Ankyra Sound i am not your blowing wind, i am the lightning [pack howl]

PACK AWWWOOOOO! come sing with me rus-goats! also #sorryforthetags @Svalinn @Raleska @Erzulie @Illidan @Firefly @Eurycrates @Mwe @Stormy Boy @Wyatt @Aningan @Tunerk

with their stake claimed heavily along the sound's distant borders, it was time to turn inward. the pack thrived -- their rough, coarse vagabond lives come to a close by what appeared to be an overnight transformation into protective coven. now they had a grotto to rest their tired heads in, a strand in which to swim unassaulted.. and food in which to fill their restless bellies. each had contributed their part, and ankyra was thickly settled with their presence.. and yet...

danger loomed above.

danger, just like everything in the world, could be stared down in the face and told to piss right off. caiaphas tipped back her inelegant head, a lone and raw howl reverberating through her throat. crackling at first, it rose to a powerful flush that soon flooded through the spectral forest, until the sound shook with the clamor of their fierce claim.

the sound was theirs -- and the entire world would know of it.

With one of their founders held captive on the distant cliffs, there was a palpable tension rippling along through the pack that could not be ignored. Svalinn did not willingly try to seem unconcerned, but he busied himself as he could, just to stave off the anxious energy that seemed to course through him at all times with the winding rush of a hellfire river. The young wolf was beginning to feel thrashed, but he stood resilient, and the forest kept him well fed.

He was muzzle-deep in a frosty cache when Caiaphas' commanding howl rang out. The gold vandal threw back his soiled lips, letting her voice reach its peak before adding his own: a short, blaring call - pitched sharp and eager to equal his mien. Quieting down, he listened to the voices of his packmates for a while before returning his nose to the dirt.

He knew nothing of the storms to come, nor did he know of the rival pack that resided on the cliffs directly north. Mwe felt no foreboding, no sense of dread. He felt only calm and peace, even knowing it had been a risk to throw his lot in with a group of wolves he knew nothing about. The ocean was overwhelming and alien to him, lush with the unknown, but it was all so titillating and exciting. He still did not know where this life would bring him, but for now, there was comfort in having a place to call home.

A fierce, crackling howl split through the air, swelling like the tide and crashing, reverberating off the cliffsides. Another voice joined, sharp and quick, and Mwe lifted his own head from where he wandered the beach to join his own voice to the call. Deep and warm like honey. He sang, even as others joined, until his heart was full. Until he felt bonded to these strangers that were now a kind of family.

When he quieted, Mwe remained upon the sand to watch the stars rise over the glowing shores.

Tagging @Niamh for reference just in case she wants to notice his voice on the wind (I know the Hinterlands are pretty far away but if she wanders at all..... :eyes emoji:

When the first voice rose in to the air, Firefly's ears twitched and he looked skyward; it was an eerie call, as if summoning the wind which gusted over the familiar beach; then another voice, and another, until they were just starting to harmonize and find a communal voice. He did not pause for long - and as he lifted his own snout to the sky, joined them with his deep timbre, their song a unified chorus that told the world that they laid claim to the Sound.

---

Throughout the majority of his life, Eurycrates has been tethered to blood and birthright, stuck in the same place he had always been. No longer. The titan has chosen his destiny at last. He has wandered far and found a place that speaks to the poet buried deep within his heart, and, better yet, he has found an army willing to fight for it.
Rag-tag and varied they may be for now, but not for long. Their strength will improve; their numbers will grow. He will see to it that the wolves of this place will become the most formidable fighting force in all the land. And they will take the cliffs, and the lands beyond. . .
Oh, what an auspicious day! Eurycrates tips his nose back and adds to the song, his deep timbre providing a bass note to the chord. (Little does he know that @Teleklos is, perhaps, close enough to hear the ever-familiar voice of his littermate.)
There is a newfound pride in his eyes when he looks down again. Pride laced with insatiable hunger.

---

rusalka lived.
the sound was theirs, had been theirs, before the jaws of drageda would close 'round it — erzulie was filled with a fierce pride, buoyed by the number of wolves that had come to follow caiaphas. however, as loyal as she found herself to the dark-headed savage, her heart ached with pain to know rosalyn was not among them, to know that her lover's voice did not rise with the others' own upon the swelling sea-wind.
and so erzulie cried out, not only for rusalka, but in a promise, one for her pirate alone. twining the higher silver of her notes with the lower dirge of her fellows, the harlot sang, a decided and melancholy aria that echoed through the sound.

So close was he to this dandy hunk of world that he was within heavy earshot of this round of vocal snatch and grab that he naturally did that. Snatched, and grabbed. 
Voice went up as he stood possessively over the kill he had earned for him and Camilla. It was a timbre of naturality, but tinted heartily with his accent as the howl stood up and outted his position. He didn’t care; what mattered was he was gonna snatch and grab their seat in this pack, and that was just that. Maybe if it was full of broads, he’d start that harem thing that Arabic Company member was tellin’ him about! Who knows...

but regardless, his voice rougishly slung in with the others who took their part in this family. 

He’d find out who they were soon enough.

All she had ever known had been stolen by a particularly fierce snowstorm. Her aunt had told her Nanook could never be found, and Tunerk was inclined to believe the woman... but childish belief inspired her to look beyond the claim at least fifteen times over prior to giving up completely. Instinct bid that she hunker down, but Tunerk had yet to experience snow at its fiercest.

Until that fateful evening.

Tunerk had not hunkered down, as she ought to of; she wandered through it, noseblind and dumb; by the time the storm had passed, the northerner was no longer in proverbial Kansas and had found her way to Oz. Tunerk was wise enough to keep away from the myriad of scents that dictated that there was pack, and old enough to know that it was not her own. So she wandered, exhausted and tired... but her resilience kept her going.

There were no wolves as pale as she that she had come across, and none that understood her tongue when she spoke it. No one knew what her pack name had meant in passing, and Tunerk was resigned to the fact that she was lost, for now. Tunerk did not know where to turn to next when a medley of howls sounded off in the near distance. Her ears swiveled atop her head berfore one panned backward, then forward. She shifted her weight, uncertainty paramount in all the emotions that flit through her mind, before the pull of the song set its claws into her chest. She was both too young and inexperienced to resist the call, and her own voice climbed above the sounds trees even as she loitered beyond them, still keeping a respectful distance for the time.