aurora borealis- noun plural: An aurora that occurs in northern regions of the earth. Also called northern lights.

In the middle of a dense forest of coniferous trees lies the Aurora Borealis pack, its name coming from its location. At certain times of the year, the northern lights appear, dancing almost magically in the sky. A narrow trail leads you through the close evergreens. Giving into temptation, you begin moving your paws. By venturing into this territory, you are venturing into a land belonging to a pair of feared leaders. You have heard rumors of them...but you decide to take your chances and hope that the tales of blood and death are merely fabricated stories to scare wolves.

You have walked nearly five minutes before you realize the sound of paws stepping somewhere from behind. Deciding that you've made a mistake, you quickly turn around, but find that you cannot go any further. Standing before you is one of the mighty kings you've heard of. His blood red pelt clings over perfectly toned bands of muscle. But that isn't what causes such fear in your veins. One of his amber eyes has a horrid, bleeding scar across it, and his good eye seems to stare right through you. His face is expressionless, giving off none of his intentions. You cower away as his jaws part.

"I'm Hell Demon."

His voice was deep and cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. Right where he left off, another voice picks up from behind you. You whirl around and find yourself facing another male with steely muscles beneath his pelt, which seems to consist of every shade of brown. He had startled you, and you're amazed how you hadn't at all detected his approach.

"And I am Ghost...we're the alphas of Aurora Borealis."

His deep voice was laced thickly with a Native American accent. His own golden eyes are directing a harsh glare your way. Now you're caught in the middle...your breathing has become heavy in your panic and you're not sure which to face.

"You've foolishly trespassed into our territory. You face the one called Hell Demon's whose voice is once more addressing you. Get out, or become a corpse along our border."

It's obvious they mean business. So now it's up to you...take your chances and stay, or heed their warning and waste no time getting out with your life.

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you know no secrets of this angel in Hell.
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...quite a mess. If you bring danger to the borders of this pack, I ensure you that your mess will take a turn for the worse. Lyrics burned into his eavesdroppers, sending pain rocketing against every part of his skull. What had revived him from his near-death state? At first he had thought it to be thunder in the skies that drew ever closer to him, but now the sage-eyed monster realized that it had not been such, but rather the sound of a warning from a femme that now stood next to him. His cheek burned horribly. Had she slapped the side of his face that had not been injured by the fire? Beloved did not show any emotion, instead he stared up at her, unable to move much more than opening his eyes. Blood soaked the ground underneath him, mainly from the slits in his back. He blinked slowly, darkness tinging the edges of his vision. His jowls parted, ivories glinting in the darkness. It was not threat... in fact he was trying to speak to her, but the words were catching in his throat, and he coughed, closing his portals tightly, though only one of them truly worked. A pitiful creature, really. ..I wou... The grayscale titan breathed in, his sides rising with his lungs as the filled with precious air. I would leave. He allowed silence to induce moments between the two of them so that he may remember just what he was doing here. Why was he here? Had he been knocked cold? A quick glance to the gorund reminded him of his injuries and suddenly he was burning. Sometimes, when pain is too great, or a memory is too painful, or perhaps when a heart is broken too cruelly, one may forget that point in time entirely, or block out the person or event that caused him such unimaginable pain. It can be cruel, or it can be a blessing. Beloved, after having gone unconcious, lost all sense of time. He lost Katja, though now he did not know what he had lost, or that he had lost anything at all. He only knew that his pack had thrown him out for something they did not understand; but his memories of being betrothed, of being promised to a creature so fair that heaven had been jealous enough to have a fallen take her life to send up to them sooner than she should have been sent.... they were gone entirely from him. Beloved was his name, and it had never been anything different. I pray Sanctuary, if only for a while. It is well known that the night brings dangers more lethal than myself. It was a warning, and he hoped that she would realize it as such. If he was in this bloodied state, then it would be wise to either 1)get away from him or 2) take him and leave. Of course, Beloved was not from Blossom Forest, nor was he from any neighboring land close by that would be able to claim him. He was from very far away, though he did not realize the distance he had travelled. And now, a culture comparison would show that different vargs, believing different religions, mixing together with others that did not share the same views... could be a dangerous composition.

In any case, he looked to her now, breathing slowly, hoping that the pain would not last, and watching for her reaction. Was she familiar with Sanctuary? Did she know, and was she even able to process the meaning behind it? All he wanted was to sleep, but if he did so here, he knew well enough that he would not wake to any sort of light ever again. The hellion's soul would leave his body for those who had more use of it than he did, and he would be nothing but an empty, lifeless corpse. Inclining his head towards her now, he could feel the heat of his burn as it tore into his skull, impairing his vision-- perhaps he would lose it forever. If she did not reply, he would add in the next sentence, pledging himself to her though he knew that he would not be able to be much help to her unless he was healed before hand. He closed his eyes as he spoke, unwilling to face her and hand himself over. Imagine, a warrior of such a prestigious pack, lowering his status (that really had already been ripped from him-- he knew this though his pride was still attatched firmly to him) and offering his services as nothing more than a slave though truly he was a gladiator. As payment.......anything you ask of me that is within my power, I will do it ten-fold. As you wish it. He breathed out, his listeners seeking out her voice if it was to come. Beloved was not the kind to believe it would. He knew that there were no such thing as miracles. There was only mercy, approval, resentment, and revenge. And so the gargoyle waited, listening to the time tick away towards his death.

...



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