Many years ago, the world was a little more chaotic than it is now. Then, there was still a war waged in the South for the Holy Dome. Some of the less moral opportunists captured people of all kinds and sold them out for slavery. One particular ship was the Iron Shackle. It was a large ship that traveled the seas many times over selling people into servitude, for sacrifice, into armies, as sexual slaves, and to arenas for bloody combat.
Not too many summers ago, the captain of the Iron Shackle was Renard Carlon, a vile being that no creature could stomach his poisonous grin. He prided himself on the torment of those that stood against him; often by displaying the usurper for all to see as an example after a lethal dance with his blade. He favored the capture and torment of the bestial races over most, claiming that they weren’t worthy to stand with the truly sentient races.
During one of the raids on the Deadlands, the crew of the Iron Shackle captured two male Cannes: one noticeably younger than the other. The young Canne was wild and savage, like any predatory beast from the Deadland savannah. The captain bludgeoned the brute in the back of the head, causing the Canne to fall unconscious. When the Canne awoke, he was chained to many slaves of many lands in a dark and damp hull of a sailing ship. A large orc sat seemingly soulless to one side. On his other side, a bronzed-skin dwarf with a cropped beard hung his head in his hands. The sound of sobbing and the growls of starvation resounded through the floating prison. The young Canne sat calmly in this stew of hopeless sorrow, steeling his own will against the wrenching pains of hunger and wondered where the elder Canne was taken.
Days of rocking seas and whistling winds pass, the young Canne heard a few wandering crewmen talking about how the captain was going to have a little fun with a Canne. The orc rolled his head and stared with blank eyes at the young Canne. “Sounds like Carlon got himself an easy target.” His deep voice sounded like a coat of salt crusted on his throat.
“Let’s be hopin’ yer the only pup ‘es got.” The dwarf on his side wheezed. The eyes of the Canne grew wide and white, rage and fear filling him to the very core. Violently, he pulled at his chains, a low growl rumbling in his throat. The restless rattling caught the attentions of the other conscious captives, a few of which attempted to hush his actions for fear of alerting the crew.
“You’ll never break those chains. Believe me, I’ve tried.” The muscular orc touched the Canne’s shoulder, but the focus of the pup was still fixed on the chain. Holding the chain taught in his paws, he trembled with rage and creaking muscles.
“Lad,” the dwarf wheezed, “we’ve all tried. We must accept that we’re all goin’ to-“
The enraged Canne barked as he bit into the chain with all his might. A slight foam began to build on his lips. The orc and many curious captives watched with hope slowly growing. The growl grew louder as his clenched jaw quivered. The wheezing dwarf turned away feeling bad for the young pup. Then the sound of crunching bone and snapping metal rang in the air like a holy tune. Clattering chains thumped to the floor became the song of rising hopes. Blood dripped from the young Cannes mouth from where his long teeth once were as he stood unbound.
Within minutes, all of the captives were unbound. The orc and the Canne broke their bonds together, freeing all to fend for their lives. The freed captives fought through the ship with the young Canne taking the lead. Invigorated with adrenaline, he fell to all fours and blazed through the crowd of crewmen in search of the elder Canne. Stopping at the main deck, he saw Carlon slashing at the stumbling greyed Canne, accompanied with gurgled yelps of pain coming from the furred victim. “FATHER!” The pup howled, temporarily staying the captain’s blade from a final blow. Carlon gave the young Canne a twisted grin and began a lethal dance for his finishing blow. The young Canne raced to the aid of his father with all the power his muscles could offer. Carlon’s blade targeted the heart of its victim and certain victory sat on the captain’s tongue.
Before the blade tasted another drop of Canne blood, the young Canne latched to the captain’s sword arm with his rage filled mouth, knocking Carlon down by the helm and rending the flesh horribly. Carlon repeatedly punched the biting pup in the head. The Canne released his grip when Carlon kicked him in the leg. The release, however, unbalanced Carlon who fell off the ship. After a brief cooldown, the pup went to the side of his dying father. The aged Canne smiled with blood hanging from his lips, laying in his sons arms. “I am proud to have called you son. You never gave up. I am happy to have been your father. Live your life…make your name…known.” Silent tears dripped onto the fur of the corpse of his father. Bellowing out a mournful howl, the Canne didn’t notice the rest of the crew abandoning ship on the longboats. The other freed captives reached the deck and cheered for their freedom, except for the orc and the dwarf who were at the Canne’s side.
After giving death rites to the deceased, they were given a seaworthy funeral. The Canne took the helm and called out across the deck. “I am Razor Fang! You have your lives. If you want to leave, then live free. If you want to stay, then live free with me.”
