Wheeling Gull Isle a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied

This is the last MANDATORY thread for characters wishing to join Undersea.

This is an active participation thread for the wolves on Wheeling Gull Isle, and it will likely start out with a chorus of howls to determine where everyone is. This thread will serve as a claiming howl, a meet and greet, and a reunion all in one. When the pack forms officially, we can have an optional celebratory howling thread, but in order to get all the business out of the way before work eats me, I’m getting this posted early.

@Anatha @Aria @Axolotl @Calypso @Cascada @Cattail @Constantine @Dakarai @Faeryn @Ixchel @King @Komodo @Maera @Parthenos @Tael

The fury of the distant storm had thrust its hands deep into the heart of the sea, long, cold fingers of friction and motion wreaking reckless havoc. Even on a day like this one, where the sky seemed an impossibly clear shade of blue and the sun blazed brightly above, the earth seemed to limp to life with an otherworldly wariness. The weatherworn beaches were graced with a bounty that stretched as high as the grassy banks; the tide pools far to the west were filled to the brim with treasure; and the cliffs were again populated with the shrieking cries of ocean faring birds. All appeared to be well.

The land bridge that separated the island from the mainland glimmered beneath the surface like a strand of gold. The water level was still too high for it to reveal itself completely, but it lay there like a promise. A reminder, perhaps, that the wolves’ imprisonment, like everything else in the universe, would not — could not! — last forever.

At present, the ocean was traversable. Experienced wayfarers, however, would read in the smudge that lingered on the misted horizon a darker promise — for the sea’s anger is a deep and brooding thing whose shocks and outbursts far outlive the weather that triggers it. Out of sight, sharp, triangular fins sliced through the water’s surface and a humming churn heralded future proof of the sea’s power — but no wolf present would be able to see or hear it.

It was time for the wolves on Wheeling Gull Isle to make a decision: who would remain to greet the clouded dawn from the isle’s sandy shores, and who would leave? Only time would tell.

post by coelacanth.