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: 174.22.153.54
Posted on April 17, 2012 at 08:57:56 PM by Knyghte
You see, this is why the blind, yet exceedingly handsome, young adult never quite fit in to pack life. Following Rylee’s scent had been easier done than said (yes, that is put the correct way), and when the pack border came into ‘view’ in the demon’s terms… well, one can say that the gladiator took no hesitation stepping over the borders. After all, all the pack members’ scents (or what he guessed to be the majority) had all gathered in one area of land- and, taking previous knowledge and putting it to work, all Knyghte could do was guess that there was some kind of pack meeting going on. However, when the tri-colored marauder finally did stumble into the clearing where the members had all once been... he was quite late… late indeed. Rylee’s perfume was stale, as were the others, but another musk, nearly the same as the lady’s he was looking for, drifted towards him. There is nothing much to say except that the musketeer went bounding off in that direction, dancing above the ground as if he weren’t even touching it at all. Silence followed wherever he went. No twigs snapped, not even the trees he brushed ever-so-cunningly against rustled. However, Knyghte had been wrong in his judgment of the perfume, and instead of Rylee, the multi-hued hessian found himself facing a totally different member of what he would come to know as Bright Moon. In fact, the trespasser broke out of the foliage nearly moments after the gal announced that she was open for a spar. Uh-oh… Slamming on the brakes, and sliding into the terra with pointed hinds, the duke nearly turned around. But ‘twas too late now, was it not? He was not supposed to be in this neck of the woods without permission anyway. A curse was muttered under his breath towards Rylee, whom he blamed had gotten him in this mess in the first place. ‘ Come to my pack!’ Not her exact words, but close enough. Freaking…. The blue-eyed bandit knew she was going to be a handful the moment she interrupted his leisurely walk at the cavern. Damn girls… always capturing… But the masculine frame had no time to recall the memories he had stored in his head, nor mutter aloud the curses that he was placing towards the girl whose coat color he couldn’t even see. Instead, words spilled out of his maw, fluid and very punctual. Kind, yet strong and very…very… VERY courteous. “Forgive the intrusion, ma’am. However, I believe I should be the one to take on your offer. If you’d let me that is.” Pillars swept across the tundra, and dark plumage rose into the atmosphere in readied battle position. Although a spar would not shed too much blood, and would definitely not be deadly, if Knyghte said something or did something wrong, (such as trespassing haha), this femme would have even more reason to chase him off the land that belonged to someone he didn’t know. In fact, Knyghte didn’t even know this miss’ status here. How do you tell what ranking one has if you can’t see their tassels? A guarded smile crosses his kissers, and pleasantries sing their way past his ivories once more. “The title is Knyghte. Lover of Rylee.” Bold words? Hell yes. "So... shall we dance?" Vampire || Adult || Wanderer || in love with Rylee word count: 561  |
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