The Crimson Fangs
28-01-2005, 12:45
The region of Blood Moon Bay has been considered a dangerous area of the South Pacific for centuries. A triangle of open water where ships and planes enter and are sometimes never seen again would be intimidating to most new pilots but not Trent Foxx. He came from this area, a tiny country composed of an inhospitible island chain called the Empire of the Crimson Fangs.
Though slavery was abolished years ago throughout most of the world the ECF had somehow avoided detection and standard regulations. Trent had been born the son of an enslaved breeder and an Island noble, his mother had bought his freedom and chance for a normal life with her life and perhaps her very soul. Fifteen years had passed since the last time he saw her and now at age twenty-five he was determined to return and liberate her as well.
Lexanna, his mother. The only being he found to be worth while in all his life. Beautiful and charming enough to coax some semblence of tenderness from a heartless beast of a male and earn her son a freedom she herself would never possess.
His father he had never truly known, and his memories of the man were just vague images from early childhood. Earl Darious Foxx had allowed Trent to carry his name and had indeed paid for the boy to be delievered to the Republic of Fraselia and set up in a good boarding school with a generous allowance, but that was as far as his fatherly guestures had extended. Trent had ceased to exist after leaving the borders of the Empire in the Earl's mind. He had nearly a dozen bastard children on the island, and only gave this one such great advantages in life because he found it's bitch so amusing.
Trent's small sea plane flew into the setting sun and as the waters below began to take on that queer purple shade he remembered from his youth he spotted the northern most tip of the main island. The one he himself had been born on. The rocking outcropping of Nyldreth Point seeming to point directly at him, accusing him of interloping where he wasn't wanted. Just beyond the point he saw the small airfield and landing strip. There were two small planes and double that in helicopters taking up most of the space but it didn't worry him. He didn't see anyone about and he wasn't planning on landing there anyway. He overshot the runway and circled to his right and spotted the inlet he remembered.
Trent lowered his altitude and made his descent to the lagoon below. No sooner than he felt his pontoons hit the surface of the water did he realize there were a dozen breeders on the beach, almost like his welcoming committee. "Oh well, no turning back now."
Though slavery was abolished years ago throughout most of the world the ECF had somehow avoided detection and standard regulations. Trent had been born the son of an enslaved breeder and an Island noble, his mother had bought his freedom and chance for a normal life with her life and perhaps her very soul. Fifteen years had passed since the last time he saw her and now at age twenty-five he was determined to return and liberate her as well.
Lexanna, his mother. The only being he found to be worth while in all his life. Beautiful and charming enough to coax some semblence of tenderness from a heartless beast of a male and earn her son a freedom she herself would never possess.
His father he had never truly known, and his memories of the man were just vague images from early childhood. Earl Darious Foxx had allowed Trent to carry his name and had indeed paid for the boy to be delievered to the Republic of Fraselia and set up in a good boarding school with a generous allowance, but that was as far as his fatherly guestures had extended. Trent had ceased to exist after leaving the borders of the Empire in the Earl's mind. He had nearly a dozen bastard children on the island, and only gave this one such great advantages in life because he found it's bitch so amusing.
Trent's small sea plane flew into the setting sun and as the waters below began to take on that queer purple shade he remembered from his youth he spotted the northern most tip of the main island. The one he himself had been born on. The rocking outcropping of Nyldreth Point seeming to point directly at him, accusing him of interloping where he wasn't wanted. Just beyond the point he saw the small airfield and landing strip. There were two small planes and double that in helicopters taking up most of the space but it didn't worry him. He didn't see anyone about and he wasn't planning on landing there anyway. He overshot the runway and circled to his right and spotted the inlet he remembered.
Trent lowered his altitude and made his descent to the lagoon below. No sooner than he felt his pontoons hit the surface of the water did he realize there were a dozen breeders on the beach, almost like his welcoming committee. "Oh well, no turning back now."