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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Family. The one word Scythe despised when it hit his auds or rolled off his tongue. He was not one to take kindly to having a family, and moreso having a pack. The ivory brujo prefered traipsing the forest grounds alone, passing by packs' territories without a care inthe world... No cares, that's how he looked on the outside. He could pick up a fight and not need to worry about what his mate ould think, or his packmates. No one could possibly stand in his way. Except... an alpha... come the time when he met with one.

And these were the constant thought's circuiting around Scythe's brain as he ventured the forestlands, the many different pack scents reaching his nostrils. He continued through the territory, pondering his many personalities and what would possibly make him change. A mate, yes, one that showed him how to love. That could change him in a heartbeat. A pack, maybe. They might show him how teamwork is better than traveling alone. But the varg continued on, past the scents of valkyries, past the scents of packs, until his cream-brown pillars tired, and forced him to rest for a while.

As he rested, the ivory brute noticed an interesting intermingling scent. It was a pack territory, and he was resting right on the border. He didn't dare lift his nose to the air and call out to the pack alpha, but kept a stony gaze locked on a distant tree. He didn't care. Not one bit.


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