Wolf RPG

Having the grotto as a place to call home now and having found others who worshipped his lord's light, Phares felt more at ease. Curious, even, about the territories surrounding his new home. He left the church at first light, following the path Raas' lit for him as he travelled, assured that He would provide a informative adventure for the priest.

The Daystar had reached His pinnacle in the sky as Phares came across a sparse, rocky plain, the grass here thin and barely peeking out through the rugged terrain. He idly weaved around the sharper rocks, inspecting and probing them with gentle touches of his nose.

The changes taking place in Sleeping Dragon seem to fit, enveloping him like a glove like he’s meant to be. It’s a resemblance of Seageda, more than it had been before—though for it’ll be different without Gyda, when he’d been getting used to two wolves taking the reign—and getting through the days seemed to even be easier. He knew it won’t likely mimic their former glory but their own legacy of merging wolves would prevail just the same.

He had a goal then and while he spent most nights near Gyda’s den, the following mornings he disappears for a few hours to check the borders and try and find some prey for the mother or himself. This day, however, he ends up a little farther from the borders than meant to, eventually following a scent without realizing the connection. The wind is heavy this day, blowing against him to mask his own scent, but the closer he gets, everything registers into place.

While the smell is unfamiliar as a whole, the lingering scent of the grotto poison his nose. He’s reminded of Reek and his idiocy and their restriction away from the dragons. Since he’d last seen the male on the ridge northern their land, and no other sign of a grotto wolf near, it surprises him when one has so obviously breeched their unspoken contract. Until this moment, Gavriel thought they’d learned the first time around.

The large male lowers his head and sweeps his tail up, a low growl forming deep in his chest as he comes upon the small, red wolf. He goes unrecognized, having only seen Reek and another female. This one doesn’t seem much of a threat and as he escalates the rocky terrain with thundering paws until he’s only a few yards away, teeth flashing a warning.

The breeze tugged at his short fur, hiding any traces of the borders that were marked not too far from where he stood. He had no idea a pack was even there, hence the trip from the grotto, and was naive enough to believe if there were, they would be amicable enough to the followers of the faith. Especially in a place as cold as the north, why wouldn't others rejoice in the light Raas gave to them, short as the days could be here?

Looking up, the priest went to seek out the next direction he would head in but his attention was caught by a large figure racing towards him. It had its tail thrust into the air like a banner, kicking up rocks and dirt as it charged. It took a few moments before Phares realised the stranger was coming for him, and he immediately skittered backwards, stumbling on the rocky terrain and wasting his precious few seconds that could have given him a head-start.

Gavriel doesn't slow down when the realization sets in for the other, expecting him to turn tail and dart off but instead he's stumbling back. A snarl sounds from his jaws when the warrior knows he won't slow down enough before impact, or if he's lucky enough to side step. Gavriel gives himself an extra push as he barrels through like a shark on a mission and lunges with a great force.

The contact he makes only forces a cringe as he shoulder hooks the other and he snaps at a hind leg, tumbling over and onto the other side in an overdramatic display. Gavriel scrambles to find his feet, slinging rocks behind him. There's a hint of blood in his mouth and another growl vibrates deep in his chest. "Does Reek house nothing but foolish wolves?" he calls out before he begins his advance upon the slender canine.

He barely has enough time to react before the man slams into him with with all the force of a bullet train. The priest is bowled over, his thin form buckling from the sheer weight of the other, much larger wolf. His shoulder thrums with a dull pain from the impact and he grits his teeth from it, only to cry out when a stinging sensation sears from his hind leg.

The next few moments are a blur as both wolves right themselves amongst the dust that was kicked into the air by the stranger's charge. Awkwardly, Phares turns to face the man, standing on three unsteady legs with confusion and hurt scrawled upon his features. "Wh—!" he tries to begin, before being cut off by the man. Reek. Why were others always referring to him by his old name? "How do you kno—" he tries again before suddenly the beast charges again and the priest has no option but to lower himself and brace for impact.

The other scrambles back to his feet in the process, but he’s still thrown off guard because he attempts to stop him with words. His advance is quick and it cuts him off, the words forever lost as he he lunges, mouth open and paws forward in an attempt to force him to the ground in one, forceful, lung-sinking collision. The rage surprises him, remembering the last time he’d seen the dark male, threatening her companion, finding out his true intentions. By any association with that wolf, this one is just as guilty for his betrayal. 

Once the other is pinned beneath him, another surge of blood in his mouth that drips from his jaws in the thick of his saliva. The announcement on the grotto wolves hadn’t change in his absence and up until this point, they’d stayed away—whether they’d been here before, they hadn’t been caught—but now Gavriel doesn’t even question what he’s meant to do, growling and snapping at the smaller male.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

It was on his first patrol of Drageda’s borders that Toxochelys caught a familiar scent trailing away from the mountain’s base. Intensely curious, he followed at a lope. It was only as he drew closer that he realized why the familiarity had struck him so, and it was only then that he realized there was another scent along the same trail. The scent was sweet and earthy, just as Thuringwethil had said it would be. His hackles and tail rose threateningly as he made his approach. If Heda hadn’t mentioned anything, he might not have felt the pull to join forces with his packmate.

He boldly assumed that Gavriel would recognize him, but he felt no reason to be concerned. The sea wolf smelled of Drageda at this point, and he was certain that would be enough for the other tawny warrior if he had forgotten him. He arrived just as Gavriel pinned the slender Grotto wolf to the ground after a slur of sputtering words from the other. Entirely confident that the warrior had the situation under control, Toxochelys only pulled up beside the Gona and snapped his teeth within a hair’s distance of the reddish male’s head for good measure.

Suddenly, he is pinned, forced to the ground by the other's charge. The wind is knocked from his lungs, released in a single rush of air as he slams against the rocky terrain. The scent of his own blood hangs heavily in the air, mixed with the thick odour of an unknown pack. His chest burns with pain from the inside but he doesn't have time to assess the damage. Jaws click dangerously close to his face, and Phares winces as he turns away, struggling underneath the stranger.

Oblivious to the history between Hiram and the pack the stranger hails from, the priest is only confused by his demand, his response only a pathetic, strained whine. "I do not know what you're asking! I—" he tries hurriedly, before turning his attention the other figure quickly loping towards the scene. They, too, are larger than himself, with a dark, tawny pelt and a fiery gaze. Phares turns his head away from the threatening snap, another whimper escaping his throat. "If these a-are claimed lands, I apologise for my f-foolishness, I—" he says, stumbling over rushed words as he looks up to the first male with pleading eyes.

The small male hits the ground hard and begins fumbling over his words. Gavriel's eyes harden as he waits, listening for an answer that will give him reason to end his life. His throat would be easy to get to even though he's scrunched up beneath his powerful frame. He's done nothing to retaliate yet and perhaps the smart move while two larger warriors hover above. When he finishes, he's given no more information than when he started. 

"Why are you out here?" he growls down the pitiful creature. "Does Sleeping Dragon, Drageda, mean anything to you?" The grotto wolf's confusion presents with Gavriel that he might not know and his life could be far more useful. He'd seen first hand Reek's lack of communication with others, wolves important, that this useless wolf might have fallen victim to his leader's carelessness.

The Grotto wolf whimpered confused responses and Gavriel asked two more questions, but Toxochelys only had one as a curious thought occurred to him. The tawny guardian snorted fiercely, first — not out of disbelief, but certainly as a point of punctuation. "Do you know what sort of wolf you’re following?" he asked pointedly as he raised his head above the reddish male’s as though he was a cobra waiting to strike. He had no intention of doing so, however. Toxochelys found the degree to which the priest cowered satisfactory, and decidedly felt no need to push him further.

They seemed content to keep him pinned for now, and Phares had no objection to it if it kept them from harming him. He was keenly aware of every movement the two strangers made, watched every show of teeth and minute change of body language. He kept his muscles tensed and was ready to spring away from them the second he had a chance and run as fast as he could back to the Grotto. For the moment, however, he was at the brute's mercy.

Drageda. Phares looks at the tawny male, his gaze telling that he did not recognise such a name. A pack? Family? Other religion? "I-I'm new to these lands, I only wished to wander," he stammered, about to add an apology onto the end before the other man's words interjected, and he turned to him with a quizzical look. "Our Cardinal? Hiram?" he asked to clarify. What did these wolves know of their church?

Toxochelys offers another question, which causes Gavriel to look at him in silent question. What did he know about the Larksong wolves? He only makes the assumption he’d met with Thuringwethil already, who’d told him the ins and out, but the details he isn’t sure—but it’s enough that warrants a question worth asking—and so he returns his focus on the tiny wolf for answers to their question. It takes a moment, and the red canine stammers over his answer, and he’s not surprised by what he’s told. At least, not the first half.

“Cardinal? Hiram?” he growls in frustration. These words are new to him and he narrows his eyes as if they might bring more answers but they do little. “What happened to Reek?”

If there is a new leader to the grotto, then there's more to the situation than Gavriel anticipated. Perhaps the dark male had been overthrown and disposed of, which would make life easier for the Dragons, but a whole new set of problems become the potential and he feels a tension rise between his shoulders. He casts another look toward his companion, this time a little worried, but he freezes it and puts his paw down on the chest of the tiny wolf with a little pressure, demanding quick answers.

The red grotto wolf didn’t struggle, implicitly making a better case for himself than his irresponsible leader by doing nothing at all. Toxochelys didn’t expect the answer he gave, and his eyes widened in surprise because of it. He said nothing, however. His question had led to more questions, but the new information was valuable and he felt no desire to step on Gavriel’s toes any more than he already had by intercepting the interrogation. His lips formed a small, self-satisfied smile, and he simply watched on with downplayed but prickling excitement.
 
Gavriel was already asking all the right questions while Toxochelys held his tongue. Now they had something to talk about. The Gona placed a great paw on the narrow chest of the little wolf beneath him with an obvious demand for prompt responses.

Apparently word that Reek was no longer known as such had not spread far. If the Cardinal wanted to keep his rebirth a secret, Phares gave no indication of respecting his wishes. In his mind, to be born anew with the blessing of the Daystar was a thing of pride that was to be shared with the masses! To be rid of impurity and shed of past sins was an honour.

His ears flicked back as the wolf above him pressed upon his chest, no doubt impatient to hear what had happened to the wolf he once knew. "He has been reborn," he said with a sharp intake of breath. "He—he is Reek no longer. Hiram follows the Daystar now." His dark eyes steeled, locking straight onto the beasts own brown ones.

It takes a second for the male to speak up, following an extra push of his paw on his chest in warning. If he is not to speak soon, Gavriel might not give him the time of day again. Perhaps with the help of Toxochelys, he might be able to bring the wolf back to the dragon’s borders but he thinks against it. There’s no information the wolf can take back with him that would benefit the grotto mutts but every word that falls from his mouth can help them. Even if Gavriel doesn’t understand what they mean, he can use them, and he gives the smaller wolf a shove.

“Get out of here,” he growls, then snaps his teeth in his direction, “don’t come back.”

Toxochelys did nothing to conceal a derisive smirk at the mention of Reek’s alleged rebirth, but when the priest locked eyes with Gavriel, he firmly placed one paw forward to loom threateningly once again. His expression turned to stern severity as a guttural rumble erupted deep in his throat, cautioning the Grotto wolf to promptly ditch the foolishness that began to show with his religious pride. "Your Daystar won’t save you if you don’t mind your fucking manners," he snapped warningly.
 
When Gavriel demanded that the small, rusty coloured wolf flee their sight, the tawny Kru raised his head high and lashed his tail once to demonstrate his acceptance of the matter, still staring after Phares with violence smouldering in his bright orange eyes. He had no opinion one way or another if the seasoned Gona had no further use of the Grotto follower. He snorted like an indignant stallion, then turned his gaze to his superior and nodded. There was no need for them to linger.