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?"
IP: 76.243.46.249
Posted on December 22, 2011 at 03:25:23 AM by KERSHOV
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Then he caught himself A wink? Since when did a soulless arctic dragon utilize such playful gestures? Kershov cleared his throat and pivoted away to rake yonder pack border with steely dark eyes. No sign of a Bright Moon patrol as of now . . . pity. There had to be some warrior of the other kingdom that had heard Ker’s call, right? The rhythmic pound of paws on earth jerked the Emperor’s attention away from Bright Moon back to his own army. Kershov greeted Marx at the last possible moment. He waited until the ash-painted gladiator skidded to a halt and addressed his Alpha. The moonwhite monster inclined his cranium, barely deigning to look at the silvery soldier. “Marx,” Kershov rumbled. He quietly noted the courteous bow Marx delivered, as well as the careful way the large fighter held himself. Marx could have easily rebelled, created problems, used his considerable muscle to inflict damage on his packmates as a way of defying his punishment—but he did not. No, Marx took his lot in what Kershov grudgingly admitted was a dignified way. Unfortunately, Ker refused to be overawed. Enigma didn’t appear to be with her charge. “Where, may I ask, is my Beta?” the frost-born phantom inquired, ice chipping his words. Hackles began to raise in fury—until Enigma pounded in close on the heels of Marx. She burst through the snow as if she were made of snow herself, ivory pelt blending perfectly with the lace-sewn land behind her. Kershov instantly relaxed. Once his General had stopped by his side, he returned her teasing stare with a glittering glare of his own. He had not forgotten the long-ago conversation, the one that had ended in silent promises and unspoken interest. There was still a lot the massive Monarch wished to learn about his masked Beta. “My dear Enigma—you look as if you know something,” Kershov nearly purred. Finally—and much to the tundra gangster’s pleasure—Fallacy arrived. The pale sparrow flitted into the clearing with perfect silence, pure and emotionless as the weapon Kershov intended her to be. And just at the right time, too. When Starr was absent, Ker relied on his Novacula to act as Head Spy instead. There were some minor details the glacial ghost needed before continuing on his patrol. “Fallacy, slink by their borders for a little recon. Nothing special—I just want to make ascertain who Bright Moon’s current Alpha is. Satowra’s scent seems . . . sparse.” Obsidian windows glanced around at each of his assembled soldiers, silently asking them if they’d noticed the same thing. Kershov didn’t want to jeopardize the entire patrol by traipsing too close to Bright Moon’s walls himself and giving too much away. He did not trust Marx enough to scout by himself, and Kershov hated to let Enigma leave his side just to supervise Marx if he did go ahead. Mamba could go . . . but he needed her strength should Marx decide to rebel against his current situation. “The rest of us will mark our borders.” Kershov strode over to a tree and proceeded to rake his talons down the ice-layered bark. “Mamba—assist me with the outermost edges. Enigma and Marx—take care of the trees closer to Abendrot’s heart. Understand?” Boundaries worked best when they were thick. Ker wanted more than a thin curtain to mark where his territory began. He was about to shred his claws down yet another unlucky tree . . . none other than lovely Aviias decided to grace the pack with her presence. Vague confusion clouded Ker’s thoughts as the creamy fae stopped a few feet from the gathering. Was she . . . actually planning on behaving herself? The white titan decided to give the blue-eyed girl the benefit of the doubt. “Aviias—follow Fallacy to Bright Moon’s edge. If, for whatever reason, you two run into their soldiers, greet them for me. We’re just here to talk.” | |
Replies:
- Watch Me Come Undone - By Enigma December 25, 2011 at 00:02:28 AM
The real me, Forever hidden; - By Venga; December 27, 2011 at 04:39:43 PM
Dug my way out Blood and Fire - By Aviias December 27, 2011 at 07:23:17 PM
snake b i t e - By Deadly Mamba December 28, 2011 at 05:10:16 AM
The real me, Forever hidden; - By Venga; December 29, 2011 at 10:17:46 PM
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