Bright Moon - a land sullied by mystery and the ravaging scars of a terrible fire. Abandoned as a pack land for years, the terra has been used as a gathering place for the brazen and bloodthirsty drawn there by the lingering pall of death. Yet from the ashes there comes an unordained phoenix, the rainbow hues of hope glinting in her mismatched globes. Through the obsidian drapes obscuring the scenery, she alone was able to catch the perfumed aroma of new life on the breeze and hear the sluggish streams flowing ever swifter into the morning.
Thus, with a purpose, she set out to map the incognita, discovering daily the extent of the reawakening and unearthing within herself a desire to return the landscape to its former glory. Now she stands tall as privileged Alpha of the lands, lording over the rock-strewn prairie and bountiful forests with a firm but gentle paw.
Having finally realized her deepest longing to be a queen, Satowra is focused solely on the revival and maintenance of the Bright Moon Pack. Her question to each prospective warrior that comes to the border is simple:
"Do you have what it takes?"
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Posted on June 27, 2011 at 08:13:10 AM by Celtic
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"Courage does not always roar. Sometimes it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" Celtic's grandmother had told her that. She was a wise wolf and Celtic adored her and looked up to her. She hung onto her every word. If someone had told her that her grandmother had lied, she never would have believed them. Some would say it's naive or childish, but Celtic knew that if her grandmother had, indeed, lied to her, it had to have been for a good reason. She learned many things from her. She learned patience, to never lose hope, and that life was something to be cherished not tolerated. Her grandmother had taught her the ways of the ancient wolves. If she took a life, it was only to survive and she thanked the animal for it's sacrifice. She recoginzed that the world around her was in constant motion because of her grandmother's teachings. There was a slight zephyr today. It was a cool breeze, but not unbearably so. It ruffled her fur and she rejoiced in the feeling. Celtic could feel the dirt between her toes as she explored the area around her. She stopped to look down at her feets and thought about how the earth below her paws had living creatures beneath it. The soil that she walked upon grew the vegetation that fed the prey that filled her belly. The trees grew tall from the earth, silent witnesses to the passage of time. She lifted her pale, grey gaze from the loam towards the trees. She lowered her eyes just long enough to pad over to sniff the air. She could smell the scent of other wolves. That can wait, she thought. She was still in no-man's land. She once again glued her pallid orbs to the trees, wondering what sorts of things they have seen. How many births and deaths have you seen?, She silently inquired. She knew that the tree couldn't answer but that never stpped her from wondering. Celt was a dreamer through and through. She was a peaceful wolf but she was well aware that peace wouldn't keep her alive She would fight for her life if necessary. She wouldn't hesitate. She was older than her years but considering that she was raised by her grandmother and spent most of her free time with the elder wolves learning from their stories, what could you expect? The rather ordinary female's nostrils twitched as the scent of other wolves once again intruded. She inhaled deeply. Her brain sorted out the scents: wolves, birds, heather, water, grass, etc. The main scents that interested her were those of the canine nature. She had been travelling for a few weeks now and had only come across a few lone wolves. It was always nice to travel with them. However, most of them were loners by choice and left a day or so later. How wolves could be loners for long periods of time was beyond her. She craved the companionship that a pack could provide. You were never really alone so long as you had a pack. She followed the scent, pausing occasionally to smell a flower or watch a bird soar overhead. She was perfectly content with life and had no reason to be in a hurry. Sure, she was excited that the opportunity to join a new pack was up ahead, but why rush towards it? Life is sweeter when you enjoy it. She had been alone this long. What is another half hour? Celtic slowly travelled on, breathing easily, tail held high, with her tongue lolling lazily out of her parted lips like a pink salmon who had given up fighting the lack of water. She kept going, one foot in front of the other. On and on. When the scent became overhwhelmingly strong, she slowed down. Her grey plume lowered but did not tuck between her long legs. Her ebony nostrils flared as she lowered her nose and inhaled the scent of the invisible border. Although the odor of urine is pungent, it is useful. By sniffing the clearly marked territory she discovered that the borders had been marked somewhat recently. She also learned that the wolf in charge was female which suited her just fne. She knew that many of her littermates often dreamed of seducing male alphas to gain a position. Celtic was against that practice. She believed in earning her position and earn it she shall. She exhaled loudly, expelling the musk from her. She briefly panicked. What if they don't accept me or find me to be a threat?, she wondered. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled. She sat there quietly breathing for a few minutes to calm herself. Once she had regained her cool, she lefted her maw tp the heavens and let her vocals erupt. Her howl was part song and part plea for audience. Once satisfied that someone from the packlands had heard her song, she ended it and lowered her head. She lowered her tail even lower so that it would be clear to whoever greeted her,that she was not a threat. She did not lower her body for she planned to do that once she set sight on a member of this pack. Only then would she roll over onto her back to expose her tender throat and stomach in the ultimate form of surrender. Ooc: It's been a very long time since I have roleplayed so I hope that this will do until I get back on my feet. Celtic Female | 3yrs | Loner Photo by Hush. Steal it and die. |
Replies:
- I see through the eye of the storm - By S a t o w r a June 27, 2011 at 12:34:20 PM
Courage does not always roar - By Celtic June 27, 2011 at 10:46:21 PM
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