Mountain of Dire Bird's eye view

Intuitively it seemed to Caspian Roc that he could learn more if he could see more. So the Arctic Wolf climbed the highest mountain, the sharp wind and the harsh terrain working every muscle in a manner that was satisfying. He knew the science behind adrenaline. It felt like inspiration, but more tangible; the evident construction of growing strength and the knowledge that one was improving with every step. So it was with a well-worked body but rush of motivation that Roc reached the zenith of the mountain, surrounded by rugged landscape and a swiftly-lowering sun, even though it was only late afternoon. It was a clear day, no clouds in the white sky. He sat on a frosty ledge, the tip of his tail twitching about his haunches, and looked out over the region he had never seen before. Roc could see a multitude of forest, some evergreen (ironically seeming dark blue from up here), and somewhere to the south a hint of a great lake. There was information to learn about every drop of water, every pine needle, every pawprint in the loam. But more still to learn about the individuals that were bound to be living here, their forms unique and their minds full of different goals, delusions, opinions and – inevitably – dastardly secrets.

The mountain was a place Ruiko rarely burdened his presence with. The dispersal of Midnight Plateau and the little that was left of his uncle Honijo’s legacy had crumbled to naught, and Ruiko had found little desire to visit the land where its previous leader laid to rest. His uncle was missing – hopeful thoughts would have it that he was alive, but from the fate of Alexander and Amelie.. it was hard not to wonder if the mountain lion had claimed Honijo’s life as well, yet with more secrecy than the other wolves who had once lived upon the rocky slopes. Disaster was an entity that lurked around every corner, and the tawny male knew that he would meet it once more.

But the past was no longer within the regal male’s thoughts, for the future was what he looked forward to. Scoping the lands for a land to call home, the hefty male’s figure roamed the steep slopes with hesitant ease as sparse rocks escaped from beneath his paws, crumbling to the lower elevations. Day was quick to move to evening, for winter offered the residents of Relic Lore a far shorter day than the summer did. Still, Ruiko was in no rush to return back to a land that would not be his home for much longer, and when his gleaming golden eyes cast upon the stark form of an ivory stranger the wolf’s muzzle lifted slightly.

Pulling up, the Tainn wolf maneuvered his way toward the stranger, never one to usually offer pointless conversation but also carrying the heavy knowledge that with the coming winter, the few followers he had gained would not be enough. “Afternoon,” he rumbled in greeting, his own figure held in a neutral stance as his gaze flitted over the slender yet sinewy figure of the male. “Hard to find company on the mountain these days.”

(This post was last modified: Dec 06, 2011, 06:32 PM by Ruiko.)

Rolling out before him, forests and lakes and little hills, all melting into one another in an assemblage of colours he knew to be called a pallet. The landscape was magnificent, and this was not counting the mountain he stood upon. It had been a long climb and Roc could still feel it in his muscles. Round every corner had been a plummeting drop or a shifting crevice or a maze of gorse bushes, nigh impassable. Each of the mountain's many features made it more interesting to him. Because of the harsh nature of the mountain, Roc had not expected to find company out here. So one long ear tilted as if he'd just noticed something untoward, and he glanced round to see a well-built male that held many of the physical characteristics of a Mackenzie Valley Wolf. “Good afternoon”, he replied, and when the male voiced something similar to what Roc had been thinking only moments ago, he added “these days”. Had it been different before? So Roc spoke his favourite word in the world: “why?” The one syllable was like a clear, low bell, not sounding at all like an over-eager demand or a childish whim, but instead like the trademark word of someone who knows you know something he doesn't, and admires you for it.

The question caught in the cold air – a fair enough query to one who did not know the lands very well and was intelligent enough to scholar themselves in the dangers of the unknown they currently tread. With a light inclination of his muzzle, Ruiko then cast his gaze back out across the harsh landscape, the jutting crags far than welcoming to him. He had never understood why Honijo had claimed a portion of a territory that even sounded foreboding in name. “There was once a pack here on one of the plateau’s. The pack dispersed after its lead male and female were attacked by a local mountain lion.”

Of course, that was not the complete details of the story; Amelie had gone missing with only a smear of blood left behind to mystify her pack members and mate, while Alexander had later been attacked by the predator. Yet Ruiko Tainn had never been one to flourish on the details of life; he preferred to state what was needed and that was it. “It hasn’t been inhabited since, and not a lot of wolves are willing to trek through here alone.”