Wolf RPG

Full Version: The end, is just the beginning.
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Rumors have swirled around Kingslend as numbers have fallen and the blessings from the High Elk seem to be missing within the Deorwine wolves. Perhaps blame was onto her, as someone would say, especially one in particular.. The elderly was of no worry, how could one who coughs as if the fire still remains, and cannot move much anymore cause an issue? But the other.. Oh no, it seemed they had yet another case.

Though different from Rohesia, for he was not a fool like she was. Célnes and @Cenric knew they had seek out @Calhoun, as the moon hung high in the sky, and the snow gingerly fell to the ground. As per' customs did she hold upon an antler around her neck, but lightly was it stained with blood from another night of their maddened throne. She smiled at Cenric, as the two now knew what was next for their charades..

It was time for his end.
The sun had long since fallen on a quiet day. Calhoun had spent most of his time tracking the herds, taking note of their activity with the new snow that had blanked their forest. Bodies seemed to be disappearing by the week, left to their own devices, or perhaps off to their sister pack away from Celnes and Cenric's rule. It was a thought he too had dabbled with, though he wouldn't dare leave in the midst of winter storms.

It seemed he was no longer appreciated here though. Sacnite had left too, a shame really, Calhoun saw so much potential in her, but now he was one of few. Celnes' guard had approached him questioning his loyalty as if he had the right when he was not fully one of them. It was true he would not see eye to eye with the King, but that did not make her any less of his family. Something Germanicus could not equate to.

Unfortunately, others would not see things the same way. He was unaware of the threat he now posed. Calhoun never even held an interest in leading, only to be respected and acknowledged for his devotion. Maybe that was what brought him out in the dead of night. He sought comfort. Blending with the trees, the Baron made his way to Staghall, where he could truly be alone with his God to pray for the answers he sought.
Cenric held a singular antler in his jaws. It’s the same one that hung round his neck the day Rohesia was slaughtered. Oh, how energized he felt them, eager, powerful. None of that was felt in this moment.

Rohesia was deranged, cursed some may say. Devotion drove her mad. She turned to violence, and she was bold enough—no, not bold— crazy enough to take it out on his kin. For that, he was happy to dispose of her.

He did not take pleasure in the thought of Calhoun meeting the same fate. Of all his cousins, Cenric respected him the most. Loyal, devout, intelligent. He admired those traits, but they could be easily abused. If the rumors his sister told him were true, then their cousin would be a problem in the future. They must rid of him. It’s a necessity. 

Cenric did not return the smile. He was too occupied on the baron’s path. He followed it swiftly, eager to finish this as soon as possible. He slowly came to a halt when he saw his cousin.

Calhoun, he called. His approach was slow. Dear cousin— he paused to glance at Célnes. He would not be the one to take him down. —be still.
She too, mourned the thought of the acts the King's would commit. There was always a jealousy from Célnes when she thought of the Baron, for how all adored him for the loyalty and devotation he held for the High Elk, and seemingly felt ignored in it's place. Her desire of power stemmed from the sin of envy, for everything came in the end; their God. He has taken everything, yet nothing, all but the devotation that is the Deorwine family.

"Dear cousin," words aligned with Cenric as the smile had now dropped to what was a somber gaze, "the time is now." Toward each step they follow him to, and their words echoing throughout the forest, and yet, no one would hear them. The days of Kingslend were now ending with the absence of many, it was almost perfection for his ending.

With their crowns around their neck, as so they did with Rohesia, they would follow through with them. Leaning toward with a reapers look, and a fateful clashing of the holy antlers toward what is the most devoted, of them all.
It was the footfalls of one, then another that distracted him from his prayer. At first, the Baron paid no mind. A simple whisper on the wind, the scurrying of prey up far too late. Then a voice spoke his name. Cousin. Cenric had wandered into the night too then, though the fact that there had been two sets of steps suggested both Kings might be present.

He had no intentions of leaving his prayer, nor knowledge of the false rumors that had spread about him to the King's ears. It was only when he was told to stay still, that he dared turn. That's when he saw the kings, cloaked in night and thorns that he knew something sinister had approached him. What's the meaning of this?
She approached their cousin, but she had yet to take action. Perhaps she wasn’t looking forward to what’s to come. Maybe she did. It’s difficult to tell with Célnes; she thinks one way and acts another. Deceptive thing.

She’d yet to make the first move, and Cenric wanted this to be done quickly. Once again it falls upon him to kickstart someone’s end. Without another word he rushed forward, determined to knock Calhoun down.