M o n o c h r o m e
Above, a myriad of stars shines down softly into the world of the living, its scatted speckles seeming endless, broken only by the full moon that shines that night. Its bright, clear rays compel you to rise to your feet, shake the sleep off your eyes, and walk. Where you go matters not, for the scent of nearby flowers, the sound of insects chirping, the sight of the landscape, which seems to hold a luminescent aura from Tor herself, and the soft, pleasant breeze that blows by leaves you with nothing but a desire to enjoy the beautiful night.
But you stray from your path, and you enter a forest. Immediately, the light lessens, and then extinguishes entirely as you go on, and all you can see as you go deeper is darkness. It seems you are the only living being there, so desolate and silent the place, and so different it is from the land of light you have just left, that you feel an urge to turn tail and run, to escape the darkness. But something keeps you from submitting to the fear. Perhaps it is your own pride, or an immense curiosity. Whatever the case, you continue.
The darkness is so complete, so consistent and unchanging, that it feels like you’ve walked forever, yet haven’t gone anywhere at all. That’s why you’re so surprised when a sudden howl fills the air, echoing across the large trees, and you yelp and cower in fright. You look for an escape, but a large Varg suddenly appears, blocking your path, and a few more form from the darkness. They can see you clearly, for they are used to this darkness, but you can only see the glow of their savage eyes, and the occasional glint of fangs and claws. Soon, you are surrounded, and prodded roughly by cold noses, as if they are inspecting you. The largest one snorts, almost approvingly, as they urge you to follow them. A soft snarl tells you what will happen if you don’t comply. And so you do as they say, but you don’t dare run. There are Varg on all sides, and even more seem to appear as you go on, gazing at you with curious eyes and a pitying frown or a smug smile.
Suddenly, there is light ahead, and you press your ears forward with newfound eagerness. You are so desperate to get to the light that at first, you do not notice the crowd of Varg awaiting you. Only once you have stepped paw in the clearing and have felt the familiar wind caress your fur do you see them, and you realize with surprise that there is a pack thriving deep within the forest.
An old, kindly male Varg near the front of the crowd steps forward, nose raised with interest. Your escorts step away as he crouches respectfully and approaches you, sniffing noses with you for a moment before beckoning you off to the side, where a small clump of trees offers protection from the wind. You are reluctant to enter, for you have only just returned to the world of light and life, but the trees aren’t as dense, allowing the rays of moonlight to enter, and the Varg that have brought you here are still watching you. So you follow, and once you have settled down, the old Varg smiles at you, but the gesture looks crooked and off, almost evil, and a soft chill makes your fur bristle. Perhaps he isn’t as kindly as you had originally thought. Before you can continue your train of thought, however, he speaks.
“Welcome to Monochrome,” he says, and it takes you a moment to realized Monochrome is the name of the pack in which you have found yourself in. “Perhaps I should tell you of its history?” he offers. You choose not to reply, so disturbed you are by his sudden change, that you find you can’t speak, even if you had wanted to. He takes your silence as consent and continues.
“Monochrome was originally created by Gamil, a large Varg with a pelt boasting numerous shades of gray, and his mate, who went by the name of Mirelia. She, like him, had a pelt consisting of only grays, although her pelt was so light she was sometimes mistaken for a pure white Varg from afar. They were vain, very much so, and believed their pelts to be the most beautiful. Because of this, they often bragged, but few seemed to understand the importance of their fur and, insulted, they went off to a secluded part of the lands beyond the forest to raise the pups Mirelia held.
They came to live here, deep within the forest, and were protected by natural defenses on all sides, making it hard for others to leave, or enter. Soon after they had settled in, a stray, brown-pelted male Varg stumbled into their territory, half-dead, his body covered with numerous wounds. Despite that, the intruder was met with bristled fur and bared fangs, but when Gamil and Mirelia discovered he had amnesia, they took him in and taught him to believe his dirty brown pelt to be something to be ashamed of, and theirs the most beautiful. With that, and the birth of the pups, the foundation for Monochrome had been made.
Now, a few generations since Monochrome was founded, Contrast, the only pup of the most recent litter of Gamil and Mirelia's bloodline, became Drappa of the pack after her parent's passing. The sudden change of leadership made the pack unstable for a while, but Contrast has recently taken on a mate, Chromium, and they have no plans to disband Monochrome anytime soon. The pack has grown much since it first began. Many a Varg have joined, willingly or not, and the pack thrives to this day.”
The old Varg stretches and watches you contentedly as he finishes, and although there is no aggression in his gaze, you look away. It dawns on you that he’s speaking the truth, and now you’re trapped here. For a moment, you panic, and you gaze around wildly for something, anything, that showed it was just a joke, and that you had been fooled. But you are only met with the cold and expectant gazes of the others, and as if in defeat, you calm enough to lie down. There is nothing waiting for you outside of this. You had been unfortunate enough to lose a mate, to never have any pups, and had lived the life of a lonely Kerl. What have you got to lose? And so you turn to the old Varg, determination in your eyes. “What now, then?” you ask.
The old Varg smiles, pleased by your response. He flicks his tail: a signal, for the other pack members seem relieved, and they disperse, although a few linger to greet you. Then, with a chuckle, he rises to his paws. Stepping over you, he leaves only a few words as he departs. “You’ll have to find out for yourself."
╔═══════════════╗
Table of Contents
Introduction / History
Rules
General Information
Positions
Members
How to Join
╚═══════════════╝
Above, a myriad of stars shines down softly into the world of the living, its scatted speckles seeming endless, broken only by the full moon that shines that night. Its bright, clear rays compel you to rise to your feet, shake the sleep off your eyes, and walk. Where you go matters not, for the scent of nearby flowers, the sound of insects chirping, the sight of the landscape, which seems to hold a luminescent aura from Tor herself, and the soft, pleasant breeze that blows by leaves you with nothing but a desire to enjoy the beautiful night.
But you stray from your path, and you enter a forest. Immediately, the light lessens, and then extinguishes entirely as you go on, and all you can see as you go deeper is darkness. It seems you are the only living being there, so desolate and silent the place, and so different it is from the land of light you have just left, that you feel an urge to turn tail and run, to escape the darkness. But something keeps you from submitting to the fear. Perhaps it is your own pride, or an immense curiosity. Whatever the case, you continue.
The darkness is so complete, so consistent and unchanging, that it feels like you’ve walked forever, yet haven’t gone anywhere at all. That’s why you’re so surprised when a sudden howl fills the air, echoing across the large trees, and you yelp and cower in fright. You look for an escape, but a large Varg suddenly appears, blocking your path, and a few more form from the darkness. They can see you clearly, for they are used to this darkness, but you can only see the glow of their savage eyes, and the occasional glint of fangs and claws. Soon, you are surrounded, and prodded roughly by cold noses, as if they are inspecting you. The largest one snorts, almost approvingly, as they urge you to follow them. A soft snarl tells you what will happen if you don’t comply. And so you do as they say, but you don’t dare run. There are Varg on all sides, and even more seem to appear as you go on, gazing at you with curious eyes and a pitying frown or a smug smile.
Suddenly, there is light ahead, and you press your ears forward with newfound eagerness. You are so desperate to get to the light that at first, you do not notice the crowd of Varg awaiting you. Only once you have stepped paw in the clearing and have felt the familiar wind caress your fur do you see them, and you realize with surprise that there is a pack thriving deep within the forest.
An old, kindly male Varg near the front of the crowd steps forward, nose raised with interest. Your escorts step away as he crouches respectfully and approaches you, sniffing noses with you for a moment before beckoning you off to the side, where a small clump of trees offers protection from the wind. You are reluctant to enter, for you have only just returned to the world of light and life, but the trees aren’t as dense, allowing the rays of moonlight to enter, and the Varg that have brought you here are still watching you. So you follow, and once you have settled down, the old Varg smiles at you, but the gesture looks crooked and off, almost evil, and a soft chill makes your fur bristle. Perhaps he isn’t as kindly as you had originally thought. Before you can continue your train of thought, however, he speaks.
“Welcome to Monochrome,” he says, and it takes you a moment to realized Monochrome is the name of the pack in which you have found yourself in. “Perhaps I should tell you of its history?” he offers. You choose not to reply, so disturbed you are by his sudden change, that you find you can’t speak, even if you had wanted to. He takes your silence as consent and continues.
“Monochrome was originally created by Gamil, a large Varg with a pelt boasting numerous shades of gray, and his mate, who went by the name of Mirelia. She, like him, had a pelt consisting of only grays, although her pelt was so light she was sometimes mistaken for a pure white Varg from afar. They were vain, very much so, and believed their pelts to be the most beautiful. Because of this, they often bragged, but few seemed to understand the importance of their fur and, insulted, they went off to a secluded part of the lands beyond the forest to raise the pups Mirelia held.
They came to live here, deep within the forest, and were protected by natural defenses on all sides, making it hard for others to leave, or enter. Soon after they had settled in, a stray, brown-pelted male Varg stumbled into their territory, half-dead, his body covered with numerous wounds. Despite that, the intruder was met with bristled fur and bared fangs, but when Gamil and Mirelia discovered he had amnesia, they took him in and taught him to believe his dirty brown pelt to be something to be ashamed of, and theirs the most beautiful. With that, and the birth of the pups, the foundation for Monochrome had been made.
Now, a few generations since Monochrome was founded, Contrast, the only pup of the most recent litter of Gamil and Mirelia's bloodline, became Drappa of the pack after her parent's passing. The sudden change of leadership made the pack unstable for a while, but Contrast has recently taken on a mate, Chromium, and they have no plans to disband Monochrome anytime soon. The pack has grown much since it first began. Many a Varg have joined, willingly or not, and the pack thrives to this day.”
The old Varg stretches and watches you contentedly as he finishes, and although there is no aggression in his gaze, you look away. It dawns on you that he’s speaking the truth, and now you’re trapped here. For a moment, you panic, and you gaze around wildly for something, anything, that showed it was just a joke, and that you had been fooled. But you are only met with the cold and expectant gazes of the others, and as if in defeat, you calm enough to lie down. There is nothing waiting for you outside of this. You had been unfortunate enough to lose a mate, to never have any pups, and had lived the life of a lonely Kerl. What have you got to lose? And so you turn to the old Varg, determination in your eyes. “What now, then?” you ask.
The old Varg smiles, pleased by your response. He flicks his tail: a signal, for the other pack members seem relieved, and they disperse, although a few linger to greet you. Then, with a chuckle, he rises to his paws. Stepping over you, he leaves only a few words as he departs. “You’ll have to find out for yourself."
╔═══════════════╗
Table of Contents
Introduction / History
Rules
General Information
Positions
Members
How to Join
╚═══════════════╝
