tell me can you s e e m e?

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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tell me can you ^{s e e m e?}
IP: 142.167.19.38
Posted on December 4, 2011 at 10:30:37 PM by tamlin.

The glacial alpha of a paradise reborn had not believed that his jet queen would return. He had despaired, he had moped, morose, in the wild places of the pack that she had left to him. Out of his storming, painful despair had come gradual acceptance, and acceptance came hand in hand with a slowly growing ability to cope with his new, alien life. He was not initially suited to be an alpha. He, Tamlin, was no king, rather he was a knight of the highest calibre. Courtly and chivalrous, he was a defender, a protector of the one that he had chosen. He was her chessman, a faithful beta who would do whatever she wished of him. His loyalty had not been given away without much thought, but after a few glances at her, a few chances to sense her honest nature and raw determination, he had decided that the scarred princess would be his to serve. And then she had left him, deserted Bright Moon. She had not divulged where she was going and what she was going to do, instead merely passing the title of alpha onto him before vanishing from his life. Mourning � yes, they had mourned. All of Bright Moon had come to him, yes, him, looking for reassurance and he had given it to them as best he could. They had decided to trust him and they had developed close ties. He was their leader, in a sense, a paladin whose sole job was to provide for the betterment of the pack. The only reason that he had accepted the job was because he viewed it as an order, something that Satowra had wished for him to do.

He had recently been challenged for the title that had been given to him was his charge. The challenger, a presumptuous male named Blue Fang, had sauntered up to the border and let out a howl that reeked of impunity. Tamlin had been forced away from a pack hunt which would have been the first one that Bright Moon had managed to pull through with. Whether or not his soldiers had continued to track their target � a lean doe, while he was gone was something that Tamlin was not positive about. They had appeared to be fairly excited, but without his urging them on, he wasn't sure if their anticipation would be enough to help them track a speedy herbivore across the Prey Plateau. But back to the challenger and his fate. The fool who had so presumptuously assumed that Tamlin, as a new alpha, would be easy prey had left the crimson clearing with blood seeping from deep wounds. If the brute walked around too much for flexed his neck the wrong way he would die. To be honest, the ivory stallion wasn't feeling too sentimental or remorseful about the fact that he had just maimed a wolf and possible was the cause of his death. He was too serious to be in the air with his standards. The wolf had challenged him � the wolf was hurt. He would expect no less than that. Even if the other brujo had died right there, Tamlin was not naive or whimsical enough to be scarred over such a trivial thing.

Despite the fact that the snowy brute had come away the winner of the fight, he himself was not without injuries. In order to inflict a taunting bite upon his opponent and to get a better stance for the next attack, Tamlin had stood still and allowed the idiotic Blue Fang's attack to hit full force. The slavering canine had come in rapidly, his maw flapping like some sort of fiend as he snapped. Luckily for the defender, the act of snapping caused the flesh of his neck to be mangled more than deeply dug into. The mess still hurt, but it was bearable. The beginnings of a scab was forming around the less-frayed edges. The only other wound that Tamlin had received was a small, shallow cut to his shoulder area. The scrape had stopped bleeding almost immediately and was scabbed over, beginning to fade even, by this point in time, as two nights had passed since the fight. Even though it was a blaringly obvious fact that he was injured, Tamlin could not resist wandering around. He needed to think, so he trudged along the borders of the land, his tail arched proudly over his spine. He resisted the dregs of tiredness that were beginning erode his strength, choosing instead to hold his head high and count his pain as a chance to prove himself.

As he walked, he pondered the events of the past day. His life was in a bit of a confused mess right now, but, strangely, he was blissfully happy. The reason for his existence, the one wolf who he served, his lady, Satowra, had returned. He was wrenched from his peace-filled wondering about her departure and her homecoming by a scent. A female wolf's odour hangs heavy on the breeze. As an accomplished fighter, Tamlin was not wary to go to her alone, for he believed that he would be strong enough to hold is own should she prove hostile. It is for that reason he turns his nimble bodice in her direction. He picked up his pace to a perky but smooth walk. At this gait, it took him a few minutes of movement before his lithe frame parted the scanty greenery before the border.

When he did, however, his navy blue eyes fell upon an image of white. His demeanour is dominant, but not overbearing as he comes to a halt. His jaws part and a commanding voice dances forth into the air, weaving an intoxicating dance in the form of lilting words. "I am Tamlin, alpha of Bright Moon pack." He pauses for a mere moment before his lyrics spill forth again. "What is your name?" His face had been utterly devoid of expression before, but now he offers a slight glimpse of a smile to the brown-eyed femme.

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