died, the coals glowing hotly as Desmond was awakened by a loud commotion outside. He lay in the darkness, his wife asleep beside him, listening. Something was upsetting the animals. Vondoron awoke with a start. Desmond touched her gently, reassuring her with his hand. He stood, dressing quickly.
"What's going on?" she whispered.
"I don;t know. Something is trying to get at the animals, I'm going to check it out."
"I'll go with you," she said, getting up.
He shook his head. "No, stay here with the boys." "But--"
"No buts. Stay here," he said, heading over to the door.
Walter, Corvax, and Shakara met him at the door, dressed and ready. Walter spoke before before his father could protest. "What's going on, Father?"
"I think something is trying to attack our animals. The goats from the sound of it," he replied. "I'm going to check it out."
"Let me come with you," Walter begged eagerly, his eyes sparkling. Desmond looked at him uncertainly. "Stay with your mother," He told him.
"But father,You---" "
"Desmond, let him help you," Vondoron told him in a sympathetic tone.
He looked at his oldest son for a moment silently, then said, "ALright, come on."
"What about us?" Corvax and Shakara whined.
"I guess so, but be quiet. Okay?' "Okay," they chorused in reply.
The males exited the tiny house, heading for the animal pens while Vondoron stood in the doorway, using her beyond-normal eyes to scan for any signs of a predator. She could not detect anything out of the ordinary at first, but the goats were bleating frantically, indicating SOMETHING was there.
Something had terrified them. They could see by the light of the almost full moon the goats running around their pans, dark shapes in pursuit. Walter heard his father whisper the word angrily, as if even saying it were w vile act. A chill ran through him.
"Vampires."
Desmond turned to his sons, and whispered, "Get back to the house and protect your mother. Whatever you do, DON'T INVITE THEM IN."
"Aye, father," Shakara replied, he and Corvax turning to leave.
They gasped in shock to find two pale figures dressed in long flowing black robes standing before them, evil grins on their bluish lips. Walter whirled to see spidery hands, gnarled unnaturally by death, clutch his two brothers, the figures' heads lowering in a flash as the creatures bit savagely into their throats. Desmond yelled instantly. "Put my children down, you bastards!"
The evil duo only laughed cruelly while Corvax and Shakara twitched and flopped around violently while they sucked greedily. Walter felt his stomach turning over in sickening terror at the sound, his brothers' groans of agony only adding to the horrific sight. He looked up to see his father, enraged at the events, attacking them, his body already transforming into a powerful werewolf. The vampires let go of their victims as Walter's father attacked, Corvax and Shakara slumping to the ground motionlessly. The undead duo then turned to face the raging wolf. He heard his mother screaming as he ran to his brothers' sides, listening for their heartbeats. There were none. Tears streamed down his face as he looked down at them. An aching filled his heart at the thought of them both being gone forever.
A howl split the night air, catching his attention.
He looked up to see his father, transformation now complete, grappling with the corpses, snarling ferociously. The wolf disposed of them by crushing their skulls in his large paw-like hands. Vondoron had now made her way to both of her children, checking for their heartbeats as Walter had done. Finding them dead, she let out a shrieking wail of anguish, then lay over their bodies repeating "NO" over and over again. Desmond came to stand beside them.
A flapping sound caught their attention, and Walter looked up to see four more of the evil creatures descending in their "BAT" form. It was not a true bat form, but more demon-like with only a few traces of bat-like tendencies. He watched in horrified fascination as they morphed into their more human-like appearance, which was still vile and cruel. His father's voice filled his mind,as well as his mother's and the vampires'.
"Nestafil and Avatar! I might have known. Leave my family alone." The vampire who was obviously the "MASTER" due to his handsome good looks stepped forward, a fake tone of sympathy in his voice. "Certainly," the vampire leader Avatar replied. "It's just that my underlings have yet to feed tonight."
"Then go feed somewhere else, vermin."
Avatar only smiled as his underlings circled them, growling demonically. His underlings were disgusting creatures, only remotely human, their humanity drained from them with three bites, turning them into slaves to do their master's bidding. Their long black hair was slimy and reeked of death and decay.
"But we like it here," Avatar replied sweetly.
"Leave or else, you bloodsucker," Desmond told him with a snarl of angry warning. The enormous werewolf stood protectively over his family, his muscles tensed, anticipating an attack from any direction.
"Who are these vampires, Father?" asked Walter.
Avatar smiled smugly at Walter, then turned back to the Desmond werewolf.
"You mean, he doesn't know? You haven't told him?" the vamp asked in an accusing, though light tone.
"NO. I don't want him to become mixed up with you or your kind. We are enemies Walter, nothing more."
"Oh come now, Desmondra. You can do better than that. Let's tell him, shall we . . .?" Turning to Walter, the vampire leader said, "Your father and I are old friends boy. We knew each other in the days of the Holy Chosen One, the One crucified. A carpenter, I believe he was." "Don't."
Avatar waited, letting every bit of information sink in, then continued, "I was engaged to your beautiful mother, but your father stole her from me. I guess being a general in the Roman Empire had its advantages."
The vampire paced, his hands behind his back, his fingers interlaced, as he calmly continued. "Then he betrayed your special Savior by arresting him and escorting him to his death."
Walter looked at his father in shock and a bit of accusation.
"I had to Walter, it was my duty," his father explained, "Besides, I quit after that and accepted His teachings. I couldn't be a soldier anymore." Walter Nodded.
The vampire continued his rant. "Ah, but we haven't come to the best part, have we?" The vampire laughed humorlessly. Turning to look at Walter, Avatar told him, "A few days before he quit the army, your father and I were injured in an ambush while traveling to the province of Ishtir. Being best friends, I told him that I knew of his special abilities, begging him to make me what he was, but he refused." The vampire yelled accusingly at the wolf, "You left me to die out there alone, just so you could have Vondoron all to yourself!"
"I knew you would use your power for evil and selfish reasons, Avatarus. That's why I left you out in the desert, "the wolf shot back telepathically.
Regaining his composure, the vampire went on with his tale. "I swore revenge as I lay dying, and lo and behold, a peculiar thing happened. A vampire appeared before me. She was beautiful. She offered me immortal life, I accepted, and here I am"
The vampire spun around as if he were modeling new clothes, his arms open wide. He stopped suddenly, saying,"It was only after I returned to show your mother my new found power that I discovered their treachery. They had already left the city to come here to Dacia." He turned to look at the wolf hatefully. "I told you Desmond. I told you that someday I would find you and your family and take back what is rightfully mine. Now I shall have Vondoron for my own, as it was meant to be."
Suddenly, Vondoron stood up. "I loved you at one time, but you destroyed that love by your cruelty. That was long ago. I told you that you would lose me if it didn't stop. You did it yourself, Avatar," she said venomously.
"Really?" he shot back angrily.
"Aye. You were mean and cruel to anyone that crossed your path. Especially people who were not in the army," she said matter-of-factly.
"True," the vampire nodded, "but Desmond took everything that meant anything to me.My promotions, the Emperor's favor, and finally, you."
"I didn't want to be with you anymore. YOu disgusted me with your evil deeds and methods. You disgust me still."
"No matter. I will still have you, and my revenge on Desmond."
Turning to his underlings, he told them, "DO what you want with the boy and his father, but she is mine."
"Aye, master," they rasped in unison.
They turned, launching an attack against Walter and his father while Avatar watched in malicious glee. Vondoron, not one to stand by helplessly, jumped into the battle in an attempt to protect her son and husband. She threw a punch at one attacking vampire, her fist making contact with its jaw, sending the creature flying backwards several feet.
As the other two vampires battled Desmond and Walter, the two fought back hard, protecting themselves and Vondoron, who was holding her own quite well. As the fight intensified, one of the undead creatures' hands swatted her away from the battle, and into Avatar's clutches.
Desmond, seeing this, l;et out an enraged roar, launching himself at Avatar. In a flash, a vampire was on him, attacking his father mercilessly, grabbing the fur at the top of his head, pulling it back, then sinking its horrible fangs deep into his shaggy-furred neck.
The werewolf let out a yelp, its paw-like hand reaching out to Vondoron, who was reaching out in return. it was in vain however, as their reaching hands never touched as the werewolf was brought down to the ground by the sucking vampire.
Walter felt as if everything had slow down around him. He heard his mother's voice screaming, her eyes looking down at his father, tears running down her cheeks. He felt himself screaming as well, his mouth forming a single syllable word in heart wrenching anguish. "NO!"
He felt his arms moving, going over his left shoulder, grabbing the vampire that was behind him, by its head, then pulling the creature over his head in a powerful flipping move. The creature landed at his feet, a sickening crunch as the neck broke filling his ears. KNowing it wasn't really dead, he proceeded to twist its head free of the body, blood spewing out in great gouts of crimson. Looking up, he saw his mother still in the vile clutches of Avatar, his heroic father being sucked dry by the bastard's underlings.
From behind, he felt another vampire's presence and turned, slamming his fist into the corpse's face, sending its fangs and a few other teeth flying in several directions. The vampire instantly grabbed its mouth, blood spilling thickly down its chin as Walter smirked angrily at it.
"Look what you've done! the vampire sputtered beneath its hands. "You've knocked my fangs out!"
"That's too bad considering you bastards can't feed without your teeth, huh?"
Walter replied sarcastically as he slammed his fist into the creature's mouth again, snapping its head back, sending it flying where it lay motionless on the ground.
Turning, he saw his mother struggling against Avatar, the bloodsucker that had been feeding on his father now standing at his master's side, assisting him, holding his mother. Rage filled him as he lunged for the vampire. Spotting him, Avatar turned to his underling, keeping his grip on Vondoron and commanded, "Nestafil, kill the boy!"
Instantly, the underling turned, stalking toward the enraged Walter, spidery hands outstretched, hissing angrily. WHen they reached one another, they grappled, the young wolf's rage making him far stronger. As he held the vampire in an iron grip of rage, a sound greeted his sensitive ears.
At first he thought it was a clap of thunder, but looking at Avatar, he saw his mother's hand coming down from the hard slap she had just given the master across his face. A look of surprise crossed the vampire's countenance, then he looked down at her, a look of anger taking its place. Growling, he swiftly grabbed her head, them lowered his mouth to her neck, to her neck, viciously biting her. She let out a yelp, then whined like an injured pup as Avatar greedily drained away her life.
Enraged more than ever, he threw Nestafil to the ground, then launched himself at Avatar. He kicked the vampire hard, causing him to drop his mother. She fell to the ground, lying there motionless and silent, a large bloody wound on her neck.

Climbing painfully to his feet, Avatar pointed at him, growling, "you're next, boy." He advanced as Walter circled him cautiously.
Walter stared hard at him, saying, "I promise that I will kill you."
The vampire laughed mockingly, still stalking the young man who continued to stay just out of his reach. "You destroy me? What a laugh! I would kill you easily, boy. Why not give up now and save yourself the humiliation of defect? You're only prolonging the inevitable."
"Perhaps," replied Walter, "but I would gladly die a thousand deaths just to see you destroyed."
Nestafil had now joined his master, both vampires coming toward him slowly, eager to feed off of him. Realizing the danger he was in, he backed away, not seeing the large root directly behind him. He tripped, stumbling backwards, then fell flat on his back. Instantly, he was on his butt, scrambling away from them as they rushed forward.
He felt it was the end, and spotting a cart that was loaded with hay, scurried beneath it for safety. To his shock, he heard the two demons begin screaming as if in agony. Hesitantly, he stuck his head out from beneath the cart to find his attackers smoking from within their robes. The sun was rising over the horizon, causing them to burn as it killed them slowly.
"It's the sun!" Nestafil shrieked.
"I know that!" replied Avatar, raising his arms in a futile attempt to ward off the sun's rays.
Looking down at Walter, he sneered. "Another time, lycanthrope. Kill me if you can. You'll have to catch me first."
He melted into the man-sized demonic-looking bat shape, an enormous pair of leathery wings sprouting from his back. The pale skin had turned from a deathly white to a shiny dark ebony with a touch of purple.
Both hideous creatures flapped off towards the retreating darkness, leaving Walter Volknor amidst the bodies of smoldering vampires and his human form, dead. He tried to think of a way to revive him, but could not.
His father had been killed outright, sucked dry by a gutless creature of evil. Hate swelled in him as he swore to avenge his family. Walter hung his head down as tears stung his eyes. His family was dead. Every last one of them.
A weak groan greeted his ears, and immediately he knew it came from his mother. He scrambled to her side frantically, finding her barely alive, but rapidly slipping away. Kneeling beside her, he took her hand in his, kissing it as tears rolled down his face. She smiled at him weakly, as he sobbed, "Mother. . . "
"Walter," she whispered, "listen to me. You are a werewolf. A lycanthrope . . . I want you to promise me you'll use your abilities to help others. . ."
She swallowed hard, as if it were an effort, and gazed up at him, squeezing his hand, then said, "Promise me. . . . that you'll always do the right thing. Walter. . . . Promise me. . . ."
She continued quietly, her voice weak, "Can you do that?" His lip trembling, he merely nodded, knowing he wouldn't be able to speak. "Good," she replied. "Always remember that fire, silver in any form can kill you, and that I . . . . I . . . . . will . . . always . . . . love . . . . . you. . . . "
Her voice trailed off as she became relaxed, silent and still. She was gone. CLutching her head to his breast, Walter lifted his own as a cry of anguish tore itself from inside him, ending in an inhuman roar.


Walter watched the house burn. His family was all inside, the flames consuming them. Tears rolled down his handsome face as he stood watching the only home he'd ever known become an enormous funeral pyre. The framework of the beside it, never to be completed, caught, the flames licking at it hungrily as the crackling became an intense now.
"Farewell, my family," he whispered.
He had spent most of the morning cleaning and dressing the bodies, the act extremely hard to carry out. He had performed the RITES OF PASSAGE ceremony that was observed when all lycanthrope honored their dead. He knew he could never return here. Too many memories.
Gathering up the small cloth sack that held his few meager belongings (a change of garments, his silver amulet on a chain, and as much food as he could carry), he turned his back to the burning homestead, and began to walk . . .


The werewolf growled softly, then whined. A tear ran down the creature's muzzle, a large, paw-like hand coming up to wipe it away. He wanted to howl in long mournful tones at the full moon above him, but did not. To do so meant giving away his presence and location to the prey he stalked. As he watched the windows, his red, glowing, cat-like eyes caught movement from inside. Now, it was time to strike.
An almost evil sneer crossed the wolf's countenance in what would have been a grin in human form. The powerful being stood up on its large pawed feet, and crept stealthily toward the castle . . .