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THIS. Is a book I'm working on writing. So yeah. I am also in the middle of making changes, as my writing style keeps changing and getting better and stuff so yeah.

INTRO:

In a galaxy far removed from our own stands a planet unlike any other. Just like Earth, it bares life; it is abundant with water and plant life, and even intelligent life. In fact, this other planet contains far more life that is intelligent then Earth.
This planet is known, by many of the inhabitants, as Hetra. It’s a world of creatures nigh unheard of; a world of vampires, werewolves, elves, even dragons. That’s not to say there weren’t humans, or other creatures more familiar to Earthlings; they were just rare.
Hetra has endured war after war; while her children claim to admonish fighting, they do it year after year.
The wars lasted anywhere from weeks to years, perhaps even centauries if the Hetrans got especially into it. They shifted power from one race to the next, one tribe to another. In all the hatred and violence, old knowledge was forgotten and new stories were cooked up. Alliances shifted, breaking ancient brotherhoods between vampires and elves, between humans and elves. Each war brought a new era, and even the times off peace gradually shifted things on Hetra.
The latest war has been over for almost two thousand years, and although it was long over the fear it had caused lived on. The war had started all those many years ago, when the werewolves decided that the world should be theirs. Why they thought this may always be a mystery, but whatever their motives they acted fast. They formed a huge army that swept across Hetra, covering the land in a cloud of terror that lasted each of the twelve years of the war.
The races fought the rule of the werewolves with all their strength, but by that time vampires and elves, the only two beasts that werewolves feared, were thought to be extinct. Without the strength of them, those who were said to be born of the gods themselves, it wasn’t long before much of the werewolves’ opposition laid down their arms and surrendered. The ones who’d fought most venomously against the usurpers were killed on the spot, while the rest were enslaved.
To those who were enslaved, it seemed as if Hetra was lost to the werewolves forever. Fortunately, it wasn’t so.
A man by the name of Utorin was the leader of one of the bands that resisted the werewolves. Instead of attacking the werewolves head on, the Utorin all but fell off the face of the planet, striking unexpectedly at caravans of werewolvish supplies and food chains. They would attack the werewolves as they moved from town to town, killing every werewolf present and freeing whatever prisoner or slave they came across. No matter the circumstance, Utorin himself would come to whoever was freed and ask them if they wished to join him.
Those who said yes wouldn’t be heard of for a few years; they were brought deep into the forests that werewolves dared not explore where they were taught secrets passed on and on down the lines of those under Utorin. They were taught the side of his followers that was unknown to any outsider. They were taught his true plan.
Utorin was no ordinary man. He was a half-elf, and with the blood of the elves running through his veins he knew, and could do, amazing things.
And one of the amazing things he knew was of the existence of vampires and pure blooded elves. While it was hard to deny the existence of elves, thanks to Utorin and other half bloods, few believed that elves of pure blood still existed. And fewer still believed vampires were anything more then a fantasy. But Utorin was different. He not only knew those people were wrong, he could speak and read and write the languages. He knew lost vampire and elvish secrets, and these were taught to everyone who joined his cause.
Yet there was downside to his elvish and human heritage. He had a much longer life then a normal human, but he was susceptible to old age. It was old age that finally claimed his life, nearly a hundred years after the war had drawn to a close. It was a miracle he hadn’t gone sooner, as he was already ancient by human standards before the war, but aged or not his death caused turmoil amoung his followers. For several years, they receded deep into the forests in which they taught their recruits.
Sometime after, a number of forest-dwellers appeared and took up the duties that Utorin’s men had abandoned, attacking the caravans of werewolves and taking in whoever they freed, killing all else. They were the children of Utorin’s followers, but they were not the only ones.
They left the forest and began the legacy of the Utari; those who carried on in Utorin’s footsteps with the goal of freeing Hetra from the werewolves. But they never returned to the forest of their birth. Instead, they kept those that they saved with them, training and teaching them as they teased the werewolves, although within the first few years many of the new recruits disappeared.

It’s now 1,865 Y.o.W.; Years of the Werewolf. The Utari have become legendary, keeping the werewolves in check… at least the boundaries of their territory. The werewolves try to put off the Utari as a minor problem, but their slaves, the children of every other race, knew the truth. The werewolves were scared of the Utari. For some reason, the frontier dwellers terrified the werewolves.
Unfortunately, the werewolves aren’t the only ones with things to fear. With their new status as controllers of the whole world, they’ve developed a taste for blood. A taste that none of their enslaved pets can keep up with. With their newfound lust, they’re slowly driving humans, dragons, anthros, and even their fellow werecreatures extinct. As things stand, there are only twenty werecats left, three of which are with the Utari.
Something has to break, and soon, or else Hetra may become a world made up solely of werewolves.

CHAPTER ONE:

The blonde-haired young man sighed to himself, carefully dragging a bag of grain down the aisle at the center of the barn. He’d already dragged the bag’s ten companions to the storage area and it was this one’s turn now.
The problem was that this one had a rip at the top, and he was moving it as slowly and carefully as he could. Gods forbid he let even one grain hit the floor. He cringed at the thought of that happening, his back twinging as if it knew what he was thinking.
Akari was a slave, a human slave, to be specific, working in a stable near the edge of the werewolf’s realm.
He had an average body, with only the muscle he needed for his job and a height of about six feet. His eyes were a dull green, and the only unusual thing about him was his hair. It was a stark blonde; a colour that, by unstated law, was reserved only for vampires, the archenemy of werewolves... Maybe that’s why it was always cropped so short, so roughly that he had scars on his ears from when his hair was cut.
At about twenty-three years, he was pretty old… for a slave. Then again, that may have been because the only werewolf that touched him was his master; his master got very angry whenever anyone so much as looked at him wrong, and he wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful or afraid of that, but hey. It cut down his abuse to about once or twice a week.
Sighing again, the man shook his head and focused back on the bag he was moving. He pinched the rough material of the burlap bag together, reducing the chance of spillage. He could remember a time when doing this would actually hurt, but that time was no more. Thanks to the calluses on his fingers.
He was just debating how to get the bag up onto the rise in the middle of the barn when a large, scaly head popped out of one of the stalls beside him and let out a rumbling murr.
“Jeco!” he yelped, almost losing his grip on the bag of grain before he grinned. Resting the bag of grain on a bare knee, he reached out and rubbed his knuckles over the rough, gray snout of the dragon. That deep murr grumble in the reptile’s throat and it’s beady black eyes screwed up, making a look of pleasure that was hard to see on a dragon’s face. But Akari saw it, and it made him laugh. “Mean old Half-Tooth been around today?” he asked the dragon, as if it could answer back.
Amazingly, it did seem to understand him, and it snorted with as much contempt as an animal could muster. A disgust beyond it’s species on it’s face, the dragon pulled it’s head away from the human and gave him a look that no one else would have been able to decipher.
All the look did for Akari was to make him grin.


(IGNORETHEFOLLOWING)
Akarna, Jesik, Seku, Lesko, Kesta, Tesona, Utona, Leka, Hetara, Trako, Eslo, Letesa, Okartol, Kytoli