Bramble Falls a leaf upon the breeze

@Namid

A sedentary lifestyle doesn't suit him – not anymore.  He had been settled, for lack of a better word, content in his warm den.  It was comfortable, but it was only that.  The male had, albeit temporarily, forgot his true ambitions for the world, caught up by the oncoming breeding season.  (And fat lot of good that did him.  For all the courtship and wooing he'd attempted, outsiders fell upon them and he did not find Urotho until it was all over – everything was over.  He had her, at the very least, but the theft of his prize left him wanting.)

So he moved.

Not much interested in bandiage, he turned his paws southward this time.  The badger woman was aware, and left to her own devices – she was a grown wolf, after all, and had her own things to tend to.  Domination didn't tend to be of her particular interest.  That was more his realm.  His vastly unoccupied realm…but all in good time.  Having only moved to these woods, it would not serve him well to make a nuisance of himself to those well established among these mighty trees.

An afternoon turned into an evening, and the evening turned into the next day.  Onwards he moved, driven by curiosity.  Still, he had not come across a pack – was it true, there was so much free space for a wolf to roam?  Certainly more appealing than the ocean cliffs he missed, he had to admit.  Perhaps if he found a suitable spot, he could throw down more permanent roots, and become one of the great figures of the forest.  The thought had the corner of his mouth lifting upwards, pleased with the prospects his new home might offer him, when his nose twitched and caught a faint scent.

A female.  Alone?  He couldn't tell.  Another wolf, all the same.

Breaking into a relaxed lope, he barked once hoping to lure out the stranger, curiosity overtaking the need for care.  He wanted to know – who roamed here?

(This post was last modified: Aug 19, 2015, 06:23 PM by Kjors. Edit Reason: Territory. )

This day, Namid had dared to go a bit farther from their borders to scout for the potential members that had been failing to make themselves shown nearer to the homestead. While that had also been a goal, she also was out in search of more prey. While spring had sprung, the prey around the lake still seemed to be taking a lazy day and staying in their burrows. Their catches had seemed to be stunningly empty, and many of them carried the scent of the wraith Primrose. While she couldn’t suspect the woman of raiding their caches because of her part in the pack, she still suspected that she had some ulterior motive in place. In the back of her mind, she thought that before long they wouldn’t be seeing any of the dove colored woman anymore.

However, that was a conversation for another time. At that moment, the expecting mother meandered along the Sacred Grove, just down the mountain from Lost Lake. Her nose was raised to the sky, twitching as it scented the air for both prey and wolf and her ears swiveling this way and that to catch each sound that was made. Suddenly, the thud of pawsteps made its way toward her and she paused in her own tracks. A bark was heard, a greeting by the tone of it, and she waited as they grew closer. Before long, a male of dark stature and a single bright golden eye made himself known. In place of the missing eye, a long scar took its place and many more riddled his pelt. This man had seen many a fights in his lifetime, which seemed to longer than hers, and she was curious as to whether she should feel suspicious of him or respected of him.

Only one way to find out.

Offering a bark of her own in greeting, she stood her ground and waited for him to give the first words here.

Following his nose, he came upon the stranger. Ears swiveled forward, his single orb locked onto her as he held his banner proudly above his back. Hackles remained smooth upon his back, and when the woman offered a short salutation of her own, his flag fell a fraction as he relaxed. He'd not the mood for a fight, and by the looks of it, the female was not in the right state for a scuffle either. Initial concerns put to bed, he tipped his head to one side and offered another, softer chuff. Kjors came here with no violent intentions – his blood lust had been slaked upon his arrival to Relic Lore, and now only curiosity drove him onwards.

When the lightly colored fae stood her ground, he did the same, planting his haunches to the ground. If anything, it only illustrated his confidence, and his disinterest in anything other than a conversation. "lo," he greeted the stranger, bobbing his head in a more official greeting. "Lucky me, t' find such a fair lady 'pon me wanderings, aye? Can't say tha' was what Ah expected, travelin' down 'long this way."

While truth wasn't usually his poison of choice, Kjors did not feel inclined to feed the other wolf any lies. It served him no purpose, and the honest word could not harm him here. Exploration was his only goal – meeting another soul was only a bonus. A reward for the bold, he thought to himself, and a small smile settled upon his muzzle. "Me name's Kjors. Kjors, th' One-Eyed Dragon. Pretty self explanatory," he chuckled, winking his single orb. "Wha' do Ah call you, lassy? What're y' doin' all by yer lonesome?"

Namid noted his stance, one of pride and dominance though she wondered why he felt the need to show it. She knew she hadn’t crossed any borders, something of which she had been careful to keep mind of due to the various packs popping up all over Relic Lore. Though he showed this stance, she considered the fact that he seemed non-threatening. While his stance said power, it also said peace even with his disheveled and rather off-putting appearance. It was because of this she paid no mind to it, keeping herself neutral. Despite her position within her own lands, she had no need to show it off outside of it. However, it was still clear she was of higher position by the slight, natural poise of her chin and posture that she had learned to adopt.

The rugged brown man opened his maw to speak, his tongue rolling off an accent that only added to his bizarre composure. It was certainly an accent she had yet to hear, leading her to believe he was of a land definitely not around theirs. Of course, she couldn’t say much as her own accent was noticeably different from the common lands as well. He announced himself as Kjors, the ‘ One-Eyed Dragon’ despite the noticeable lack of wings and fire. She could have chuckled, as she saw the irony and where he had possibly gotten part of the name from. However, her facial expression remained friendly and conversational. A dip of her head led to her reply, “Hello, Kjors. It is certainly a pleasure to meet someone this far into the forest, I was not sure I would come across another soul. I am Namid Macieo, the Star Dancer,” She replied, adding on the meaning of her name to possibly keep up with the conversation. He was certainly proud of his title, why should she not give out hers? It had been a while since she’d mentioned the meaning of her name, and it brought on a slight bought of nostalgia.

However, there was other business to attend to. “I came out to search for prey, for one can only hunt in one land for so long this time of year before all the awakened food is gone. What might be your reason for being out in this place, if I might ask? “ She finished, leaving out the bit about searching for more members for her pack. The pale queen thought it best to feel Kjors out first, see where the conversation would go before going in for the mentioning of her pack.

(This post was last modified: Apr 15, 2015, 01:53 AM by Namid.)

"Star Dancer. Tha's much better than One-Eye, Ah must admit. Sounds…elegant. Ethereal. Somethin' like tha'." Not as fierce or imposing as a dragon, of course, but it had its own merits. One was not simply born a dancer, and had to struggle and practice to earn such grace and restraint. One was not born a dragon either, but only a man. To be made of fire and scales was not a simple thing and took a certain amount of self-awareness. There were sacrifices to be made to the Mother, there battles to be won and treasures to be had. It was not an uncomplicated life, but it was one chosen, and relished in.

No different from Namid's own path and title, he surmised. If she didn't care for it, she would not have offered it in introduction.

"Oh, Ah'm jes' lookin' around, meself. Ain't been around so long, tryin' t' get a feel for th' lay of th' land," he explained, feeling no need to mask his intentions. His tail settled to half-mast as he shifted his weight – with no questions being thrown about for dominance or stature, the dragon saw no need to continue posturing. The woman did not seem eager to engage in a fight, and he saw no reason to continuing warding her off. He rolled one shoulder in a simple shrug. "Got a den, further north. Ain' particularly attached, though. Want t' know. T' see. Get a taste fer wha's out there. Spring's jes upon us, aye? May as well sort meself out so Ah know where t' catch me dinner when things prosper an' th' little morsels are all fattened up."

Allowing himself a laugh, the timber wolf padded closer, starting to close the distance between the pair. He would not encroach on her personal space unless invited, but standing so far off was not particularly beneficial to forging anything beyond a passing acquaintance. "Ya usually hunt yerself? Ain't got no band 'er pack t' help? Can't bring down much in ways of big beasties on yer lonesome." And that, he knew for fact. Feeding himself on rodents and hares for months was beginning to take its toll.

Certainly, his accent intrigued her to no end. Her inner knowledge hog longed to know where he was from, just what land had given him such a choppy and foreign tongue. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to ask, but that would possibly be later in the conversation. For the time being, she tried to keep her wits about her and listen to what he was saying. He certainly had plenty to say, it seemed. First he commented on her name, in his own way calling it beautiful. In her head she preened herself, having taken pride in the meaning for most of her life. It was one of the few things she would willingly brag on if she had the chance and if asked about it.

Next, if she hadn’t been sure he wasn’t from lore before he made sure of it then. He mentioned he was still trying to get a feel for the land, something she understand as she herself was still somewhat trying to do that. Now that the winter was officially over the world was no longer topsy-turvy and she even suspected she knew where she was. She’d passed through these lands on her way through her early travels. Judging her position, she might have even known where her old home was. This, she decided, called for a meeting with her previous alphas. The Queen of the Lake wasn’t sure how the conversation would go, as she knew Narime to not be so gentle to ‘traitors’. But, perhaps she would understand her situation. For the time she had been there, she had been nothing but loyal to the caverns and its members. Maybe, just maybe, it would account for something. But in her pregnancy, the trip would have to wait for another time. At least until her children were weaned, which wouldn’t be for months.

Her attention was brought back to his question, her head tilting to the side characteristically. “"Ya usually hunt yerself? Ain't got no band 'er pack t' help? Can't bring down much in ways of big beasties on yer lonesome." he inquired. His words were definitely true, it hadn’t been long since she’d known that lesson herself. One could say she was still recovering from her long, cold journey during those lonely winter months. “Lately I have been hunting alone, for it seems that the larger prey have no fully migrated back to these lands yet. Hares and the smaller animals have had to suffice, though they do not quite hit the spot for adults such as ourselves. I do, however, have a pack should I ever find larger prey that would require more than my strength. I am the leader of a pack just up the mountain, shrouded in a lake.” She let on. It was the perfect amount of information, not too much was given away about their location or their current status, but it also left on the table the prospect of her pack for himself. Of course, it wasn’t out right stated.

Ah, yes. The curse of winter months. Not only was it bloody frigid, but the water froze, the plants were buried under a thick, white blanket, and all the tiny little morsels buried themselves in burrows or hide away in warm nests for the remainder of the season. As they left, the birds fled south for warmer climates. When the flocks took flight, the herds of wild creatures took to hoof as well. The wolves did not follow, and thus, they were forced to scavenge like their wicked and wild ancestors.

Before he could comment, Namid mentioned her pack. Giving a nod of acknowledgment, he wriggled his nose and confirmed her acquisition. The scent of others lingered upon her pelt; she carried it upon her like a safety blanket. After all, attacking a wolf associated with others brought with it a much higher chance of retribution, and allowed her to walk through the forest of Relic Lore with a cloak of protection he himself did not possess. But all would come in time, he was certain.

Not only was she a member, but a leader, no less.

To that, he offered her a wolfish grin and a second bob of his head. It was only a brief display of respect, but Kjors had no reason to want to challenge the woman. He was only here for reconnaissance, perhaps a meal if he was feeling particularly puckish. "Well, suppose tha's certainly t' yer benefit, lass. Cannot say Ah've got th' same pleasure, meself. Ah might, sometime, if Ah find me one tha' suits me alright." He paused for a moment, tail lowered behind him. "Wha's yer pack like, Namid? What d'ya stand fer?"

A young deer has been separated from the rest of its herd. Hunt Opportunity

Kjors she had no doubt understood her meaning of the harshness of the winter months. No matter who they were or where they were, every wolf was somehow affected by the cold. Many fell into the pit that was the frozen air, the cold seeping into the bones of the old and freezing their hearts in their sleep. The young could also succumb to this fate, yet this was not the worst to befall a wolf. No, the worst was the starvation. The feeling of your body shrinking, your skin hollowing out to meet with your bones and turn you to a skeleton. Some of the worst pain one could feel was that of a stomach gorging on nothing but itself. It was enough, even, to turn some to cannibalism.

At her mention of her pack and position, he seemed to take a verifying sniff then pull his lips back into a wolfish grin. Much to her surprise, the man dipped his head ever slightly to her. She could have gawked, as the gruff looking male hadn’t struck her as one to commit such an act. The scars that littered his pelt assured her of that. Perhaps it was a onetime thing, such as for their only meeting. However, the meeting seemed to turn to the prospect of more than that as he mentioned that he may settle down one day if he found the right pack. After a pause, he then seemed a bit more curious than before and inquired about her own.

On the outside she remained to her composure, but on the inside she was giddy as a school girl. A possibly, prospective member! Quick to her mind she wound a web of words, spinning and weaving until she could think of something that would peek his interest yet still allow her to remind truthful. It took only a moment for her to reply, “My pack is small, but it is also new. However, that does not take away the fact that we are fighters. Every last one of us, survivors that have thrived through harsh winters and battles whether they are from the past or the present. We stand for equality, but harbor in us a thirst of power. Our goal is to let all know of us and slowly expand our territory by means we see fit.

It seemed his brief show of respect had paid off in spades. Namid hadn't been wrong, assuming the timber wolf wasn't terribly keen on displays of reverence (especially to particularly dominant females). However, the star dancer did not remind him in the slightest of his own dam: she was polite, friendly, and she was forward. There was not an inkling of hostility or haughtiness, instead only subdued confidence and information. Once again, knowledge was given freely and ears swiveled forward, keen on listening to what the woman had to offer.

Her pack sounded like an efficient group. Fighters sounded like wolves he could get along with – or understand, at least, without affronting any delicate sensibilities. Namid didn't look like she'd scuffled much herself, which did lead him to question how she'd earned her rank – if she had won it, that was. Equality was a funny word, he did think, one he wasn't horribly interested in himself. Power, though, that spoke to the dragon he harbored in his chest, and his single eye sparkled as he took a step closer, lured by the honey the spider did offer.

"That so, lass? Ain't much interested in soft wolves." The steel of her followers was intriguing, if nothing else. "What're y'plannin' t' do? Spread 'cross th' wood, or…?" Kjors trailed off, wishing to hear the truth from the younger wolf. Whatever it was her pack meant to accomplish, he'd only consider goals that (if they did not ally with his own) did not inhibit what he wished to achieve in his own lifetime. "…also. Y'gotta lead male, too? He as…he's like you?"