The forest stands tall and lush here; ancient trees reach weather-twisted arms to the sky, fighting monster-like storm clouds back with their interlacing fingers. Shadow seems to lurk everywhere you look, but it spills calmly, coolly, inspiring a sense of stealthy calm or protection rather than unease. That is, if you've forgotten what kind of creature might be stalking just out of sight...Abendrot is a land cradled by the dark woods on all sides; in the center, some of the larger trees stay behind to reveal a small plateau - a citadel where this pack can gather and defend itself from invaders. There are, of course, softer sides to the land. Clearings here and there allow the sun to throw down its rays in incongruously resplendent gold showers. Ignore the lingering scents of blood spattered here and there along the borders: those do not concern you. The river on one edge of the territory is playful enough when it hasn't been gorged by violent rain. You can choose to note the ragged claw marks raked down tree trunks and the forest floor as friendly "Home Sweet Home" signs, if you wish.

All who treasure loyalty, order, victory, and the occasional indulgence of raw visceral pleasure are welcome, once they've been approved by the ever-watchful eyes of Abendrot's Alpha. But keep one thing in mind: no matter what your motive, this is not a fool's Paradise. This is the land of soldiers, assassins, and spies. This is ABENDROT.

Make up your mind quickly and prepare to prove your worth. You wouldn't want to add to those blood spatters, would you...?

Refresh/Reload

just a slave unto the night [pack members]
IP: 66.85.204.225
Posted on December 1, 2017 at 06:23:30 AM by Harlow

The threshold of spring was upon the young pack of Graes Waegholm though winter was determined to hold on for as long as it could. Bitter cold still laced the air and a thin blanket of snow dusted uneven ground, especially in the higher areas near the rocky ridges and mountain chain. Warm breaths drifted along on faint, invisible currents... but for the most part the territory was deathly still around the black phase Beta standing there on one of the rocky ridges that offered a decent vantage point. Actually, due to the almost ever constant fog that plagued the packlands even during much of the winter, the view from his position was not really a view at all. But it was an excellent location to test the scents which drifted with subtle air currents, especially as the gradually sinking afternoon sun began to signal a drop in temperature and a shifting of the air.

For as long as he could remember, Harlow's sense of smell had always been exceptional and though it had started as an observation in comparing him to his siblings and parents - as he grew, he had learned that it went beyond that. Not in the sense of being magically influenced but simply that he had a natural skill and ability, even over most other wolves he'd encountered later in life his sense of smell was usually above average in comparison. And in that and his sharp mind is where Harlow found his strengths as he worked to adjust to packlife.

A single howl had brought four loners together to answer a stranger's call that autumn - none of them knowing a single thing about one another but somehow willing to put enough trust in the caller to choose him as their leader. Harlow had been doubtful from the beginning, reluctant to align himself so quickly to a stranger and an unproven leader, yet in the wake of the other three strangers pledging themselves to the new pack, the male grudgingly agreed to join as well. Perhaps they saw something that he didn't in the potential leader, something worth a try. They'd all carried different scents on their coats then - mostly lingering aromas from the distant lands they'd all traveled from, but now asides from their occasional excursions out into the free lands, the lot of them carried the scent of their new home and to an extent one another, the distinctive scent of pack.

Yet despite this, Harlow knew little of his new packmates or alpha. The arrival of winter had brought forth a quietness among their number and a scarcity of pack functions. They were truly lucky to encounter one another as each wolf went about their own business with this or that to fulfill their new ranks. It seemed unusual for a pack to otherwise be so quiet at this time of year when it was quite literally the season of the wolf - a time when the predators dined on the weak and males were typically eager to show off for and chase females for a chance to pass on their bloodline. While the rest of the world around them slept or struggled to survive, the wolves thrived and lived.

Though Harlow had waited for such to happen, some evidence of the pack's vitality, he received none. He couldn't even recall the last time that he had encountered their alpha whilst roaming the packlands and even now from atop this rocky perch, Harlow was willing to admit that even his scent did not seem as strong as it once had. But the same was true of his packmates... were they even still loyal to the pack they'd pledged themselves to? Considering the question brought a deep huff from the male's chest at the irony of that... he, the one who'd been the most reluctant to commit to the pack and its leader, was now the one questioning the other's loyalties.

He stood like that for some time, deep in pondering thought, and simply just observing the world around him - deep lobed ears erect and his nose sorting through the vast amount of scents as he breathed. It'd been an uneventful afternoon until his mind flagged a new and unfamiliar scent in the shifting air, faint but distinct along the weak currents. There was nothing entirely recognizable about the scent, but it had the same type of scent characteristic of an herbivore - such as what he had already associated with the elk or bighorn sheep he'd known in his homelands, or even the bison that he'd encountered in his more recent travels. This was different though, a new animal for him. Instantly, his curiosity was triggered along with a yearning for fresh meat... something more sustaining than voles and hares. But the odds of a single wolf bringing down a larger prey animal on their own, out of the one's he had experience with, was highly unlikely... and the odds that he could rally even one of his packmates to join in on a hunt, was that any more likely? As Beta, would they heed his call?

A pack that could not hunt as one (at least a few times throughout the seasons), was not truly a pack at all; and there was only one way to determine what sort of pack they truly were. Taking a moment to draw in a breath, Harlow tilted his muzzle back and a low, smooth howl rolled forth. Graes wolves, let's hunt! When his muzzle dropped, Harlow stood attentively, shoulders squared and tail hung in a loose loop as a sign of subdued authority as he waited for any indication that the call would be answered or if it would go unheard and ignored.

Graes Waegholm Beta – Mated to none – Adult

Played By: Tikki

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