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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Posted on June 5, 2016 at 07:01:26 PM by Dante
the darkest places in hell are reserved for those who __________________________________________ The last wave-like echo of the thunderous steps faded away into the dusky evening. Light beams filtered through the branches and the top of the clearing. Every sound resounded through the thin-framed Queen’s mind with deafening tones, even if they were only mere whispers. Even the sound of her own hitched breath made her skull pound, and her vocals were pure hell the bear, but she forced herself to speak. She had to stand tall for her warriors. They had conquered above all else even when others feared they could not accomplish it. And though they had all suffered Bright Moon was now theirs. There was no need to leave the comfort of home. The Ethiopian couldn’t help the reminiscing, slightly pain filled smile that fell across her lips. It had been so long since she had been any place she could home. After the homicide of her parents the young lady had never thought she would ever find a place to call home again. She had spent so long wandering from place to place that she had lost all sense of it. Dante had lost herself. She forgot what it had meant to be a Seeker, the memories of her parents became distorted and for nights on end she would cry herself to sleep because she could not see their faces any longer. Her father and mother, King Cypresius and Queen Akela, but slowly Dante had pulled herself together. She rose up out of her sorrows, like a phoenix from ash renewed in her commitment to life. And here she was again feeling the same momentous rise, though now she felt it alongside her family of warriors. Slowly her vocal calling reached out to each of them, pulling them closer to her. Rodan’s form caught her eye and she watched as his body swayed back and forth. The look in his eyes was distant and the white warrior seemed to barely register the words that were being spoken. Dante stood up in anticipation of rushing to his side. She felt as if she had underestimated the damage that had been inflicted and now she was watching its full effect. A singular word hardly escaped his maw, Healer. And she watched in horror as his body rushed to the ground and collided with a thud… Dante looked up at the sound of paw steps and another fall, and to her side rested Nimueh who was staring up at the wolfess that would likely save them all – Hellene. The timberesque lady had a mouth full of herbs but this did not stop her from barking out orders. Aye. Now stay still and stop your squirming until I get to you. Dante couldn’t help the small smile that broke her concentrated façade as Nimueh looked utterly confused. The woman was blatant about her sexual preferences and took every chance she could to flirt, but to be put down like that without a second thought seemed to be a first. Dante herself had played into the antics, and the heated sensation that filled her chest and limbs was a testament to the magic behind Nimueh. Dante, I dare say you have the oddest set of friends. The Ethiopian Queen giggled quietly, And you are no exception Madame. Dante tossed a wink towards the Iberian lady, before pulling her stormy-violet visionaries towards the Shaman. Reporting for duty, with regards from Kalgalath. She dipped her crown respectfully, Thank you Hellene—, but her speech was interrupted by a coughing sound from her last compatriot, Dakota. Rodan needs the most immediate attention. Show me what to do, I’ll help her; at least hold her over while you tend to him. Please. Dante turned to the earthen warrior and pressed her nares into his shoulder for comfort, before turning back to the Aurora Borealis healer, Dakota is correct, Rodan must be tended to first. I know very basic healing and can tend to the superficial scratches on either Dakota or Nimueh. Other than that I will need your directions. Dante knew the basics but that was merely in the case that she could get them cleaned and covered until a more suited wolf could tend to them. And that was what she going to do until Hellene was able to help Rodan. She didn’t even stop to think about the gash on her skull. The slowing flow of blood was almost impossible to feel under the already caked blood and matted fur. She wanted nothing more than to help her family, she wasn’t going to let any of them die on her watch, and Dante didn’t think Hellene would either. With that in mind Dante padded towards Nimueh, Care to let me help you? She teased lightly, but was still serious in some form. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer and before the woman could protest she began to gently lick at the open wounds, her tongue grazing at the surface carrying away the dirt and particles that threatened to bury themselves into the open tissue. Dante knew that the healing process would be a long one for both Nimueh and Rodan. Her own wounds were more extensive than she wanted to give them credit for. The gash across her skull was hearty and it was likely she had suffered a minor concussion of some kind to top it off, but she tried to keep those thoughts from her mind as she attempted to help her Iberian woman. __________________________________________ maintain their neutrality in time of moral crisis;; | Child of the Inferno | Shadow of Alesana | |
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- My heart yet pumps, the poison draught of you - By Nimueh June 5, 2016 at 10:46:35 PM
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