A Wolfs Tail.

Athalon:

Once upon a time there was a wolf named Corey.  
 
Corey was madly in love with the beautiful princess of the kingdom in which 
he lived.  But he wasn't sure if the princess would really be interested in a 
buff peasant wolfboy like himself, with hard muscles and strong back.  In 
fact, he rather thought not, an opinion with which his friends openly agreed. 
 
They teased him. 
 
Yet no good was it to turn his heart to work and friends and mead, hoping the 
wolf would forget his vixen-beloved.  And so one day Corey set off to see the 
witch of the wood, ask her for advice.  The old badger crone always demanded 
a whole piece of gold in payment for her services, so the love-sick canid had 
scrimped and saved for ages and ages.
 
The strapping young wolf strutted into the hag's cottage.  "I have the fee 
for your magics.  What I want is to find out if the princess would love me, a 
poor peasant wolf!"
 
The witch smirked, having just had unpaid dealings with the vixengirl last 
week, took one look at the young Corey and then smiled cunningly to herself.  
She hatched a plan to get rid of that pesky princess once and for all.  It 
would be simple, she told the wolf, to win his princess-love's heart.  Then 
went to her crystal ball to watch the fun.
 
Corey carried the magic dagger home, happier than ever because the old 
hedge-badger had not only assured him that the princess could possibly love a 
lowly wolf, but had also given him that talisman to ensure that said royal 
girlfur would indeed fall madly in love him as well!  All the way to his 
parents' cottage, Corey turned the knife over and over in his paws, wondering.-
  Could a magic dagger really get the princess to love him?
 
Of course, he trusted the witch implicitly.  Corey had paid what she asked, 
had saved for a long time to have enough coppers for a gild.  Fair was only 
fair.  But two things nagged at his peasently furry mind:
 
How would he get close enough to the her royal Highness to try out the magic? 
 And...
 
If he stabbed the princess with the magic knife, just as the witch had 
instructed, wouldn't that actually *lessen* his chances with the cute vixen?
 
Randall:
 
The princess sighed as she looked out the window of her tower.  She had no 
heart for listening to the court-ladies drone on about proper manners, about 
dancing, and all the million other trivial things a princess must know.  The 
only thing her crown and her pretty face got her was a drunken brush by the 
head of the king's nights.  The git hadn't even been banished- Daddy always 
played favorites.
 
Then, a whisper ran through the gaggle of ladies in the room, and glances 
were thrown in her direction.  Finally, tiring of the secrecy, she cried out, 
"Whatever is the matter?"  A younger woman (braving the nasty looks of her 
peers) said, "A peasant has been arrested outside.  He had demanded to see 
you, princess."  The vixen smiled, then strode out of the room.  This was 
just the sort of excitement she needed to spruce up her day.
 
Terry:
 
The princess threw open the doors, after striding across the room in a flurry 
of silks and ribbons. The guards snapped to attention as she approached, as 
required by protocol, which was a bit harder for the possum she'd knocked 
clean off the drawbridge... but he did a passable horizontal salute before 
hitting the water.
 
"Ah, my love!" she cried, holding her arms out towards the scruffy-looking 
wolf that that abysmal Sir Rodimus had in a headlock (despite standing at 
attention; when you outmass your opponent by several tons, it doesn't take 
much to maintain a hold). "You've come at last, to rescue me from this 
horrible place!"
 
Sir Rodimus's beady eyes narrowed, and she could almost see the steam wafting 
from his ears as he processed her reaction. "Princess? Surely this..." he 
glanced at the wolf, and surrepetitiously gave an extra squeeze, rewarded by 
the sounds of popping joins "...is not a suitable... rescuer."
 
Athalon:
 
"Gor's blood, Cor!" Jason gasped, from the far bank of the moat where the 
striped cat had stopped, too fearful of the guards to breach the drawbridge.  
"Does the princess really know ye?" 
 
"Shut up, tailhole," Corey hissed in stage whisper, turning red (and not 
merely from the ape-hold of eager Rodimus).  The wolf knew that the pricess 
certainly had never met him, at least that he could remember.  But then, he 
didn't expect royalty to act quite normal, either.
 
Patrik whacked the cat on one shoulder.  "Don't be messing wit the wuff's 
tryst here!"   The ferret smirked wickedly, rolled his eyes.  Corey's friends 
agreed to come alonog for support, be neither had they imagined that the poor 
deluded wolf could possibly win the heart of the princess, nor that they'd 
really be allowed into the castle at all.  Still, it would be something to 
tease about over mugs of ale later.
 
Randall:
 
Corey took a few gulps of air as Rodimus let his hold loosen a little, 
staring at the princess.  She was even more beautiful up close.  "Well...of 
course I know the princess!" he says, rusty gears in his head turning just 
enough to go along with the play.  "Don't I, uh, darling?"
 
Rodimus straightened his back and cast a worried look at the princess.  If 
this were the truth, then he had just earned himself a demotion to stable boy 
for the rest of his years.  "Darling?  Please, explain the meaning of this!" 
he blustered.  
 
The princess sauntered over to Cor and took his arm- suppressing the need to 
sneeze at the dust on her new beau, who was lacking a lesson in bathing.  
"That's right.  Remember when I had gone to the witch's woods?  She...fixed 
me up."  She put on her best impression of a love-stricken court girl's face.
 
The princess' words reminded Cor, who twitched his ears, startled.  He almost 
forgot- the dagger!
 
Terry:
 
The princess turned to the side, to stare up into the cloudless sky, 
clutching her hands in front of her as she said, wistfully, "After our 
last... meeting, I asked her if I would ever find a male who would satisfy 
me, and she said that indeed, one would come to the castle and claim my 
heart. I almost feel bad for laughing at her prophecy now."
 
Sir Rodimus set Corey down on the drawbridge, on his feet, although his 
expression didn't change from the baleful glower. Corey fingered the dagger 
in his pocket -- should he strike now? Or wait until they were somewhere more 
private?
 
The princess continued, "But surely, this wolf is the one who will survive 
the challenges of my father's labyrinth of doom, face my father's champion in 
a battle to the death, and prove himself worthy to be my consort!" She turned 
to grin at Corey, just as he pulled the magic dagger from his pocket.
 
Athalon:
 
He nearly dropped it in the water.  Doom!  Death!  Duel!  The wolf hadn't 
figured any of that into his plan.
 
Patrik and Jason doubled up with laughter.  "Yer caught by the tail now, 
Cor!" Jason choked out.  "As if!"
 
Corey drew himself up, took the princess with his eyes, holding her gaze with 
wronged, suffering dignity.  Or so he thought.  Or the muzzle of a wolf 
barely out of his teens, the expression looked constipated.
 
And the princess pouted, a teasing moue, mimed a kiss in the air beside the 
wolf's cheek.  Not that she, the royal daughter of her father the King, 
should care a trifle for this rube with hay in his hair and stable on his 
footpaws, as better hanged as whipped.  But she relished the delight in 
playing with her toys, of which Sir Rod was one.  And maybe, just maybe, she 
could see a way to make her father pay for letting the knight touch her most 
intimate behind.
 
She stepped light and close to Corey, made oh-so-very sure that Rodimus was 
watching (as were Jason and Patrik), then cupped a paw over the wolf's groin. 
 "Darling," she moaned huskily, "I've waited so long.  Let us away to my 
chambers!"
 
Randall:
 
Cor found himself led into the castle, down the stone halls that most 
peasants only dream of seeing. The princess slipped her paw into his and 
tugged him along, sending a rustle of gossip through the other inhabitants of 
the keep.  He found himself blushing as if his friends were there teasing 
him.  It was embarrassing.                                               
 
The princess, on the other hand, relished in these whispers.  Finally, 
something to really make the uptight ladies and lords stare!  Such scandal.  
If she was lucky, she'd even be excommunicated.  That'd free her Sundays...she-
 closed the door on her chambers and ushered her maids out, then turned on 
the wolf.  "If you breathe a word of the truth to anyone, I will feed you to 
the moat's gators myself!"
 
Cor blinked and took a step back; the look on the vixen's face was truly 
frightening.  "You're not...I mean, the witch didn't...huh?"  He fingered the 
dagger, unsure of whether to bring it out now.  The princess might not 
understand the need for that loving stab.
 
The princess laughed. "That old hag?  She's up in bunches because I beat her 
at cards last week.  Now, be a good boy and play along.  If you're nice, I'll 
even let Daddy know it's all a farce before his champion rips you to pieces." 
 There was a pound on the door, then.  "Speaking of which," she said, "That 
should be Dad."
 
Terry:
 
Corey's resolve focused, as he reached back and locked the door. "My 
princess, I don't think you understand the situation," he said, pulling out 
the dagger and holding it before him. "Once I stab you in the chest with 
this, you'll realize who I truly am." The pounding at the door got louder, 
and a muffled voice demanded something indistinguishable, but the thick, 
sturdy wood would take a while for even the palace guard to break through.
 
The princess's eyes widened as she saw the dagger, and she gasped. Not a 
grubby peasant at all, but an assassin in disguise! A real, live assassin, 
here, in her chambers! Here to kill her, on behalf of the witch! "Wow, that's 
SO COOL!"
 
Corey lunged at her with the magic dagger, but the princess was too fast for 
him, unfolding a surprisingly resiliant fan to block his strike. "I've always 
wanted to meet a real assassin!" she said as she parried, then twisted the 
fan to send the dagger flying into the corner of the room. "What other tricks 
do you have up your sleeve," she grinned.
 
Athalon:
 
The wolf gaped, disarmed in both ways.  It wasn't supposed to happen like 
this!  He slunk quietly across the room, picked up the knife,  The princess' 
eyes never left him, and the feeling of rejection burned poor Corey like oil.
 
The knock at the door seized the vixen's attention.  Confident and self-posses-
sed, she knew she was equal to a reticent peasentfur.  It would be such a 
pleasure to watch her father discover just how much his royal daughter had 
learned.
 
"Come, my Love!" she moaned quite loudly.  "I know your Purpose, and with the 
Wolfly Strength of  your Sharp Engine of Love I shall be Ravished!" 
 
Corey's eyes grew huge, and once again he nearly dropped the knife.  Did the 
princess really *want* to be stabbed?
 
Then again, the vixen had said that she'd been to see the badger-witch.
 
"I bare myself to your Savage Thrusts!" the princess sobbed dramatically.  "I 
rend my heaving bosom!"  And with that she ripped the bodice of her gown, 
exposing the pale and furry orbs of her foxy delights.  "Take me, my love!  
Let the Point of your Wicked Weapon find the Seat of my Virtue!"
 
Randall:
 
Cor dropped the dagger...this was just too much!  "Control yourself!" he 
shouted, backing up against the wall.  
 
There was another pound on the door.  "Control herself with what?!" came the 
muffled shout.  "I'm calling the guards, pumpkin!" the king shouted.  The 
vixen stepped towards Cor.  "That gives us time.  What's the matter?  Lost 
your nerve?"
 
The peasant tried to keep his distance, circling around the perimiter of the 
room.  "It wasn't supposed to happen like this!" he said, panicked.  "The 
witch just said if I stuck you with the dagger, you'd fall-"  
 
There was a heavy pounding on the door now: guards with a battering ram, no 
doubt.  The princess laughed.  "Oh, so she sent you?  My, she has a nasty 
temper.  Not very smart, to send such a clumsy assasin, though. Oh!"  She 
lept aside as Rodimus and a pair of knights, followed by a very angry king, 
forced the door open and into the room.  
 
The king went right for Cor, ornamental sword drawn. "You cur!  Swine!  If 
you've deflowered my pumpkin, I'll...I'll."  Cor blanched so hard, even his 
fur looked paler.
 
Terry:
 
Cor reached for the nearest thing to hand, and ripped a curtain off the 
window behind him, tossing it over the king's face as he charged. The old 
fox's sword still nearly took off his head, but he stepped aside and the 
blinded monarch went tumbling out the window, landing in the moat with a 
splash!
 
The two knights gasped in horror, and quickly leapt out the window to save 
their king, leaving only Corey, the princess... and a very angry Sir Rodimus. 
Corey gulped.
 
The big ape sheathed his sword, sneering at the wolf, and quicker than you'd 
*think* a creature his size could move, once more had the wolf in his grip, 
this time dangling him from one hand, clutched about his throat. "THIS is 
what you spurned me for," he sneered, glowering at Corey and the princess, 
then kneeled down to pick the dagger up off the ground with his other hand.
 
Sir Rodimus pressed the dagger into Corey's dangling, twitching paw, which he 
held enfolding in one huge leathery hand, and pulled the peasant back against 
his chest, whirling to corner the half-dressed princess. As he forced Corey's 
arm up into a striking posture, he growled, "Maybe I should let him have you. 
An assassin that can best the king himself -- surely he would understand if 
*I* couldn't stop him in time."
 
Athalon:
 
The princess tossed her tresses, with sudden detatchment and indignance.  
"Rodimus, you know I've no use for the peasentry.  A... boyfur... like this" 
- and she sneered at Corey - "interests me not at all."
 
The wolf whined.  Not only was he going to be hanged - he realized that now - 
he was going to die without the vixen falling in love with him!
 
"A real man is what I want, Rodimus.  Masterful.  Handy."  She flowed across 
the floor, sensing the self-created danger she herself was it.  "A fur who 
really knows what I want..."  Here she looked the knight up and down.  "Who 
knows what I need."
 
Corey could feel his captor quake.
 
"Someone like you, perhaps?"  The princess' paw sought the knight's codpiece. 
 "No great mystery that you'r named 'Rod'..."
 
Randall:
 
Rodimus shuddered again, relaxing his hold on Corey.  "I knew you would come 
around, princess!  Thank goodness. And I know your father would marry you to 
a proper- ow!"  The princess had grabbed, and squeezed painfully tight.  He 
doubled over, dropping the wolf. 
 
Corey tried to scramble away, while the princess shook her paw in distaste.  
"You owe me for saving your hide- look out!"  She screamed in surprise as 
Rodimus groped blindly at the floor and found the dagger, then swung his arm 
with no care as to whom he would strike.  Both princess and peasant tried to 
jump out of the way, but the dagger finally found a home to sheath itself in.
 
Tarka:
 
The strangth of Rodimus's swing continued and knocked Corey to the floor. The 
knife now firmly embeded in his butt. It only took him a momment to realize 
what had happened before he screamed. "You stabbed me!"
 
Cor reached back gingerly and took ahold of the hilt of the knife as he tried 
to back away from the thrashing knight. He very slowly tried to pull it out 
of his butt, all gory with blood but not much else. It didn't feel all that 
bad, no more hurtful then the time he was kicked in the head by a mule.
 
The Princess in the meantime had dodged the flailing knife and was not 
doubled over laughing at the spectical of a wolf with a knife in his butt 
made. "This makes the day so worth it!"
 
Cor, the knife hitting home on him, lost all his nerve and made a dash for 
the doorway. The princes moved to block his way.
 
Terry:
 
Corey screeched to a halt, suddenly terrified by the look on the princess's 
face. She was grinning, and laughing at him, and wanting to spend time with 
him, and it scared him out of his mind! There was only one thing to do.
 
Corey turned and leapt out the window, into the moat... the princess ran 
after him, and stared down into the rippling moat water, while Sir Rodimus 
groaned on the floor behind her, but all she could see was the scaly backs of 
the alligators on patrol -- what a pity.
 
Corey woke up in a dingy, damp cell, cramped and crowded with a possum, an 
elderly fox, and two lanky greyhounds, all of them naked. The bars were made 
out of knotted wood, and the only light from was from a bunch of glowy 
mushrooms. Outside, a bored-looking alligator watched them, or possibly slept 
with its eyes open.
 
"Where am I?" he asked, not expecting anyone to answer -- but the alligator 
on guard did, grinning its horrible toothy grin. "In the king's labyrinth of 
doom, of course, where we take all the tresspassers who swim in the moat."
 
Athalon:
 
Corey knew it.  The dungeon.  He'd been caught and now would receive the 
King's Justice.  The lonely boyfur only regretted that he would face his end 
without a kiss from...
 
"See here, boy!" the King demanded, standing before the prison bars.  He 
wrinkled his muzzle in disgust at the sight of the starved and befouled 
inmates, all of whom he had sent there personally.  It wasn't often he 
visited the oubliette, and he kept shifting footpaws as if he'd stepped in 
something foul.
 
Sir Rodimus scoffed.  "Sire, just hang him for the knave he is.  Your 
champion is wasted on a fool, even your dungeon too good for his kind.  Why, 
send for the headsfur, and we shall decorate the pikes of the bridge with the 
pretty face of a little wolf."  He caressed Corey's cheek with mock tenderness.
 
Corey shivered.  The place stank like a midden, like the drainings from the 
stable.  It was dark and hot and crawling with insects.  Humiliating.  And 
his butt hurt.
 
But the supple leather of the knight's glove on his own furry face, the 
gentle touch - once so despised and abhored - seemed different now.  Corey 
pressed both paws firmly to the front of his breeches, pretending to stretch, 
to shrug indifference.  With a rush of realization he remembered a lazy 
teenage afternoon, exploring the burgeoning possibilities of boyhood with 
Patrik and Jason, their secret fumblings in the first learnings of love.
 
He gazed with longing into the face of Sir Rodney.  The witch's daggar was 
working after all!
 
Tarka:
 
Cor was very much unable to hide much and the hard leather of the glove felt 
so good... then he found himself rubbing his cheek into Rodimus's paw. "Is 
the king going to make you fight me hon?"
 
The knight pulled his paw out from between the bars like he was stung. "Don't 
touch me your stinking peasent!" He wiped his gloved paw against his 
breaches, but it still felt dirty. The loving stare that the wolf was giving 
him was just too much and he turned on his heal and marched away. 

This story will be continued.