Wolf RPG

A city.

Akashingo.

Lowly, she creeps about through the sands. Her stomach aches, and she offers no complaint. On an empty belly, she was content. Content with the new sounds, the new aromas, the and the strands of fur she passed by. It is all new. She walked away from the many trails, sticking close to the edges of many structures and allowing her eyes to cross over every crack and crevice of them. They are wonderful as she slinks in many shadows, observing. Taking her time.

When she moved forward, it was onto the next structure, onto the next sight, onto the next view of a new clearing and onto the next street. Where the echoing sounds of a hollowed-out space from below her feet touched her ears. In a dipped head, she listened. Examined. What strange things these Akashingoes had. She was learning. She was watching. She was quiet, yet she waited as well as she did explore.

Though, perhaps her scour would not stay alone for a serpents Raven.

A mountain of a wolf was typically that of a warlord. At least, that's what some of his brothers used to say. Odd, they said, that a giant like him would prefer to use his might to build gardens than to use his strength for battle. That wasn't Haizel, no. He hated violence and was still a bit ashamed of himself for being unable to calm... anyone. It got him thinking: had he even made friends since coming here? The giant's mind wasn't in the happiest of places in light of those events, so he'd devoted himself to his flowers and work to keep his mind occupied.

What was he doing at that moment? He had just finished the delicate process of fiddling with the dirt around where Akashingo's future royal garden would be. The doe-pelted man started to mix in the dirt he'd gathered from the nearby forest, but he needed more to cover the entire area. He'd have to go back.

However... Um... hi, he woofed to another, though he found it difficult to muster his usual fanfare of excitement and a dizzying tail. My name's Haizel. What's yours?

Legend

Haizel