The air is heavy as you make your way through unknown territory, as you pause to sniff the air a drop of rain falls onto your nose. It is soon followed by another and another and soon the rain is pelting down in sheets, soaking you to the bone. The clouds are an angry purple and the menacing drumming of thunder rolls over the sky. Squinting your eyes against the blinding water you find yourself at the edge of a large, dark pine forest. You are too desperate for shelter to notice the scents that mark the border and plunge in, and nearly into the chilly stream that runs through the territory. You veer away and as you are shaking the water out of your fur you notice a large pair of icy blue shards gazing at you. The storm has passed now and beams of sunlight filter through the thick canopy of pines, illuminating a massive male wolf not three feet away from where you stand.
His pelt looks like a bad patchwork job of black and white and beneath them you see large, hard bands of steely muscle and you know this is a warrior for his torso is marred with many battle scars. His banner curls over his back and his lips are drawn, exposing sharp ivory daggers. When he speaks his voice is deep and dominant, like the thunder you so recently heard.
"Wolf, you have found yourself in the terra of the Andere Seite Pack. I am Eclipse, king of this land."
It is only then that you notice another pair of lanterns gleaming in the penumbra and a dark-pelted fae slinks out into the clearing to stand next to the king, her own banner waves and her green and blue eyes bore into you. She is the same size as most males and a crisscrossing pattern of scars show that she too can take care of herself. Her voice is cold and has a snake-like sound to it yet you can see they are both fair rulers.
"And I am Nephthys, queen of Andere. We don’t care much for strangers so you must make your choice, Submit to us now or flee our lands and never return. If you fail to do either you will have little time left to regret it."
The formidable pair pierces you with their gaze and you feel as if all your secrets spill out before them. You are left with a decision now. Will you submit and take refuge in this dark forest or will you flee and never know what secrets these trees hide? Make haste, you can see that the pair grow tired of waiting.
IP: 140.106.192.35
Posted on February 29, 2012 at 04:35:37 PM by VLADYA
 | This was all pretty much utter bullshit. What kind of coward slunk around in fear, anyway? What real wolf was so paranoid, so dreadfully concerned for his own hide that he had avoided contact with anyone for over a year? Apparently Vladya, because the white dragga hadn’t left the mountains since coming to this god-forsaken land in order to avoid running into his old Alpha. Goddam wimp. All of Vlad’s ferocious energy? Wasted on running. His pointless aggression? Reserved for prey. The last time he’d fought something? That would have been last week, when a blizzard almost buried him alive. He’d fought hypothermia. At least the arctic demon had snapped out of his shameful depression long enough to rethink suicide—snow born or not, Vladya preferred his lungs un-crushed by tons of ice. He had thought about ending his miserable existence by leaping off a cliff . . . but like the countless times he’d planned it before, the broken warrior refused. Those times Vlad had chosen to keep suffering. In a perverse way, the bleached beast thought that he deserved a slow, painful death over an easy escape as a way to repent for his desertion. He’d grown up as a victim of the tundra, its laws and harsh realities carved into his very soul like battle scars. Kershov ensured that his boys knew where their loyalties lay; the ruthless gangleader had ripped their bodies and spilt their blood to make them remember that the gang was their home, the gang was their life, and all they had was each other, and their bond was sacred, and any cur that ever dared betray that bond was no better than a carcass—and a carcass was their fate should they ever try. So yeah, Vlad struggled through a few issues for a long, long time. He lived in constant terror that Kershov would send his new pack after him and drag his sorry cadaver back to Abendrot for further punishment. He wrestled with rage—at himself, at his old boss—for cowering and hiding when he should have been out brawling and screwing and murdering any varg that foolishly crossed his path. The furious blue flame in Vladya’s chest was flickering, always burning, but it was a weak and sick shadow of its former blaze. He needed a change. Seriously. It couldn’t go on like this. That’s why, rather than contemplating death again by the precipice of a cliff again like a dumbass, Vladya was travelling down the blizzard-battered mountains to—surprise—find a pack. He still had absolutely NO desire to see Kershov—fuck that. Vlad preferred not to die, thanks. A few bullshit rumors had reached his ears about Ker becoming more welcoming, less savage; evidently, some of Abendrot’s top-ranked soldiers were female. Since when had Kershov ever considered leading a band of she-wolves?! They must have been some pretty tough bitches, to deal with the black-eyed monster’s style of leadership . . . whatever. Vlad wasn’t going to visit them. He would never even scent Abendrot’s borders if he had his own way. That was one pack knocked off the list . . . but where else could the frosted phantom go? Spring grounds was out, obviously. Vladya liked pretty flowers and all, but the pack had a reputation of being far too cheerful for his tastes. He would most likely tear off a few tails before being driven away by a horde of smiling optimists. The ivory warrior passed up Cold Summers and Saw Tooth simply because he hadn’t psyched himself up enough to grow a pair and wait by their territory walls. Every second Vlad spent traversing this land, out of his element, exposed, vulnerable, he felt as if someone were peeling off his skin. His pace never dropped below a staccato trot; every muscle clenched in suspicious tension; a wild light glared from darting pyrite eyes, as though by looking everywhere he could Vladya might suddenly reveal a crouching enemy. At one point, the alabaster gangster considered pelting back to the mountain— But he didn’t. He was done with that crap. Who better to shield him from Kershov’s wrath than another pack, right? . . . Right? “Shit,” the bone-colored bandit muttered to himself. It was a statement of his life so far, and every humiliating decision he’d made. Vladya made the stubborn resolution to walk right up to the border of the next pack he saw and demand entry—no matter what. Well . . . as long as that pack wasn’t Abendrot: in that case, back to the mountains he’d run. Grim, determined, the colorless dragon broke into a ground-eating lope, pale form gleaming like a ghost in the cool evening light. Soon his sensitive nares caught the signature musk of Andere Seite. A distinctly feminine perfume drenched the air possessively. A female Monarch. Great. Just the change of scenery Vladya needed. Tongue lolling from his maw and muscles writhing nervously under a scar criss-crossed coat, Vlad halted just outside the kingdom line. He dare not howl, in case his song carried too far into unwelcome ears. Instead the rugged bastard stood: columns straight, tail down, ready for anything. |
Replies:
- +you cannot catch the wind+ - By Amara March 3, 2012 at 08:09:46 PM
- By FF March 10, 2012 at 12:44:09 PM
b l o o d & s n o w - By Seline. February 29, 2012 at 09:34:33 PM