Nomads Pass This old house

It had been a long climb. The Bend had made her soft with its flat ground and soft earth. A moment of pure anxiety wracked her frame as her eyes scanned the pass ahead. It had to be here somewhere... and finally she saw it, the familiar old gnarled tree - still as skeletal and imposing as she recalled. She moved steadily forward, tail waving behind, a soft smile on her face as though she were greeting an old friend. As she came closer she could pick out minute details that had long since faded from memory - like the dull claw marks that dragged across exposed roots here and there. Pale lips caressed the marks, taking every line and burning them into her memory before she shovelled the snow away to expose the den beneath.

The smile that had been so soft before now took on a hint of sadness. Of course no scent remained beyond that stale musk of something long since abandoned. With a heavy sigh she looked to the sky, knowing it was never a question of if the mountain would turn on her but when. She had to press on. Spring would be on them soon enough and she wanted to be comfortable by the time it was.

Mousy limbs still agile with the blessings of youth carried her upwards without much difficulty. Still, Asphodel remained ever-careful to leave any precarious looking rocks at rest, lest they decide to tumble downwards and take either Hemlock or herself along for the ride. The mountainside proved to be as breathtaking as it had been the last time, but once again, so unlike the dense forest she had grown accustomed to. The Bloodwood's thick foliage remained —albeit in a much barer fashion—all year long, providing the necessary coverage for ambushing prey, even during the cold months. Regardless, the Pass held a special place in their lives. Barren as it was, this was home to many of Naira's greatest accomplishments. Between the heights, in this sizable pass she not only built a kingdom, but ruled for the most part alone.

Asphodel knew the stories. She had listened to them with the utmost attention. Her mother's rule of the mountain had been washed away by the Gods and their unbearable winter, but she also knew that it was Naira who made the call, and pushed her pack through snow drifts so high that not even Hemlock would have been able to clear them. Thanks to their dear mother, the pack survived, until.. well that she was less sure of. Of course they'd known of Maplethorpe, and had grown to respect him simply by the way their mother's voice would soften as she spoke of him. Only slightly, but the hint of honey was there, lubricating her tongue in a way that left the yearling longing for a man she could hardly remember. 

It was with a great deal of sadness and duty she had pulled Hemlock behind her once more, to return to the land of heathens and disbelievers. Her powers—which she knew from experience now—would soon dull in this hellhole but they would have to do. Another bout in the Bloodwood, where she was able to talk to those with more knowledge on the matter taught her a great deal more than she could have learned on her own. Fortunately, Spring was upon them, and soon her mushrooms would be too. Until then though, she would have to trust in her Gods, herself, Hemlock, and their mother. 

Once they had cleared the final ridge, the pass opened up, bringing along a familiar scent on the breeze. Naira was there. Grazing her maw along Hemlock's shoulder, she whispered, "Et sic incipit.". And so it begins.

(This post was last modified: Mar 30, 2016, 10:42 AM by Asphodel.)

Their mother had been right to send them home, they were far to young, unprepared for the disconnect these heathens had with the land they travelled on, lived off, walked over. It was no wonder the mountain worked so hard to remind them that it needed to be respected. 

He walked at Asphodel's flank at all times, making sure he could reach out and grasp her at the first sign of a misstep - she was far too precious to risk losing, but he needn't worry. Her steps were well practiced and sure. He had allowed his yellow eyes to to slide over the mountain around them, feeling the spirit of the place radiate off the high walls. It wasn't an unwelcoming feeling, but it was full of power. Respect me. The mountain seemed to whisper and he lowered his head respectfully to offer up a silent prayer of thanks. It was poor show. They would need to make a blood offering if a suitable candidate crossed their path. Something from the lower lands to offer the great god a taste of something new. The same old goats must get a bit old after a time.

 @Asphodel's whispered greeting caused red tinged ears to cup forward while yellow eyes sought their intended target. He folded down like melting butter, his tail taking up a steady wave as he brushed along his sisters flank and took the lead. "Mother," was his low greeting as he moved forward to run his teeth through the pale fur on her chin. It had been too long.

There is a deer that was killed by a lynx nearby. +10 Health

Oh that language that she barely managed to grasp came like a whisper in her ear and she almost believed he was with her again as she turned to catch sight of her son's steady approach. He was larger, yes - but there was much of his father in his looks, in the way that he moved, and how he saw things that others might miss. She received Hemlock's greeting readily, running her muzzle past his shoulder as she stepped forward to greet her sweet @Asphodel, running the bridge of her nose along her daughters cheek. "I am glad you have both returned." she voiced, pulling back to truly look her children over. Yes, this was how they were supposed to return to these lands, not as uncertain yearlings, but adults - capable of taking back what was theirs.

"You will find what you seek more readily in the west once the snows have melted. There was a colony in the grotto above the falls, but you know the spread of spores. That was years ago." she was of course referring to the mushrooms that aided her daughters sight. "What was the tasking that bought you back?" she questioned, her own seemingly completed, unaided, she had to wonder what else might bring them here. Unless...

Bowing her mousy crown, Asphodel accepted their mother's greeting warmly. It had been so long since they had seen the matriarch, and she was glad to know that Naira still seemed to exude the same power that she always had. Age suited the woman, though that new scent clinging to her skin, not so much. The bend's woody musk wasn't exactly the yearling's favorite smell, especially since it reminded her of their failures the first time around. They had been children then; overgrown cubs who had yet to taste the harsh realities of living with barbarians, but things were different now. She, and Hemlock had the knowledge to maintain a link with their Gods, however small it might be. There was still much to do before that could happen, and as always, their mother was quite aware of the first step.

Nodding her thanks, Asphodel mentally stored the location of her precious mushrooms for the warmer months. "It's a start. With any luck, they won't have gone too far." Although, she knew the likelihood of them still growing above the falls was slim. Fungus seemed to have a mind of it's own, always searching for a place better suited to it's needs.

Just like that, it was on to more important matters. "This place does not welcome us Mother," Her voice was grim, though she knew Naira was already aware of such things. "But I believe we have some.. unfinished business in the land of heathens." She looked to Hemlock, her brilliant eyes twinkling as she queued him to finish. This was their world now.

Well their mothers knowledge of these lands could serve them yet, he had to admit that perhaps her usefulness to them had run its course. She had her own duties to attend to in the east, while their future seemingly lay to the west. "There are two." he spoke levelly, a small glance offered to his sister. "The first is to spread the word, these gods are angry at the ignorance of these heathens and if they do not heed the warnings given, they will retaliate." This mountain was proof enough, couldn't she feel it? It was ready to throw them like a horse threw a mountain lion. Perhaps they were already too late.

And the other... Well that was more personal. "Our father needs justice. Can you tell us all you know? Just in case there is a lead we can follow?" It was true they were young yet but that wouldn't stop them. They were doing holy work and none would stand in their way, even in this land of blind heathens. With such powerful allies it would matter very little. They would find the demon that had driven their mother from these lands and smite it. He was certain.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to send them back, the old ways, ones she had thoroughly shirked in the rebellion of youth were firmly imprinted on these ones. She had a respect for the land on which she stood and she was known to commune, but sacrifice to appease some silent spirit was beyond her comprehension. Perhaps things had grown desperate in the Bloodwood, but that was no longer her concern, or theirs. "I would be careful on that first one, not everyone will see your purpose in the same light you do. I advise caution." Of course she would. They were her children and had someone come to her pack spouting nonsense about angry gods and sacrifice she would have sent them to meet their gods in person. Not all were as harsh as she was, but to so forcefully voice their intentions would hardly make their mission any easier. She could only hope these lands would temper that belief a little.


The second goal however, was one she had intended to follow up on herself before age and time worked so harshly against her. "There was a silver wolf. @Myrrhis." She all but spat the name. "She stole a cub, it smelled of the southern willows. I told her to take it back and throw herself at their mercy, but it wasn't enough... It seemed as though the woods turned against us, members fled - Sagacity, Gent, Taima, Crowe they all left us to die. There was something watching, listening... laughing..." Ears had turned against her skull with the memory of those final days. "Your father knew what was coming. Whether it was a wolf of one of his stories come to life, though I could not say..." she finished with a shake of her head. She should have stayed with him.

Sorry it's a little jumbled. Let me know if the stuff about @Naira doesn't work, and I'll fix it!

Asphodel listened to her brother idly, knowing the words before they fell from his salmon-colored tongue. Their mother's reaction, however, drew her attention. The girl had always known Naira to be a believer, but devout? Well, that was another thing altogether. The Matriarch hadn't participated in their communes with the same vigor that she and Hemlock had. It left the youth to wonder if their Gods would forgive her for not being the holiest of beings. Her faith was there, sure, but it wasn't enough to sate the swelling anger within these lands. Their deities required more than just mere faith, and miracles required actions. The Gods needed lives to bring upon prosperity, so it was a small price to pay for the bounty that they would undoubtedly pay them once the heathens were able to see reason. "You needn't worry Mother. We will be gentle with these forsaken souls." And so they would. What better way to tame an unruly cub then instilling fear alongside a comforting word of warning? Just like tales of strangers, and boogeymen. If only these wolves knew what their Gods were capable of. 

Mousy ears swiveled forward to listen, taking in each detail with the utmost care. Myrrhis. So she was the beginning; The reason their Gods turned on them. To steal a cub, to bring that curse upon another, it was blasphemous. Then more names came: Sagacity, Gent, Taima, Crowe. Her eyes narrowed at their betrayal; she would not forget them. And then there was something else. "Something watching, listening... laughing..." A sickly chill rolled up her spine, forcing her to step closer to Hemlock. "A demon."

"What do you know of the Willows?" To go fourth, they must first go back, so there they would start. They would avenge the man who now only lived on through stories. They would remember him through tongues, and exorcise the demon that woman spawned when she stole something that did not yet belong to her.

(This post was last modified: Apr 28, 2016, 08:39 AM by Asphodel.)