(Authors note. I wish to thank and give credit to my good friend fopfox here on SF for helping with editing this work and also with advice on writing. please after reading this go and check out fopfox's stories its the only way I can think of repaying him for helping me and being such a good friend) 

A Biography of a human

Prologue

My name is Alexander Kartanou, also known as “Xander" to my friends and family, but then again I have had many names over the course of my life, for now, though, I will use my birth name. I was born of the union between Vernier and Sofia Kartanou on a spring day after a fierce, stormy winter; my mother always said the newly blossomed flowers announced my birth.

Of my immediate family I will start with my father Vernier son of my grandfather Johannes; he was a tall man well built with black hair and blue eyes ironically despite his large appearance he had a weak will and was putty in my mothers hands. I vividly remember my grandpa Johan always saying to my father “why must the god punish me with siring a son with great physical strength but with such a weak and cowardly will what have I done to deserve this!" thinking back on that quote made me snicker quite a bit grandpa Johan was never the one to disguise his disappointment in my father and was quite witty about it as well that's probably were I inherited my wittiness from; my father he worked as a lumber jack and timber merchant thats where his height and strength came in handy. As a father he was way too good to me, never once did he discipline me or yell at me.

My mother Sofia, now, she was the real master of the house; her plain brown hair and eyes hid such a fiery, strong and dominate will that it surprised everyone. She handled everything from cooking and raising me to managing the finances of my fathers timber business. She was the one disciplined me but she was never physical with it though whenever I did something wrong she pulled me aside and told me firmly why what I did was wrong and made me always make it up to her some way. I remember how she and grandpa Johan would get in such massive arguments of over such small thing like what plates look better with the food being served all the way to big thing such as how I was being raised and poor helpless weak willed father trying pathetically to pander to both sides.

Then last but not least, there was my old grandfather Johannes, the patriarch of my family and my life, having a face full of wrinkled with completely white hair and dark powerful eyes, he had a will that no one would mess with; he was fiercely independent and was as tough as an old boot. He would always refuse help and hated it when some one took him as being a frail old man so much so that he would get quite violent verbally with anyone who dare even suggest it. I remember one time when my grandpa once tripped and my father thought it would be a great gift to make him a nice cane for him. When he opened the gift and saw it, it was like a volcano blew up. “How dare you; you in-grateful weak willed son, how dare you humiliate me with this and say I'm old!" with that he took the cane my father had spent months on and snapped in half on his knee and tossed it into the fireplace and said “Made a nice fire, at least!" and left; I too had to leave the room so I could laugh without making father feel bad.

I was born in small village on an island called Safehaven somewhere in the Pacific Ocean; it was an emerald jewel in the middle of a sapphire plane, a hideaway from the anarchy that our world hath fallen in those many millennial ago. My Ancestors fled there along with others during the chaos of “their" rise to dominance and humanity's decline . I had never seen one of “them" before but I heard stories of “them" when I was young from my grandfather Johannes who heard from his grandparents, and so on and so on. “They" were canines and felines but stood and walked upright, with razor sharp teeth and claws.

Oh, his stories I loved them so much; he told me we humans were once almost divine and had control over nature, weather and everything else. Those massive villages called “cities" we humans once built, houses made of of metal and glass that were so tall they pierced the clouds, metal carts that moved without horses, magic torches with no flames and big metal birds that people could fly into the sky with; oh, how I envy my Ancestors for living in such a time, to have lived before they arose and destroyed everything.

All knowledge and records were lost in the anarchy, only stories and myths remain. No one knows for sure how they came to be or the exact course of events; all that I know, is what I learned from my grandpa's stories, that they rose up in alliance and led a crusade against humanity and everything it stood for; they destroyed everything, our glorious cities leveled and crumbling ruins left in their wake, our triumphant armies decimated. Battlefields with lakes and rivers of crimson, and those humans not butchered were cruelly enslaved. We tried to stop them with any magic we had, not even the “sun bombs" that could wipe out entire cities and leave behind a deadly sickness. To prevent our knowledge and magic from falling into their hands, we destroyed it and fled to areas like Safehaven. After humanity was defeated their alliance fell apart and they fought amongst themselves.

These stories gave me such vivid nightmares; the worst, by far was the one where I was lost in the dark and crumbling ruins of one those old human cities. The palace was unnervingly quiet and I started feeling the telltale sensation of dread. I was being watched by something I knew it. I stood there surrounded by the empty, dead city, crying for my parents, my friends, for anyone, when I was silenced by a loud howl that pierced the night and echoed off the hallow buildings. I jerked around and saw this horrible wolf beast perched upon a fallen statue like a predator ready to swoop down on its prey, piercing yellow eyes full of hate and hunger glaring at me. Glistening in the low, moon light were his obsidian claws and ivory fangs. I couldn't move. I stood there, frozen, staring back at the monster, who slowly edged closer with a low, guttural growl; then, with a great lunge, he was atop of me with his fangs around my throat.

I awoke with such a fright that nothing could get me back to sleep. After that my parents told my grandfather to stop telling me those stories. I was such a coward back then, wasn't I? That stories of walking cats and dogs could have scared me so much. But life on Safehaven was idyllic and peaceful, I had nothing to worry about back then.

If only I could go back and appreciate it, just once…

But after that summer day, when I was just six years old, things would never be the same. Life in Safehaven was just the calm before the storm...