Rise

Pack howl! Mandatory :) Those who want to join Tartok may enter and howl with them, and Tonravik/the pack will find you and welcome you, or else chase you off if you are decided not worthy. All shall begin at Sigma aside from Aguta, who she traveled with! And any who reply I think will be considered founders? And get XP for that? (But don't quote me, I'm unsure as to that!) Reply by September 26th! I'd like for this to be relatively quick, and I know I won't be here this weekend to respond after that! If more times needed, I'll extend it beyond the 29th :)

It was time.

Tonravik could feel it in her bones. More would come, and many were here. It was the moment she had been waiting for, and it made itself known within the bowels of her belly, presenting itself to her in a chilly morning when the sun rose, breaking free of clouds and painting the sky in millions of colors.

The woman knows that Tartok had always been there, but now it was time to tell the others, to have them raise their voices with one another in unison to stake their true claim. They would do so in a ceremony that would unite them, and so the Alpha Female turns to move down the ledge, lifting her mighty head up once to summon those that were pack—it is time, it is time!—before she moves near the borders, her eyes on the horizon, cold and looking toward Neverwinter.

And then she lifts her head again. We are Tartok. We will rise! Her strong voice is low in pitch, and it undulates. It does not quiver; it is certain. And when the call dies, it sounds again and again, summoning to it those that thought themselves strong, those that might deem themselves fit to become who they were. For Queen and for Country, the army of Tartok would grow and grow; here, another place, another land, that they would take and rule with an iron fist.

The time had come.

This was what he had been sent here for. Atuun, fierce, bold, and forward-thinking mother of his, had seen fit to send him and several of her best warriors southward to aid in the establishment of his distant cousin's pack, and as he heard Tonravik's wild and savage war-cry rend the air and tear its way across the landscape, he was filled with a great sense of accomplishment and purpose. Somehow, with that realization, this place felt more like home. Granted, he was Tartok, so his home was wherever his four feet were firmly planted. But this was different.

So when that war-song ascended with triumphant grandeur over the imperious spires of Neverwinter Forest and climbed with resonant beauty up the sinister slopes of Silvertip Mountain, he was ready. Thick quills bristled involuntarily all along his silver-kissed mane and shoulders, stark black tail rising proudly up over his back. He planted his feet upon the sharp, rocky outcropping upon which he stood, turned his onyx muzzle to the sky, and sent his own deep, bellowing voice up into the sky to join that of his cousin and alpha. His dark, undulating baritone wove itself beautifully around his mistress's song, trumpeting out across the distance to declare this land his and to challenge all who dared oppose them to try their luck.

On the winds, there was change. Change that rooted him to Silvertip Mountain, unable to break free of its bouldered antechambers. He wandered, picking apart his new home in avid captivation. That is, until he heard the call – the one he had been waiting for. Tonravik's assertion shook him – made his very foundation disintegrate beneath the weight of what was occurring. Vehiron scrambled his way to the Alpha's location, ravenously seeking touch with a jaunty whine. Trading scents, they were one, as they would all soon be. He did the same with Kaniq, if he allowed it. He ceased his groveling before joining them in tune. His ululation was not as low in pitch as either of them, but it would do. He sung of Tartok's formation...and its beautiful time to come.

he heard the song of their clashing roar, and it swept along his spine, as an ocean washes over the sands. taltos, hackles prickling with delicious anticipation, lifted his own voice in allegiance to the one who would be witch, baying his fealty and his love for tartok with all the passion that was in him. he would be alongside her one day; she had not known him long enough to understand this, but their bond, this beginning ... these were just the first steps.

bone of the father, unknowingly given

you will renew your son
flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]

She could feel it in the air. It was finally happening. Tartok was not just a mere presence here any longer. They were already growing in numbers, and this did not surprise her in the least. She had picked up the scents of those that were coming to the borders, making this their home. Aguta had almost lost faith in her cousin when the younger female had gone missing for a while, but her faith had been restored not only when Tonravik had returned, but had sought her out and apologized for having not let Aguta know. She would continue to remain by Tonravik’s side after all, which she hoped would please her aunt since it had been Siku that had sent her with Tonravik in the first place.

She had been in the process of patrolling the borders, making fresh markings in various places, when the howl broke through the air. Stopping in midstream, Aguta threw her head back, pointing her nose toward the sky, and let her strong voice mix with the rest, announcing to the world that they were Tartok. Taking note that the sound of her cousin’s voice was coming in her direction, toward the borders, Aguta remained where she was and waited. The moment her cousin came into view, Aguta went forward, meeting her with a slightly lowered head and slightly raised tail, though she kept it lower than that of her new Leader.

Tonravik's first howl beckoned him, and Goldry trotted down the southern slopes toward the border. His heart thundered and adrenaline coursed through him. His fur stood on end. The warm morning sunlight banished the chill of night from his bones. He felt alive and strong; today he would tell it to the world.

Goldry stopped many meters from Tonravik as she cried out again. Her deep and bold voice tore through the clear, crystal air for miles. Triumphant and fierce, ancient and cunning, the mighty song of his Alpha bore into his heart.

Others joined her: many virile voices, some deep, some not, all weaving together in a powerful, mixed tapestry of sound. Another chimed in somewhere off the mountain, eager to be heard. And a familiar, feminine voice, as compelling as her cousin's, swiftly united with the rest.

Goldry lifted his muzzle then and howled in a rich, harmonic bass, dark and modulating, projected far and wide from deep inside his body. It surged beneath the others and carried Tonravik's message as all others did. Rise.

The howls the filled the land where Tekovaca was standing were intimidating. He couldn't pick out how many wolves joined in but he was still pulled to them. By the sound of the howl he could tell this was a strong pack, something worth fighting for, and he wanted in on it. With a stranger's voice he howled, low and deep then gradually higher, telling his story all in one breath to the wolves near.

Tartok. Rise,

Nunavut moved slowly through the base of the mountain range with her head lowered and flaccid tail revealing her subordination of the bureaucracy in which Tartok presented itself, but luckily, it was something that the young eskimo was all too familiar with. Tartok was an expanding empire. Strength, along with unity were the two standards that tied Tartok together and that was something that wasn't bound to change.

Quickly, Nunavut lifted her head as her ears swiveled on top of her skull, alerted to the loud, prolonged cry of Tonravik beckoning her to join. Unable to resist the urge, her muzzle reached for the sky, instantly and without any restraint, Nunavut began to wail out her own cry.
Like her Atâtak before her, Nunavut is Tartok,

Tuwawi RIP

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#9

October 02, 2013, 08:26 AM

So late... sorry everyone...

It was their time. Their moment. At first is was quiet... but the sound soon crescendoed into a roar. Tonravik's call caused the mountains to quake with the echos of her voice, and it was quickly joined by others, some near - some far, to create a haunting choir of enigmatic howls, rifting together into the spectral evening.

Tuwawi listening. Her response had already been decided. As she lifted her head, and tilted back her crown, she thought only Tartok. Her howl, raspy and high pitched, joined its brothers' and sisters', as her heart swelled with something that could only be described as pride.

currently sports a radio collar around her neck. 

So late... sorry everyone...

It was their time. Their moment. At first is was quiet... but the sound soon crescendoed into a roar. Tonravik's call caused the mountains to quake with the echos of her voice, and it was quickly joined by others, some near - some far, to create a haunting choir of enigmatic howls, rifting together into the spectral evening.

Tuwawi listening. Her response had already been decided. As she lifted her head, and tilted back her crown, she thought only Tartok. Her howl, raspy and high pitched, joined its brothers' and sisters', as her heart swelled with something that could only be described as pride.