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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 photo Kalgalath_zps78b9da12.jpg

Loyalty means nothing unless it has at its heart the absolute principle of self-sacrifice

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Dew dripped from the needles in the trees, falling onto his thick pelt and continuing their descent, rolling down strands of hair til they fell into miniature puddles upon the ground. The slightest sound accompanied their motion, each drip causing his aud to flicker. Though his den, made of a grove circle of firs, kept him dry from storms, warm in the winter, and still against even the strongest of winds, morning dew still grew upon the branches and acted as an alarm clock with the coming of the dawn. Slowly, his lids began to rise even as the bright, fiery, ball in the sky did. Beneath his shades two electric azures peered through, his pupils dilated for no rays pierced through the thick wall of trees surrounding him. His cranium shook, pushing from him the last grasps of sleep from his mind, his focus becoming clearer with each second. His bodice rose from the ground and shook, stray needles falling from his pelt before he leaned back, stretching out his spine. As he straightened, a smile graced his lips – today was finally the day for him to call together his loyal subjects and call to any straying by his borders to come to him, to join this pack and to call these lands home.

Reaching out with a single limb at a time, he stepped through the trees, their branches caressing him and grooming his pelt. Briefly, he paused, the harsh sun burning his gaze until his pupils constricted, allowing vision to return to him. He continued down the slope away from his secret grove, leaping across the river that was but a stream now, its volume depleted from the dry spell that had been present for the last week – yes, indeed they were ready for a rain any day now. The great king ran recklessly ahead, up the other side of the ravine and through his lands which he would know and be able to navigate even if he was blinded.

His goal was to reach the one clearing in his territory where he would climb atop his throne and send out a demanding call to those within earshot. Faster, he ran, occasionally closing his eyes as his limbs flew through the motions faster and faster, his body swerving around obstacles and leaping over falling objects, not a single step unsure. He knew these lands, he was these lands. He had not won it in a fight, but had been voted in as a show of trust and hope. But he had bled and sweat and cried for these lands, he had fought for them when challengers had come to his doorstep. He had defended it against those seeking to damage those within. He had saved the lost. He was these lands.

And now? Now it was time to rally his trusted and welcome the unknown. His haunches tightened and when they released, sent him soaring toward a great boulder, upon which he landed – his throne. Daggers dug into the rock, ceasing his motion, as his head through back, his deep, strong vocals rumbling through his chest aloud, calling for vargs to come before him… to come home.

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**adult*male*ALPHA - Aurora Borealis*tied to Zig none*Father to Aindreas, Adara, Rohan, and Blayre*Azura**
table (c) CRS '13



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