Larkcall Lowlands roar of gods

RANDOM EVENT:An ominous formation of undulatus asperatus seems to bode ill for the residents of Relic Lore. OPEN.

Wraith had never been an especially religious man. He wasn't prone to falling victim to suspicions or concerns of old myths. But as his eyes traveled skyward, he felt an uneasy stirring in his soul. The clouds above rolled like waves on a turbulent sea, though Wraith's closest comparison was a raging rapid. A roar of thunder began as but a tremble until it reached such a crescendo that his ears flattened against his head.

The alpha was reminded of the time the clouds had spiraled down to touch upon the Monadnock. He recalled the fierce wind and how terrified he had been that the pack had been wiped out at the time. Upon returning home as fast as he could, he'd been grateful to find everyone confused and frightened, but very much unharmed. Today, the sky held a similar cadence, though the violence was certainly less than before.

Wraith shook his head and readjusted his grip around the rabbit caught in his jaws. It was young and inexperienced, one of the recent batch of bunnies born on the lowlands harsh terrain, and fell readily to his skill. While he hadn't needed the meal, he fancied Cyril might enjoy it or one of the others. If not, it would be well suited for a cache.

For all the coming storm raging above, he hoped for rain. The heat was miserable for him and he always shed poorly during summer months unlike his gorgeous mate. Jealous as he was about it - he lifted a back leg to scratch irritably at the itch along his side from the clump of unshed fur there - he could appreciate the way she looked all sleek and smooth-coated.

The black brute paused and turned at the sound of approaching pawsteps. He woofed a greeting though his tail lifted minutely over his back.

chatage