Sunbeam Lair your protector's coming home

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The sky above was the same drab grey offering no breaks for the sun to shine through and thunder still boomed in the distance, faint but ever present and still snow continued to fall. A forlorn glance skyward was given, silver gaze reading the story that the bleak clouds told, at what the bitter winds whispered as he kept his pace through the snow blanketed Wilds: that the worst was yet to come. It was always calmest before the storm and Tonrar knew that he did not want to be caught out in it when it unleashed it’s full fury against these Wilds. The press to find a pack was a heavy pressure, nearly suffocating as it weighed him down. It tasted like desperation to Warpath who was not so proud to foolishly sacrifice himself for it. As it was, freezing to death did not sound particularly appealing. He shivered against the violent chill as it worked it’s way past his coarse, heavy winter coat where it seeped and nestled in the marrow of his bones. No, he did not wish to weather mother nature’s unleashed fury alone. It was not how they were meant to be, social creatures as they were. The scent of borders was enough to draw him up short, his steps ceasing abruptly at what he assumed to be a respectful distance away from them. Wasting no further time he tipped his head back and sent up a howl wondering if any would brave the storm to answer or if they would (rightfully so, perhaps) keep to their shelter(s) and their own. Nevertheless, the masked Warpath waited patiently, ears perked and alert atop the finely crafted crown of his skull.

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From the safety of the lair she heard the call, muffled by nature's howling wind.  Groaning softly she rolled over and covered her ears, trying to ignore and forget the howl on their borders. The weather was frightening and dangerous, and she wanted nothing to do with it. Guilt began to prickle at her mind and she heaved herself up walking to the entrance of the lair. It was cold even when she was blocked from the heavily falling snow and she shivered. Common sense said she should turn around and stay safe, but her heart claimed it was wrong to allow someone to freeze.


taking a deep breath she ran through the thick wall of snow at the entrance, and out into the storm. She kept moving at a fast pace knowing that if she paused even a slight moment she would grow colder. Finally she arrived at the borders and squinted through the falling snow at the man who stood there "h..Hello! I assume that you're looking for shelter yes? Maybe a pack to join?"  She called to him the wind ruffling her pallid pelt causing her to tremble fiercely. Was he daft? Standing at Ryujin's borders instead of searching for his own shelter seemed a bit insane.


Despite her freezing paws and stinging eyes she stood tall, her gaze direct and head held strong as she waited for his reply. Just because she was not the one able to accept wolves she made a call, adding a sense of urgency due to the storm.

Ceaseless, the storm beyond the cavern’s walls raged onward. It was relentless, serving no purpose other than to conceal the world beneath a blanket of ice and snow. For those that had no protection against the elements, her heart clenched, unable to feel anything aside from pity. Had she the capability to do so, the vessel would have strayed away from her sanctuary in order to lead those weak and weary back to her home to offer to them refuge—but she could not. Her responsibilities were there within the lair, with her tribe and children. They would always come before outsiders, which was the only thing that had kept her from patrolling the neighbouring territories. Should a stranger be freezing and lonely, she hoped that they might be guided to the tribe through the snow, but she’d refrained from going out of her way to extend an open invitation to those of the Teekon Wilds.

The winds howled outside, providing few moments of absolute silence. She’d nearly written the man’s cry off as nothing more than another one of Nature’s songs, too, before something had clicked within her mind. A melody, it had been, and from it, there could be pulled a voice—the voice of a living being, a wolf. Hastily, she journeyed to the entrance of the cavern, where she found the snow to have been disturbed. Sniffing around, she picked up various scents, though only Avannon’s stood out. Over the snow she’d climbed, using the path already made by the other woman to make her journey move along quicker. A shiver ran down her spine, causing her entire body to quake, but she’d pushed passed it and kept walking. Only after spotting the pair had she stopped, nodding towards the female and then glancing over the male. “Share your name and your intentions,” said the dragoness, eager to return to the confines of her home.

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There is some surprise when his howl in answered by a physical presence, followed shortly thereafter by a bought of guilt that he had drawn the pallid woman from the safety and warmth of her shelter to greet him. As Tonrar’s lips parted to answer her questions, his jaws closed when another approached, this one stark ebony against the raging whiteout around them. Tonrar bows his head before the women, submissive to them and grateful that they braved the storm to greet him instead of simply responding back with a howl to send him away. He drew in a deep breath of the cold air, feeling as it settled in the warmth of his lungs before he let it out in a slightly breathless exhale. The winds were fierce, unrelenting and utterly unforgiving and Tonrar knew that regardless of what followed: if this path opened before him or closed off to him he would need to repay them. Whether he was accepted into their fold or sent on his way he would not leave the disruption of balance. Despite the belief that he is a reincarnation of Warpath — one of the many Chiefs of Old — he lacks the skill to decode the messages in their paths. He felt a bit like a puppet on a string, cast around by a puppeteer he could not begin to fathom understanding without a Shaman by his side but his faith in the Chiefs of Old is strong and unwavering nevertheless and he trusts that they will lead him where he is meant to go. The Chiefs of Old will provide, were those not the words he had uttered to the stranger mere days (or was it a week?) ago? Even Mother Nature, as furious as she was, would provide for them.

“I am called Tonrar,” the masked Warpath offered his name to the two women humbly. “I am sorry for the inconvenience of my timing,” He offered them sincerely, his ears splaying flat against his crown in a moment of regret but it is done and he deigned not to waste their kindness. “I seek shelter, a home. In return I offer my skills to you and yours.” As the warpup, groomed for the role of war chief before he accepted exile, he was taught many skills but his focus had been on a balance: nature and war. To understand the hearts of wolves and to understand the heart of the earth as much as a living being as he was. “I am a Naturalist and Mercenary first and foremost.” He offered them, keeping it simple and to the point.

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Getting ready to listen to his response she became aware of Asterr's presence and turned to greet the woman. She felt bad for dragging her away from her children and into the cold, but knew that the chieftess wouldn't be too happy if Ava brought a stranger into the lair without permission. With a slight inclination of her chin she greeted the dark woman and waited for the process to begin. The males posture spoke of guilt but Ava dismissed it in her mind, it was brutal out here and they all had to whatever was possible to survive. Listening to him as he introduced himself, she repeated the name in her mind. It seemed strong and powerful, a good name for a warrior of great skill.


She felt relief as he asked to join and offered his skills in return, Ryujin had been rather small Even with the three hatchlings being born. Every extra paw would help them in this horrid weather and she found herself hoping for Asterr to accept a new face into the tribe. At the mention of mercenary her eyes brightened and she looked at him curiously. If he got accepted would he possibly teach her some battle moves and defensive strategy? Not getting her hopes too high yet she simply remained quiet and waited for Asterr to make her decision, though she stuck around in case he needed to be led back to the lair.

There had been but a single moment during which the pallid woman’s presence was acknowledged, the moments that followed having been devoted to the man. Asterr kept her gaze on him, expression thoughtful. A gust of wind attempted to send another shiver down her spine, but she’d managed to hold herself still; to ignore it was difficult, but not impossible. She was glad, however, when the visitor began speaking, responding to her words in a timely manner. First, it had been with a name—Tonrar, such a foreign flavour it left on her tongue—and then an apology. With a shake of her head, the latter of his words were dismissed, the vessel having detected no reason for why he should apologize for his being there. “You need not apologize,” she said. “I would much rather greet you out here than leave you to freeze. Your timing is not an inconvenience, it is just fine.” Of course, she’d be a fool to favour the terrible cold over the shelter of her home, but never would she be able to act selfishly. Whenever someone called for her, she would answer, especially since ignoring said songs could very well lead to death, given the weather.

Hearing his skills, she considered what accepting him might mean for the tribe. Another set of paws to look after the place, as well as a protector. It was hard to resist, and so she hadn’t. “If you will use your skills to the benefit of this tribe, then our home is open to you,” was her decision. There was no reason for her to drag out the meeting, his skills having been deemed beneficial and Mother Nature insisting that they retreat from her storm. “My name is Asterr, and this is Avannon,” added the vessel, nodding her head towards the other when it was necessary. “Please, follow us so that we may free ourselves from this wind.” The shivering could be kept at bay, but the cold itself could only be disregarded for so long. Her paws had started to feel numb, which was a fairly persuasive indication that it was time to head inside. Turning, she would begin walking back towards the lair, hoping to continue their conversation where the wind could not slice through flesh.

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Though the pallid woman who first made contact with Warpath was not forgotten, nor was her presence ignored even as his attention settled upon the ebony woman — the leader of this tribe. She rejected his apologize, soothing it with the assurance that he needn’t apologize in the first place. Respectfully and silently, he disagreed but Tonrar offered her a small incline of his head in acceptance of her words nevertheless. “I will,” Warpath vowed. The storm that spread through the Wilds would make his mercenary trade harder to work towards but as a naturalist he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect (if not horrible) storm to watch, to predict how the tides of it would turn and how long it might last. Though he could do nothing to stop mother nature’s wrath he would keep a close eye upon her fury nevertheless. It was little but given the current circumstances and dangers it was all he could do to begin to earn his place among them. When the invitation was given to him Warpath followed after the two women gratefully, shoulders hunched and steeled against the bitter chill of the winds as they showed him the way to their shelter. “Thank you.” He offered them though he was unsure if his words had been lost to the winds or if they had been able to pick up his spoken gratitude.

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She felt relieved that he was accepted though she never expected Asterr to turn him away into the storm. Dipping her head when she was introduced she turned to follow Asterr back to the lair, though she waited a few moments so Tonrar could follow them easier. The wind gusted suddenly and she shivered from the chills it sent down her spine, bracing herself against the strong air.

The journey back to the lair had been just as harsh as the trek away from it, but far more rewarding. For at the end of their path there was the cavern, whose great walls and ceiling protected them from the weather’s wrath. Just as soon as she’d crossed the threshold into her home, the woman shook herself free of the snow that had decided to hitch a ride on her back. Thereafter, she’d moved further away from the entrance before turning to face the man, whose travels prior to his arrival were unknown. Asterr found herself wondering about what sort of sights he might have seen, as well as how long the cold had trapped him. Instead of asking more about him—the answers were not yet necessary, and there would be plenty of time to get to know him later—she’d said, “Please, make yourself at home and get as warm as these walls will allow you to.” With the cold came danger and so many opportunities for death, and neither of those scenarios were ones that she felt especially comfortable witnessing.

Turning her head, she looked then towards Avannon and said, “You should find a place to get warm as well. It would be terrible if someone caught a cold.” Much of her time prior to winter had been spent collecting, drying, and stashing herbs away, but that didn’t necessarily mean that she was equipped to treat numerous illnesses. To try and avoid falling ill was a better option, anyway, for who in their right mind would want to be sick?

The warmth from the lair seeped into her fur almost immediately, and she released a sigh of pleasure.  She stretched her muscles and shook her fur, trying to get her blood to flow faster to heat her body. She still stood by Tonrar and asterr merely waiting to be dismissed. On Asterr's suggestion she nodded and gave a quick smile "Agreed. We don't need sickness to spread around." She said and dipped her head to the dark woman.


There wouldn't be enough herbs around to provide for alot of sickness. She looked over her should at Tonrar "the back of the lair is pretty toasty" she said as a suggestion.