Verdant Mosses the beginning of the end

@Ice 

The Cold water Creek which Bane had been following ever since he had made his way back into the eastern side of the Lore was far longer then he would have ever imagined. He had expected it to end in a pool soon enough, a vast lake or dropping off a mountain side somewhere leading to the ends of the earth. Though through the Vale of Secrets it stretched its way beyond the Red Fern Forest and into the Spectral Wood which left Bane hypnotized by the blue, foggy glow of the lands. It was eerie, mysterious, though far more pleasant then what awaited him beyond. The Umbra Corpse held a thicker white fog, not holding the glow which the lands beyond had. Darkness engulfed this part of Relic Lore and within its depths as Bane peered within, he could imagine many wolves had gotten lost in there, ether loosing their minds or finding death - or both. He avoided it and kept along the Creek, unwilling to fall pray to the darkness just yet. 

Now he was in Dragonfly Fen. Though night was hours away, the land was still rather dark... and damp. Much of the land was muddy in parts, the bank of the creek he had been following melting away and spreading throughout the territory. Finally he felt like he had met the end of the Creek, now surrounded by murky waters and tall, sickly looking pines. The forest was tight, dangerous with the sinking earth beneath his paws and the tangled brush. He thought back to his birth home in Secret Woodlands, which was wild and cramped with vegetation. But the earth was dry, the soil fresh. Flowers bloomed, birds chirped, fruits grew. Here in this swampy land, nothing was pleasant. As of yet, it seemed the beauty in the eastern region was few and far between compared to the west. In the west, the lands were more open and more unique. There was difference as there was forests, meadows, fields, gullies, and lakes. Hillsides, valleys and caverns. In the east, it was forest, each one ether foggier, darker or swampier. Certain however there had to be some hidden beauty here, granted he knew of various pack lands over here. Bane just had not yet been able to find it, at least not beyond the Red ferns, at least not here in the deep south-east. 

Moving yet still with a determination for there would be not rest here in this place, Bane comes along the Verdant Mosses. This spot, unlike the Fen behind him, was a bit more open, the towering pines having broken and fallen, rotting into the earth and leaning brightly colored ferns and mosses it its wake. Even though Bane could see the world around him better, it did not make it any more pleasant. The land smelt of decay, still moist and dank. The silence was still overwhelming here tough as he moved within it, could see creatures scurrying around the rocks and moving the earth from under him. Bugs, rats, snakes lizards... all kinds of creepy crawlies which parted way from the lone wolf that unexpectedly entered their home. Though Bane did not know the name of it just yet, he felt an odd familiarity of it, as though it had been described to him as a child, a memory which he was unable to fully pick up. As he continued on, he happened upon a grave yard of sorts. Though the ones fallen here had not been buried, had not been tended to upon their death. Various bones of wolves lay here, mosses over the years having been formed over them, dirt, dust and debris. Though that did not keep Bane from tripping over their skulls and faltering at the sight of rib cage and spine. Righting himself, he paws at one of the long fallen wolf's skull, silently contemplating what had happened to them all. 

Three healthy cubs—two girls, one boy—slept safe and sound nestled against the side of their mother, swaddled in her black fur and the loving shadow of their father. The frantic rush of the first few days, the extra hunting, the panting in the sun, the wolves attracted as if by magnetism to the birthing den, had faded into a kind of contentment for Ice. They were lucky to be rather few, but also rather capable; their caches were filled, fresh game was brought back to Aponi almost daily, and Serach was a sentinel no one could get past. Ice was content to leave them alone for a few days, skirting down south in an arc, mapping out the activity of loners in the region. There were no direct threats.

He didn't need to go this far south—the Dragonfly Fen was far beyond where a real threat to the new generation of Bend wolves lurked, but Ice didn't care. That wasn't why he went there. That wasn't why he forced his way through the soggy spring ground, wet and mushy with the melted snows and spiring fresh greens. He forced his way further into its heart for his own sake.

It had been four years since he'd last made his way into the Verdant Mosses and their rolling green grounds, and that time, it had been at the head of an army coming to destroy the sick invaders—those who had taken Rissa from them. He hadn't had the time, nor desire, to go down there when they moved the pack, and.. it hadn't felt right to go, until now. He had visited Rissa's Rest, just to bring the memories back to life, remind him of why they'd done what they'd done, but here... This place, murky light filtering down to touch the lush ground, had memories, and reminders, too.

This was part of the reason they were in the Spectral Woods now, why Serach and Sceral hadn't been River wolves, too. Here lay the courage and the suffering and the pinnacle of the pain they had caused—enough to rile the packs of the Lore and send them against them. Ice swallowed. The ground was familiar. It was even roughly the same season.

What he hadn't expected was to find another wolf at the site where they had fought. It was a tall, murky creature, black in the shadows, brown where the faint sun struck him; he was pawing at something, ivory white covered with dirt and filth and rot, green moss. A.. a skull? It looked like a skull, some fangs cracked or missing, the others smiling in defiance of time. It sent a chill down Ice's spine, and like a ghost he drew up behind the stranger—he searched for words, but found none. In silence he peered at the bleached bones, memories of the clash replaying in his head.

It seemed thousands of years ago.

let the stars above shine in your soul

Bane was silent all the while, as typical fashion, only pondering as he toyed with the skull of this particular wolf, rested with a collection of others. He was not even sure if he wanted to sit down here with all the creepy crawlies. His back leg twitches, shaking off what might have been a spider. In his little fit, he would finally take note of the other wolf who had strolled into the same area. He was a light blotch on this dark and dank landscape. A large man and quite a bit older then himself. With his size, surely the look of shock on his expression could not have been in fear of Bane. Then what was the matter? Perhaps he had only been so startled because he, much like Bane, had not at all expected to see someone else here. The brown wolf could have never imagined the truth of this all. 

Bane would turn fully then to face the male, giving his brown coat a shake and his pumpkin orange eyes focused on him to show he held his attention though for the moment he said nothing. Bane had always known he looked very much like his father, if you could bother to call him such. Though he had never met Slyscar and may have even died before Bane was born, he knew everything he needed from his mother's eyes. She could see the pain in them, the shock, the anger  Bane was that same dark chocolate brown, held those same orange eyes and that same lithe build. Though his expression was far different from his fathers. It was not wild and filled with mischief and deciet. It was solemn. Worn and chiseled from life's hardships endured. A face of a painter or pianist, filled with both pain and longing, as well as yearning and passion. Even though outside Bane and his father looked nearly exact, he was nothing like the man who had raped his mother both into pregnancy and insanity. 

(This post was last modified: May 26, 2017, 01:09 AM by Bane.)

The young wolf looked up, and it took Ice's breath away.

Suddenly, he was back in the moment—Elettra's voice calling the Aniwayan out on her bluff—the fog hanging thick underneath a large, brilliant full moon. The entire world bathed in shadows and silver light, an army as the Lore has never seen since rippling in the pallid light. Breath fogging from a myriad of open maws, revenge burning hot in their chests, or else just the need to protect what they still had.

Aiyana, leaving with Borden. Was it a direct consequence of Rissa's death?

The snapping of teeth. Savage growls. A chill crawled down Ice's white spine, hair rising in its wake; he jerked half a step forward, fangs flashing, low thunder rumbling in his chest. It can't be, the rational part of him was saying as his tail went ramrod stiff, he's dead, you killed him.

But he was there, looking at Ice with the same amber eyes, set in the same rich brown face, mottled, lanky body—just younger, and less dead. Slyscar had bled out in Ice's mouth. There was no way he could come back from the dead and walk the land again, a ghost haunting his tomb—for that was what this was. It was his bones his lookalike had turned over, or at least, near enough.

It took a huge effort of will to not leap at the stranger and tear his face off. Only seconds of Ice's furious display had passed, but his twitching lips began to crawl down over his teeth, his growl fading into a charged silence. "Who are you?" he demanded of the other wolf, his voice rougher than usual, full of disbelief and gravel and sharp, jagged things—memories and teeth.

let the stars above shine in your soul

The large white wolf stood there still, frozen in his placement as the hairs along his spine rose and in an instantly he took a step forward in a quick jerk and a snap of his jaws, a warning growl rumbling in his chest. Bane, at this point, was certain a fight was to occur. Apparently Bane did not belong here, was not wanted here. Many thoughts flew into his mind at the other wolf's display: Maybe he was a loner here and had set this place up as a home for himself, maybe his pack's territory was close but it was hard to smell with all the rotten foliage and muck, maybe this grave that Bane was toying with were wolves known by this wolf and he was defiling one of his brethren or, maybe, just maybe, this was some kind of wraith, sent to finally force Bane to meet his end... 

His body readied itself then, his body lowering as his limbs bent slightly, ready to jump out to the side and dodge an on coming attack. His tail was straight out behind him, rigid and twitching and his ears flattened. His stance defensive, he was ready for the first strike when the stark white wolf's snarl faded and then, he did not attack but spoke. Bane, shocked, was compelled to quickly answer. "Bane." It was all he said for the time being. All he could think of to say to the other wolf. Why was he questioning him all the sudden when just moments before he looked as though he was ready to rip him apart? 

The stranger was..brave. He stood his ground, but he didn't attack, for which Ice was grateful. He didn't want to fight him. That wasn't his intention. It was just—the memory. The surge of adrenaline. The ghostly night. All the wrongs committed. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his mouth tasted like ashes. It was so wrong. Ghosts weren't real. The dead didn't come back to life if they had died, well and truly died, their bodies emptied and cold. Everything in him yelled that it was Slyscar, somehow reborn, standing in front of him, but it couldn't be. That kind of thing just didn't happen. There had to be some other explanation.

Bane. It wasn't a name he recognized, but the face... Ice drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. I'm—I'm Ice. It's just, you look so much like someone. And they're dead. Here. Right here," he said, and one of his paws batted at the lichen-covered bones. Right fucking here. He looked down at the remains. How many years now? Four? Four. Four. He looked at Bane again. Four.

Could be. Shit. Could also not be. And that would be better. Much, much better.

Could also be unrelated. Could be Ice was slowly, slowly losing his grip. He was, after all, old.

let the stars above shine in your soul

It seemed as though the male took some time to gather his thoughts, in a very literal sense, before he began to explain himself, to which Bane listened carefully. His name was Ice and as he began to apologize, he would explain that he looked so much, exactly even, like a wolf he had known before. Not a wolf he held a good friendship with, obviously by the way he had acted. As he mentioned that said wolf had died here, right here, in fact, Bane's eyes cast down to the bones at their feet, looking at the off-white paws of Ice, who moved them around over the dirt. Pieces of wolves left behind that had fallen here. It was not just the one wolf, who's skull rested at Bane's front paws, but a collection of wolves it seemed, from the amount of bones which these two living wolves began digging up. It was ether a graveyard or a battlefield. 

Bane's pumpkin orange eyes lifted then again, focusing once more on the wolf before him. What question should he ask first? "Who died?" He asked, but he could not help but spill out another before giving a chance for this Ice to answer. "Why?" Bane was anxious now, too filled with curiosity of who this wolf was that Ice was mentioning. Obviously, Bane must have looked so much like him that Ice thought he was literally facing the ghost of who had fallen. The only other wolf Bane knew that he looked exactly like was his father. 

Too sudden this thought put things into perspective for Bane. He would never forget the looks his mother had gave him, as he grew to look everything like the man which had tortured her and raped her. Surely a solid chocolate brown wolf with deep orange eyes was not a rare wolf. However, to be honest, Bane himself had never met another wolf that looked like him. He had met many black wolves, many timber colored wolves, many white wolves... but never a chocolate wolf with the same eyes as him. He pondered this through these silent seconds, awaiting Ice's answer. Bane looked like the man who raped his mother. Though the story of his evil father had never been fully told, but that only he was killed in the end. 

What do you say to ghosts?

Ghosts aren't real. What do you say to what is, potentially, the cub of a mad man you murdered, in cold blood? Sorry? Ice blinked, did his best to slow his racing pulse, his racing thoughts; there was no connection, just an appearance, and there could be a thousand reasons for why this Bane happened to look like Slyscar. Hells, he could have two parents that were orange-eyed and chocolate-furred, and their names wouldn't be Sly and Scar and it would be a perfectly acceptable explanation.

And besides, he didn't know what to think of that crusade half a lifetime ago; crowning achievement in a guardian's life, or a vicious act of brutality? Needless violence? The female, she hadn't been sick—had they needed to purge her as well..?

For her part in Rissa's murder, yes, the dark voice in his mind rumbled, and he was willing to accept that blindfold and live with the unsatisfying results of vengeance. He was supposed to protect, and that included avenge, and preemptive strikes; he shouldn't have a conscience, or doubts. Be like Marsh, who lived in a world of black and white, where Ice was the only acceptable gray. He swallowed, and gazed away across the mosses. "A sick wolf," he finally replied, his voice quiet, but rough, somehow, as if he couldn't quite wash the past and growls from it. "And his sick friends." The white scruff on the back of his neck lifted, then flattened, and he turned his silver eyes back to Bane.

"Did you ever hear about a sickness? Four years ago. We started finding dead animals, frozen in twisted positions, foams at their mouths.. and this pack of wolves started haunting Eden, for at the time, a path across the Serpent hadn't been found." Ice blinked again, the exaggerated, slow movement soothing his frayed nerves. "And, well.. they died. Here. For every bad thing they did to us," but it hadn't been enough, for one of them had fled, and it had taken Marsh's life to stop him. Ice's ears flattened to his head, but he said nothing. It hurt too much.

let the stars above shine in your soul

There is a rabbit's nest nearby. +1 Health

They were sick wolves, the man named Ice firstly told Bane. This sick man and his group had died here and Ice only paused a moment before further elaborating on the story. 

Bane's ears fell on his head and after the pale colored man was finished, Bane tried to fight down the large knot in the back of his throat. It was obvious by the expression that was left on him, that Bane knew all too well what Ice was talking about - who, he was talking about. He took a step back, his mouth opening, though for a moment hesitates. Would he feel the need to attack him again, if he knew what spawn he was? What horrible blood ran through his veins? 

"When I was a child, my mother and leaders told me about a sickness and a sick man who lead it..." It would be odd for parents and the leaders of a pack to tell such an awful story to a little boy, unless there was some obvious reason for the child to know. "That's how I was born." He paused, orange eyes lifting to the other wolf to gaze his reaction. "He tortured and raped a woman... And he created me." Bane took in a deep breath then and a sharp exhale. He'd always known he was born a basterd of rape, but knowing not only did his father commit that crime, but tortured those across the realm. Well, that was a bit much for him to handle...