Wolf RPG

The sun shone through spotty clouds that afternoon, but even so, the grey puffs of vapor could not detain the star’s radiance. Like blades of light it struck through to the warm summer day to Teekon below. Little did the wilds know a new player had entered the game of Life of Teekon. She came from the east. She came with a serene grace of a burning fire. And so unto, the Speaker of the Dead had arrived.

The wind blew from the west, towards the way she had come. The Great Rockies were far behind her, but a small string of mountains rose in front of the pond she had come to rest at. She did not know this strange place. The Rockies had been tiring, traversing through thickly forested valleys or bitter snowy caps. It was through pure survival instinct she had managed to pull through it. She wondered if they would be a formidable shield against Lothario, if he ever kept true to his promise. Well, even if the Rockies were defeatable by him, he’d have to pass through that long, everlasting stretch of tall grass first. She would not see him for a while, if she ever did again.

She hid in the overgrowth, watching the ducks roost, targeting a rather plump fellow that had so unfortunately decided to dose at the edges of the group. It would be an easy kill without the hassle of chasing through flapping feathers for a good meal. She situated herself into a leaping position.

In another’s peripheral vision, one would have thought they saw a fireball lash out from the undergrowth. With awe-inspiring speed, Speaker had caught her target within a couple of seconds. The kill-wound was merciful, painless, and quick. However the red wolf’s presence had caused a stir as the rest of the flock had taken flight in rambunctious noise. Saraphine’s jaws dripped with blood as she began to salivate, but she held back the urge to bite down. She set down her prey, and uttered a prayer, her elegant voice spreading through the air like a comforting hearth, “I thank you, Brother. Your life has sustained me. May your spirit go in peace, and your body stay behind to become part of the wolves.”

Speaker took her meal to the edge of the water and ate peacefully. She looked down at her recently reapplied paints. After crossing the Rockies, finding wild berries to make the violet hues had been plentiful for her. The new paints made her sigh in a bittersweet sort of way. Her journey had lessened the grief, but she still felt that grey emptiness in her heart. She returned her gaze the the lake, wondering what this human-less place could do for her as a new home…

((Oops, long post is long.))

Their time in Bearclaw Valley was growing short. Summer was approaching, and the hot days tired Potema to no end. She was a child of ice and darkness, not heat and light. She longed to either go north to the taiga, where it was considerably colder, or back to the shadowy forests of Blackfeather of Blackfoot. Instead she found that she had wandered north, towards a lake. It would have to do for now; water cooled just as well as shade.

The cool of the water would not be the only thing the lake provided to her. She could find a meal in the ducks that paddled gleefully on the water's surface, their tail-feathers in the air as they ate from the shallows. Potema had not seen waterfowl before, nor had she eaten one either. It would be a novel experience for the Dark Acolyte. She did not have much cover here, compared to the forests, but she made the most of the undergrowth shielding her from the view of the ducks.

But she was not the only wolf lurking in the tall grasses. Being born in a nest of assassins helped with her awareness, and her missing eye raised her senses nearly tenfold. Her ears swiveled to the nigh unnoticeable sound of movement, and her eye locked on a blaze of fire as it pounced on an unfortunate duck. The others scattered before Potema could make an attempt to lunge after them, leaving the young princess the opportunity to steal. Would she, though? Her stomach did not grumble enough to bring her to do such a thing.

She was more curious about what the fire-pelted woman said after her kill. A prayer. Potema cocked her head. She never bothered to pray over the souls of her kills and she was certain the Dark Brothers never did either; they only prayed that their mission be a success.

A heathen. The voice hissed in disgust. A sibyl of a fire god, most like. But nonetheless, a flame that has no place illuminating the Darkness. Potema was not a killer, however. If it was true, then perhaps she could tip off her brothers or another Dark Brother. But she had to see for herself. The half-blind female walked closer to the fire-furred woman, as silent as she could be. "Are you a priestess?" 

Saraphine was just about to dig in when the sound of a quiet voice entered her ear. It surprised her, as the quiet thing had caught her off guard. However her surprise did not show other than a flash in her eyes, which the stranger would not see due to her facing the other direction. Speaker turned to see a pup, not even that old, emerge from the shadows of the foliage. The Speaker's heart slowed for a moment as she noticed a milky white eye decorated by a scar. The red wolf's heart went out to the stranger, unaware of the dark secrets that hid within the recesses of the pup's mind. The poor thing, to be crippled at such a young age. Still, it is better that she has time to learn from her handicap and learn to grow stronger from it.

Saraphine cocked her head curiously at the girl's question. Why would she think that? It struck her by surprise when she realized that uttering a prayer could indeed make one believe she was a priestess. She was religious, but she was no acolyte. She locked gazes with the Potema, her fiery golden eyes resourceful and contemplating, before she shook her head. "A Priestess? No. But a Speaker, yes. As a Speaker it is my duty to thank those who give their lives in order to sustain mine. For I am in tune with the afterlife closer than that of the living. The afterlife will hide no secrets from you when you acknowledge the grace of your prey or the power of your enemy and friend."

She looked down at the fowl, realizing why the pup was probably here. She looked up apologetically. "Did I ruin your hunt? I am sorry. I am willing to share if you would prefer?"

Potema was silent, but she felt a blaze of annoyance and anger at the woman's sympathetic eyes. Pity came too late for her. Her eye was far gone. No magic could return it, not that she knew of. She didn't want people to feel bad for her, even if it was well-meaning. But Potema pushed the feeling aside, for the woman was answering her question.

The answer was no. Maybe. She was not a priestess, but a Speaker. A boring job. No gods to speak to, only to the dead. The dead prey was not something she thought was worth speaking to, after all, they were prey and had served their purpose. The ghosts of wolves, past friends and enemies were different, for at least then she had something interesting to say to them.

But what got her attention was the afterlife this Speaker spoke of. "Are you Void-touched, then?" She had heard the expression before, and instantly assumed it referred to people who spoke to the dead. After all, the Void was where everyone went after life. To join with the Dread Father, Sithis. "I wasn't that hungry, you can have it."

Speaker tilted her head, confusion etched across her face at the question. "I'm not entirely sure what 'Void-Touched' means, Miss. Do you care to clarify?" She had never heard the term void-touched before. Was it something all the wolves around here knew, or was it just this singular pup's family in front of her that used that term? It would certainly take some time getting used to. It almost pained her to realize how culturally separated she would be here if she didn't fulfill her father's final wishes.

The Speaker nodded, putting her paw back over the duck and bit down, taking a small piece of her meal. She swallowed politely before continuing, "If you insist, Miss, but please, ask me anytime if you wish to have a bite."

She ripped off another piece of the waterfowl, looking up at the pup expectantly.

So she didn't know. A bummer. Potema's lips crinkled and her brow furrowed as she tried to think of a way to explain this to someone who did not belong to her culture or religion. People were raised differently. They had other beliefs about death and the afterlife and gods. She had to be convincing about this. "The Void is the afterlife." She started simple, working her way towards more complex ideas. "The God of the Void, Sithis...he sometimes reaches out to certain people and gives them gifts." She wondered if what the fiery woman would think of this..

"Some people can speak to the dead, like you. There are other gifts as well..." Like speaking to the Night Mother herself. But she kept that herself. She hadn't even told her mother about it. Not yet at least. She had to be sure.

"Hmm," the Speaker tilted her head and frowned, thinking. She tested the strange name on her tongue, as if to taste it, "Sithis... I must admit I have never heard of the name. It is certainly new to my ears. In my religion, we believe the afterlife is something we cannot comprehend, merely touch through meditation and ceremony. Which is what I do...

"As a Speaker, it is my duty to, after a tribe-mate - er, apologies, packmate has died, to reveal the idea of what we called true spirit. The true intentions of the wolf in life after their death. I do this by gathering information and collecting history of the deceased through loved ones and otherwise. Then, after days upon meditation, something within me 'reveals' the true spirit. I cannot really explain how this happens. It is my voice, my inner thoughts, I can tell... But it is different. The thoughts are disconnected from me, as if I was speaking to a copy of myself. These thoughts do not outright tell me what this wolf was, but they piece together the puzzle of a wolf's life for me. It is very strange. But it is a ritual that my Tribe - pack - carried on for many generations. That is all I can explain, everything else is unknown to the ears of mortals."

She looked up at the half-blind pup, curious. "Very strange, how different religions can be. Do you worship this, Sithis, then?"

Disappointing. She had hoped that she would find another Sithis-worshipper that did not come from Teekon Wilds, but instead she found a heathen. A very nice heathen at that, but worshipping another death god, spirit, whatever it was, was not that tolerable. She hoped that she would not try to convert other wolves and start her own religion-based pack, or tribe, which she kept calling it, near here. That would prove troublesome.

"It's strange how religions are similar, too." Sithis and Mephala were both unpredictable and incomprehensive to their followers, though they tried to understand enough that they could worship them. "I do. I'm training to become a priestess." She wondered if the other's religion was accepting to other religions. So far it seemed like she did, but then again, her beliefs sounded flexible. "Why do you keep saying tribe instead of pack? Isn't it the same thing?"

Saraphine noted how the pup seemed almost... disappointed. It was strange. The again, this pup was strange. She was a pup that held a hint of certain... maturity that put the fiery she-wolf on edge. She shook off the feeling of alarm as mere nerves in a new place. She nodded and smiled, agreeing. "Yes, religions can be very similar to each other as well, unfortunately I have yet to discover a religion similar to mine..."

In a fact we worshiped no god, only honored the dead and celebrated the living. At most we respected spirits as otherworldly beings, and some of us did give offerings, but... She added to herself silently, not sure that this priestess-in-training would take to the remark kindly. She thought for a moment, nodding again. "It is good that you revere your god so well as to become a Priestess. I admire those who have enough faith in religion to devote their life to it. It must be a very good role for your beliefs."

She tilted her head, thinking still. It was apparent that Speaker thought before she spoke. She hummed a bit, before shaking her head. "I think tribes are different from packs, I have little experience in a pack. Packs let you mostly choose what you wish to be to help your pack, correct? There's also only so many ranks a pack has. In a tribe, you are chosen what you are from birth based on your physical strength and signs of intellect, until you reach six moon cycles old, and then you begin your training as an apprentice in what you are chosen in. I think tribes have a more intricate and ritualistic style of their ranks, having ranks within ranks, having ceremonies for each promotion in rank, so on and so forth..."

She smiled appreciatively at the pries-Speaker's compliment. She had never been praised for choosing to become a priestess, it was almost expected of her. She and her brothers had fit into the three trades of the Dark Brotherhood easily, each of their personalities perfect for each role, as if it was predestined. It was a breath of fresh air to be complimented.

Potema had only met a few other contemplative people in her life. Her brother Cicero and mother being in that small category. Other people would be annoyed by the pauses and her faraway look, but Potema was both patient and used to the silence in conversations.

The tribe system that the Speaker described was very ritualistic and rigid. It did not sound like there was much room for movement or choice. Your were chosen from birth and nearly forced into that training. It wasn't ideal for her. "It is different, and yes, you're correct."

Speaker nodded, "I assumed so, it must be strange... Though most wolves tend to take it the wrong way, the way you are chosen at birth. Though it is not so bad to be chosen as such from the start. You put the best of your abilities for the pack. Most wolves of the tribe end up quite happy, and those who don't... Well, they either hold their peace or their request for a change of rank is considered among the elders and Chief."

Saraphine tilted her head to the side, "Are you from a pack, Miss? Do you live around here? If so, I'd like to be informed so as to not accidentally wander too close to the territory. I would hate to cause tension... Especially since it seems you are religious, there is little doubt that your pack would be, yes? For the sake of you and your kin, I will not intrude."

Despite the explanation, Potema frowned at the thought. "I still wouldn't like being told what to do from the moment I was born." She liked to explore her options, especially when it concerned magic and herbs. There was so much potential in either subject; sometimes they could even be combined! What if she was chosen to be a warrior? She knew she could have changed in this Speaker's tribe, but what if there was a place where you didn't have that choice? It would suck.

Be thankful that Sithis placed your soul in this vessel, in this place. A voice murmured, seemingly far off. Of course she was thankful. Her mother encouraged her to be curious, after all.

"I'm not from around here, but I am in a pack." She didn't know the names of the packs up north, not even in the south, either. She never truly cared about that; Cic' probably knew, since he explored much earlier than she did. "Not everyone in my pack is religious. It's encouraged, but it's their choice." She couldn't recall if anyone worshipped other gods or goddesses or spirits like this flame-pelted wolf did. It was never an issue, so perhaps that was why it never came up.

Speaker flicked her ear at her comment, "Being told what to do...? Hmm, they have never put it that way. Most wolves, because of their attributes are usually placed in a role they would have chosen to begin with. Only the higher ranks were really handed down by lineage. Chiefs were almost always succeeded by their offspring, unless something dreadful happened... Even as a Speaker's daughter I was chosen to be the next Speaker. Am I unhappy? Not at all..."

Speaker tilted her head again, a look of slight confusion on her face. This pup in front of her seemed like such a strong believer in her ways that she'd come from a pack that practiced it thoroughly, "I see. That is good that there is little discrimination among your pack against those who do not believe in your ways. Still, perhaps it's best I avoid it, no? You seem very proud and very adamant on your beliefs. If I intrude I worry I might either offend someone or be called something dreadful, like a heathen..."

She sighed and shook her head, "Which I doubt I am. I do not classify myself under that." She chuckled half-heartedly a bit. "Are you sure you're not hungry? I did interrupt your hunt."

"You still don't have the choice of being what you want, even if it was what you wanted all along." She still didn't agree with the whole system, even as the Speaker tried to defend her own way of life. And from birth? There wasn't enough character development. People could, and did, change when they grew up. It didn't seem right. "And how do you know that the kid is going to be right for the job?" It seems like it was hinging on luck that the child was going to be as good a leader, or whatever job it was that they were intended on taking over, as their parent. It just didn't seem right.

But she is a heathen... The voice hissed, an opinion Potema firmly agreed with, nice or no. She was sent here for a reason, a missionary to spread the new religion. Be wary of her and her kind, little one. "If you got close to my pack, they would chase you out for being a trespasser, not being a heathen, or whatever." She shrugged, not mentioning that they might kill her, instead of chasing her out. Oh well. "I'm not that hungry. It's ok."