Northstar Vale i've stared into that darkness, leaned in to it
in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold, blood and flame
390 Posts
Ooc — jal
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#1
All Welcome 
vaati's lookin for trouble heh heh heh ;D
but he's not tresspassing, just lurking

There are many places he has visited, and many, he has not. Perhaps in an alternate reality, such adventures of his would hold no malicious intent, but alas, that is not the case. The Web of his knowledge spreads everywhere he goes, gathering, collecting and distributing white lies and tampered information. What is of value, he retains, keeping the secrets of others to himself for when the time comes upon him to use them to his advantage. Northstar Vale is his next desitnation, and as he glides, lurking near their borders, he ponders the idea of what may lie inside. It is too much of a risk to delve inside, and in favour of his survival, he lurks where he knows his scent will be found, drawing out his next opponent with ease. While he holds an impressive brawn for his age (indebt to this Viking heritage), it is in the mind does his greatest weapon lie. It is a virtual mindscape of his own devisement, conquering and overcoming everything he will face by simply what he knows. It is something that none can take away from him, and with that thought, does he collapse his ridgid stance, haunching in a false display of humility. Vaati is no longer Vaati, but a faceless stranger, seeking a refuge he does not truly want, but for the sake of what he wishes to know, needs. And now, he waits.
for the sins of the unworthy
must be baptized in blood & fear
his crown was ever changing made as it was by leaves and berries of the season
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#2
The moonbeam empyrean tampered by the velveteen veil of night that mark his otherwise starlit touched pelage moves along the borders where it has crossed his mind that he cannot simply be just a naturalist. Surely, he can be if it is what he desires but lately it not the only thing that he desires. The sky and earth are still the most important thing to the druid, of course, but he thinks that he must take on a skill that can readily present itself as useful to the Vale and takes the mercenary as his new goal though he has yet to deduce upon what specialties he may strive to reach for next. He has witnessed the Vale’s birth, the incredible thing that they, all but children or in the cusp of young adulthood have accomplished and it is mighty. It only strikes the druid as logical that he should seek to protect what they have built.

Thus, he is guarded when he comes across a heady scent of another; of a rána upon a particular stretch of borders. He follows it with haste, imperial green gaze seeking the figure haunched in on himself. Umbra painted guard hairs bristle as he approaches, tail lifted over his back in a natural display of dominance. It requires no thought of the empyrean and it is only while he remains the single Vale wolf present. For the moment, Mato is in charge and he has watched Sebastian from afar, with awe in his young eyes as his father handled strangers at the borders. It is this visage that the imperial adopts now eager to see if he can have the same effect as his kingly father before him. “Aiya, Rána,” The empyrean speaks in the tongue of the druids, and realizes that it may not be a language that is understood by the stranger. “You did not call,” Mato speaks, pointing out that which does not settle well with his intuition. “Why do you linger at our borders as a lómin — a shadow would?” The king of starlight demands in deep timbre, softened like a calm wind’s with the lulling and auspicious rumble of a brewing tempest hidden just beneath the surface.
on my teeth
220 Posts
Ooc — Laur
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#3
It was only due to Rannoch's teachings of the borders did Redshank find himself often loping along them. He would have otherwise paid no mind to the outskirts of their territory, but had become increasingly more interested in idea of the borders. Or, rather, what was outside of the borders. He would frequently stare out at the lands beyond their claim, his trips outside the Vale stretching further and further away. However, he always would return; this was his home.

So when he came across a foreign smell, he was instantly on guard. The fur along his nape stood on end and, with a snarl, the boy took off, following the scent along their perimeters.

He wasn't the first to come across the stranger. At the sight of the older boy — whom he did not know, but at least he bore Northstar Vale's scent — Redshank bounded up to his side and stood, teeth bared. He didn't cut the same intimidating figure Rannoch had, nor did he have the calm, almost regal presence that his fellow packmate commanded, but he glared at the foreign boy all the same. "Yeah, what d'you want?" he snapped, a harsh contrast to the other's more gentle, deep tone.
in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold, blood and flame
390 Posts
Ooc — jal
Away
#4
thanks for joining guys ❤

They come, not too long after, thundering upon him in a duo that reeks of self-superiority. One is older and the other, the second to come, his age. But their age, younger than he had expected to meet, comes with an authority standard he cannot meet. He reminds himself of his task, of his wish, and his need, smothering all instinct that taunts him to snap. He does not. Instead he winces, and turns his ears down as if against the severity of their tone. Their scent is one that he recalls, sending him searching in the depths of his recollection to bring forth the source of which his intrigue sits. Something, he knows, is familiar, muddled in with their expected odour of dirt and grass. But he cannot place it, opting to rather address the situation at present and leave it to his subconsious to figure out his query.

Instead, he lifts his eyes from the cast-down placement they had held, making no movement, no suggestion that he should believe himself to be higher than those before him. The opposite in fact, he is at the mercy of their interrogation, the kind of challenge he has been awaiting for some time. Having taken precautions to wash himself free of his own gloomy scent adopted by the dark forest in the great lake, he reminds himself that they do not know who he is or the pack from which he hails. He is nobody. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I... I-I'm lost," Clavicus studders under the gaze of the two, a cautionary fear seeping into his voice; one that is in some fraction, genuine. He knows that there is a risk factor in what he does, the threat that he may not return to his home in once piece at some point in his future of many cons to come. But that does not stop him, and he holds up the facade that he has readily adopted, pushing himself into the skin of a stranger that is anything but Vaati Clavicus Melonii.
for the sins of the unworthy
must be baptized in blood & fear
his crown was ever changing made as it was by leaves and berries of the season
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#5
Mato is joined by another, a younger boy whose approach is much less diplomatic that the druid’s own, demanding in a snappish tone. For a brief moment, emerald gaze lifts from the stranger to Redshank before it goes back to the source of their unity as contrasting as Mato and Redshank are. The moonbeam imperial’s gaze is sharp and narrowed when the lómin shudders and stutters out a reply that begins with apology and ends with a response to Redshank’s demand. Yet, it does not satisfy the empyrean. If one is lost then why not simply raise voice in call for someone to assist? It isn’t as if being lost is all that big of a deal; but Mato easily forgets that not everyone can navigate by the position of the sun, or alternatively by the night sky. “To be lost is not a crime,” Mato speaks simply, still unable to wrap his mind around why the stranger did not simply send up a call. He is stuck upon this crux and unfortunately it continues to fuel his distrust though he has no reason not to believe. “to not call and seek directions as you should have only raises suspicions of crimes even if none were committed.” Fool. Fool boy, Mato thinks unkindly.

“Where are you heading, Hína? Speak and see yourself on your way.” Mato does not like the idea of him lingering here and appears to lack apathy of Vaati’s situation as a cat lacks apathy for it’s furless, (believed to be) helpless human (because Mato is basically a sassy house cat in wolven form).
on my teeth
220 Posts
Ooc — Laur
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#6
The boy shrinks underneath their gaze and, thrusting his ears forward proudly, Redshank steps up his attempt at a domineering display thinking it successful so far. He is oblivious to the stranger's act, having no such suspicions the man next to him has. His ever-present frown deepens as the boy stammers out an explanation — he was lost? He entertains the thought of calling for Rannoch and maybe bringing the stranger into the ranks — acting as if he had the authority to do so — but his pack mate seemed unsure of the boy.

"Yeah," Redshank snaps curtly after Mato's stern but astute words. Really, he honestly didn't believe such a meek boy such as the one before them was anything other than lost, but he had to keep up appearances while beside the older man. "Or we'll call for Rannoch," he quickly adds as if the stranger had any idea who their Alpha actually was.
in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold, blood and flame
390 Posts
Ooc — jal
Away
#7
sorry for the wait!

He shrinks back under the scrutiny of their gaze, primarily, the one that comes from a man who lacks a certain empathy that Vaati would have expected. Mato (the name unknown to him) talks of what Vaati should have done and what he did not do, and Vaati finds himself casting his eyes away... not out of shame - though they may interpret it as that - but out of anger. Internally, he sneers, discontent with the lack of respect that should be rightfully shown, but hides it well under a mask of a frail, timid, lost boy in the company of those he fears. But yet, he latches on to the information the two absentmindedly present before him; Rannoch, assumed leader, territorial, young followers. It is small information, but information nonetheless and he moves to speak once more. "I'm looking for home... Rannoch?" His brow raises in question, innocent curiosity; he looks to the boy who spoke of him. Unknowingly this is the burly, all too caring man he had come across once upon a time, and know immediately this is where he would like to know more. From what he can tell, they are a more recent pack, their borders are fresh and smell rather temporary in comparison to Blackfeather's borders that have been there so long that the scent seems to dig itself into the ground. It is likely those in his home are completely unaware that they reside in the Vale, and thus, his journey would prove useful no matter the outcome of Mato's suspicion. Perhaps this would prove to be more difficult than he imagined if one of them had a competent enough mind.
for the sins of the unworthy
must be baptized in blood & fear
his crown was ever changing made as it was by leaves and berries of the season
228 Posts
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#8
Though Mato realizes that Redshank is only trying to help, the druid is annoyed that the darker boy gives out information so freely. Perhaps it is not a big deal to so freely name Rannoch as their leader but there is a flare to the empyrean’s black, leathery nostrils all the same — the only indication that he’s losing his patience….with one or the other …or perhaps both. As the boy answers Mato is faced with a decision: whether to call for Rannoch or not. The druid cannot place his paw upon it, cannot name it if he had to, but there is something that unsettles him about the pale boy before him. Something he intuitively does not like though there is no reason for it. Perhaps it is not the druid’s call to make and yet he lifts himself higher and takes a step forward to do it anyway and commands with a bare of his teeth: “Find yourself a home elsewhere rána.” And snaps his teeth at the boy and seeks to chase him off.