The origins of the Blackfox Clan, on the darkest day in the history of the Minmatar people.
“Tie that chain off between those two trees, we'll camp here tonight,” ordered the raiding party commander.
Culan collapsed on ground his dignity battered and pride abused, he lay there exhausted. Thank the gods they finally stopped. He watched as one of the Amarrians wrapped the ends of the long chain around two stout trees and locked it into place. Looking down the length of the chain his leg was shackled to, he saw the faces from all of the seven tribes and many of his own household. Culan searched for familiar faces, noticeably absent were his Brutor bodyguards and his boyhood friend Captain Jeil, Damn bastards must have killed all the Brutor men.
Culan saw Rishi looking at him and nodded at the old shaman. I should have listened to him, he warned me something bad would happen if we came here this year. Rishi's face looked calm as he nodded back at Culan. The others were not calm, terror filled eyes looked to him, begging Culan to save them from their ordeal. Damn, what can I do alone against thirty well armed soldiers? Culan clenched his fist and slammed it into the ground. Our only hope is if someone finds the burned house, sends word to father and he can send troops to us in time.
Culan's attention snapped to four soldiers that were laughing wickedly as they approached his people. Carefully he watched them as the soldiers walk down the long chain as if they were at a market browsing the wares.
“Dirty aren't they? Hope being so close to them doesn't damage my purity.” one joked as he kicked at Rishi's foot. The old man slowly drew himself up in a ball and wrapped his robes over his head, looking like a big brown egg in the grass.
“What's this? Captain did say we could each have one as a share of the take, right?” asked a soldier with a cruel scar across his face, as he stood looking down at a Culan's terrorized fifteen year old cousin Adreil.
“Sure, found something you like?” answered joker turning his attention to Adreil. “She is kinda pretty for a filthy Matari. Get her cleaned up, you could make her a bed slave.”
“Yes, my thinking too. Looks like she is in desperate need of redemption, don't know if she can wait till I get her back to Amarr,” said scar face as a wicked smile crossed his face. The look be gave Adreil made his plans for her obvious.
“Look what I found, a Brutor bitch,” shouted a short stocky Amarrian, as he stood over Jeil's thirteen year old daughter, Jyada.
“You don't want a Brutor, they are hard to redeem, and only good for fields and mines,” said scar face, as he hungrily stared down at Adreil.
“I bet she can be redeemed if we all help her,” stocky cruelly laughed, as he grabbed Jyada's wrist and yanked her to her feet.
Culan chuckled to himself when Jyada kneed stocky in the crotch dropping him to his knees. Oh, Goddess give her strength. Brutor women, how I love them. Wish I had ten free ones right now, they would rip these bastards apart with their bare hands.
“Need some help there,” joker asked stocky as he watched his companion roll on the ground holding his crotch. Quickly, a tall half-breed Amarrian soldier rushed past stocky's prone body and viciously backhanded Jyada sending her flying back, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
“Don't let them get away with hitting their masters,” growled half-breed, then he took some keys from his pocket and freed the unconscious Jyada from the long chain, leaving her shackles in place around her ankles and wrists. “I know how to handle Brutors. I grew up in mining colony, father is an overseer for the Sarum heir. I'll take care of this. Bring that one too if you want.” half-breed said as he threw Jyada over his shoulder and tossed the keys to scar face.
“Time to serve the Emperor,” scar face said with a sadistic grin as he unfastened Adreil from the long chain.
“NO! Help, Culan help me!” Adreil screamed as she tried desperately to crawl away from scar face grasp.
“STOP!” Culan commanded instinctively, feeling a rush of rage over come him as he started to stand.
“Shut the fuck up slave,” roared half-breed as he passed Culan and wickedly kicked him in the face with a heavy boot. Culan saw a bright flash of pain then blackness engulfed him, as he fell back into the deep grass.
Culan was awakened by Adreil's screams piercing through the evil laughter of several soldiers. A whip cracked at the camp followed by a deep growling moan, shocking Culan back to full consciousness. He couldn't see what was happening to the girls, the night had settled on them while he was unconscious and the bushes where hiding the camp from his view. The sounds drifting from the camp told him everything he needed to know and were torturing the depths of his soul. I'm such a selfish bastard, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have listened to Jeil; telling me that the slavers in the area were nothing to worry about, Sorry old friend you were wrong.
In his mind he could see the scene at the camp and his heart jumped with every crack of the whip across Jyada's young body as she growled like a wild animal, denying the half breed the pleasure of making her scream.
If she survives, she will be too weak to travel, they will probably kill her to save themselves the trouble of keeping her alive. Goddess take your little warrior, let her be reborn to fight for her people. Adreil's cries brought stinging tears to Culan's eyes, helpless to do anything he lay in the damp grass hating himself. Gradually the sounds torturing Culan subsided, Jyada was no longer growling and the whip had stopped cutting across her tender flesh, she was either dead or unconscious. The soldiers had exhausted themselves raping Adreil, only her soft low sobs could now be heard. They won't let her die, she is too valuable, but she will never be the same. None of us will. She will have a half-breed baby in her before the end of the year, to serve the Devil Emperor of theirs. If male they will train him to hate and fight his own people. Culan shook his head in despair.
Culan looked at the rising twin moons in full glory, like two glowing milky white breasts in the warm summer night, as he gingerly touched the bloody gash across the bridge of his nose. It occurred to him as he looked as his bloody finger tips, all he could do now was to pray, in a low whisper he said, “Goddess of War, send me one of your own, a warrior that will set us free and crush those that hold your children in chains.”
Culan laid his head on his hands as the smells of smoke on his once rich robes, the damp jungle soil beneath him and rich blossoms assaulted him, not letting him forget where he was and how much his world had changed in the last few hours. Culan closed is eyes in an attempt to get some rest before dawn. The dawn that he now knew would be his last day on his home planet and his inevitable transport to a life of bondage.
Culan slept fitfully, his dreams were filled with tall Brutor warrior women, all looking back at him with determined fiery eyes and a black fox tattoo on their right arm, the mark of a clan. These women were engaged in battle with Amarrians in places he didn't recognize, using strange weapons and flying fantastic ships. They were all wash away like whiffs of smoke by a small hand gesture from a haunting woman with long black hair that floated about her like ebony wings, she approached Culan in his dream. She was bare from the waist up and had two perfectly round huge breasts, her jet black eyes locked his gaze as he looked at her.
Her reverberating voice filled his mind, “I give as you ask, Culan of the Starkmanir, they will all make your captors bleed, but they will all belong to me.”
Culan was awe struck by the sound of her voice as she faded into the night sky, the twin moons replacing where her breast had been as she stood over him.
Sitting up with a start, Culan looked around fully awake, then looked up at the moons. It was late, even the insects were quite, and the silvery light of the moons made the jungle plants around him glow strangely, like he was still in the dream world. Rubbing his chest at a sudden tingling sensation, he opened his robe and looked at the tattoo he had received at his naming ceremony a few months before. Strange it has never itched before. He looked at the black fox tattooed on his chest and recalled the women in his dream and the clan tattoo they all bore, that looked like his. Blackfox Clan, I have never heard of it. Rishi made me memorize them all, I know there isn't a Blackfox Clan and defiantly not a Brutor one.
That was he reason for being here at this time. Culan had come to the Sun Tide House, for the Twin Moon celebration that happened once a year when both the moons rose full over Onga. If the Amarrians hadn't attacked today, he would have been founding a clan with one of the honored women that lay beside him in the dirt, one from each of the seven tribes. As the king's eldest son, it was Culan's duty and honor to share himself with these women that had proven themselves worthy of becoming clan matriarchs, and aid them in the founding of new clans.
That will never happen now, all my children will be slaves, if I ever have any. Restless he looked around and noticed that Rishi hadn't moved from his position he assumed when joker kicked at him, he still looked like a large egg in the grass. Fucking Sebiestor, how could he sleep through all of this. Culan caught a slight movement at the edge of his vision, and quickly turned to see what it was.
Between the leaves of the nearby underbrush he saw something that his mind told him was out-of-place. Carefully he scanned the outline. It's a face! There is someone hiding in the bush! How long have they been there? Culan saw a slim finger press to the lips of the face surrounded by leaves. It's a girl!
“Free me!” he whispered hoarsely at the girl.
“She isn't here to free you Culan,” said the barely audible voice of Rishi that seem to sound like leaves gently rustling in a breeze. Culan turned to look back at Rishi, who was now sitting up his robes hanging loosely from his shoulders. Culan watched the old man wave the girl in closer and said, “We won't betray you, my child.”
“If she isn't here to free us, how are we to get away?” Culan whispered to Rishi.
“We aren't, she is the answer to your prayer, and I didn't sleep through any of it.” said Rishi in a voice seemed to drift on the breeze.
What? Not get away, answer to my prayer, damn, the old man is always talking in riddles, and how does he always know what I am thinking?
“It's my job to know,” Rishi said, answering Culan's thoughts again. Culan watched as the girl approached Rishi and crouched low beside him. Rishi was whispering something to the girl that Culan couldn't hear. Several times they both looked in his direction, and the girl nodded several times in response to the shaman's words. Culan strained to hear, but Rishi's voice was too well concealed for him to hear anything. Leaving Rishi's side the girl silently approached Culan.
What is the old man up to? Culan could see her features in the moon light as she drew nearer. Although young she was extremely tall and lean, with coppery skin and dark red hair like many others of her tribe. Brutor! She's Brutor.
Kneeling beside him and without speaking a word she smiled at Culan and began undressing him. He grabbed her hand as she quickly looked up at him and pressed her finger to her lips.
“Do your duty, Culan.” came Rishi's voice, “establish the clan that will answer your prayer.”
Found a clan with this slip of a girl? This breaking of tradition shocked Culan, older mature women founded clans, not young girls. Culan gave in and followed his shaman's instructions, this may be his last chance to have a willing partner and only chance to found a clan. He released the girls hands and she quickly returned to her task and undressed him. Her hands were made sure that he couldn't refuse her further. She looked at him with a warm smile as she brought him to erection.
Culan looked at the small woman that couldn't be more than eighteen years old in awe. Damn she is brave, braver than me, to come into a slave camp and take a man to father a child. He nodded at her in acceptance. She straddled him and slid his erect member inside her warm body. Culan nearly moaned with pleasure at the feel of her but her quick hand covered his mouth before he gave them away. Her rocking hips seemed to know exactly how to please him, bringing him to orgasm quickly. She sat very still as his royal seed filled her womb making certain that none was spilled needlessly. His erection diminished and she quietly unmounted and redressed him.
As she adjusted her garments she asked quietly, “Name and Tribe?”
“Culan of the Starkmanir,” he whispered back. Her eyes grew large in recognition when he said his name. Quickly she pulled open his shirt to revel his tattoo of a black fox on his chest. She placed her hand over the tattoo then against her belly and smiled sadly at him. She seemed to be saying that if she was with child he would be named Blackfox, in honor of Culan.
A sudden flash of moon light glistened off a blade before his eyes, she had a very sad look on her face as she gently placed her hand over his mouth. Quickly and skillfully she cut the tattoo from his chest. Putting his flesh in a pouch at her waist she re-sheathed the knife and disappeared silently into the heavy undergrowth of the forest. Even though the pain was extreme he bit back the urge to cry out. Culan recognized that this child of the forest had just saved him from a life of torture at the hands of the Amarrians and he would be forever thankful.