Wolf RPG

Once she finished howling Kivi dropped to the floor and began to roll around in the golden grass. She already wanted her new home to be woven into her fur so that every wolf she comes in contact with from here on out will know she belongs to this place. The female finally flopped onto her stomach and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath inhaling the scent of Bison. It felt as if the ground shaked as the herd ran around the territory. The wolfess opened her eyes and stood, listening as her Khal spoke.

She said nothing and when the golden Khal took off towards the herd, Kivi followed. She wanted to once again hunt the mighty Bison, and prove her skills to all in the Khalas. She had a great feeling that they would be successful in their hunt, and for a brief moment Kivi thought of Zhavvi. Would her father allow her to hunt with the rest of the group?

As time wore on, Tomahawk learned more of her master's culture. They had a deep, intimate relationship with the prey that they hunted, and the bison held some symbolic value to the Dotharan. She did not know if she was supposed to feel this as well, though perhaps it took eating the flesh of one to truly understand their relationship with the wolves. Tomahawk was still uncertain, and she feared her inability to hunt well would hinder her masters. But she did not refuse.

Instead, the girl crouched at the Khal's side, yellow eyes driven down by her status in the pack. The Khal's words were spoken in the common tongue, and she repeated them in Dotharan for those who lacked bilingual abilities. "The Khal wishes to hunt today," she spoke, just loud enough so that the small, gathered crowd could hear her.

Zhavvi trotted towards her father when he spoke about hunting. She was eager to join. The evil young girl happen to chose the path where the slave was on. The slave that announced her father's wishes. Let it just happen that the female slave was in her path. Zhav bit her to made the slave go out of her path. It was a quick but a hard bite. "Get out of my way," she snapped and then just galloped towards her father.

She took her spot next to him. Running along with him but not passing him, she wasn't stupid after all. She knew damn well that she shouldn't push any more limits, she had close enough lately. In the way she ran next to her father she was determined not to be send away. Her head was held high. Finally she was going to hunt a bison. She had wanted to hunt one a long time, but we was too young before and after there weren't any bison around. Now it was her time to shine.

Turns out, Awazzi was right.  Mountains gave way to meadows, and meadows trailed off into plains that stretched as far as the eye could see. And the bison, the bison roamed in clusters, untouched and waiting for the Dotharan's arrival.  It was beautiful.  Upon arriving to the promised lands, all of Lavakho's growing bitterness, anger, and mistrust that he had built up toward the crones and his brother had all but faded away, leaving the gentle giant to be his happy and easy-going self once again.

After discovering the territory, Lavakho hadn't strayed far from his brother's side. Quietly, he waited for further instruction.  When his brother brought up the idea of a pack hunt, Lavakho couldn't have been more exuberant. With the whole pack together, this hunt would be a goddamn cakewalk.  Over the past few months, the warrior had pined and prayed for 'proper' prey, and finally he would have it.  Surely, Rhoa had granted them his favor.

Although Lavakho didn't particularly listen to the words that his brother spoke before the pack, he admired their intensity and the prideful tone behind them.  Lavakho had felt that same pride, and felt more connected to his brother than ever.  But when his brother began his sprint, Lavakho knew it was show time as he took off behind him, leading the rest of the Khalas into the foray.

Right after they had claimed the lands, Rakharo had already gathered them, ready to hunt for bison. Raezho was grinning the entire time. His body yearned for bison, and he was ready to hunt. Right after Rakharo said they were going to hunt, he watched as a slender female wolf, began to walk forward. Tomahawk said announcing that Rakharo would like to hunt. Raezho grinned at her. The coyote had been teaching him bits and phrases of the new language. She was also a pretty good companion to help him carry herbs.

So when the female wolf rudely shoved Tomahawk out of the way, biting her, Raezho felt fury rush through him. He leaped forward, not caring if the other wolf saw badly of him. His growled, herding Tomahawk away, or "hawk" as he like to call her. He shot a reassuring smile at her, before leaping forward, adrenaline pulsing through him. Soon, the view of Rakharo came to sight, along with the wolfess running along side him. The golden blond warrior pushed himself forward, propelling himself toward them, gaining on them.

He knew he could overtake them. He knew he could with almost ease. But he hadn't earn his place yet. A growl erupted from the back of his throat, as he slowed down his pace. Up ahead, he watched as the bison began to scatter. An idea began to weave itself into his mind. He glanced at the three running in front of him, before veering away, overtaking them and cutting across the bison line, herding them back. One rather large one tried to push past, but he nipped at it's heels and sent it flying back. If Rakharo questioned him for overtaking him, he might as well use the bison as an excuse.

Zoratto was close to Zhavvi as she joined her father in the call, and close enough to hear her father's words as he commanded his khalas. As a khal should. This journey was much longer for Rakharo, his brother and his daughter than the rest of them. He wasted no time in reaping in the bounties of such a long, hard travel.

He shadowed her as she brushed past the slave towards the khal, and paused when another golden wolf snarled at her, herding the slave away. Zoratto echoed the male, already noticing that his voice was significantly deeper, shooting him a cold glare with his pale eyes, before he leapt into the fray, following the golden khal.

The young boy had never hunted bison before. He had seen it happen, but never before was he a part of it. It spoke to him in a way that he had not felt before when hunting other beasts. The ground shook hard as they ran, and the bison towered over them. For a moment he was intimidated, but he quickly pushed the feeling away; they were Dotharan. Bison were their prey.

The forests, mountains, lakes, meadows they crossed were worth it in the end, for the prophecy was right and the Khal found the promised lands. Golden plains, the sea of grass that spread endlessly, it was beautiful. The wind ruffling his fur, the sky right above them and the Bison, the Dotharan's prey. This was his new home. This was were he ultimately belonged. The bitterness, restlessness  and mistrust evaporated then. He had been right to lead Raezho out of Rhaesh Dahaan, he had been right to follow the Khal in the end. The Golden Rhoa had led them home.

When Rakharo mentioned a hunt, Azzaro nearly laughed in joy. No more elk, deer or caribou. No, today they would feast on the meat of Bison, the real food of the Dotharan warriors. It had been ages since he had officially participated in the hunt for Bison, but he was sure it would be as easy as it had been in Rhaesh Dahaan, these skills never truly fade from Dotharan's minds after all. Azzaro trotted alongside Raezho and watched with calculating ivory eyes as the aspiring healer leaped forward and growled at the female then herded the slave away.

The older brother of the two noticed an unfamiliar wolf snarl at Raezho and shot him a glare. Azzaro peeled back black lips and bared his fangs at the other Dotharan, a low warning growl escaping his maw.

Then the dark furred Ezok leaped forward, watching the Bison scatter and his brother racing forward. They had hunted alongside each other before, and the warrior was glad to do so again. He followed the Khal for a moment, ivory eyes spotting an elder Bison at the back of the herd, it had a slight limp, barely detectable. Azzaro flicked his tail sideways and thrust his ears forward in the direction of the limping to signal to the Khalas what he was doing, then he leaped forward, snapping at the limping Bison's hind leg, his jaws clamped around the flesh and blood seeped into his jaws but then he jumped back and barely avoided getting kicked, a rare smile decorates his maw for a brief second before he attempts to engage once more.

Not even a minute after the Khalas had lay their claim to the lands that Rakharo turned to them and announced their first hunt. The bison herd that had been grazing in the fields had been startled by their howl, and the thundering of hooves echoed through the plains as they took off. Rhanno watched them with hunger dancing in his dark eyes, ears pressed forward as the Khal then barked for them to follow him as he started off down the hill and into the swaying fields. He watched the rest of the group chase after him, before the elder took up the tail end, accepting he was not as fast as the younger wolves. So be it. He could at least keep them in line.

However, when the yearlings began to snap at each other, Rhanno didn't intervene, instead watching with amusement. For some reason, a golden wolf defended one of the coyote slaves after a girl snapped at it. Zoratto then retaliated — he was close to the girl then? Interesting — before a darker wolf then got in a final growl. Rhanno gave a soft chuff of a laugh to himself.

It seemed the dark, strapping male had the right idea, going after one of the bison who smelled distinctly old. It limped slightly as it jumped out of the way of the boy's jaws. Rhanno spurred into action, pumping his strong legs as he came up the other side of the injured bison, attempting to cut off it's path and steer it towards where Rakharo and the others were headed.

Laqikki was late to the party, but that was her way. The crone was notorious for this quality. Let all know that she arrived when she chose, and not even the greatest of Khals could beckon her forth if she wasn't ready. Oh, the old she-wolf had known Rakharo and his khalas were here—age had not dulled her senses enough that tracking them was impossible—but she hadn't made herself known. Let them wait. The Dosh Khaleen would come when they chose, no sooner.

She rose her head from the bright grass in time to see the bison stampeding. The sound of their powerful hooves shaking the ground was unforgettable, and thrummed like life water in the veins of every Dotharan wolf. Her heart sang to join the hunt, but Laqikki stayed where she was, fully visible and unmistakable even from a distance for the twin lines that marked her apart from other wolves. She was too old now to be hunting bison, and preferred to stand back and observe. Many omens could make themselves known at a moment's notice. It was the crone's job to spot and decipher these.

Yet she had been away from her fellows too long, so her attention was drawn to the strong bodies of the khalas. She was surprised to see a much smaller canine among them. Slaves weren't abnormal, but in her lifetime, it was rare that they got the honour of hunting the great bison. That right was almost exclusively awarded to grown male and female wolves of the khalas. Laqikki tsked her disapproval, and for the remainder of the pack's selection and separation of the bison, she would pray to the Golden Rhoa that the slave not lay a single sullied fang on their sacred prey.

Tomahawk was shoved roughly to one side, to which she did not fight back. Instead, she slunk further away from the commotion. It was not her intention to cause trouble or unrest between her masters. If anything, she wanted to do the opposite of that! In no time, however, everybody was rushing toward the great beast. An acidic glance from an older female caused Tomahawk to choose not to participate at all, in fact. Perhaps she had only been summoned here for the initial translation, and the rest was to be watched by her. She would only eat what they permitted of her, obedient as ever.

Tomahawk stretched out in the golden grass that the Khal loved so much. It was the waves of golden grass that had beckoned him to this place, and she watched the others as they descended upon their prey, salivating as she did so. It was not in her nature to hunt with them, even if she had been known to scavenge. Perhaps, when she was younger, before she had become Rakharo's property, things would have been different.

With the dispute over the integrity of his Khaleesi in the past, the Ezok-to-be ran with the khalas, conserving his speed and stamina until a bison was chosen to be the khalas' first kill. He knew that he was fast; he was blessed with the natural body and stamina of a runner, but it needed to be used wisely. And now, the time was right. Two wolves spotted an old bison and targeted it, and the rest of the khalas followed.

Zoratto began pressing forward, helping his khal separate the bison from the herd, turning on a dime to face the bison, "roaring" at the beast, hoping it would turn in the wrong direction: towards the khalas. He pushed it towards the two wolves who had picked him out, then took the opportunity to take his own chunk out of the bison. He chose a dangerous spot, darting forward and biting the flesh that joined its leg to its stomach. The bison started to raise its leg to kick at the boy, but he had pulled away, a bit of meat dangling from his jaws as he jumped back, panting. Exhilarated.

The young girl growled back at the wolf that defended the slave. Well she would remind that and confront him later. Slaves wouldn't need to be protected by someone of the Khalas. She was disgusted. Luckily the bison was given her the well needed distraction. She was pleased that Zoratto at least was doing a bit of his promised bodyguard duties. Not that she needed it but it was good to know he took his promise serious.

Zhavvi ran with her father. She wasn't sure if he would like having the Khalas already biting of pieces of the precious bison like that. She was certain that Rakharo wanted to make the kill as their leader. The young princess was excited that she was allowed to join the hunt. But the sly little female was thinking ahead. Instead of running by the kicking hind legs the female sped up towards the head of the bison. She would try and nip at the beast's head to stir it into another direction instead of back to the herd. She had never been so close to this magnificent beast.

The adrenaline of the hunt pounded through Lavakho's veins with every heavy heartbeat. However disorganized the hunt had begun, the khalas had narrowed in on their target and closed down like a set of massive jaws around it, narrowing it's options for escape. The old bison stood no chance to make it out of the fray alive. It had been far too long since Lavakho had the chance to take down proper prey, but the time was nigh and the khalas would feast tonight.

The boy, Zoratto, had already taken a chunk of flesh from the bison before Lavakho stumbled on to the scene. Lavakho spun around it's flank and took aim at it's throat. However, he refrained from attempting to bring the bison down. Instead, he shifted his gaze to his brother and gave him a nod. This was his, and Lavakho was quick to show that he would have his back.

As the crone stood by, her eyes only left the fray long enough to watch Tomahawk slink away. Good, she thought with her lips drawn into a terse line. Her turned her gaze back to the worthy hunters, the true-blooded Dotharan, as they dove for the bison's head.

It wasn't something the former Khaleesi would ever have done, but it worked. They were lucky. The powerful animal could easily have trampled any of them for being foolish enough to get in front of it, but the Khal and his brother, both known to Laqikki, were able to subdue it before any harm was done. They fell upon it, with the Khal taking the first meat as was his right. If a Khal could not exercise his power, he was no Khal at all, and Rakharo was doing well with that at least.

The elder paced closer, knowing her place was to eat after the warriors had their fill. As a Dosh Khaleen, she could exercise her own power, but it was not her place here. She had come to assist, not to behave as though she was supreme. The Dosh Khaleen were, of course, as far as the crones were willing to admit, but that didn't mean much here.

When she approached them, though, it was with her head held high and her sagely eyes narrowed, not out of defiance but out of habit. She was once a great Khaleesi and was now a sacred crone, and so her ego had not disappeared with age, but grown. Her tail, however, remained down where it belonged.

Zhavvi knew that her father would never approve of her running in front of the Bison. But she honestly didn't care much. She wanted to be of use and by the looks of it she gave the distraction for her dad to make the kill. At least Zhavvi was too vain to think that. She stopped running and truned around once her father took down the massive beast. The young girl creeped closer to the bison to sniff it. She hadn't really ever seen one so up close. She wanted to eat, she was hungry. Zhavvi wasn't very heavy as it was. She really needed to eat more to her adult body. Often she wasn't hungry in deer meat but now having the bison before her she felt insanely hungry like she hasn't eaten in weeks.

Zhavvi stood next to her father. Wanting to eat so badly but she wasn't going to embarrass her father before the whole Khalas. She looked at him if she could eat. She hoped he would see her desperate glance. She was going to eat so much until her stomach would extend. And after that she would take the longest nap.

The bison was brought low by the Khal, an excellent show of strength. The lithe runner trotted up to the kill, panting with the exertion and excitement. It would be his first taste of bison in moons, and he had participated in the kill. The red-masked wolf lingered close to Zhavvi, though far away that her father would not be bothered by his presence. He saw the pleading look in her eyes, and felt his stomach stir in response. The khalas ached for the go ahead to eat, all waiting obediently at the word of their Khal.

Azzaro was fast despite his stocky and muscular build. Being back where he should be, underneath the sky with nothing in between, with the wind in his agouti fur, running between the tall grass of the plains, the sound of Bison running in his ears seemed to have awoken him once more. He was no longer some simple loner, but a true Dotharan wolf, hunting their rightful prey and not simple deer and elk, running alongside his fellow Dotharan packmates.

The agouti wolf leaped several times, and everytime, his blow connected. He aimed for the flanks and legs, hoping to slow it down. It wasn't long before Rakharo decided to finish the first hunt the Khalas had in their new home, the Khal brought down the large beast and Azzaro watched with fiery ivory eyes as it fell onto the ground.

Trotting forward, Azzaro waited for the Khal's word, so he and the rest of the Khalas could feast on Bison at last.

The Khalas took the mighty prey down with ease after some tactful manoeuvres aiming to cut off the beast's path and sharp bites at its flanks. The moment it was separated from its herd, Rhanno knew its chances of survival were slim. It rolled its dark eyes in fear and the snorting of its laboured breaths could be heard even over the sound of the thundering hooves and panting from the wolves. He had hunted enough bison over his lifetime to know when the hunt would be successful or not. The bison should be grateful for being chosen as their very first meal within their new home.

With a reverberating sound that rivalled the thunder of a storm, their prey stumbled and fell. Rakharo had the honours of landing the final blow, something which Rhanno found himself jealous of, yet he knew he had as much chance of being the one to kill the beast as the coyote slave. He hung back, tongue lolling and chest heaving, watching as the pack descended upon the fallen bison.

Rakharo was also the first to feast, as the rightful Khal, and the elder watched with hungry eyes as he stalked closer. He, too, would wait with the others despite his rumbling stomach.

Tomahawk watched from afar, muscles tense as she saw the demise of the great bison. It was a beautiful thing, really, and she smiled for a moment at it. And in an instant, it was all over. Rakharo called for them all, though Tomahawk took her time getting to the feast. She would, of course, eat last. But she had not expected to get anything at all, so last was better than the alternative. When she finally dove in, there was little left aside from scraps and bones, but she gnawed on what she could scavenge.

The Khal enjoyed his meal, as it was his right to be the first one to take a bite for being Khal and everyone respected his position he had the whole Bison for himself for a couple minutes. He tore the skin open and started ripping out big chunks of meat from the beast's belly and organs, th epart with the most nutrients as it was his right, and when he thought he'd had enough he permitted the rest of the Khalas to take their part. The feast was for the Khalas, they had worked together to earn it, and with it a whole land to call home.

The place still needed a name, one that was worthy of the Dotharan and their blood. A name in Doth would be the only option. The grass that surrounded them, although vibrating with life still held the characteristic color of the hottest days of summer. A rich golden green that extended for miles in every direction. "Ramasar Hoshor" were the words that described the paradise, but it still was part of a land that he did not understand, it wouldn't be right to rip it appart from its roots.

"Ui mobi vi lex ihk Ramasar persvek wer munth ooble?" he asked Tomahawk who had stayed in the shadows since the hunt started. She was a native, she knew the tongue and her main duty would be breaking the comunication barrier the Dotharan confronted in this new land.

The Khal ate first, maintaining the status quo. Even in Dotharan societies, wolves were wolves and hierarchy was honoured, perhaps even more steadfastly than in other cultures. When the go ahead was given for the khalas to eat, Laqikki showed her true strength—that of a former powerful Warrior—as she jostled her way in and managed to snag a kidney in the kerfuffle.

She retreated away when she'd had her fill, and watched with sharp eyes the interaction between Khal and slave. The other Dotharan were still milling about the carcass, but it was the coyote that Laqikki focused on. It was a traditional outlook, she supposed, but the crone disapproved of the Khal speaking to a lowly creature like that as if it had any knowledge at all. To Laqikki and her late Khal husband, coyotes were nothing but servants, and their usefulness was limited. Most of them were beaten until they were mute, at least in her previous home.

Looking away, the old female began to clean the sparse fur on her paws, but she listened to the conversations until the pack members began to trickle away one by one. As they did, she rose and left as well, back to solitude where she could consult her mind alone.

Raezho had tried to do this duty in every way possible for hunt. He ended up just chasing the bison away from the pack. This hunt could have scared them away from the plains and that would result in the lost of one herd of bison. He bounded back towards where the other were. Only to find they had already managed to take down an old bison, and was feasting.

Silently, he made his way towards whatever was left, taking a portion of the carcass for himself. Chewing on the meat, Raezho almost felt at home. The bison meat was bliss under his tongue. Glancing at his brother over the skeleton, he slowly padded over, greeting his brother. Slowly, the pack began to leave, but Raezho knew he would not, at least no until he properly gave thanks the the great Thoa for their first bison meal in these plains.