Ruins of Wildwood
Little Minion - Printable Version

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Little Minion - Rhysis - Jan 21, 2014

@Samhain @Phineas @Borlla

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Dragging the carcass leg alongside him, he moved in silence as he led the quiet female to his homeland. He didn't allow her too close to the border, instead he dropped the limb away from the border but close enough that Phineas would hear his summons. Glancing back to the small, scared female he gave her the once over. She was a mess, that was for sure. Not exactly appealing to the eye, not that he would find any female appealing ever again, he hoped that the leaders of the pack would believe his backstory and allow her passage. Upon his recommendation of course, he saw no reason why not; he had shown his loyalty so far and hoped that his opinion had some merit at this stage. She had brought them food, he would vouch for her but after that she was on her own. He would see that he had repaid his debt towards her by seeing her through the winter. He would keep her at arms length, close but not too close, so that she would still be around should he have use for her. Hardly a knight in shining armour but he wasn't really bothered.

He threw his head back and called out for the leaders. Phineas was who he saw as his leader, Borlla he had not much interaction with as she had only been queen for a short time, but anyone would do. He just wanted to get home and sleep. The day had been long and cold, the idea of curling up within his bushy tail was very appealing by this stage.

"Remember the story, mind your manners and offer them the food as they arrive. Show respect, stay low and do not grovel." he said to her before he turned to face the pack borders, lowered his rear to the ground and waited for one of the white wolves to show themselves.


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RE: Little Minion - Samhain - Feb 06, 2014

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@Phineas or @Borlla - Sorry for the horrendous wait.



Silent as the night the brown wolf walked in the shadow of her master, her belly full for the first time in an age after the scavenged remains had been discovered. A welcome boon in the heart of winter. Her mind had dulled to a happy hum, the small sharp voice no longer picking at her shortcomings, her frantic search over. For a moment she had thought to carry the burden herself, after all it was not fitting for a king - a god - to reduce himself to menial tasks, but she dared not to challenge him once he had the gift between his powerful jaws.


Matted and clumped, her fur pulled as she lengthened her strides to keep pace. The scent of others causing her ears to lay flat against her skull, a sharp pain in her rear a reminder of what had happened the last time she had thought to draw too near to a pack. Her head dropped as they slowed, lips pulling smooth to cover her teeth in a submissive grin, her tail tucked loosely between her legs, the tip twitching in a wag of appeasement. She would not fail him and a small whine Yessir was the only sound she made before he sounded out his summons.


Restless for just a moment, her ears sat high atop her head twisting to catch the slightest sound - puffs of steam leaving her parted lips as she took this time to catch her breath. She shifted her weight from one paw to another until she made herself comfortable, legs slightly splayed to balance her weight while they waited. Her rump would not touch the snow until her fate was decided. One way or another.


Now all she could do was wait.


Samhain
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RE: Little Minion - Phineas - Feb 10, 2014

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The borders had slowed significantly – something which appeased to the ivory wolf’s need for quiet and solitude. The winter had been far more than harsh, and as days passed, his once large and bulky frame had thinned within the icy grasp of the season. Defeated by the cold, the man wok each morning, checking his nearly full grown children over before pressing a kiss to Borlla’s crown. Each morning he would slink outside to the world cloaked in snow – the searing white burning his eyes as the sun would play off it – such was a good day, as it meant the sky free of clouds. Other more common days would greet him with grey clouds, usually followed by another storm. Winter could not pass soon enough.


He was prowling close to the borders – the familiar ache of starvation clinging to him in desperation now. Rhysis’ call drew him from his current task: seeking out any form of prey or scrap he could find in which to feed his children. Curiosity only drew him further, for the swarthy male was not known for demanding his time.


He came across the two, his bright eyes sweeping over them before zeroing in on the meat that was now within range. Saliva pooled in his jaws as the scent overcame him, and blinking, his eyes would study the she-wolf instead as his figure lifted higher to a natural dominance. She was an unkempt creature; clearly a loner, and yet his gaze would draw back to Rhysis with question. What did he have here?
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