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Blackfeather Woods Night of the Living Dead - Printable Version

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Night of the Living Dead - Nemesis - October 31, 2016

NO POST ORDER. NOT MANDATORY but a great way to get your character noticed !!! Please try and partake if you can :) They will be sharing stories (preferably about Mepahala or some made-up shit about "@Malice the Horrible") and plz bring a snack. (no, @Abraxas, no wolf meat.)

I know some of you have double characters so:
@Cicero @Kove @Potema @Dakarai @Lennox (& @Damien is optional.)
 
The night was as dark as she had ever seen before. Unbeknownst to her, it was Hallows Eve, a night the very beings they praised became the center of attention. Yet, it was not the bleak mid-autumn night that caused her to call upon her bretheren and those who had stumbled upon their hole in the ground. It was to count the many things they had been given in recent weeks though they had been on the verge of irrelevance months before. They had grown, and with them came the strength that was promised to carry out the Night Mother's will. 

Her head was thrown back to call for the presence of all that could; Redgrove was their mark. While Meldresi's bones rested within the blood flowers, it was her presence that they called for that night.



RE: Night of the Living Dead - Lennox - October 31, 2016

Lennox's ears perked at the call of Nemesis; the only superior he'd met. He looked solemnly back down to the squirrel he'd pounced on before snapping his jaws around it and trotting off to find where she stood. When he arrived, it was only them, thus he bowed his head respectfully and dropped his snack. Nemesis he greeted, ears low and tail lower. He took a seat not too far from her and awaited a reason for the call.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Abraxas - October 31, 2016

He had arrived, yet after seeing the foolish Lennox offer to his mother a squirrel, he slipped away once again, knowing that he too must bring to his mother a tribute. to any other he would not have bothered, but he held his mother in great respect and thus his mind turned to honouring her with such a gift. only better.

minutes later the boy returned, jaw fastened around his own gift. he pulled it perhaps a little ungainly to his mother's paws, eyeing the squirrel with something with distaste as he spun, slipping away to watch from the shadows and leaving behind his offering. a skull, that of one of the many loners that served as tasteful decoration of their borders, this one bleached and picked clean by age. the boy had stached it somewhere ages ago, only now did he remember and think it a fitting tribute. 

gift deposited, the boy settled at the base of a sickly looking tree, watching the proceedings, staring at whatever should interest him with his gaze of ice blue.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Cicero - November 01, 2016

There was a strange bite between the gifts that were gathered there. It would be much like a game of russian roulette to engage in these activities tonight. With half a rabbit carried between his teeth Cicero arrived, and he put down the prize. But there was a catch. Anyone who would eat from the rabbit would, depending on the amount, receive some abdominal pain, headaches and light hallucinations (or more heavily so if they'd eat nearly the whole thing; whether this gluttony would be rewarded or punished by this means, he was not so sure). Cicero thought it might make the stories even better, and he knew the herbs well enough to know that they would not be too harmful.

He nodded at Nemesis with a crooked smile on his face and greeted the child with a nod. He glanced at the other wolf too, one he did not yet know, and nodded in greeting before taking a place, waiting for others to arrive.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Dakarai - November 01, 2016

A call rang out into the night, Right after Dakarai had sunk his fangs into an owl that had fallen from a tree and injured itself. After a quick inspection for sickness within the bird, he guessed that the owl had some sort of issu with its wing, and had attempted to fly only to fall. Carrying the dead bird, Dakarai slowly walked into the area where the female had called him to. There were other pack members present, None of which he had met before. Glancing at them he dipped his head in respect, not quite knowing if they were superior or not. Looking at the female who had called, he assumed she was superior sinc she had uttered the call. Around her was a pile of gifts, so thinking it was the right thing to do, he approached slowly and dropped the owl at the woman's paws. "greetings.." was the only word he uttered.He was still trying to get a hold on just how viscious the pack really was, so he was silent and observant. Blue eyes almost glowed in the faint light, as they once again lookd at the surrounding wolves, eyes pausing briefly on the young boy before moving away again. So the pack had young, that was a good sign.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Damien - November 01, 2016

They took their time, a devilish smile always painted across Damien's face as they mentally tortured their catch before finally slitting his throat. He'd been hard to pin down, Damien would give that to him. He was a fighter, a survivor, but hardly a match to Kove's and Damien's powerful bodies. Coyotes rarely were - if ever.

They took their time to bring it back home too, but arrived just in time to feast on it with the rest of the pack. Damien had told Kove not to forget the head, which he'd removed himself with joy, but he was to bring the body himself. The Alpha, The powerful Dark Master. He didn't need help to drag the weight, or at least that was what Damien had said.

Colorless eyes scanned silently around after dropping the body with the rest of the offerings, and each of his subordinates was addressed with a polite nod. Then he took the closest spot to Cicero he could afford. In fact, he could afford any spot, he was the boss after all, and so he lay down right next to his brother, brushing his side against him, feeling his warmth, but focused on licking the blood off his paws instead of greeting him. They were long past greetings.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Kove - November 02, 2016

So long had it been since his prey had last put up a fight, that the struggles of the coyote had awakened within him something wicked. It was not unusual for him to lose himself during a hunt, and tonight had not been any different. He’d kept silent, stalking and then attacking, holding nothing back. And when at last the lesser canine’s life had faded from its eyes, he’d regained his usual, calm composure and observed the blood as it flowed. There was a moment in which he’d considered using it to freshen up Damien’s mark, but had ultimately decided against doing so; there was no time to sit the male down and fix up a print that had yet to fully fade. With the idea disregarded, he’d picked the head up off of the ground and carried it along with him, trailing after his leader as they headed towards the grove.

When they had arrived, the head was placed with the rest of the offerings, but not near to the body whence it’d come. His gaze then traveled around the area, looking over each of the wolves that had gathered and offering them a silent greeting here and there, until he’d found himself looking at one male in particular: Lennox. The man was not known by him, and so he’d allowed himself to stare for a moment or two longer than necessary, expression unreadable. Deciding that he was too close to the Inuk’s wife, his lip twitched, but never had his teeth been revealed. Instead, Kove had approached his lover and offered a nudge to her cheek as way of greeting. Thereafter, he’d sat himself down beside her, careful to position himself partially between her and the stranger. Whilst he had never been the jealous type, the high of the hunt was still swirling around in the back of his mind, insisting that he guard what was his.



RE: Night of the Living Dead - Potema - November 02, 2016

She was unsure if she should tell them all tonight; that she was pregnant. She did know for sure, but how would they respond? There was no one father, nor were any of them close or particularly important to the pack, at least she thought. She didn't have much time to ask.

But for now the witch waddled her way to the meeting grounds, a muskrat in maw. She shivered, already feeling the fur on her belly recede as her dugs begin to swell. She might as well tell them now.

She was rather late to the party, with most of the pack, even some new faces, already there. She dropped her catch, sitting next to Damien, a growling pit in her stomach as she gazed at Cicero. Or was it the babies?


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Miraak - November 02, 2016

He has been told that his sister's bones, the rest of her body that had not been enchanted, remained here, in Redgrove. As he arrived to the summoning, a small raccoon in his mouth, he looked for them, gleaming in the midst of the red flowers. After depositing the mustelid, he walked over to them, nosing them gently. In death his sister looked as beautiful as in life. Flowers peeked through the sockets of her skull, dark depressions in her limbs countering the stark white. He sniffed them, murmuring something softly before he returned to the living, sitting detached from the rest.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Dakarai - November 05, 2016

Dakarai remained silent for a while as more members pooled in. He had gained familiarity with their scents, but he still didn't know most of their names. "If i may ask, what were we called here for?" He inquired, Deep voice breaing the silence as his blue gaze sweeped across the wolves to land on the female who's voice had summoned them all to this place. He settled down on his belly, tail curled around his haunches as he got comfortable though naturally he kept himself ready to defend himself if needed. Just because he was on the ground didn't mean he wouldn't retaliate an attack. He didn't mean for his words to come across as impatient, though it was certain they did. Patience was not Dakarai's strong suit, but he tried.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Nocturnal - November 10, 2016

Where Abraxas went, Astrid would follow. Silently and mockingly - forever a reminder that he would never get rid of the blood that bound them together. He was her brother, she his sister, and as a sister she would do whatever she had to do to make him feel like a worthless piece of shit. She had heard mother, but was way too focused upon her brother to bother what was going on. She did not help him, did not even call for his attention as he drug the skull to their mother. Astrid felt like she was a gift - an offer, all by herself and did not bother bringing her own gift. 

She settled near mother, but her eyes were fixed upon Abraxas for most of the time - even as more wolves joined did she not lose sight of him. Well, that was until the handsome Damien grabbed her attention - sitting next to a male she faintly recognized. She looked at him - trying to get his attention, but not obviously so. She did not want to come off as desperate, of course - he was just one of many, nothing special. She sat proudly, head raised in what one could perhaps call a child's ignorance, and waited patiently (H A H, yeah right...) for the reason they were all gathering. 



RE: Night of the Living Dead - Nemesis - November 10, 2016

Just a reminder, there are NO ROUNDS to keep it going ;)
 
She smiled at her child who offered the decomposed skull of someone she could not remember if she killed or not. While the offering was of an unusual nature, she was pleased all the same. It was the determination she seen in the boy to outmatch an adult that kept her grinning. As others came to sit in her company, it was the possessive nature her husband had gather upon seeing her among other men that allowed her smile to continue, a feeling of want that she had seldom relieved in some time. As Kove took his place beside her, she waited only moments until the rest gathered and from there, eyes scanned the loyal. A question of their presence united that night was called out, and she met with an equivalent answer in the sense that she was was impatient as they. "Tonight, we welcome those who have found sanctuary in our woods, and commend their courage," Their woods was no place for the weak, as many had come to know and gone. She gave them more credit than they deserved, but in secret of course. It seemed so long ago did she nervously tiptoe up to the dark woods ruled by the Priestess Meldresi and the Faux King, Burke, at the time. So much had happened, not only to her but the pack as a whole. They had outgrown the old man, and with that, a new era of Blackfeather Woods was born. The revolution was something not to be forgotten, and neither was the tales and fables of all they pledged to; the Night Mother, Mephala and of Sithis. 

"And so, I invite those who know of our culture and it's deities to share what they know in the presence of those who do not," Her eyes fell on Potema as she spoke this, before flickering to Cicero and Damien with hope one would take up the reigns on the topic of their birthright. While Nemesis knew, she did not know in the way they did, the way they had been taught since birth. Yet, the dark woman herself had many entertaining stories about the slut, Malice that she could easily craft into some lame horror story to frighten the children if the time called for it. Speaking of the children, she nudged each closer to her body as they arrived, even Atshen who did not put up a fight in the presence of his beloved mother; even when all four children vied for her undivided attention.



RE: Night of the Living Dead - Potema - November 10, 2016

While she was soon to room with the Convel-Apaata litter, she knew little of them. They seemed an interesting lot, for one reason or the next. She had met one small child who seemed to be a Seer, or at the very least, could see spirits. The others...anomalies. The girl had her eyes fixated on Damien in a strange way. Another boy, glassy-eyed, brought a wolf skull. They would be an interesting lot.

A wolf, unfamiliar to her, asked why they were joining and Nemesis promptly answered. She wanted the lore of the pack to be spread, a callback to when she was young. She had no stories as of yet, but she pulled herself to her feet. Before we start, I have an announcement to make, She began, I am pregnant. I expect my litter to be born on the Winter Solstice. She hoped no one made any inquiries into the parentage — she didn't even know how to start with an answer.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Dakarai - November 11, 2016

Dakarai had almost spoken up again, but then the Woman who had called them answered his question. It wasn't directly at him, though he preferred it that way so that the attention didn't shift to him and make him feel awkward. Eyes flicked up with interest as the reason was stated to be the talk of culture, possibly stories shared? He knew very little about the culture or what the religion even was here, but what he picked up from around the pack was some goddess that stood for sex, violence and various other assorted dark or semi dark things. He dipped his head in response to her comment about courage and let his attention slowly drift to a white female, who had risen to her paws, and began to speak.  Ah...more pups? This pack must be very strong.. he thought, blue eyes studying her as she announced her expected due date. "Congratulations..uh..Miss" he said, his voice's volume somewhere between a whisper and what his mother used to call "In-den voice". The sound of it was quiet for the most part and his eyes looked back down at the ground for a moment.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Cicero - November 15, 2016

As Damien joined by his side, Cicero reached out to nibble the side of his neck in affection for a brief moment. Long enough to feel a tingle in the pit of his stomach, but short enough so that Damien could feel it too without needing to be embarrassed, for Cicero did not think anyone would notice it exceptionally so. Potema was greeted with an appreciative chuff and more wolves streamed into the meeting, most of which Cicero knew, but some of which he did not.

The meeting was opened with Potema's sharing of news, it seemed. He had noticed, of course, and wondered to himself who the father was, if there was one, and what role he may play in their futures. Cicero had never wilted without a father, and so he did not expect his nieces and nephews to miss a father figure either. "Congratulations, sister," said Cicero and the briefest of grins passed his face to break his previously stoic façade to show his earnesty. This was what she wanted, and, perhaps, what they needed; to continue their mother's line.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Miraak - November 19, 2016

He laid out, his back legs tucked underneath himself, perpendicular to the rest of his body as his forelegs stretched out before him. He was detached from the rest of them, keeping silent as the others joined. He looked on with approval at the tiny wolves that followed the Silencer — the juxtaposition of her role as a mother and as a trained killer well matching the contradictions of Mephala — recognizing a few of them. The Children of Meldresi sat next to each other, unbeknowest to him, in birth order, from Damien to Potema. He nodded towards them, then turned his attention back to Nemesis. So this was so be a pack meeting to swap stories and tales of their heritage. He opened his mouth to speak, only for Potema to announce something. He smiled at the thought, his vision shifting to her now-noticably rounded belly. Congratulations, tala hen ñuha mandia,


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Keelut - November 21, 2016

Excitement rippled all through Keelut's body as he sprung behind his mother. She'd told them that this night would be special, one of offerings and stories, and when his siblings and him would finally meet the rest of the pack. Keelut had only ever seen a couple of them before, and never truly interacted officially either, but the kid was often submerged in his own world and not even his siblings got to spend a lot of time with him.

Tonight that would change. A smile was ever present across the cub's face as he scuttled behind his littermates. Astrid had taken the best spot right next to mom, but Keelut was content to make himself some space right on top of Abraxas. He liked Abraxas, he was cool! And the gift he'd brought was even cooler! He should have brought something himself, but Keelut was often forgetful. Anyway, Abraxas' ear was cool as well, and it got all of the pale boy's attention as he chewed it thoroughly instead of paying attention to the very thing he'd been excited about for the past several hours.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Damien - November 21, 2016

Potema and Miraak arrived after him, the latter addressing Meldresi's remains with the love that befit their relationship, and Damien watched with sorrowful eyes at the red flowers blooming from her bones. Although her remains were the only physical thing she'd left in her absence, her legacy was significant, and each of those who sat around her bones tonight were a part of it, and it was just about to grow stronger.

Potema's announcement got her the pack's attention, and she deserved it. A proud grin painted Damien's features as though he was the father himself,but honestly he was the closest that his sister's brood would ever get.

Once she'd gotten the greetings from the pack and the attention had stayed on her for a moment Damien decided that her words had been enough for what the subordinates needed to know. His eyes found Miraak's, fixed on them for a moment. He could still not believe the resemblance he bared to Meldresi, but already the differences were hard to unsee. "Uncle," he called, an effort to drive the attention of the pack onto him, "It would be wonderful for you to share your knowledge with us. Who else with more experience than you?" he suggested coyly. More than Sithis and the Daedra, Damien wished to know more about Meldresi. Miraak was her brother, one that seemed to have been close to her, and thus the perfect source of information about everything related to the late priestess.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Abraxas - November 24, 2016

Keelut. Half his attention was on the gathering, learning and listening in silence, though a sudden weight atop him and a familiar pale pelt had him crack a rare smile and give a small chuff to his favourite sibling, and the only one that he actually liked. Thus he did not contest the way his brother used him as a cushion, pleased, in a way, that his brother had chosen him to rest upon as well. No other would he tolerate as he did Keelut, and it showed plainly now, as he shifted slightly but did not dislodge his brother, prodding him playfully with a paw as he chose to nibble upon his ear, making listening certainly more difficult but not impossible. 

He he was still, though his gaze flitted to the purple-eyed one that had been summoned to speak, not sparing a glance at either of his other siblings save for Keelut, and was silent.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Nemesis - November 29, 2016

The dark woman would have nothing that would challenge her children. So, at the news of yet another litter being born within the dark woods, the Silencer tensed; unable to bring light to her darkened eyes. Whatever the intentions of Potema, it was in her children that the Brotherhood would succeed to, the next generation to take up the reigns once the rest were dead and gone, as had been the plan all along. However, suspicion boiled underneath her bones;  Potema's children would only prove to be unwanted competition, and no matter how horrible, the dark woman was not in the slightest pleased with the update so much so it caused her to fall silent. What had her children been made for if not to do the very thing that Potema's future young would take away? What was the point of Potema's young when they did not need more, nor would they serve any purpose than to challenge the already existing? A distant look was set upon her features, unable to bring herself to fake a smile she did not mean. She was heartless amidst a celebration, however, it was in her mind that the legacy of her own would not be smothered by others, even in their youth. While she could not halt nor slow the production of Potema's children in her womb (without causing anarchy, of course) she, by no means, had to celebrate life that was not worth celebrating. Who knew if they even lived inside the pale woman, or if they would be born breathing? Nemesis would not waste her time, nor draw from the attention of the lesser ranks to contribute to the common congratulations that seemed to circulate around the circle. Instead, she seemed to shrink back, eyes trained anywhere but the pregnant woman not a foot away; seemingly burying herself among her own children in attempt to draw attention away from herself -- and the fact she had not spoken a word of well wishes. 

As the meeting went on, and the old man would tell tales, Nemesis would further reach in to her own mind, unable to grapple the though of her brood becoming -- inferior. The mere thought morphed into a shudder and she picked herself up to wander away from the group, moving towards the multiple streams in search of what would relieve her sudden dry throat. Nemesis', perhaps, only children would not be known as the lesser group, and she would not have gone through weeks of torment to produce children that would be smothered by others in all sense of the word. Something was to be done about it, if not over time and a course of extreme subtleness. She knew she could not hurt a hair on the to-be pups head while Damien lurked around, and so, it would be through her own children that she made sure they knew that Potema's little one's would only smite their futures if they did not do something about it. 



RE: Night of the Living Dead - Kove - December 06, 2016

Tales were to be told, they’d all come to learn, which he was rather interested in. So long had he been one with the woods, yet he could not recall a time when they’d all gathered for the purpose of storytelling. He was curious to hear what story, exactly, might be spun, especially after it’d been suggested that Miraak should be the one to speak first. The brother of the late Queen, whose knowledge of the religion and Brotherhood as a whole was, surely, something worth taking note of. It was not immediately that he’d obtained the Inuk’s attention, however, for the news of the Princess’ pregnancy had been most exciting. The effects of the hunt had since faded away, thus allowing for him to smile at her as the news was shared. With a nod of his head, he’d said, “Congratulations.” Kove looked forward to meeting the next generation of Spiderlings, having been there for the birth of the first. He was curious about what Meldresi would have say, should she have lived long enough to see Potema now; how sad it was that she would never have the chance to meet her grandchildren.

From the girl and onto her uncle had Kove’s gaze slid, focusing then on the man as he waited to hear what he might say. The reaction of his wife towards the good news had gone unnoticed, only because he’d not glanced in her direction. It’d been from one Melonii to the next that he’d looked, leaving Nemesis to her own devices for the time being.



RE: Night of the Living Dead - Miraak - December 07, 2016

He watched quietly at the Silencer's reaction, noting the shifts in her face. Anger. She was a creature of wrath; it was hard to hide that very nature. She did not rejoice at the prospect of other pups in the pack, even if they were descended from Meldresi. That worried him. He would have to keep an eye on her, to ensure that his grand-nieces and nephews would not be harmed. 

At Damien's behest, he lifted himself up, allowing his voice to ring through the clearing. I am no story teller like my sister; but I have a short tale: He cleared his throat, looking around those gathered for their eyes before tossing himself into his story.

The Dark Brotherhood accepts any and all who proves themselve worthy, under one condition: follow the Five Tenets, or suffer the Wrath of Sithis.

In my homeland, there was one wolf named Melkor, named, in tradition within our sect, after a legendary creature or person; a Daedric Lord. He was an anomaly amidst our ranks, born with white fur instead of black, but we accepted him anyway, raising him as an assassin within our ranks. He was taught the Tenets, earned his mark, and became an accomplished infiltrator, and yet he was tempted.

Molag Bal, Lord of Brutality and Prince of Rage, is an enemy of Mephala. He despises the Webspinner, and works in order to pull our Lady's followers astray in any way he can. One night, he sent one of his followers to tempt Melkor — a vampire. Vampires are wolves who drink the blood of other creatures — wolves especially. The creature turned Melkor into one of their own, one of Molag's followers. He slipped back into our ranks undetected for quite sometime, until one night.

Viryan, one of our spies, disappeared one night. The scout Morag found Melkor over Viryan's body, drinking the blood from her neck. He had broken the fifth tenet: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. The wrath of the pack struck that night, but Melkor disappeared into the night. But no matter how far he may go, the Wrath of Sithis will find him and bring justice.
He gritted his teeth, hoping that it was true, that he was dead. He hoped he would never have to find out.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Atshen’s Ghost - December 09, 2016

Not being one for meager smalltalk, Atshen had avoided his mother’s beckoning at first. Though he had slithered towards the common grounds, he kept to the shadows. He was enticed by the smell of decomposing skull, and yet, he did not give in to such temptations of it’s beckoning aroma. Instead, he lingered just out of sight as his molten eyes looked to the group. He was unmoved by the news of Potema’s pregnancy, yawning quietly in turn to it all as his eyes scanned the gathering.

Just as he was about to heck with it all and turn tail, something caught his interest: mother. He observed this with interest and soon enough found himself making his own advance in the direction that she had wandered, remaining well hidden as he followed.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Keelut - December 11, 2016

Despite how entertaining Abraxas' ears could be, Keelut's attention was once again drawn away by something else. It was the deep sound of the old man's voice towards which his ears swiveled, followed by his blue eyes that sought his shadowy form. The story trapped him, the mention of blood pulled him closer, and he settled just a step beyond his slate-furred brother just to get a better audio. He did not blink, he almost did not breathe, for his whole world had become that tale for a moment. Vampires, he'd seen them, and if he'd seen them that meant they were real.


RE: Night of the Living Dead - Nemesis - January 09, 2017

The tales did not interest her and neither did the man who told them. It was Potema's news of pregnancy that laid heavily on her mind and she could not get past it. It meant so many things, so many impending dangers; the winter, the challenge, the everything. The dark woman could not stay seething in the dark with no relief to her anger. Excusing herself, she picked herself up from the pile of children that had nestled around her and departed the scene in silence. The woman was of fury and rage, and so had her temper been instigated.