Wolf RPG

His task had been divulged with a note of importance – and, he would almost have pulled regret from his adoptive mother’s tones when she told him. Ivitaruk saw it purely for what it was: opportunity. When he departed from the Western Battalion, he did not glance back to see Nuvuyak staring at him – he only looked forward to the chance at bringing her honor and pride. To find Tonravik and expand upon yet one more glorious Tartok branch – if he played his cards right, perhaps they would grant him the same opportunity to create his own branch.. and finally lead.

The auburn wolf had swept through the lands with true purpose. He only questioned those he came across for a few moments, gaging if they had heard anything of his now leader.. even if she did not know it yet. He knew only a little of the woman – her pelt was adorned in a coat that would bring a raven envy, and her prowess on the battle field was fierce.

It could have been like finding a needle in a haystack, but Ivitaruk took the alone time with grace. He heard a few promising leads, and after two months of searching, he found himself upon the borders with a distinctly familiar scent. His paws prowled the very edges of the marked terrain, his hardened cinnamon eyes darting forward, attempting to discern what had happened here.

Tonravik’s branch was coming along well – or, so he would hope.. but somehow, for a dominant creature as herself.. her scent was still very faint. Perhaps she had moved onward?

The blood of her prey was swiped away with a pink tongue, leaving faint stains behind on her jaws as she moved to continue her patrol. It was what one could moost often find her doing, carrying her heavy frame at varying paces around the border, making sure to keep those who did not belong out, making sure they did not even linger in the fringes of their territory. The Spine's wolves were well protected by the bear and she strived to maintain that.
 
Faintly, there was a new scent, one that the winds brought to her, enticing her to ease into a lope as she moved to intercept. Whoever it was, he was too close; ears laid back and teeth bared even as she neared, her tail high as a threatening growl issued in warning. "Far enough." The command was steady, strong, and behind it the threat of teeth and claws lay in wait. 
 
Gold eyes narrowed as she took another step or two forward, posture stiff and ready to attack should he not give her an immediate explanation. Her growl renewed, Kroc demanded that answer. Now.

The woman was near enough to the border to smell the others proximity. Her scent was faint but by the day, grew stronger. Already it overpowered the once-leaders, and soon it would be unquestionable who led. Tonravik was certain some might overstep their bounds, but their bloody and beaten bodies would decorate her borders when they were found and, when they rotted, then their bones. Had Tonravik not seen him fully, she would have made an example of him, first.

But that coat she had only ever seen once, and his scent reeked of the place she had fought for, once. It had been recent, and like her mother, she had a nose that did not forgot. Kroc was not wrong to be on edge; Tonravik only wished she had cowed the man, forced him back. That would not happen again.

There was no anger on her, not even disappointment. As she moved near to them, her gruff voice sounded: "Ivitaruk," he had been her battlefield companion, her battle-buddy. Together, they had killed many. More likely than not, he had been investigating as she. Had he not thought Tonravik was the lead here, he himself could have attempted to usurp. She looked to Kroc. "We attack. We push away. If they remain, then we let them talk." They did not get the privilege of speaking until they weathered the blows rained upon them. Tonravik glanced to Ivitaruk, sure he would understand, even though he could have been victim to that.

Then she fell silent, waiting for his words. Ivitaruk had either come here on his own accord, or been sent to deliver a message from the West. She would find out now.

One found him – the pale she-wolf was quick to intercept him.. the sign of discipline something he was accustom to from his raising, and something he would expect no less of Tartok. He stilled his pacing form then – the auburn of his pelt glinting in the sun as his eyes studied the she-wolf. His stance turned neutral – he did not bow to her, but nor did he disrespect her.. he was upon her pack’s borders, and her words were law in this setting.

One ear flickered in the direction of approaching steps, and as his pale brown eyes drifted from his silent questioner, they fell upon the wolf he truly sought. It took only a moment for recognition to settle, and pleased that she was indeed here, despite the intermingled scents upon the border, the fiery wolf wasted no time in lowering his bulking form significantly in her presence.

He listened to her, taking no insult to her orders. Instead, his gaze would drift to her neck, avoiding eye contact. “Tonravik,” he returned, determining that their conversation would fill in the white she-devil to her satisfaction. “They have sent me to aide you in the next Tartok branch formation – I see you have already begun,” he mused, his voice a low-key rumble. “I await your orders, Issumator'” Whether his reasoning was listened to before the other decided to take the Issumator's law under direct test, he did not know -- yet his form was tense, awaiting the motion of attack from the pale wolf.

She was not the only one to come and confront him, and Kroc was on the verge of breaking her halt and shouldering him back when the Alpha appeared at her side. Still, her growl did not subside, hackles raising further as she watched him, eyes never leaving his form. Sure, Tonravik was more than capable of defending herself but the creature would not let such a situation come even close to happening. She would take him down if he dared try.


But Tonravik spoke his name, her tone without ire. Not relaxing, Kroc's ear flickered in response to the female's instruction, a nonverbal gesture to show that she had heard, the minute nod she gave the signal that she would obey.

Her stance stayed consistent as the wolf, Ivitaruk, spoke, acknowledging the alpha and his orders. There would be no relaxation from the Saurturi wolf until Tonravik issued her command to stand down, frozen in her readied state.

Tonravik felt Kroc at the ready beside her while listening to the wolf before her. He was quick to state his intention and Tonravik nodded. She accepted him swiftly, and turned broadside to invite him to move with them to continue patrols, this time, with him in tow. "I found this land. The leader was gone. It is mine, now," she rumbles, her ears perked. The words were dark, the threat clear. That it was her own meant that if the woman returned, she would be welcomed only by fangs and perhaps death.

The leader would test the waters with her newest subordinates soon. A hunt was in order. Tonravik licked her chops. While the woman hoped to earn the support of her latest followers, if they preferred the leader that had run from her post, they could go. That only meant they lacked intelligence, and she had no need for that sort. For the while, she was optimistic that perhaps they were wiser than that. Tonravik was glad he had come to strengthen her claim and reign.

Tonravik’s words seemed to soothe the other, and when the swarthy female responded in turn to his words by beckoning him to a walk, the warrior readily lifted himself, taking his place behind the she-wolves. Rapt attention was given to his leader, and he gave one quick nod of his muzzle to affirm he understood. “And your followers are loyal to you?” It was truly all he needed to know – if the pack was not fully hers yet, they would need to be quick to remedy this.

Dutifully, he followed, silent until otherwise prompted. Thus was the way of life – and perhaps, should his loyalty and service be rewarded, it would be with the title of his own Tartok branch. To bring honor to his family was what he sought – and to prove himself more than the lost cub he had been, washed upon the shore those few years ago.

Tonravik accepted him and Kroc's teeth disappeared behind black lips, though her eyes did not lose their malicious glint. This male was unknown to her and therefore, he was still a risk. A threat. To put it simply, she did not trust him. 

So, when Tonravik invited him to accompany her, accepting him into her ranks, Kroc moved to follow like a not-so-silent shadow. She didn't bother trying to keep her steps quiet as there was no use, but she was sure in maintaining her leader's safety. Her mouth stayed wired shut for the moment, watching him darkly as the two interacted, not assuming that just because he was ordered to come here that he would not want to betray the woman.

Tonravik moved with the trio. His question was an important one. Her delay in response was answer enough, and her tongue rolled around a canine absently. "We will see." The woman had tests in mind; and those who wanted to leave, could. An absent leader was something she was not. The authoritarian wolf was present. Activity was important to her. Her strides were long and she looked to the borders. 

"The leader could return. I am in need of mianersiyok." Guardians. Warden. Watchmen. Tonravik could not trust the minds of her pack without knowing their true outlook on Cara. Would they attack her on sight, as commanded of any intruder or wolf near the border? Her eyes turned to Kroc. That was why she had told the woman to waste no time in pushing the wolf away. And all, if they waited, were to be received by her.

The Tartok wolf would grow to become Issumatar. Her mother was supreme, however, and this, with all its chaos, was far from Tartok. These wolves she would not force the name on unless they desired to become. This land was stolen and hers to deal with, but the wolf was unsure of the merit of those already here. She would come to find out.

The pale she-devil was quick to follow them – something the unfaltering wolf did not mind. Ivitaruk was intent on Tonravik, but that did not mean an ear would flicker to the sound of the pale she-wolf’s paw falls, or to the sound of her breathing. It only pleased him to know the swarthy Tartok wolf had gained such a loyal follower – but it was foolish to think that Tonravik was incapable of looking after herself, even with his size. Their spars in the past had proven this time and again.

“You have a warrior in me,” he confirmed, keeping a pace behind the Alpha. Given the pale female’s reaction to his presence, and the few words Tonravik did offer, Ivitaruk could only determine that there was much work to be done here. In time, it would flourish beneath her reign. “What is this place called?” Had scenery stunned him, this mountain certainly would have. As it was, home was not by the land one claimed.. but the wolves one claimed it with.

His response pleased her, and she nodded. With their experience combined, Tonravik did not doubt her wolves would fight and fight hard for her. The wolves she as of then definitively knew were her own were him, Echelon, and Kroc. The others she would come to find out. She would weigh and judge them, and it would take the beast little time to discern whether or not the rest were to be trusted. If not, they could go. The Spine had no room for the spineless.

Tonravik sniffed at the air, searching for any scents that ought to concern her. Nothing did, and as he spoke she responded. "Ouroboros Spine." Tonravik had no idea what it meant, but could see why it might have "spine" in its title. In being near the places base, the mountains looked like a splintered one, up and down, a bony quality to it. Whatever it was called, it was hers. To lead again was refreshing, invigorating, even under the circumstances. But Tonravik cared not for those; she was not a woman to break due to them.

The name felt foreign when spoken – but he did not mind. Instead, he gave only a brisk nod of understanding as he prowled after her. He had no more questions for his Alpha – it was only assumed his aide would be welcomed during the pack’s shift as Tonravik enforced her authority upon the mountain they now stood on. His orders for now were simple and given without being spoken: ensure those that remained were loyal to the ebony she-wolf, and maintain the safety of their members.

He felt the presence of the pale wolf still, but did not pay her mind with a glance. His acknowledgement was purely upon the Tartok woman, and until she dismissed him to duty, he was hers and hers alone. A wolf used to fulfilling orders and demands, Ivitaruk was fluid in his movement behind her – his large figure held with a certain amount of pride, but one that would lower upon inspection of the two she-wolves – his superiors.

The trio continued to move together, falling into silence. Tonravik kept alert. Having usurped the pack herself, she would kill the next wolf who would attempt to do so. For her, it was meant. For any other, it would be a fatal error in judgment and certainly their last mistake. Large paws pressed into the loamy earth as she paused, sniffed a portion of the land, circled it, and then began to rub first her muzzle upon it, then falling onto her side and rubbing her body, curling and flopping and pressing her scruff and shoulders into the partially rocky, partially earthen portion of land.

Content she had released her scent upon it, she moved back to her side, ears flicking, and hoisted herself up. Back on all fours again, she nipped at the silent Kroc and then shifted to push roughly into Ivitaruk, a low growl coming out as her tail slapped at her hindquarters and as it moved toward Ivitaruk, likely thwapping him without intent as she then drove ahead, pressing her snout into the earth every now and again.

The male braced himself – having only moments before watched her with quiet satisfaction. It had taken him a bit to find her, but now he had been accepted in to a threshold that held more grounding than he had suspected. It was good to be at the side of his old comrade once more. He held no doubt how swiftly the pack would rise to a position of power, and once the disloyal were vanished, the true building of the pack would begin.

She pushed in to him roughly, eliciting an approving growl from the male as his muzzle sought to gently nudge beneath her chin in comradery and submission. Once more he moved forward to follow her, his eyes only shifting over Kroc briefly before moving on with the task at hand. Every so often he would leave his own mark upon the lands – he was now a wolf of the Spine.