the kingdom of ☽ 𝕹 𝔬 𝔦 𝔱 𝔯 𝔢 𝔪

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[R u u l i g a t o r]

I want to feel the ρᴧוӥ and the bitter taste...
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The partner-less dance didn’t last long; up went the winch and with it came the sodden man to accompany the hook. Mumbled words, near pleading, were quick to spill from the nymph’s lips but the wolf king hadn’t had his fill or tormenting; not yet. Exhaling loudly over the droning roar of the river, Viggo placed his hands exasperated on his hips as he crossed to the ravine’s edge, scuffing his boot while nodding to Mitch to pull up Sadir one more time. This time there was instant words, dripping to fall into the swirling currents beside the now clean water that leeched from the man; slurred, pain-filled words in a language that flew over Viggo’s head. It was not the normal biting slur the man uttered in his ramblings, instead smooth and musical, lilted with the old-world sounds of the east; elvish? Rolling his eyes, the Dogman craned his neck, preparing to motion for the man to fall again and never rise if this was all the babble he could force him to, “Your pretty tongue isn’t to my liking, oh friend of mine. Maybe I should let Mitch here drop you again beneath these waves and choke on it, hmmn?” Pale, strong fingers rose to shoulder height, nearly twitching with the exasperation the alpha felt at not receiving his answer after so long of drowning the pest.

Before his hand could close, complete his sign, the rat stuttered back to life with a squared shoulder and jaw, finally spitting out the word he was waiting for; Londuinn, realm of the woodland kin and home of the elves. Reaching out, Viggo curled a hand around the nymph’s sodden leg, tugging him back from the precipice with a light laugh and wide smile, “Well done, well done! Here I was worried that I may have had to let the water win. Don’t get me wrong my friend,” The wolf paused to straighten the shaking soul in his claws, smoothing his torn clothing back into place, “I much approve of your new….smell. You must understand, of course, there was no other way and that you indeed chose this for yourself.”

Tutting, Viggo’s green eyes flashed to the outlying darkness of the cavern, motioning forth a single jailor to accompany Mitch and himself in fixing a restraining system around the weak man, “Two times you’ve grievously injured me now, my friend; it is like you asked for me to give you this punishment. I’m sure you will not make that mistake again.” Smiling, Viggo’s eyes shone with dark malice as he embraced the rat in a stinging hug, situating his mouth close to the man’s now clean ear while speaking low into it, “I look forward to our trip. I hope our destination is correct or I shall have to give in to the naughty voices in my head telling me to---… Well, it wouldn’t do well to spoil it, now would it?” Pushing Sadir back into the waiting arms of Mitch and his jailor, Viggo turned on a heel to exit, knowing the rat would be affixed to stone walls a few levels up under the supervision of an odd dozen of lycans. Heels clipping the stairs, Viggo stretched his arms back and forth over his chest as he ascended, his latent anger still simmering in his chest beside his beast; this whole business of not killing was becoming redundant. What he wouldn’t give to slide his fingers or teeth beneath a supple layer of pliant flesh and fat, wrap himself around the coursing veins and lifeblood of his prey, and rip it bodily from them. At the head of the stairs, a woman with shining blonde hair waited him with wide eyes, her soft low voice informing him that just outside the theater were the crown prince and his faithful guard, sniffing about with weapons drawn.

Of every single night known to man, during any year of the existence of mankind, this was the one he finally receive a visit from the royal family to his theater? Of course, chances were that it was not a polite social visit if weapons were involved, but Viggo’s smile only grew as he quickly checked over his now clean ensemble for any blood, straightening his neck cravat as he shooed the blonde out of his way. Squaring his shoulders, Viggo crossed across left to the main doors, listening to the silent bustling as his pack fell into their roles as actors; some picked up lutes and harps, plucking out bawdy rhythms to the voices of their peers, while some laughed and joked, seemingly rehearsing lines as the Cage came to life.

Taking full hold of the brass and wood door, Viggo swung it in with a laugh, watching as the warm golden light fell over the apprehensive and confused faces of the two men standing on his doorstep, “Welcome gentlemen! I must say; you gave my doorman quite a shock walking up on him with those waving.” Placing one hand on his hip, Viggo motioned with the other jovially to the swords between the men as he smiled, “Really, there is no need; we are all but harmless artisans here. Do come in, come in! No shows for the evening, but I’d be more than happy to show you around or answer any questions that possessed you to bring such naughty trinkets with you.” Chuckling, Viggo caught the light colored eyes of the prince, sending him a charming wink as he exited into the rain to help usher them in, standing between the two men with a hand on each of their shoulders as they climbed the stairs to the main door, “And with all this rain, I’m sure you’re both in need of a nice warm drink; mead maybe?”

A bawdy chorus of greeting rang out from the assembled lounging actors as the two entered, the room drenched in smiles and free flowing drink. This, of course, was the way of actors, as much of Noitrem knew; everyone is your best friend, be they pope or pauper. Stepping out and up from between the two officials, Viggo turned to phase them with extended arms, “Welcome the Cage Theatre! Let not the name frighten you, it only references the rafters,” Viggo pointed up to the cross-crossing beams of exposed pine that latticed the ceiling, epicentering on the towering fir tree that stood dead center stage, “But enough chat; My name is Viggo Stian and I am the troupe leader here. What can I help you with? You know, it can be considered quite rude to approach someone’s home with ill intent, brandishing swords and the like without any warning.” Viggo spoke and crossed to stand beside the prince, placing two fingers along the flat of the blade, dragging them slowly down it as he locked eyes with the man, smiling languidly.






|| Location -- Noitrem // The Cage Theatre || Wearing -- Wolf Lord || ooc: ||


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...Of the ɮǀѳѳᴅ on my lips again.

[FrenchRosa]

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═══════════════════════════ ☩ theme ☩ armor ☩ him ☩ ooc: || ☩ location/company: Ugarian boarders & self tangled in the brambles of a lilac wall / Aevar

Few suns, and one less moon had passed since that comedic night upon the nymphic waters, the chill of the wind biting and nipping at the vagabonds' flesh in the late evenings and early mornings, so much so that the She-Elf had often found herself closer to the man than she had been when they first nestled into the earth. Together they had ridden onward, lead by the firm yet cracking Elf warrior, followed by the onslaught of never ending prods and laughter. Each day passed, and a little bit more tumbled from her icy wall until one could easily see the mythical lands that lay beyond, but whether or not it was due to the wounds they had shared from the rogues, or from the mere fact that laughter had a tendency to cure all ailments was unbeknownst to either. Instead of pursuing such maiden thoughts, the two continued their trek onwards, each carrying their own stowaways that had somehow made their way into their lives through tiny rat paws and adorable duckling peeps.

After a particularly refreshing lope, the two walked their horses side by side (though Saphina had been adamant in being the leader in this 'game'), the surprising silence almost too loud for the She Elf to bear. The woman had gone so long with the constant babble coming from all directions, between the duckling, her own steed, or the Agrak that silence was nearly foreign to her. As if to break it, she turned over her head, stopping mid breath at the assaulting wave of pleasant scent that infiltrated her very mind.

She'd know that smell from a mile away, but as the assailants in question did not reach her presence a mile away, there was no way to have known just how close she truly was. Golden eyes closed dreamily, her sensitive nostrils lifting up towards the heavens as she extended her neck towards the ethereal blooms before a whimsy exhale escaped from her lips, the smile spreading faster than before. Whipping her head towards the man in excitement, her heart skipping beats, Saphina urged, "Dismount. Aevar, dismount," and followed her own advice, throwing herself from the friesian's back in a brief display of childish excitement. She waited with the impatience of an Elf child at the foot of the horses for the man to separate from Amlath, and reached out for his hand the moment his feet took to the ground.

Quickly, they proceeded forward, little excited chirps coming from her throat that resembled a laughing bird and that could have been easily taken for giggles, her hand squeezing his when they stopped, surrounded by a thick, twice as high natural wall of lavender, white and dark purple lilacs. The blossoms tinkled in the wind like chimes, their scent exploding in the air at the two newcomers, to which Saphina yet again, lifted her nose up to inhale deeply. It had been so long, so very long since she had been assaulted by the heavenly scent of her brother's flower, and it was all she could do to keep from dragging the Agraki warrior over and throwing him into the bushes to be engulfed by the beauty. "Lilacs, Aevs. We're at the boarder," she whispered excitedly, looking up at him with the smile of a fifty year old Elfling after a quick squeeze to his bicep. Without warning, she released her grip upon his hand, far more taken with the lilacs to acknowledge the cold air that replaced his hand in hers, and bounded over to the closest bush, stretching out on her tiptoes to touch the nearest blossom and bring it to her nose.

It was like the entire bush erupted in tinkling bells, and the blooms seemed to sing at her touch, showering the Elf in their music. In the back of her mind, Saphina knew that the Queen would have been alerted of her presence by a very similar scented attack back in Ugaria (to which she was mighty thankful on one hand, wary on the other, as that meant Cain too would have been alerted, and most likely sent to gather her for 'safe travel') but only brushed that from the front of her mind. Right now, she was surrounded by Selendrile's flower, and being watched by the hazel eyed man. Nothing was going to ruin that happy. They wouldn't be able to stay at the lilac boarder for too long, but Saphina was determined to allow herself the chance to surround herself with the flowers for as long as possible. It was impossible for her not to feel blissful, euphoric. In these bulbs, there was no impending war, no constant buzzing of life-threatening jaws. There was only her. Her, the horses, their stowaways, and him. In these blossoms, Selendrile was in life.

Turning over her shoulder, Saphina glanced back at him while nuzzling into the flower in a meager attempt at slathering herself in it's profound scent, a closed lipped grin seeming to be plastered permanently upon her face. "What?" she asked innocently, backing up slowly so that the hard branches of the wall poked into the small of her back. In the corner of her eye, she saw the two horses wandering aimlessly around after following their riders to the wall, but kept her eyes locked firmly on his with that happy smile. "Oh, Gods be dammed, Aevs, spit it out."


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[FreeyaWolf]

Try to DEFY the Beast...
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Sitting on the solid kitchen chair Cyelena spoke of the happenings prior to her arrival watching Faelons blue eyes scan over her face and neck observing her wounds. The blood that dripped and oozed down her cheek began to tickle her smooth skin and she couldn’t help but take the back of her hand and wipe the red fluid off. Looking down Cyelena eyes widened slightly not expecting so much blood to have been on her cheek and her lip twitched. Eyes looking up to the dwarfs face once again she saw a weak smile and she squeezed his hand reassuring him. You are very brave to soon go after an attacker who dealt the wounds I healed only a week ago, Cyelena. Put in your position I do not know if I could do what you did this night. His eyes lowered and he seemed so sad-- her ungrimed hand reached out for his knee.

“I was terribly foolish, my friend. You did such a wonderful healing job and I carelessly ran off and could have been killed. I apologize for that. I do not want to cause you any more strain then you already have.” A rough hand seized her hand once again, and a thumb the size of two of hers brushed over her knuckles. Something caught in her throat—not used to the caring touch reciprocated. Worry not about your hurts, friend; I see nothing here that I cannot mend unless you are hiding a missing half from me. He chuckled and she could not help but loose a laugh as well. Cyelena watched as Faelon moved to the packed gear which held everything one would need for traveling a great distance. Her eyes flickered up to her friends face and back down to the bags, unease riddled her thinking of the two leaving. But thoughts were cut into as his voice broke the silence.

I will ned you to uncover what needs to be tending. Quickly she sat up straight slightly shocked—not expecting those words to trickle from his mouth. If it helps any, there is nothing I haven’t seen and I can promise you I am not interested. Cyelena gave Faelon a questionable look trying to figure out what that meant. Was he not interested in woman at all? Her eyes flickered towards his bedroom where Telian slept. Her mouth opened, as though she were going to say something but she closed it and smiled. “Oh alright, Faelon, if you promise” She gave him a coy smile after she saw a quick wink at her and gingerly began to untie her tunic, arms aching she could hardly bend them to pull off the heavy leather off, Faelon saw this and began to help her. She listened to the man as he talked about how Telian had taken the blow of the girl and removed her undershirt so her upper half of her body was exposed. A normal person may be cold being exposed to the chilly night air like this but her body gave off immense warmth. Cyelena did not know what do with her arms if she hung them on the side of her body or cover her breasts or… so she decided to continue with taking off her boots. As she leaned forward Cyelena felt his hand on her back removing a piece of fabric that was placed over a deep slash.

Thank you for that, by the way. I know we had no way of knowing if we could partake, but I should happily pay you back for any expenses we incurred. A chuckled ran through her but it was weak hearted hearing about Telian and his sister—though mother of the poor child. “Do not worry yourself, dear. It’s on the house for you all; for what you have done for me.” Then he spoke of Sadir. That idiot that brave idiot, but why hit the child. Her heart sunk hoping he was ok though, knowing they would need to free him, he was not one that should be chained. Sitting in silence she allowed Faelon to move around to her front and tend her wounds. As he placed his last poultice on her and spoke he looked up to her eyes, finally. Worry engulfed those blue eyes.

“My dear friend,” Heart heavy she reached out a hand to rest on his forearm. “You are the bravest of us all. You do what is necessary and intelligent. If you would have let Telian run in like he would have, we both know exactly what would have happened. Do not think so harshly about yourself.” The thought frightened her, that must have been the worst feeling, the wanting to do something and the knowing of not being able to do anything, helplessness. “I agree tonight is for rest—we can get both of them back, though, Leah? Is that her name? She will be drastically different. I know how it is to be a Lycan at such a young age. I will do all I can to help.” Cyelena gave one more gentle squeeze of his arm.

He silently held up a hand and moved to his bedroom and grabbed a cot. As he was gone she took that opportunity to throw on the undershirt back on. When he reemerged she gave him a weak smile. He placed the cot by the fire. Looking at it she felt bad for taking what was most likely where he was sleeping now with Telian. About to speak saying she is comfortable on the floor he spoke and walked over to her helping her up and towards the cot. Before he let go Cyelena turned towards him, a hand on his shoulder. She looked at his face for a moment and then hugged him, a hand resting between his thick shoulder blades. “Thank you, Faelon. Please do not hurt so—we can overcome this.” She released him with a smile her deep blue ocean eyes searched his face and gave him a warm smile.

“G’night” She watched him go sitting on the cot as she heard the door silently shut she looked towards the crackling fire. It roared and crackled, lapping at the dry logs eating away slowly at the bark.







currently :Fae's, Noitrem. l theme l ooc:



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...The ANIMAL within.

[R u u l i g a t o r]

If I had a heart I could LOVE you...
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Faelon never did like dreaming. When he was a kid he use to be plagued with your everyday variety of nightmares; his parents dying, his home burning around him, losing his favorite set of stone soldiers, or even going about without clothing down busy streets in the marketplace while the world laughed. A world he could not control by any means of force didn’t sit well with the young dwarf, and he grew to resent his occasional nighttime interludes with a certain amount of gusto, even going as far as staying awake till the point where he fainted from exhaustion. His mother would tell him how unreasonable he was being, punishing his body so and acting like a babe when confronted with such ‘simple’ things like dreams, where as his father would laugh in the deep hearty voice he was known for and tell him, ‘Nidoy, let not the phantom of doubt plague you; you are stronger than that.’ Oh how Faelon wished he could believe such a simple truth, but time only proved that phantoms, if subdued long enough, would find away to steal everything from him.

It started innocently; forgetting things due to his tiredness, tripping and falling, his teachers and mentors scolding him almost daily to shape up and return his mind to the present, but thing got worse and the dreams multiplied as his family was taken. After his father’s death, sleep was no longer an option, as nightmares were the only thing to accompany him to bed. It was hard, grueling even on occasion, but Faelon and Thelin supported one another, side by side, thick and thin. When Thelin was…taken, Faelon accepted the reality that there were no such things as good dreams in a world cruel enough to strip him of his only salvation.

This dream, however, was new. All around him were black trees, thicker around than what he could reach if he were to hug it and tall enough that he could not make out their tops in the inky foliage above him. His vision seemed to lag, tracking on a delay as he tried to find anything in the expanse of wood that could have possibly differed from the heavy dark; nothing. Fear and nerves ate at Faelon’s heart while he stood, debating on which direction he should take, hands roaming over his chest and sides, searing for…for what? Sleepily his fingers brushed over the hilt of a knife that lay tucked at his side, slowly gripping the bone handle before pulling it up to examine the knife in question; it was average in almost every way, except for a carved bone handle resembling a snarling wolf. Frowning Faelon tucked the knife back into his belt, having quite enough of wolves for one night, when a flash of movement just to his right caught his attention. The forest was complacently quiet, no birds or beasts adding their voices to the still calm as he walked slowly over the dense, moist earth beneath his feet. A young girl stood with her back to him some yards off, her dark hair whipping oddly about her head despite the fact that there was no breezy. As he got closer, she turned and smiled on him, her pale hand extending to reach for his as the shock finally registered; Leah! Opening his mouth to speak, Faelon found he had no words, as if the forest sucked even the vibrations of his voice from him to lie dead between them. Leah only shook her head, seemingly understanding what he was about to ask even though he himself could not hear it; was there something wrong with his ears? No, he could hear his own breathing accompanying the frantic beating of his heart as it attempted to escape his throat.

Pulling on his hand, Leah mouthed silent words at him, chatting and smiling while she lead him through the murky darkness, their hands swinging between them playfully. Faelon’s head scrambled to provide an answer while he wordlessly begged her to stop, wanting to check to see if she was okay or whether or not she was injured. Where was Viggo? Blue eyes scanned the woods again, only finding the same mirage of trees he’d seen before. Leah granted him another smile, grasping for his hand again as she turned to continue on their little walk, still chatting silently. In the distance he could hear something; gurgling, a river maybe? No, there were other sounds carried on the same non-existent wind, too far to make out; shrill whines, laughter? Suddenly Leah dropped his hand and began running in the direction of the noise, leaving Faelon to try calling for her, his arms waving frantically before speeding after her, right hand already curling around the wolf-blade at his hip. The noises began to get louder; gurgles turning into grunting, pain-filled cries while the shrill whines morphed seamlessly into sharp barks and growling. They were rapidly approaching a clearing in the trees, a wide circle lit bright by a roaring fire; Its golden light flickered against the dark-barked trees as he ran, now frantic to try and reach the girl before she could… Telian’s grey face, shocked and in pain, stopped him dead in his tracks at the edge of the clearing, blue eyes widening as hot tears rolled down his friend’s cheek.

A whole pack of wolves, for despite their human forms Faelon knew that’s what they were, stood laughing loudly as one of their own ripped at Telian’s exposed chest, shredding it. Fury built in the dwarf’s own chest, blue eyes burning as he whipped the knife up, struggling past the human-wolves who stood watching, always laughing, and shouting for Telian to hold on. The grey wolf stopped, its small paws dropping from his friend’s shoulders as Telian ran bloodied fingers through the soft fur of his attacker, turning slowly towards Faelon. Sad blue eyes captured his own as he noiselessly roared his rage at it, lifting his blade to attack when he noticed what it was holding between its teeth; A heart…his friend’s heart. Faelon stumbled, dropping the wolf-hilted knife as he forced himself to call his thoughts, “….Leah?”

‘Leah!’ A shout tore him like an echo from the dream, blue eyes frantically searching for its source as an upturning of furniture pounded loudly against the wooden floors of his bedroom. Automatically his hand flew to his belt, searching for…for what? Faelon watched Telian stumble in his outcry, sliding helplessly to the floor bundled in every sheet and blanket the bed offered. Guilt surged through the dwarf’s chest as he quickly got to his feet, trying to think of what to say to the obviously hurting man before him; was he hurt? Hung over? What did he remember from the night before? The intelligent thing to do would have included giving the dark-haired youth some space, breathing room, but Faelon could only think of all the cold-stares and space he’d gotten when he mourned Thelin; this was no time for the right thing. Stepping slowly towards the boy, Faelon stopped off to his side near his knees, lowering himself with a frown until their eyes were on level, “….Welcome back, khuzsh.” The silence held strong as Faelon waited, knowing it was not the time to try and touch the man before him, “I apologize for your state of dress; when we returned last night you were sopping wet from the rain and I had no time to pull any of or clothing out of our pack before you went truly to sleep. Had I known you would wake so…violently, I would have striven to insure you were clothed before settling in.” Releasing a held breath, Faelon leaned in slightly to rest his elbows upon his thighs, balancing his weight at his heels; what could he even say at a time like this? What had he needed to hear when it was him sitting there at a loss? “I will not tell you not to worry, or that everything will be okay, because neither will do you any good. Leah was taken. She was hurt and now sits with a monster by our doing, but I promise you,” when the boy still kept his eyes in his lap, curled tight upon himself, the dwarf reached out to touch his cheek, “I promise you I will do everything in my power, should it even cost me my life, to see her safely returned to you, my friend. We will save her.” The words were dark, solemn, but he could only hope they would get the point he wanted to make across; this was not hopeless. If they fought this together, with Cyelena’s help, they could defeat Viggo and rescue the ones dearest to them.

“I have a few contacts who may know where Viggo is or where he is going now that Sadir has joined them. I mean to speak with them now, but I need to know if… if I can trust that you will be strong enough to not leave this place until I can return. Cyelena is back, injured, and may need your assistance while I am away, but if I can gather anything, I will return and we can leave immediately.” Standing, Fae extended a hand, offering Telian a way up, blue eyes shining with barely hidden pain and empathy “Can you do this for me?”





|| Faelon Thulonûn|| Wearing- The Normal Wear || His Home -- Noitrem || ooc: Nidoy / Khuzsh -- "Son/Friend" ||


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...If I had a VOICE I could sing.

[DandyFrickFrak]

Once more unto the Breach...

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxH E A L T H☠ ███████████ 100%

H a l r i cLLG r e c o p h
P r i n c eLLo fLLN o i t r e m

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Hal was still in awe at the building itself without noticing the guardsman. Edmund was sword at the ready, nervous about the look of the guard. Hal finally noticed the guard as the doors opened, stepping back some his eyes looked upon the broad man he saw before him. This man was kind and welcoming them forward. Mentioning of a weapon Hal looked to Edmund, the foolish man. Rolling his eyes, "Poins! Come now, these gentlemen are harmless, settle." he sighed. Edmund nodded as he put his blade away still on edge, not liking the feeling of the place at all. He muttered "Fine..." he have a slight glare, not liking the treatment from the prince. He was no hound to be scolded so.

Hal was distracted by the kind man who was allowing them entrance and persuading drink. Hal was all over that, giving a nod he was led about the stairs into the theater, as it was formally introduced. Hal was in love with the building, he had a passion for art and play write. This was his dear heaven above. "This place is wonderful, my my what beautiful craftsmanship it took to raise such a building." he commented as he moved ahead to looked about the railing to everyone bustling about. Edmund was close at his heels like the good guard he was, though careful to be only seen as a fellow friend. He hoped Hal had a plan for when he was asked who he was, a prince should no be so foolish to state his title here.

Hal spun around and was drawn to the mans voice as he introduced himself as Viggo Stian. Hal nodded, reaching out for a formal handshake, "Good morrow! I am Henry, this is my fellow friend Poins, I apologize in his place for being rude with his blade, he is sensitive to new places and strangers. I usually make sure he is calmer before we explore. We but humble merry men who travel about with drink and tongue of tale." he smiled, looking to Edmund who was relieved Hal knew what he was doing. Hal looked like a regular guy, no prince would wear unbuttoned leathers and dirty boots. He had no form of the King's crest upon him, he was well out of question. Edmund looked like a regular traveler as well, the undercover work was easy for him but not his favorite thing to do.

"Pleasure to meet you at this extravagant place." he smiled, being as polite as possible with these strangers, "When I was but a young boy my mother told me stories of this place, the theater held many plays. I am a bit of an admirer for art such as this. I brought along my fellow to join me into this adventure to see if the place was still running. We heard tales of its business but were unsure." he looked to Poins who nodded. "Yes indeed" he commented trying to keep himself together. He did not like this place at all, the people made him uncomfortable, no matter their generosity. Hal kept his act up and just relaxed.



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Location: Cage Theater | Company: Poins & Viggo | occ:



...dear friends Once more...

[R u u l i g a t o r]

I want to feel the ρᴧוӥ and the bitter taste...
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The pair of men looked very unassuming, aside from the larger man and his drawn weapon, but who could blame him for wanting to insure his own safety in such dark times. Pale green eyes swept over the two people before him, quickly judging their manner of dress and the informality of their speech as they took in the theater around them with wide, yet wary, eyes. Looking up again at the high ceiling, Viggo smiled and took a step back from the man, “Thank you, thank you; I’d love to take all the credit, but I fear my dear fellows here would kill me in my sleep if I did!” Motioning with a lazy sweep of his arm to the assembled group, he echoed their laughter, waving away a faint call of affirmation from the back, “But in all seriousness, the Cage has been a labor of love for a great many years. Do you know how hard it was to find a large, living tree in the middle of this great city? Nigh on impossible, let me tell you, but here we are today; tree alive and well, roots strong and firm.” Dropping his hands to his hips, the alpha motioned with his head for the two men to follow him to the base of the large tree, where currently a ring of overstuffed pillows, couches, and mounds of blankets circled the monstrosity. As they settled, the younger of the two spoke, introducing them as traveling men and continuing on with his babble about the theater and their intentions. Viggo fixed his false smile tightly to his lips as the young lad spoke his poorly concealed lies, searching over him again with a quick glance; dirty, yes, were their shoes, but it was easily explained by the mud and rain just outside. Did the prince truly believe that he had no idea who he was?

Of course, how was the prince to know that it was Viggo himself who ran many of the taverns he frequented, fueling his slanderous reputation? The man before him smelled entirely too clean, his skin unmarred and fresh, to be truly believed as a traveler; but no matter, if this was the game they were to play, Viggo would do what he did best. “Henry, was it? And Poins? Can’t say I’ve heard a name like that one before, but glad to meet you, whatever you be called. You must excuse me, as I suddenly feel so dreadfully old! Ha, a young boy, eh? Well, I am glad you could finally join us here at the Cage; I can only hope it measures up to your mother’s, no doubt, wondrous stories.” Stretching out on one of the huge floor cushions, Viggo rolled onto his back to gather a bottle of wine that sat at the tree’s base before sitting back up with seemingly exaggerated difficulty. Huffing, the wolf lifted the bottle to his lips for a swig of the deep red drink before extending his arm towards the two men, offering the bottle as a sign of comradery and friendship, “Here ya’ are, my friends; not the best bit I’ve got, but then again, we’re hardly acquainted. I’ll save the good stuff once you promise to name yer first born after me!” Guffawing, Viggo held his gut as the prince took the wine, winking as he settles back on the pillow. Approaching the dais, Delilah and Keren moved arm in arm, chuckling in low whispers as they eyed the prince, coming to sit near his feet with their own glittering smiles. The two women, red-headed twins Viggo had ‘freed’ from prostitution a few years back, were demons in human flesh, but knew exactly how to make a guest feel comfortable. A third member, accompanied with more drink, came to sit on the couch beside Poins, slinging his arm around his neck as the pack slowly moved towards the group.

“I can assure you we are definitely still in business, my friends. Of course, you’ve caught us on an off night, but you’re more than welcome to visit in a couple days to see our performance of ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’; it’s not one to miss. But something tells me you’re here for other reasons. Come now, we’re all friends here; Is there some other bit of business that would bring you to our door so early in the morning?” Arching an eyebrow, Viggo picked himself up off his cushion and crossed the space between them, stepping over Keren who swiped giggling at his boots, and dropped himself onto the couch between Poins and ‘Henry’. Leaning in close, Viggo smiled at the man, motioning him in as if he had a secret to share, “You can tell me; we’re friends now right?”He whispered in faux giddiness, thumbing over his shoulder to the too serious looking Poins, who was dealing with one of the seemingly drunk members of his pack, “Just between me and you, of course; party-pooper Poins here won’t even have to know.” What did the prince know? Or, better put; what did he think he knew? And if he knew or had any idea, how much did the royal family, especially the king, know? Obviously he had a good reason to try and disguise his identity, for which Viggo could only guess was concerning the killings in Noitrem, and that simply would not do. If that were the case… Well, their fair and noble prince may soon be joining in on a grand adventure.


--- --- --- ---


Hurt eyes cracked open to peer at him, still clouded with induced sleep and pain from her undoubtedly astonishing night. How much did she remember of what had happened between Viggo and herself? What of her family? Did she even remember that they had been there at all? Exhaling through his nose, Dorihl reached again for the damp cloth, wringing it out into the bowl set on the edge of her makeshift bed of cushions and furs before lifting it to drape over her heated forehead, his fingers softly brushing back the loose curls of hair that attempted to stick to the slick skin, “There you are wrong and right in both ways.” He let the statement sit in the air between them for a moment, giving her the time to process his words, watching as her eyes slowly became more and more intuitive, sifting through hazy memories to piece together what had happened. She did not trust him, not yet, and he could feel the way she pulled away from his touch, “Viggo gave you a new life when your family ordered for you to be harmed. You must remember the vile man who shot you…” They were not lies, nor were they truths, but exaggerations on details that would let the girl piece together for herself what had happened. Gently touching her chin, he guided her head towards him, exposing the garish wound covering most of her neck and shoulder to his sight; already the bite seemed to be healing, its jagged edges loosing the bright red color of irritation as no more blood seeped from the wound. Lycans healed no differently than normal men did but the first bite, the turning bite, always seemed to classify outside of the realm of normal.

“You chose to be his Queen and heir, and when the opportunity to stand strong and tall beside him arose, you took it in stride. Even now your… prince,” the beta struggled over the word, brows narrowing before he continued, “Is doing all that he can to insure that the man who hurt you learns of the severity of his crime against you. That man was a friend of your family… sent to harm you.” Dorihl was not a man of many words, so twisting ones like these left a bad taste in his mouth; he was not Viggo, nor did he wish to ever be him. Some men found pleasure in deceiving the world around them, while other gave their loyalties to those men… Were both equally as evil, if one man did the wrong thing, but the other did nothing to stop him? Pale grey eyes shifted back to the girl’s face as he spoke, reaching out once more to refresh the cool towel on her forehead, “I will take you to Viggo as soon as you are ready to see him, but for now you must rest. Would you prefer to stay here, or shall I take you to your room?” He had explicit orders to stay with her now, to teach her, but giving her the freedom of her own choices would likely be the only choice she would have in the next long months; a choice Dorihl was happy to give her.





|| Location -- Noitrem // The Cage Theatre || Wearing -- Wolf Lord || ooc: ||


═══════════════════════════
...Of the ɮǀѳѳᴅ on my lips again.

[DandyFrickFrak]

Once more unto the Breach...

☠XX♚XX☠XX▏

xxxxxxxxxxxxxH E A L T H☠ ███████████ 100%

H a l r i cLLG r e c o p h
P r i n c eLLo fLLN o i t r e m

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So far so good for Hal and his lying tongue as Poins looked over to him as the bottle was exchanged at a friendly gesture. He was soon pulled away by the attention of a drunk man going on and on about something and offering more drinks. Women appeared but Edmund got nervous and averted his eyes to his cup.

Hal smiled at the mention of the play, "It sounds wonderful! I shall plan to see it when you do show it." his mind was fascinated by the art itself, thinking to himself how it would go for a moment while he drank. In that time Viggo changed his place so he was closer to Hal, the prince quirked an eyebrow as he took a drink. The man smelt of travel and wet dog, he finished his large gulp of the wine and listened to the hushed voice of the man. Questioning his presence Hal set his cup down slowly, Viggo knew something that Hal had not, he decided to answer as broad as possible though his semi-drunk thoughts kept invading him.

The prince scooted closer to Viggo to hear clearer the question as he instantly answered, "Oh...well I was at my local pub this morning, enjoying a few drinks with the good folk. There was an exchange of tales, rumors about rather brutish wolf beasts taking out Noitrem folk. I knew this couldn't be true, seemed too much like a childish tale to me. Till of course one person said it was rather true. I took my friend on a journey about where we might see these creatures as the man told us. Just to take a gander at what the meaning was to the tale. So far I have seen no beasts that old coot spoke of. We were on the little path the old man said but I got distracted by the beautiful theater. Poins was a nervous wreak that I ran with this story but as he can see there is nothing but gentlemen and kind women about." he smiled as he leaned back in his seat and drank the rest of his cup. Setting his cup down he looked at the man he semi-trusted for the kindness he offered. Poins was distracted by those that surrounded him with talk.



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Location: Cage Theater | Company: Poins & Viggo | occ: short sorry



...dear friends Once more...

[R u u l i g a t o r]

I want to feel the ρᴧוӥ and the bitter taste...
═══════════════════════════


With the drink flowing easily between them now, the hidden prince quickly slid into the comfort of blissful ignorance, too happy to open up to him as one would with a new friend. What reason did he have to believe that any ill will could come from the assembled group of men and women about him? The bodyguard, Poins, gave off a distinct aura of dislike and nervousness that prickled angrily under the alpha’s skin but he trusted that the rest of his pack could keep the man well at hand until they could devise the true reason for the pairs’ visit to the theater. With dawn rapidly approaching, Viggo knew that he and a considerable group of his pack members would have to be high-tailing it towards the great city of the Elves in the next few hours if they had any hopes of escaping before Leah’s family could notify the city guard or wall in the city’s exits. He had no doubt that Telian and the dwarf would follow them, but he couldn’t say he was scared of being caught. With the gentlest of prodding, the Prince quickly began to speak in return, leaning in with a child-like smile usually presented to bosom pals, telling of an old man at a tavern and a whole manner of other seemingly ridiculous notions that he’d heard. Instead of the panic he’d been expecting to nag at him deep within his mind, Viggo found that he was instead filled with a eerie calm, his body becoming light and flippant as ‘Henry’ continued, his eyes glowing in delight as his revelation. Returning the easy smile, Viggo’s brows arched as a laugh trickled up through his throat, escaping his lips quietly; it was entirely too late for forgiveness now.

Tossing his head back, Viggo let the laugh grow louder as he clutched his gut, shielding his eyes as the laugh rolled from him, body shaking with mirth. Wiping his eyes, the wolf looped an arm around the young man’s neck, smiling at him, “Wolves? In Noitrem? Lad, he must have been pulling your leg something fierce! Why, I’m surprise you even still have one attached!” Patting him on said leg, Viggo stood from the chaise and offered a hand to pull the other man up, the same-song smile still hovering on his lips as he pulled him up. Green eyes flickered to his own companions, and with a small motion in the direction of Poins, Viggo’s smile grew brighter as he locked his gaze with the prince, “How unfortunate for you that it is true, Halric—Sorry, sorry; ‘Henry’.”

Using his ungodly strength, Viggo pulled the prince bodily to him, trapping his arms behind his back in a crushing hug, pinning him with a single hand while the other moved up the boy’s chest to grip his chin, training his gaze on Edmund. “I’d love to say I was sorry for all of this, but my lord, you simply know too much. Luckily for you, your title makes you quite the bargaining chip for a large slew of your father’s enemies, so I have no reason to kill you. Your loyal companion on the other hand,” he slurred the thick words into Hal’s ear, his sadistic smile growing as the bodies of his pack began to boil around him, bones already snapping as their changes started, “Well… Perhaps we can send your father a doggy bag?” And with his final pealing laugh, the wolves sprang forward, their monstrous forms mid-shifted or fully changed as they leapt upon the prince’s stalwart servant.

Viggo held tight, unmoving but for his eyes while the prince attempted to thrash against him, calling and screaming for his friend who seemed just as desperate to get to him. How beautifully pathetic they were, pushing for one another as the dangers manifested around them, plunging them quickly into a nightmare beyond either of their imaginations. Edmund made a valiant effort, his blade flashing and jabbing as he roared, his rage fueling his swings as the bodies of two in his pack fell lifeless at his heels. Blood covered the once clean tunic stretching over his chest as he heaved and fought to save his prince, eyes flashing in fear, the whites of an animal caught in a trap. Closer and closer the guard came, now only feet away from his prize, but still Viggo did not move, nuzzling the side of Hal’s neck to further taunt the man.

With only a few inches left, Edmunds grasping hand barely brushed the front of his prince’s outer cloak before a dark red wolf, furious and snarling, latched firmly onto the man’s calf, pulling him back into the fray as the pack descended for revenge of their lost friends. The alpha had to give it to the man for not screaming out then, his steely eyes flashing while too white teeth tore into the weak mail of his armor, shredding it as they searched for the soft flesh below. Those eyes closed in failure as the wolves found it, ripping life from him in heaping chunks, viscera and blood spattering the great tree just before them. Humming loudly over the milling wolves, Viggo gave a small kiss to the now frozen prince, ruffling his hair fondly as his friend’s remains lacquered the floor, “Guess you were able to see a show after all, my lord!”

Knocking his knuckles roughly against the young man’s temple, Viggo felt his body drop into unconsciousness, slithering down his front in bent angles as he slid to the floor in a heap. Tutting, Viggo growled out a command to halt is the beast language, stepping over the Prince’s prone form to mill about the last remains of the once large man who had been alive only moments before, “Clean up this mess. Let fire claim the corpses of our own and we will leave.” Keren nudged the unmoving form of her sister, harsh growls escaping her open mouth as she eyed the prince, her grief and rage at her own loss pinpointing him. Viggo snarled for her to dispose of her sister’s body before going about her own tasks to prepare to leave; there was much to be done and the sun was right behind them.

A handful, only a dozen or so wolves, would stay to keep the disguise of a playhouse well managed while the rest, now including Leah, Sadir, and the Prince, would be on their way to the Wealds. Stooping, the Alpha coated his finger in the already cooling, sticky blood of the mortal he stood in before lifting it to his lips and sucking it clean. The next kill would surely be his own; his pack hardly deserved such a treat so often. Sighing, Viggo moved back to the Prince, hefting him over one shoulder before heading towards the back doors of the theater, “Gather our prisoner and inform Dorihl of the plan; we move within the hour.”

Farewell Noitrem; it had been fun.






|| Location -- Noitrem // The Cage Theatre || Wearing -- Wolf Lord || ooc: ||


═══════════════════════════
...Of the ɮǀѳѳᴅ on my lips again.

[DandyFrickFrak]

Once more unto the Breach...

☠XX♚XX☠XX▏

xxxxxxxxxxxxxH E A L T H☠ ███████████ 100%

H a l r i cLLG r e c o p h
P r i n c eLLo fLLN o i t r e m

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The drink was good, too good. A powerful distraction for the Prince as he kept drinking and enjoying the time he had with a new fellow he thought he could call friend very soon. Hearing the man cackle at his words he laughed along, he must of humored the man with how wild their imaginations they had. He politely smiled and took the hand offered as he stood up to his fully height of 6'2. Content with drink and amusement he smiled, "Eheheheh, yes indeed." he smile turned cheeky as he looked to Poins who was relaxing some and listening to the others around him. Looking back to the new fellow friend Viggo he locked gazes with the gruff man, his smile was intimidating as he heard the words escape Viggo's dry lips. "How unfortunate for you that it is true, Halric—Sorry, sorry; ‘Henry’." Halric felt his throat tighten as if a rock was lodged there. This man knew who he was, Hal registered that as very bad. Absent thought he felt a sudden grasp to his wrist and then a harsh tug of his arm. Grappled against the larger man Hal looked to Poins who shot up from his seat. With the instinct to break free he thrashed his shoulders as he felt the other large arm cross his chest to hold him there. "Let go!" he spat as he used his strength to try to break free of the mans hold. Unknowing that Viggo was as strong as he was, Hal winced as he was gripped tighter. Hal knew he was strong but this man's strength he could not comprehend.

His blue eyes averted to Poins who took his blade and slashed the air. "My Lord!" he bellowed as he threatened those around him, Hal watched in horror as those mortals shifted, contorted and birthed into hellish beasts. "Just as the tale goes...wolves." he watched Poins get in position to fight. "Poins! Destroy them!" he barked orders to get the man to fight. Poins was a solider as well as a guardsman, he knew his job. "I live and serve the King and his son. I will cut you down to pieces." the man hissed as he swung his blade about professionally. Hal felt shame, he made a mess of things, going off on this grand adventure to get caught in the act. Viggo held his face with his dirty hands of blood and sand. Hal gritted his teeth as he struggled to get free by merely inching his way to get a few shoves to the large man, though he was weak compared to this new enemy. This beast of a man, who brought the nightmares to life. Edmund struggled as he fought off the group of wolves snarling and baring fangs at him.

Edmund was lucky to cut two down and made his way to Hal, his only goal. Hal was stuck in place as he watched his friend, his guard who had his back since he was but a child. Hal watched Edmund fight for his life and Hal's. Hal choked, "Come friend! You are almost to me, please. Save me!" he cried out as he felt so weak and helpless. Edmund met his gaze as he reached out with his free hand to grab Hal's coat. His index and middle finger just grazed the worn down leather just before one of the wolves grabbed his leg and bit down hard. Edmund screamed in agony as tooth broke flesh. Hal screamed in fear of his friend, "Edmund!! No!!" he felt his heart stop for a second as Edmund was yanked backwards to the ground where the beasts tackled his body with fangs and growls. Tears streaked his face as he felt such anguish as he watched his friend be slain by wolves. His body was numb, unaware of Viggo's teasing gesture to Edmund just before he died. Edmund's screams and wails were silenced as his throat was ripped from him to shut him up. Hal's tense body was still frozen yet his head went limp as he stared at the blood on the ground by his feet. In a state of shock he let out shallow breaths as sweat and tears dripped down his face. The blood from the hounds feast splattered on him, tainting his skin with death.

Hal regained his conscious mind to reality as he heard Viggo speak to him, jesting about a show performance by his good fellow Edmund. Hal was mute, his body and mind in limbo as he processed all he had just witnessed. Before he knew it everything went black. Knocked out by a sturdy punch to the side of his head he fell to the bloodied dirt, out cold. His body soon lifted over Viggo's shoulder easily and taken to where ever he shall awaken to a splitting headache and trauma.



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Location: Cage Theater | Company: Poins & Viggo/pack members | occ:



...dear friends Once more...

[Delzebub]

☩ T I M E S K I P ☩

═══════════════════════════ ☩

And so it was that the haphazard alliance from Noitrem set out to save Telian's dearest niece from the clutches of their villain; Viggo, the chieftain of wolves. Grievously distressed from his niece's near-death, Telian had very little else on his mind during their travels, and even less was allowed to leave his lips. For some time, he kept much to himself, choosing to leave his new-found friends, most especially Faelon, to steep in silence. The Dwaf's earnest apology had wormed its way into his heart, but even the frankness that which it was delivered could not have driven away the deep and dark cloud that had settled upon him since Leah's kidnapping. Untrusting of the world since he had stepped beyond his own familiar realm, he was reluctant, if not even stubborn, to absolve the blacksmith of his misdeed — Though part of him was rational enough to understand that Faelon had been only trying to protect him from what the dwarf believed to be inevitable death or serious injury, he could not easily forget that the opportunity to help his niece had been stolen from him. He had been ready and willing to jump at the opportunity to prove his own worth, as such was the purpose for his original trek; and now that such had passed, leaving the charred remains of the worst fire he felt he himself had set ablaze in his own life, there was nothing else to do but collect the ash... And hope he could rebuild what was lost.

Several realities had since burdened his mind. The existence of Seelie and other-worldly folk still hung like the carcass of a neglected boar in the corner of his mind, whilst in the opposite, another haunting realization had dawned upon him somewhere amidst the horrors that he had seen before leaving Noitrem: Leah may die. Leah may not live through her experiences with the wicked soul that had taken her, and, in one way or another, he felt it was his fault. He should not have left Leah on her own, nor should he had entertained her childish imaginations with tales of the unnatural. He should never had left Cristiana's to find purpose elsewhere, but rather, should have remained by Leah's side. She had needed him, and he had failed her.

He did not speak often when he did not have to; but traveling through uncharted forest had earned its occasions where speaking and directing were more than necessary. Through the woodland to the west of Noitrem they had traveled, following Viggo's trail as he lead them along like puppets within his own deranged show. Despite being as stoic as possible, Telian had never traveled elsewhere in the entirety of his sheltered life, and had needed much assistance from his patient companions. Perhaps he was ignorant to see how well they treated him so, even despite his own faults and frustrations.

He could ride a horse well enough, but had never had to navigate through a forest. Several instances, traveling on-foot was the best that they could work, and though strong and able-bodied, Telian was not accustomed to traveling long distances under such circumstances. When food was becoming scarce, they had to hunt and scavenge for themselves — Though Cyelena seemed to have a decent handle on catching meats for them all to enjoy. He had never truly had to fend for himself in any environment, domestic or worldly; and now, within but a few days, he had found himself trekking through dark and dangerous woodland, and on some occasions, knee-deep in the murk and mud that the autumn rains had left in their midst.

In other words, he was frankly exhausted, emotionally and physically. Whether purposefully or not, most of the time he was either quiet or snappish; often attempting not to push every new ounce of information he managed to pick up on away and label it as ludicrous and unacceptable. Westward to the Elves, they were traveling — Elves, of all creatures, Leah's second-favorite amongst the seelie he had read to her about in years passed. Part of him wished he had not allowed his curious impulses to get the best of him, and had never accepted Faelon's invitation into this utterly insane realm; an even more irate part of him wished to eradicate them all from Eithlond, if only to spare men of his kind the trouble that they seemed to cause. But looking to his companions, even the most bitter of impulses were shoved aside and left quiet; he was not naturally malicious at heart, and could only day-dream of eradicating an entire people (because, as his mind wanted only to label them as creatures or things, they were, in fact, people) for a short amount of time before, once again, his consciousness silenced these conjectures.

It was upon another of these nights that Telian found himself wandering away from the group, but not without a purpose; he had strayed away for only a moment, he briefly assured, to the stream that the group had been following. Cool water was sure to settle his nerves and convince him that he was at least decently clean; after seeing the scum that was the rat, (whom he wasn't sure how he felt about being taken away — Naturally, he almost didn't seem to care, but wasn't quite as callous as his brother to fully believe this) he didn't want to risk allowing his grief to let him fall into such grotesque habits. As he wandered by the river, however, and allowed a handful of the water to pool within his palms, he snort alerted him of a presence just beyond.

A horse. A sleek, black horse was within the depths of the river; which was only up to his abdomen, he was certain, if he had waded in. He could not tell in the dark whether it was struggling to keep itself upright or not, but it gradually emerged from against the current, deep black depths of eyes settled upon Telian's own. For a moment he paused, uncertain as to why the animal was placed in such a state; perhaps she had wandered within as a wild, or perhaps she had been lost by travelers previous. The animal did not seem at all frightened with his presence, and for the good of the beast, Telian made his attempt to coax the animal out of the water, if only to see if she was capable of doing so herself. If she was stuck or too frightened to manage a way out herself, he would do what he could to lead her out; saddle-less and seemingly slightly disoriented, he supposed his companions could use another horse should the occasion arise.

The horse nickered quietly, nudging forward, but seemed hesitant to find a route out. Carefully so, Telian tested the current of the water by finding footing at the bottom of the river's depths; it was strong, but not so much so that he could not stand. He approached gradually, cooing soothing words to the entrapped mare as he closed the distance between them, a palm finding her nose and allowing her a few deep exhales of his scent. Certain that she wasn't frightened by his presence, he let a palm rise to the length of her face. If she trusted him, he could find a way to lead her out of the river.

With a hand trailing down her neck, he alerted her that he would move to her right side, if only to glance over the steepness of the earth behind her. But there was only a tangle of exposed roots from a great tree, and no evidence that she had fallen in.

And it was then, as he turned to face her again, that he realized something was wrong.

Her chest did not heave like the great beasts he had grown up with; her head but hung as she looked upon him in the dark, eyes white, too white, with the reflection of the water. She made not a sound as she stared at him in the water, nor did her ears flick this way or that in any natural manner. Looking to shake off the strange vibes that resonated in the night, and blaming his own tiredness for these imaginings, he waded forward to her once more, murmuring sweet comforts to assure her, and his own well-being.

But he stopped short and his smile soon faded from what he deciphered in the dark. Her lips curled back into an unnaturally quiet snarl; white incisors flashing in the dark. Snorting, her head drew forwards and upwards in a freakish and abnormal display, her thick neck seeming to lengthen as she did — A deep, horrifying thrum reverberating from within its chest.

This was no horse.

He cried out only once in surprise, but it was once too late. Rearing up on its legs, the current of the river seemed to ensnare him like a spider's web; as her front legs kicked mightily against the splash of water, forcing him down into its depths, backwards-set hooves revealed themselves. If he had known any better, he would have immediately realized that she was not a horse at all, but a Kelpie — A flesh-eating river-horse, and one that was exceptionally hungry at this very moment.

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Meanwhile, Londuinn was in a strange realm of affairs. With the Father of the Exile banished to a darker corner of the South, Londuinn's general awaited, with well-hidden anticipation, the arrival of the wolf, in whatever form the predator may take. Stationed within one of the eastern fortresses, he wandered the familiar woodland there, assuring that he would be the first to know of any signs of movement alongside any of their borders. Strongholds strengthened and Tirnen aware of the threats that they were convinced would inevitable emerge, Londuinn was as ready to retaliate to catastrophe as soon as the command was given. In this moment, the white-blonde elf found himself scouting the woodland east, as there had been talk of activity from the water tribe there. Alongside him, Kiah, the Princess of the Emlyn, was allowed to keep in stride beside him — And with a sharp tongue, he convinced all else that questioned his motives that she was only there for bait, and as an assurance that they would not be met by Emlyn with brutality.

Just further east of them and passed the treeline that marked the Haunted Wealds, Viggo's pack had found themselves wandering the countryside necessary to cross before entering the enchanted territory. With Sadir under Viggo's oppressive hand, little was allowed to go astray while the alpha lead them further and further West; that was not to say, however, that the wood-nymph did not start his own disturbances when he deemed it necessary. The Prince had 'tagged along' as well, or was otherwise kidnapped alongside Leah; Sadir found royalty and nobles in broad to be dry and unamusing, and the Prince was no exception to this generalization. When allowed to speak, Sadir spoke not to anyone but himself and the rats that had managed to follow even whilst he was attended by such fearsome creatures, urging them to hide away whenever any of the wolves bore their teeth or showed their ugly faces.

And speaking of faces, Sadir wasn't entirely fond of having a face, either. Whenever possible, (which was surprisingly possible on some occasions, as dirt and grime came with extended travel) he would smash his face in whatever filth or soil he could find — Which ranged only from leaves to the earthen ground and dry, countryside dust. Leah had taken kindly to Dorihl, and though she had once seemed easier to lay her trust in such men as he and Viggo, something stirred within her, unseen by her innocent eyes. She herself could not properly describe the sensation, other than that it was a particularly foreboding feeling deep inside her gut — An instinct, if you will, that worse was yet to come. She had, surprisingly and most unnaturally, not managed to transform into her lycan form as of yet — Perhaps the disease was taking its time worming its way into her body, or perhaps the wolf within her had not yet been alerted of its existence.

The pack had traveled well enough during the day, but by night, some of the members remained busy. Wolves loved most the light of the moon, and under such hours, some of them sought to resume their sport. It was during one of these instances that there, laying discarded amongst the dead leaves and foliage, was spotted the perfect plumage of a bird. A finch, it was, very small and fragile, its eyes still partly shut as if it were only in tender sleep, if not for the trembling movement from its soft chest. There were no malicious inflictions upon the frail creature; only the smallest of wounds, a red little dot, placed at its curled neck. From where his wrists were bound, Sadir managed to cradle the creature within his hands, unaware that he was being watched.

Saddened by the sight of such a delicate thing wasting away, Leah stood as the bird’s guardian, perfectly aware that the strange man could hurt the innocent animal. As he hummed and tittered and rocked to himself, she watched as his thumb moved to trace the back of its soft and small head.

“You’re not going to save it?” She blurted, and immediately regretted doing so as silver eyes flashed towards her. Shrinking away, she would have fled as quickly as a fleeting deer, if not for the answer that came from his lips.

“ZWISIH QLAFR OFETODZ! All things end when they are intended to.” He settled the bird down as the last of its life faded and the creature stilled, hissing at his rats as they attempted to converge upon the fresh corpse; but instead, they only circled near, noses twitching eagerly.

Gasping in fear for the precious bird, she was quick to accuse. “Your rats will get at it.” She looked upon him with much disgust, remembering foul words that had been placed by Viggo against him. Skipping up if only to snatch the bird carefully into her own palms, she backed away, distancing herself from where the nymph was posted. “Or… You’ll eat it.”

“No. No, no no.” Was he smiling through the shadow across his face? She did allow herself to admit; he looked much less scary without the blood and grime. But his words were still broken, and whether or not that was due to the trace amounts of pain that lingered in his voice, or his own strange mannerisms, she was too young to tell. “Give it here. I tell them no. Won’t touch.” He gestured towards the small patch of earth just before him. “Here.”

Unconvinced, it took him much persuasion, and the leave of his rats, until she finally put the bird down. But only for a moment, her mother’s stubbornness assured, and he cackled a moment before all fell silent once more. One of his hands rose over the animal, gradually passing over the neat tuft of feathers as a wisp of wind; and gradually, little green sprouts began to emerge. Her eyes widened as the process endured; lush greenery blooming first from the cut, before they spread like fire… Encompassing the whole animal in a womb of quaint flower buds and infant grass.

Her mouth wide open, she nearly assaulted him with her question, “How did you do that?”
“Mn?”
“Make them grow!”
He laughed weakly, and answered, “MAKE THEM GROW! I did not make them grow, pwedk.” He met her puzzled eyes with his own, “BALPYK WOFKZ DEY! I inspired them to.” Choking back a convulsion, he curled in upon himself from within his binds, silver eyes lingering left, right… Watching for the wolves that were sure to sweep in at any moment. “In two, three, four weeks… SWLEFY EF SWY OXZYFPY AB DEBY! These sprouts would have emerged.”

Her lip curling in worry, her eyes lingered upon the foliage, “What… What happened to the bird?”
Tittering, he answered, “She has returned to the earth — YOLSW. DEBY. XDAAK! — Where we are all borne.” He inhaled his breath too sharply, and a hiss resonated within the air, hating the way she flinched at his sharp movements, and fighting off the demands of the restless clairvoyant within, “There are things — things — things in this world — Not meant to understand,” He managed a smile, “OFK QEDD FYFYL IFKYLZSOFK! But it is always good to remem — ber — ber — ber that everything grows back.”

A moment of pause was allowed as the young mind soaked in the lesson delivered from the bound stranger, and she pondered aloud to echo the concept, “From… From bad, to good?”
“Yes, pwedk.”
“Like… Spiders?” It seemed it was her turn to puzzle him. He gave her an uncertain c**k of his head, prompting her to further explain her thoughts, “They eat all the bad bugs, uncle said.” Slightly embarrassed, he remembered the chastising she had received from her grandfather on speaking things without thinking things through — And how the misuse of words can make one appear foolish. Hastening, she concluded as her fingers laced nervously in front of her, and her gaze lowered elsewhere, “That’s why I’m not afraid.”

But there was no chastising to be given, and the nymph gave an impressed raise of his brow, “Yes, like spiders.” His rats gave a twitch of their noses, but they stayed far from the mound of grasses. Like a parent that knew much of how to coax a child into speaking their mind, he gave a gentle (and rather oddly out of character, for the devious nymph) nod, “And ha—hav—have you ever seen a spider in your home, pwedk?”

The next she raised her eyes, she was smiling. “No…” Laughter. Oh, precious laughter lifted from her smiling lips, and he relished in the sound. “…Mother usually squished them before I could.” She giggled, giving an indicating nod to his vermin, “But I’ve seen a rat before.”

Briefly forgetful of their company, their conversation would endure as long as it was allowed.

Translations:
*Pwedk = My child.

((this post is... unforgivably long. I'm sorry.))

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[R u u l i g a t o r]

If I had a heart I could LOVE you...
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It had not been hard to pick up the trail left by Viggo and his pack; within an hour of reaching out to the various Seelie living within the city’s walls, Faelon knew everything he needed to know. Lycans, by nature, were not a quiet bunch and as such, most of the city had seen a large group of ‘traveling performers’ leaving earlier that day through the western gates. His informants had also heard a great host of rumors as to why, but most involved a young girl and a visit to the elves of Londuinn, which was more than enough speculation for Telian; any lead was better than sitting here and doing nothing. But that seemed almost a life-time ago now. For a few days, a handful of various village folk and traveling merchants had shared their road, but as the city stretched further and further from them and villages grew smaller and more desolate, the small pack of travelers now found themselves on their own.

All around them the forest rose in walls of wood and greenery, sometimes dropping perilously into careening gorges where ancient rivers had carved their roots. Every turn seemed to bring a new surprise to hinder them, dropping their chances of catching up to their nimble-bodied quarry back precious hours and days as they fought to get around them. Of course, their path was not the only thing keeping them at such a deplorable pace; Cyelena, injured and worn, could only walk beside the beasts of burden that refused to cooperate with her. Even on the best of days, when the wolf could run ahead to scout the trail, Faelon and Telian toiled bodily to help the horses navigate steep slopes and boggy wetlands, a process turned even more timely when one of the team refused to acknowledge his partner.

Pulling himself back up into the worn traveling saddle, Faelon exhaled slowly as he felt with his booted foot for his second stirrup; Why had it all come to this? Before that terrible night, before Leah had become ensnared by the alpha, Faelon could have pictures this trip being one of shared smiles and sparring lessons. Blue eyes roved exhaustedly over the retreating back of Telian, who stole ahead over the leveling ground, doing what he could to stay away from the dwarf.

He’d tried to lightened the heavy air between the group, done everything he could to pull the lad from the cage of his heart, but Faelon knew that time was the only cure for hurts like these. Telian had accepted his apology easily, and reminded him an every moment when he happened to catch the dwarf looking particularly vulnerable, but it was only a skin acceptance; Telian wanted to believe that the actions he had taken were for the best, pretend that Faelon was not the reason for his niece’s newfound danger, but his soul was not yet ready to forgive. He would and could not blame him for it; Mahal, Faelon had not even forgiven himself for that night. Clicking his tongue, Deraz snorted and began to follow after the dark pair before them, wooly ears flickering in annoyance as he whipped his thick tail from side to side, “I’m sorry, my friend. I shall strive to pay more attention.” Faelon’s words were low and tired as he spoke to the pony, slipping his fingers beneath the bearskin saddle pad to scratch at the chestnut fur beneath as he rolled his neck, dropping his head back as he watched the passing of the treetops over head.

Dappled sunlight freckled his tan skin, streaking his golden hair through with living light, seemingly setting it ablaze in the late autumn afternoon. The forest had started to lose the red and orange foliage it had held onto for far too long, gnarled black branches stretching wide over the cerulean sky, the air around them brisk and cold from the lack of clouds. Soon winter’s frosty fingers would begin to crawl across their path, stealing their breath from them in puffy white clouds, but for now Faelon was happy to thank their luck for having come this far without it beginning to do so.

Nervous whinnies drew his attention back to the horse a few paces ahead, watching as Telian worked smoothing circles over the beast’s neck, his expression unchanging; they both knew it was only a signal to mark the returning of their third member. Deraz, unlike the taller mount, arched his neck and tail at her arrival, whickering as the large black wolf padded slowly at an angle to intercept them. Even after the weeks of traveling at her side, Faelon had to swallow the knot of fear and disgust that wormed into him at seeing her in such a state; she was his friend, a provider, and still he could not put the past behind him? Faelon felt ashamed at his own inability to forgive while he wished for Telian to do just that. Cyelena’s great black body fell into pace beside Deraz, her large head turning as their gaze’s met before they both turned back to Telian.

The youth had not slowed his pace, nor turned to re-welcome her, merely trudged on with shoulders slumped and fingers rubbing their continuous circles on the gelding beneath him. Cyelena huffed as Faelon shook his head, signifying open conversation between them still had yet to be achieved, “I will not push him. When he is ready, he’ll let us know.” Blue eyes rolled in a way that seemed almost comedic in such a beast, her ears flicking back and forth in show with Deraz before settling flat in grieved annoyance.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Night crept slowly over their heads as the group settled down for the evening. Cyelena, once more transformed and clothed, was prepping a pair of conies they had trapped only an hour past. Faelon tended the fire, making quick work of gathering dry wood and fostering the embers until a small cooking swath was built. Telian, who had been tending the horses and unburdening their packs, moved quietly away from them and upstream, leaving Faelon and Cyelena watching after his retreating form until they could no longer see or hear him from their places beside the blaze. Sitting back in his heals, the dwarf rubbed his hands together with an all too common sigh, pushing himself to his feet as he shared a look with the confused barmaid, “That’s it; I cannot wait any longer, watching him suffer so in silence. He’ll talk to me, or Mahal help me, I’ll tie him down until he listens to our piece.” Moving back to Deraz, Faelon fished out grooming kit and oils, his frown painfully obvious as he quickly extracted the myriad of beads from his braided mane, depositing them into the leather pouch that hung about his saddle-horn.

Shaking out his braids, the dwarf considered leaving his twin swords with the rest of his supplies, but decided last minute to keep them close while in this unfamiliar stretch of forest. Nodding one last time to Cyelena, Faelon fell quickly to the trail that had lead Telian away, his hand gripping tightly to the wooden box in his hand; what was he suppose to say? Should he just try to play it off that he was there for a wash up as well and thought it the best time to intrude? Grumbling, the dwarf pushed through a thick bush that lead to the pebbled shore of the creek they had been following, eyes downcast as he muttered the lines he’d practiced all day in his head for this meeting.

‘Telian, we are your friends, I am your friend, you need only tell me what I must do to do right by you’; ‘Telian, we will save her, but you must put your faith back in us’; ‘Telian, you must stop being such a stubborn a—‘the rambling thoughts were abruptly halted by a sound of shocked alarm, accompanied by the deep sound of water. Faelon looked up just in time to see… see something pull Telian beneath the gently churning current of the water, its dead white eyes glowing as it tossed a monstrous head in victory. Shocked still for a moment, Faelon blinked for what seemed an eternity as the world slowed around him, tracking Telian’s pale hand as it sank beneath the waves.

Luckily, the world caught up only seconds later, spurring the dwarf into action; with a roar, Faelon flung aside the ash grooming kit as he released his dual swords, a furious haze settling over his mind as he charged forward towards the horse-like creature. As his feet met the water’s edge, the dwarf yelled again for his friend, ignoring the way the water seemed to boil around his calves and thighs as he waded in, hoping the creature would turn its sights to him instead. The beast saved him the trouble of going beyond his balancing point, its slick black body moving quickly towards him. No doubtedly hoping to add to its fruitful feast by adding the dwarf, its powerful legs churned the water as it reached the spot just before him. Snarling, Faelon growled his own rage, slashing with a double parry as the distorted hooves attempted to land blows upon him, his blades having little to no affect against the slimy creature. Frantically, blue eyes searched the water between them for any sign of his stranger, both arms aching from the strain of defending against such massive hits.

Distracted, Faelon missed a parry as he moved closer, sweeping his legs beneath the water in hopes of making contact with Telian; sickly curved fangs, attached to a equally disfigured equine shape, struck at him like a serpent. The too-white daggers bit greedily into his upper arm and shoulder as he attempted to block a strike from the thrashing legs, the dwarf’s face tightening in pain as he brought his fist down hard into the massive head. Cold water lapped and stung at the wound as he let the hooves batter his arms and chest, almost ready to surrender himself to fighting weaponless if it meant using his hands to find the boy. A stray hoof clipped the right side of his face as he ducked to avoid its twin, sending him spiraling into a dizzy wobble as the creek bed seemed to get closer. Finally, as if by some miracle, Faelon’s boot pushed against something struggling and soft, pulling from him a sound of exasperated shock as he reached for it.

Bracing himself, the dwarf rammed his body hard into Kelpie, using the moment of recoil to slip his arm around the body and yank him with a yell to the surface, “Go lad, go! Get out of the water!” Faelon pushed him bodily towards the shore, ignoring the fact that blood had made seeing out of his right eye near impossible, “I’ll be right behind y—“

Unhappy with its lost meal, the Kelpie fought back harder, its splashing wake churning higher as it attempted to knock his swords away. He had Telian; he needed to get out of the water. Back tracking, Faelon lifted slow blocks as he struggled back towards the shore, his arm nearly disabled from the deep puncture it had gained. Where was Cyelena? He could only hope their yells has drawn her attention and she would be there soon. A black mass landed bodily against his chest, knocking him splayed against the embankment near a large tree, his Kelpie pursuer not far behind.




|| Faelon Thulonûn|| Wearing- The Normal Wear || The Forest Between Noitrem and Londuinn || ooc: ||


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...If I had a VOICE I could sing.

[Delzebub]

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Time passed differently to beings like themselves. Though still mortal, the blood of the elven had enabled his years to pass gradually — Too gradually for him, if he were to be honest. Travel was never particularly exciting, especially through forests as opposed to the plains he was accustomed to; but now, here, with her, seemed… Different. He feared he was falling back to his roots and enjoying the trees that encompassed them like a mother’s womb; fearful that, even, he cared too much for the elfling at his side.

As they traveled further, though, they at last breached the trees, and were once again within country. He felt the welcoming heat of the sun, free from the shroud of canopies, as it melted into his flesh, deepening his sun-kissed skin. Oh, how he missed the drums of the Agraki, the fire, the drink — But as enjoyable (or so he feared) was Saphina’s company. If he were to compliment himself, (as often he did) he would note that she seemed to be warming up to him; a pleasant enough surprise in and of itself.

Elsewehre, his brother stood beside the fire, haunted by the image of the ever-familiar woman Aevar had foolishly invited into the Agraks. Her face lingered in his dreams, a foreboding essence attached to these images. There was no guilt, but rather, worry for his brother. If she were to conveniently recollect her memories and mark him as the criminal from her past that he knew he was, Aevar would surely suffer.

But for now he could do very little about these matters, and was much too busy handling the rest of the Agraks, anyway; he could only pray to the Gods above that they would watch over his younger sibling as the weeks endured .

Even further, their leader had traveled far on his lonesome, winding through the Hlormaren Mountains, through the Old Woods north, into Noitrem (to collected needed supplies — Mostly more ale) and furthering South, to meet with his kin, as he had last ordered them to wait for hi in the country between Noitrem and Ugaria. But whilst in Noitrem and guzzling his fill at the tavern, he came upon unprecedented news, set free from the murmuring mouths of Noitrem’s gossiping drunkards.

He had known something was wrong when, on approaching Cyelena’s tavern, it was claimed as temporarily closed. Surely, he had been there when Viggo made his attempts at the poor girl — the elfling and he had been the first at the scene — But he had supposed that it had been nothing but lycan squabble. Of course, he knew much more of Viggo’s intentions with the dwarves, but the encounter with Cyelena had seemed completely unrelated. Lone wolves didn’t last long in pack-occupied territory, and he knew that, ineveitably, Cyelena was either to join, or suffer; it had been the reason he had initially invited her to his Agraks, though even there, she would not be absent of trial.

That was all of lesser concern, however, when he heard the utterance of his long-forgotten daughter’s name. Leah, the whispers and mutterings informed him over ale, The Lurakrod girl? And then another name. Viggo.

The oblivious tavern-folk knew not of Viggo’s role amongst the wolves, but some knew of him. It was but a rumor, of course, but one that he believed could be true — And, one that his blood was, surprisingly, boiling over. There was talk of the Prince missing as well, which had been a bit more predictable on Viggo’s part — But Leah? What did he need of her? Part of him wanted to believe it was all coincidence, and that Leah had landed herself in the middle of the business quite by accident, possibly when the Alpha was stalking the streets… But it was too circumstantial to be circumstantial. Leah was his daughter, and the only daughter he knew about. Viggo was trying to dangle a fat piece of pork in front of him; and if he knew well the nature of such creatures, he was trying to puppet him to his liking.

And, with or without his daughter forced into the mess, that was unacceptable.

Leaving Noitrem as a storm passed over the seas, he rode further South with new purpose. Gradually, he found refreshment in the changing landscape, until he once again wandered familiar countryside, and looked upon the mass of hundreds beyond the horizon.

Laughter, brew, tales and brawls were exchanged in celebration of their Juht’s return. This time, they would hope that he would stay, as it had not been often that Abaet would leave them for so long. Some insisted that he speak of the Dwarves, (some of which were members of the Agraks, and longed to hear stories of home) while some others urged to be told of any encounters on the road. All were explained in thorough — as though a warrior and Chieftain of rogues, Abaet was an excellent storyteller — Until the night dwindled into the early hours of morning, and most had found themselves sleeping away their toxins.

Abaet, however, held no such luxury. Once more, he had to speak with Eldgrim.

Eldgrim had been peculiarly absent of the celebrations this evening, which lead him to speculate much of the inner workings of the inflicted man’s mind; but he could not linger on such ponderings at the now. Eldgrim had been the first to approach their Juht once the merriment had ceased, passing the message on to their leader, as it had unto him: The elfing had left to Ugaria to seek the help of the Queendom on the Sea, as they both knew what was coming.

“But with her,” The blemished warrior had added, jaw locking in displeasure, “My brother.”

Aevar? It took them some words to explain exactly why Aevar had been forced to join the elfling on such an exploit, but both of them were eventually able to make sense of it. Abaet had never visited the Queen, but knew of her ways; if the elfling yearned to capture her attentions, she would need to bring bait. Eldgrim explained that the elfling had told him that Aevar would be in Ugaria when the business had passed, but Abaet knew better than to dwell on such optimisms.

“I will go,” Eldgrim insisted, already retreating to ready his horse. And though guised behind the existing concern for his brother, Abaet knew better than to believe that was the only reason the warrior urged that he be the one to leave; if Abaet were to distance himself once more from the Agraks, it would be a conscious decision to aid the men of Eithlond in their efforts of surviving their extermination. Eldgrim had made it clear in the past that it was best that Abaet leave the realm of Men alone — That he was not one of them anymore, as neither of the Agraki were. He would remind him that they had been forgotten and cast aside by all of the ignorant peoples of Eithlond, and that aligning themselves with one would doom them all. Eldgrim was wise; his age surpassed Abaet’s own by many, many years… And, normally, he would have accepted such advise and left the matter alone.

But, as much as he wanted to, he was afraid that he couldn’t.
Not this time.

He was personally involved, now. Though he cared not for his daughter, he was bothered, or even spiteful, at the fact that a measly dog had dared make such attempts against him. He did not care for the fate of man, he concluded; but the fate of the alpha was another matter entirely. It was a difficult decision to convey to his second-in-command, especially as the other insisted that he could not leave — That his people needed him, and could not see him go again, for fear that he would never return.

“And if I am not to return,” Abaet had watched the other’s good eye, “You are to lead them in my stead.”

Readying his horse, Abaet would give Eldgrim one last command: He was to take the Agraks Westward and into territory unmanaged by most of them. It was about time the Elves had been forced out of the comforts of their secluded forests.

Abaet would arrive in Ugaria soon, but for now, two had since beat him there. Patting his thighs in beat to the anticipation that thrummed like drums in his chest, Saphina had alerted Aevar that they were soon approaching the realm of the Queen. But soon after, a flowery fragrance seemed to mist the air, and he lifted his nose and crinkled it in question — A Queendom he had known the country on the Sea to be, but did it have to smell so feminine?

Before he could state something as brash on this matter, though, the elfling was leaping off of her horse, and hurriedly insisting that he do the same. His brow furrowed at the recognition that she was, in fact, rather woozy over something; he had yet to see her so jubilant without influence of their favorite mead. He did as she said, though, if only out of his own curiosity, dismounting only for his hand to be immediately snatched by the enthused elfling. Seriously, what was going on?

Elves were so strange.

He followed her dark head as it bobbed up and down to the bushes of flowers, adorable little girly sounds popping from her lips as if one had set fire to something frolicsome in her mind. Either that or, he was convinced, she was surely inebriated. Or was the fragrance of this plant toxic? As he approached, he brought one of the blooms up to his nose and gave it a whiff, checking his mental state, but he dropped the flower soon after and gave a shrug — He couldn’t usually tell his normal self from his tipsy self, anyways.

Lilacs? Is that what they were called? He did not pay attention to the names of plants — Er, flowers — Really; he liked to dub them by his own terms (i.e., “the one that burns when you touch it” “the red one with the weird stems”, “the red berries you shouldn’t eat because they’ll eat your innards out of existence”), and was never that great a learner if their proper names were passed through his ears, anyways. Lost and rather dumbfounded, he echoed, “Li…lacs?” Watching her as she skipped around what was claimed to be the border of Ugaria, he stood and gave a scratch at the back of his neck, uncertain as to what, exactly, was so important about these Lilacs.

But he was never one to complicate things, (or was rather incapable of doing so) and saw only that it made her uncommonly happy, like catnip to a cat. And so his own grin grew as he watched her, approaching with a slow and devious purpose until she spun around from purring and rubbing from against the bushes to meet his eyes. He lingered a moment just as he was poised as she questioned, remaining silent for his own entertainment, pausing once, again, even after she insisted.

Then all at once, he broke into a full run, pouncing on her and forcing her into one of her bushes. He was fortunate he could do so with this woman; any other, and his mass would have surely knocked the wind out of the girl’s lungs. Stems poked at the both of them, but he was too busy laughing to pay much mind to any of those shallow discomforts; instead completely approving of her own reaction to being thrown into a bush. The horses warily approached the bush, to which they could only hear the business of whatever was going on within, surely confused by their masters’ actions — but likely not, as the beasts had learned to deal with their strange riders during the duration of the trip.

He pulled some of the blooms from where they hung around their heads, pushing them haphazardly into her hair; one by one he did, laughing mischievously and swatting her hand away when and if she made any attempts to stop him, until her head looked like one of the bushes themselves.


☩ ☩ ═══════════════════════════

[FreeyaWolf]

Try to DEFY the Beast...
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Recuperating from the new wounds created by her fight with the white wolf was a faster process then the wounds from Viggo. While Cyelena healed Faelon was often out tracking the trail of Viggo and his pack for Telian. The poor man was often hidden away from the both of us not speaking but a word every now and then. Seeing the hurt it caused behind the kind eyes of Faelon frustrated Cyelena more then she could let on. But tried to lighten the spirits by smiling and helping around where she could around the house.

When news came about the ‘traveling performers’ skipping town, Faelon came rushing in to the kitchen—and not long after, Telian made the decision to leave. It had to have been them. Now today the city was far behind them and the dirt path ahead was all they knew. Cyelena was still sore from her wounds but she travelled on foot—paw to be more exact. Being able to tell she made the horses uneasy she often travelled ahead, trotting at a leisure pace that was easy for her to stay far in front, scouting the road and following the scent of the pack. Cyelena enjoyed her time alone and not the awkward silence with the group. When she was with Faelon and Telian, it was most of the time silent and Faelon would exchange frustrated glances with her.

Getting towards the evening one day Cyelena decided to head towards her group—trotting back up the hill engulfed in beautiful ancient trees shading the path she used, blocking the warmth from the sunlight. However her thick black fur coat was enough to keep her warm in any weather. As she reached the top of the hill she could see down the road a ways the two, ears flickering Cyelena could hear the faint sound of the horses sensing her. As she neared her small pack Telian did not even look up at her. A low annoyed hum rumbled through her body as she fell beside the more enjoyable company.

Great blue eyes fell upon her friend as she felt unease run through him and they exchanged glances. Huffing slightly about Telian, Faelon spoke quiet calm words that just made her eyes rolled. The patient man….


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As the night fell and they had began to settle down—Cyelena picked up her bag in her jaw and trotted off a ways behind a tree to shift and change as quickly as possible. Shifting from her massive warm form into her small naked one was not pleasant in the crisp evenings of late—However routine it was. Earlier Cyelena had caught a couple conies Which she prepared at the fire which Faelon had tended sitting opposite her.

Telian began to walk off—in his sulky fashion as Cyelena rotated the meat. Eyes shifting to Faelon in an exasperated way she waited for his reaction. He abruptly stood up and growled his frustration. Cyelena could not help a smile twitch at the edge of her lips. Leaning back on an elbow so she was lying beside the fire she remarked, “Now that is more like it my friend.” As he walked back to his furry temperamental companion she noticed the painful frown on his face making her heart sink. She watched as he undid his hair and braids before heading off to the boy.

As he vanished in the trees Cyelena sat up and rotated the meat one more time. “Men.” She growled as light from the fire danced on her features. After she was done with the rotation Cyelena propped herself on her elbows and leaned her head back to look towards the night sky. Being a crisp cool night the stars were ever visible. It was eerie how silent the night was out of the town. Closing her eyes she inhaled deeply, relaxing. Until she sat up suddenly and looked towards where her companions had gone. Sensitive ears caught an unpleasant…unnatural sound similar to a roar. Standing up she took a couple quick steps towards the two and the river but almost tripped over herself and looked back at the cooking meet. “Damnit to the Gods!” Running over to the fire she took the conies off and set it aside so they wouldn’t burn. Quickly Cyelena began to sprint towards her companions. As she ran, clothing was being stripped off her pale figure leaving a trail before she fully transformed, running as paws and black sharp claws dug into the earth pushing her off.

A ways off she could hear the river and Faelons voice clear as day GO LAD, GO! Get out of the water! I’ll be right behind Y- Voice cutting off in the distance as if something attacked him. She sprang forward being able to see the water ahead. Telian running off the shore Cyelena looked past him towards Faelon backing out as fast as he could being followed by a large black creature…a… what the hell was that? As its smooth dark mass pushed against Faelon he fell hard against the embankment which made a low furious growl escape her. Cyelena sprang over Telian and took one more jump which took her black as night body over the Faelon but which slammed right into the creature towards the deeper center of the water.

Black bodies sunk beneath the waves crashing down upon them. The creature moved swiftly underwater circling its long body around her back and underbelly—however Cyelena did not hesitate—large fangs found the exposed neck of the beast and began to tear into its flesh ripping into the tough skin. Black oily blood oozed into her mouth as she crunched down a second and third time. The body thrashed and tightened around hers as she broke its airwave while the current took them down river a ways. Cyelena needed to breath and was about to start gasping for air when finally it ceased and the creature drooped limply releasing her. Quickly Cyelena came up for air and padded her way to shore fur damp she ran in the shallows back to where Faelon and Telian-- hoping Faelon was alright…








currently : Woods. l theme l ooc:



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...The ANIMAL within.

[FrenchRosa]

Why wouldn't Aevar answer her?

He gazed upon her foolish actions as if it were the first time he had witnessed such a childish display in a bush of flowers, let alone lilacs, and for a split moment, it irked her. Would she have to bleed him once more of his curiosities? Narrowing her eyes, Saphina watched him advance, slowly, methodically. There was rhythm in his steps, the way the muscles in his arms tensed and rippled. The way the Agraki warrior stepped, Saphina could see the Elf man in him ringing through, clawing desperately to get out. He knew how to walk in this world, poised and graceful. There was cleverness and pointedness in each step. But there was something in his face. Widening her eyes, Saphina chuckled nervously, the flower still held up to her nose, the golds glancing any which way for an escape route. "A-Aevar," the She-Elf spoke warningly, eyeing him carefully as methodically as he stepped towards her.

"Aevar... A-Aevar. Stop. Stop, back up, stop, AEVS!" Her voice rang out higher pitched than normally, knowing that in his advancement was a joke, a playful Agraki lion with his Ema, but even though Saphina knew of the power behind her talons, she let him advance with just as playful a fear ringing out. The cry of his name came as he followed suit, lunging at her with his body, his shoulder colliding in with her breasts to pin her into the unforgiving branches of the lilac bush she had already imprisoned herself in. Pokes and jabs made it into her shoulders, her neck and any other exposed and marked part of her flesh and once the Elf had gotten past the initial scratches and bites from the plant fighting back from it's assailants, then did she realize what exactly the man had up his sleeve.

"Heca!" she cried through giggles, swatting at the handsome man's hands as they skillfully and artfully (though less tastefully) adorned her long chocolate waves with purple and white blossoms. Her laughter filled the bush and her offensive attacks, long fingers reaching up to try and stop him but to no avail. Aevar had the upper hand with the sheer bulk of his body upon hers and quite frankly, the only thing she could do was to wait and take it, and exact her revenge at the right moment.

It did not take long before her head was likened to the bush of lilacs themselves, and in her euphoria of the blooms being so close to her flesh, and adorned in her hair (Saphina could not suppress a laugh in how ironic this action was, considering one of her people's old traditions of filling one's head with the flower of their hopeful affections in a motion of courtship) she merely smiled warmly, her own laughter dying down, her abdominal muscles rippling from the strenuous joy that had entrapped them like snares.

In meek silence, save for the constant hum of lingering laughter from both parties, the snorts of the horses, and the loud thumping of the full-blooded Elfling's heart, they lay there. The coral red painted Saphina's cheeks, an action that she had quite honestly forgotten how to do, and slowly, she reached up to touch her hair, watching few single blooms tumble out and into her hand. "Hmm," she cooed to the blossoms, making no attempt to renege their 'predicament' and instead, kept herself wedged between the lilac bush, and Aevar, for the first time in months, if not years, completely content with where she was at.

As her eyes moved from blossoms to him, it was then that Saphina realized just how close in proximity the two of them were, which only caused her cheeks to redden even further, her nose tilting downward in a meager escape from hazel eyes. The speed of which her heart beat was comparable to the many times she'd had a (wo)man's life in her hands, but it was quite foreign to her, when living, breathing Man was the reason it was induced in her (unspoken) fragile heart. Especially when it seemed this time, that same man had her life in his hands. Slowly, golden orbs looked up at him, every square inch of her body consciously aware of what part was touching his, a sudden surge of electricity jolting any point of collision between flesh.

Electricity was thrilling, and the She-Elf would have been lying to imply she was any different in believing so. So exhilarating was the rush that as the two vagabonds lay there, their heads close enough so that she could inhale his (sweet) scent, she whispered softly, her nose lifting up to lightly brush his own, surprising even herself, "Breathe out so that I may breathe you in." The words of her heart came out before the rationality of her brain could stop them, and for a moment, the Elven warrior was ruled by every suppressed desire of her heart. Her chin lifted as if to finish what they had started the few days ago in the glade, and golden eyes gave in to their protective lids, but just as it had back in the glade, before she could give in completely, her wary and wounded soul stopped her from doing any more damage. Saphina could practically taste the velvety softness of what he had to offer, but every atom of her being was screaming at her to stop and almost as if to solidify the surprise of both leaning in for that fabled kiss (and one they'd never seem to share, stolen or otherwise) and of stopping herself, her eyes flashed open, and her head shot back against the protruding branches. Somehow, her hand had found its way to the back of Aevar's neck, her fingers entangled in his tresses, and in her own surprise, she let go, moving instinctively to his shoulder, her palm pushing desperately in his collarbone to ease his body away from hers.

Where had that come from (was he still breathing?) and why did it hurt to pull her flowered head away from his (was that hurt in his eyes?)? Wrinkling her nose, Saphina began to welcome cognizant thought, shaking her head slightly so not to disturb her new 'friends' in her hair and turned to look up at the Agrak, lips pursed and eyes... Apologetic. "Queen Anorah will have been alerted of my presence. We... We should be on our way." They had to go. She had to distance herself from him and right now.

Saphina wouldn't make it out alive otherwise.

[R u u l i g a t o r]

I want to feel the ρᴧוӥ and the bitter taste...
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Dark nails dug deep into the dry soil of the plains outlying the forest’s edge. This was not the true entrance to the Haunted Wealds, that much he did know; No, this was a faulted front, a decoy the elves and lowland nymphs used as protection from the outside world. Standing on its edge was almost like standing at the edge of the world, dangling over an abyss of mystery that not even the wisest of wolves could scent out. Dropping his head to the ground, Viggo snuffled the base of one of the huge trees that loomed high into the dark canopy above, its gnarled roots thicker around than his entire body and bursting from the ground like skeletal fingers trying to reclaim the earth. Bright green eyes lifted to stare into the brace of trees lining the fields between Noitrem’s forests and that of the Wealds, a growl building in his throat; Now it was time for the rat to guide on, and as much as he hated to admit needing guidance from any such detestable creature, Viggo had to concede and place his pack behind the nymph.

It was not trust, nor faith, but an assurance that if they were lead astray, Viggo would do everything in his power to eliminate everything Sadir held dear before smudging him from the world himself. Leah had shown little to no signs of poisoning after that first night, a fact that was often reaffirmed by her new mentor, and Viggo could only wonder if it was indeed the lycan’s venom keeping her that way. A growl snuck up his throat as wooly black ears flattened back against his furry head; Come to think of it, the girl hadn’t shown any signs of the venom affecting her either. Putting the forest to his back, the wolf turned to move back across the plains to the outcropping of trees where the rest of the pack were stationed.

Here on the edge of the great magical divide, Viggo felt the call of the forest stronger than anything he’d ever been faced with before. Did the elves possess some innate power to control the wilderness and the woodland folk? He’d only dealt with a handful of the tree-shaggers in the past, meetings which left nothing but the bad taste of fae blood in his mouth for weeks after, but even on that occasion they had shown no ability to sway him away from his intents. Was it a suppressed ability that only worked within their own realm, or was this something else? The earth beneath his paws was dark, near black, and spongy, the thick blue-green grass brushing uncomfortably across his dewclaws. Its long blades were occasionally tipped with flowering, wheat-like splays which danced together in a swaying flock as he passed them by, a dark mass moving as silently as a whisper. Despite the autumn chill, this land seemed hardly affected by the god’s whims, its tall, thick-barked trees keeping green boughs while the rest of the spindly silver imposters began to shake out their browning attire.

Viggo knew that some trees, even in the dead of winter, kept their color and foliage; Hsethgur was the same. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the way the evergreens shadowed him all those years ago as he lie laughing on his back in the snow, remember the feeling of his own blood cooling rapidly in the brisk air as it settled into his meager clothing while the wolf pulled at him. It had not hurt, not even in the slightest, but he would always think about the way the trees just waved above them, as if this was something that happened beneath them every other day. Did trees care? Gods, the world was a depressing place.

Lashing out at a blade of grass as it brushed against his cheek, Viggo began to turn back to his other self, feeling his back snap as he continued to move. Pain was nothing to mother nature, that much was a fact; eons of time could pass before she would so much as blink at the plight of her children. A chuckle, stuck somewhere between wolfish and sarcastic, slipped his lips as he struggled forward, shaking out his legs to loosen the disfigured joints; lycans were children to no one. As the remainder of fur sloughed off his frame, the alpha tucked his legs beneath him, extending back to his full height with a stretch, jaw cracking as he ground his teeth together. Perpetual frown forever in place, Keren crossed out of the adjacent tree line holding a bundle of his clothing under one of her arms, her fiery red hair framing her equally fiery temper.

Rolling his eyes, Viggo gave her a falsely sweet smile, accepting the parcel as she fell into step behind him, “My answer hasn’t changed, bihotzsuren; He’ll keep every piece of himself intact until his worth can be proven, but until then, you’ll do well to change your tune. Otherwise I shall strap him to your back and make you carry him the rest of the way.” The wolf’s sing-song voice echoed back to her, the melodical notes mocking her plight without even the slightest sense of a disguise. Outraged, Keren snarled, tossing his boots to the ground before him before storming with purpose away from his side. A bark of laughter escaped him at her expense, his limbs already slipping into the tight-fitting ensemble she’d brought him; ever since her sister had been slain at the hands of the Prince’s guard, Keren had been pining over settling the debt between them.

“Oh, Filth,” the wolf called out almost lovingly as he wheeled himself into the space beside Leah, green eyes pinning the nymph as he stroked absent-minded fingers through the girl’s dark hair, “I believe your time has come.” Beneath his palm he could feel the girl still, her internal hackles no doubt standing on end at the contact; she did not trust him, at least not as she had. Now it was a game to the wolf within him, to play as if nothing had happened while she floundered trying to please him and remain as in control as normal, a opossum lying still in the path of the predator. Behind them, her perpetual shadow rose from his spot a few yards off, closing in on the small group at a calculatedly measured pace, placing himself within eyesight of the young girl. Flashing his eyes to the dark man, Viggo turned his attentions back to the rat with shining teeth, “Come daybreak you’ll lead us in, won’t you? My love needs to be healed as soon as possible and we have done enough waiting.”

Dropping down onto his heels in a semi-crouch, Viggo looped his arms in a light embrace around the girl, ignoring the dark-looks that Dorihl was sending him, the man’s arms crossing tightly over his chest. Placing a tender kiss on the apples of the girl’s cheeks, Viggo stood once more, “Of course you will; Sweet dreams!” And with a wink to Dorihl, Viggo crossed quickly to the dark tent erected not far off, slipping inside to check on the prince residing within, “Good evening, your highness. Care for a drink?” The wolf moved to retrieve a goblet, his eyes smiling as he offered it to the shorter man.

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Still silent, Dorihl watched the man leave with dark eyes, trailing his frame until it slipped within the folds of the dark fabric. Moving slowly, he placed himself at Leah’s side, eyes trained on the doorway while dark fingers threaded quickly through her hair as he tucked the tresses behind her ears in a brotherly fashion. Satisfied that the man would not return, Dorihl moved with a huff to the tree he had been sitting at earlier, this time facing the girl and nymph as the spoke, his arms crossed and features tight as he monitored them. The night was getting on now, and no doubtedly the girl would soon feel the pulls of sleep calling to her, but until she asked for escort back, he would remain as vigilance. The wolf could not blame her; sharing a tent with that monster was one thing, but Dorihl could not be fooled for a second into thinking the sweet call of sleep offered her anything but nightmares.

Turning his head to look up at the canopy above, his mind wandered again to Tevlie, her laughing face transposed over the dark swath of stars that peeked blinking through the waving branches; no child should be forced to suffer the horrors of this life. Would she choose to go into that dark tent and feel every bit of the ferocious anxiety that was her life now? The white wolf would gladly give his own secondary tent to her, if it meant only a single night of peace.


Tomorrow the forest of the fae would swallow them whole, as was necessary to cure whatever sick curiosity Viggo had dreamed up, but also to see if whatever poisons could be pulled from his charge; both of which needed them fully rested and ready to fight.




|| Location -- Near the Haunted Wealds // Tree-Line || Wearing -- Wolf Lord || ooc: 'Heart of Fire' -- A sort of title. ||


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...Of the ɮǀѳѳᴅ on my lips again.