Redsand Canyon Time Is A Tool

Setting: Morning — 09:23. 76 degrees — clear skies, light breeze.
Set in territory #6 - Warriors Heart.

@Renard

He raises from the inner workings of the cave early at 0745, only to run about and eat a few lizards he catches. Ultimately, he finds himself tired again. Returning to the den site to laze about in the front of the towering structures that holds a multitude of caves and secret rooms. He allows himself to flop down onto the soft sand. The granulates of dirt and clay provide a nice padded bed to sleep on. Something he really likes compared to Ravensblood. 

Though as he lies about, basking in the early morning sun, he lies completely on his side. Legs splayed out to the side he doesn’t reach sleep, rather he lies there merely relaxing in the middle of their den site. He almost looks dead.

The morning is crisp, a welcome reprieve from the heat of midday. 
Her night of Debauchery was exhilarating, and she was exhausted from the effort of hurrying back and forth, and the mischief she had involved herself in. 
Her pelt reeks of sex and blood. Well if Donovan can go about reeking of his latest conquest, so can she. Seeing as this pack was becoming more of a damned harem than an actual cohesive force. 
She rose with the dawn, making short work of a pair of ground squirrels. Measly pickings, but she didn't exactly have the energy to hunt anything else. 
She dropped the squirrels in front of his nose, curling up against his body contentedly. 
"Good morning, Darling." 

it had taken a couple hours’ worth of retracing paths, but the maze of the lion’s den – what a poetic name for the cavern housing the saints, of all wolves – did not hinder them as they slid from the caverns into the early morning sunlight. the sun was already heating the flat top of the canyon walls; they’d been forced to abandon their adventure in that direction for the sake of their paws.

a gentle breeze ran down into the open mouth of the den, echoing through its halls. there might have been mists in the forest that they’d first claimed, but the canyon was completely exposed; this early in the morning, the sun still saw fit to provide them with wide swaths of shadow cast off the sandstone cliffs.

renard would never admit it, but the wide treeless spaces were unsettling at best. their skin crawled not having a tree to crouch under, fallen branches to climb; with no overhanging shadow, no places to hide, they lacked much of their advantage. sunlight or no, it was time they worked out a replacement.

they stepped out, keeping to the shade of the walls, and went still when their gaze found the familiar brindle figure sprawled in the sun – and then a somewhat less familiar mottled brown approaching, trailing with her the scents of sex and blood as she curled herself into donovan and this place was really something, wasn’t it?

renard briefly weighed the pros and cons of making themselves known. seemed likely someone would notice them either way. and the tail wasn’t exactly forgettable when it came to first impressions.

so they were doing this now, then.

still, there was an air of mystique to maintain. renard slid by them without speaking, though they weren’t expecting to get far before someone spoke up.

As he lazes about, allowing his dark pelt to soak up the heat of the sun, something he will regret within the hour when he begins to overheat. He’s almost asleep when a plume of fine dust tickles his nose and a dull thump of something being dropped in front of him alerts the sleepy male. Cracking open his eyes and squinting them in the already too bright sunlight he looks to the animals present to him, then scent comes to his nose. What is that? He wonders and a crease dares to form between his brows. Sex and blood it is then. Instantly he hears the tell tale voice of his partner and then her weight at his side. It’s comforting yet he wanders how she did to smell like that.

So he cranes his head over to her and lets his squinting eyes wander over her form. Nothing seems too out of place. What the hell? Is the only thing flirting through his head. She’s fucking obsessed with me but won’t fuck me before running off and fucking someone else? Is one of many thoughts that slip into his head.

“Morning, hon’.” He hums gently. “What in god’s name did you do last night?” He asks with the ghosting of a playful smirk on his maw. 

Then he’s temporarily distracted by the form of another passing by. Noticing it’s none other than Renard his smirk becomes much more mischievous. “Renard.” He calls to them. “Come fucking smell her and tell me what first thing you catch is.” 

There is a smug satisfaction as Donovan looks up at her, confused. 

Well, it seemed she finally got his attention. If he could run around screwing everything that stood still like a damned heathan, she could run around with a few friends of her own. 
He inquires about her whereabouts last night and she grins conspiratorially, about to drop a few pleasant hints, when he invites Renard to inspect her. She meets him with a too-wide smile and a playful thump of her tail. 
"Last time I saw you I nearly took your ear with me. Glad to know you changed your mind about joining me." 
She turned back to Donovan, grinning at his jealousy. 
"I was back up near the coast- in that weird forest. I made a friend or two with some hobbies in common." 

no, it seemed, they were not going to avoid this friendly chat.

donovan was the one to call their name, though, and when renard turned because this was the grandmaster, they –

oh, were they really…okay. you know what, that made just as much sense as anything else here. renard lingered for a moment with eyebrow raised, projecting a clear is this a serious request into the increasingly weird space between the three of them, and then figured, why not.

“i don’t have to get any closer. i can smell her from here.” if they were honest, the answer was blood, but they were already neck deep here and where was the fun in that? “so are you both working through the saints, or was this someone outside the border?”

nemisis promptly answered the question for them. it was accompanied by an unfriendly smile and if renard had any hope this wasn’t going to become a problem, her next words stole that away in a heartbeat. fine; they could handle it. the polite smile on their face did not falter, but they offered no reply.

renard couldn’t really care less about who was fucking who, as long as they knew the names because they wanted their nose in everything, but objectively there were better things to do with one’s time and as much as they respected donovan, he really needed to stop being led around by his dick.

as she was obviously doing to him. and he was doing with auriel. and who knew who else was doing what. or who. a mental note. this was going to become their business sooner or later, wasn’t it?

Donovan chuckles at Renard’s reluctance to join in on the private conversation. “Whatever she did it was outside of our borders, I doubt something like that could go on without me knowing about it.”

He shakes his head, “Sorry for getting you involved Renard, but fuck, I wanted a second opinion cause I didn’t believe my nose for a second.” 

Then finally and more importantly, he sits up on his elbow and looks to Nemisis. “Why the hell didn’t you invite me?” He asks faux hurt in his expression and voice.

There is a smug sense of pride as she nibbles teasingly at Donnie's ear. 
oh this was just too funny. The fact that in a single night she had managed to...not even intentionally...get back at Donovan for the past weeks. 
She was laughing now, an actual genuine laugh. 
"Believe it. And I didn't invite you because....you manage to get up to enough trouble on your own. I needed to spend some time with my own kind." 
The Crimson Rose, and Abbaddon, specifically, was a breath of fresh air. She didn't have to submit or dominate, it was just the blood ruling all.

renard angled their head a little, but, well…it was true. donovan had his nose everywhere as much as they did – probably more, by virtue of his position. and good to hear; that would, uh, certainly lead places fast.

“oh, i'm always happy to help.” it came out exactly as dry as you'd expect.

the verbal tennis match continued up to nemisis’ admission and, well, no better time to start getting a feel for how this would go outside of the single conversation they’d held below the glacier.

“the saints not enough for you?” it wasn’t that renard wouldn’t have been happier with her gone, because unstable was...still a kind word – it was just that there was an entire group out there that were her kind. there were a wealth of things this could have meant, and they all seemed equally…well, not concerning, just fucking bizarre.

and the funny thing was that they still didn’t know the half of it.

Perhaps Nemisis would be disappointed that is she did invite him, he would’ve done the same thing. He’s not all too hurt that she didn’t, but for fucks sake, she obsessed over him and won’t even give him some tail? He wonders what goes on in her pretty little fucked up mind in there. Really, he does. Though she seems happy to have spited him, something his minuscule male mind cannot compute.

What he can compute is the genuine laugh that’s released from her dark lips and he’s quirking a brow at her. Eyes trying his hardest to see her out of the corner of his eyes while she nibbles sweetly on his ear. “I suppose I can’t get mad about that.” He hums to her. 

Then he can’t help laughing at Renard’s first reply. The retort devoid of life and careless. Then their next question hinted towards Nemisis has him quieting softly, looking from the other wolf dog to Nemisis. Perhaps he’s waiting for her to snap at them.

She was in too good of a mood to let it be spoiled by a wolf with a stick up his ass. 
So when Renard replies, needling at her, testing her, she decides it's not worth the effort. 
She's already proven she could kick his ass if she honestly wanted to. 
"Sometimes a wolf would like to do something other than lead her pack. It may be my purpose, but it's not my only passion."  
She watches him, smiling, waiting. He wanted a fight, she would give him a dance instead.

renard did, in fact, not want a fight. not enough to purposefully egg one on; it was not (currently) worth the mess it would cause. a certain level of politeness was their go-to, but they’d already tried that once, and anyways their opinion of her was, generously, less than positive. not worth the effort. what they did want was an answer.

what was surprising was that she wasn’t foaming at the mouth to come after them already. renard’s head tipped thoughtfully. maybe they couldn’t call it uncharacteristic yet. it was unfortunate for them that knowing her as well as they cared to wasn’t enough.

donovan’s eyes drifted between both of them like he was watching a spectator sport, if without the cheering.

there were so many things they could say. most revolving around whether leading a pack was done by getting into squabbles over who got to fuck their leader. but, yes, they weren’t looking for a fight, and sometimes the best way to be a pain in the ass – and if it was the case for anyone it would be for her – was to just…not.

“we all need hobbies.” renard shrugged. still smiling that carefully polite smile. clearly they needed to be more direct. “what i meant was – your own kind?”

Power Playing Nemisis, since she is no longer with us.

Surprisingly enough, Nemisis answers him with an interestingly mysterious look and stand from her spot cuddled next to Donovan. Promptly, he begins sauntering away from them with a pompous swagger known to the aggressive shewolf. Not giving Renard the satisfaction of answer. 

Donovan can only shake his head at her retreating from, a smile forming on his maw as he pans over to the other halfbreed. “She’s something else.” He hums pleasantly to them.

“she is.” it was not a lie, but their own definition of something else was certainly leagues away from donovan’s. they weren’t the one she was chasing after, and they weren’t the one letting it happen. they followed her with the flat-eyed look of a shark circling its bleeding prey until she had vanished around the edge of the canyon and, at length, returned their gaze to the grandmaster.

surely he realized the echoing similarity in the the old saints’ story to the new. there was something funny in the thought that he didn’t, but not enough to quell the prickling frustration in the back of their head.

“well, as long as we’re here, let’s chat.” renard’s gaze had flickered into something less amused, something sharper-edged, but the smile lingered in place. “the patrols, the rumors...they aren’t all for show. who are we expecting?”

Both of their eyes watch the mottled brown female walk away from the two and he meets Renard’s gaze once again. Though the smile makes him most curious as to what their about to say. Quickly he’s asking about who they face, now and in the near future. Donovan only kind of knows the answer to that one and he can’t help the rumbling laugh that bubbles past his throat.

“So, to be frank.” He begins with his own smile, squinted eyes attempting to look up to Renard normally as the sun shines brightly above. “I know we don’t have good relations with the coastal wolves — Yuèlóng. Though we shall see if time can heal. Perhaps their leader will come to her senses and realize she started something she can’t finish. Especially over one petty fight.” He pauses. “Then I suppose we need to have a look around for any other nearby packs that we don’t know of. We’ll have to do some scouting. All I know of is the pack in the Hushed Willows led by the black and white shewolf. Everyone knows about them now.” He shrugs. “I will try to keep them on our good side but really it’s up to them. I’ll offer the olive branch and if they don’t take it, that’s fine — they stay neutral.” Then his brows raise and he has a jestingly evil smirk on his maw. “If they spit it back in my face then the branch will snap. Just like their necks between my jaws.”

donovan delivered his information with a smile on his face, a shark scenting blood. it was a long way from the coast to the canyon, a lot of territory to abandon for such a length of time, but if yuèlóng truly had a problem nobody could count on that stopping them. their brief conversation on their arrival to the canyon had provided a little information, an overview, hushed willows included; not nearly enough.

“but they weren’t the only ones that went to the forest.” none of the pack scents at the edge had been were familiar, but there were more than two. what, exactly, made him think these could be the only threat? “if they came to chase you out once, what’s to say they won’t do it again? you think we can show our faces to this pack and live with them? in peace?” the scorn dripping from their tone made it clear what they thought of the idea.

they were not asking questions; they were delivering observations. an interrogation or a measurement? it didn’t matter. donovan commanded a force now. it was not that they considered themselves particularly attached to their packmates, but you could only afford to throw people away when you had people to spare. “how many do we have? how many do they?” a pause. then, a quiet, almost eager thing, “if they spit it back in your face, do we march?”

if he was dead set on this, renard wouldn’t stop him. it might even work. they were as eager as any of the saints to set their teeth into something, to finally do what they had come to do, but was he certain, after everything?

He regards Renard’s words and puts them through the mental processor. They’re not wrong of course. He likes the outlook Renard gives; very thought insight to their current predicament. One Donovan must tip toe around carefully. “I can guarantee you that every pack that was at the forests edge that day is willing to cause problems for that. The black and white shewolf from the pack in the Hushed Williows, Seelie Court if I can remember right, is one of Yuèlóng’s allies. As is Kaistleoki and Neverwinter Forest.” Simmik’s pack, he thinks fleetingly. “Even if we do have a plentiful number of bodies to fight an individual pack, if they team together we’re fucked.”

Then he contemplates his other point. Would they leave peacefully if they spit back in Donovan’s face? Truly, probably not, but considering the well-being of his pack like they should he can’t say for sure. “I need to look out for the packs safety, until we have bigger numbers. So perhaps I will let them spit in my face.” He flicks his eyes up to Renard’s own. “We will have to see what happens. What else do you think, dear?” He asks, genuinely interested in their point of view. Insight from others is good.

it was about as bad as they expected. they didn’t need to know the details on numbers to know the saints were outnumbered either way – four packs was more than too many for one to take on. and there might yet be others. picking them off – also not an option. they weren’t naive enough to think their allies wouldn’t found out. which put them directly between a rock and a hard place.

at least he could acknowledge that bringing all their numbers to bear at this stage would be driven by nothing but arrogant pride. “the canyon is better for us than the forest. tell me this. just how mad did you make them?” or nemisis. but they wouldn’t prod that into the light of day just yet. “and how many wolves did they bring to drive you out?”

He scoffs, followed by a bitter snicker. “Really fucking mad apparently.” He starts. “They gathered at least two members from each pack. They confronted Derg and I at the borders. I told them we’d leave. We couldn’t risk getting killed by them by starting an argument. They’re all so petty.” He shrugs, you’d think I’d be the unreasonable one, but apparently not, hm?” 

He stands from his position on the comfortable sand. “It’s too late now, surely they’ll become more insufferable as time goes on.”

“and what did you do to them?” they could have poked and prodded gently at the question until it came into the light – now was not the time. just because they held more than a little fondness for circular conversations and half-truths didn’t mean they couldn’t get to the point of things when it mattered. there was petty, and then there was the reality of dealing with nemisis.

“i don’t disagree.” renard did not move as donovan got to his paws. “but we have no allies, and limited options. if they come in the same numbers, we have a fair chance of putting an end to their leadership right there, but that that will drive the rest into more of a frenzy.” cut the head off a snake, and there was still venom in the teeth. it would die eventually – but what would it do in the meantime? “so we talk, or we move. but the first didn't go so well for you last time, did it?"

and it wouldn't again, if nemisis was involved. but that was none of their business.

“i suppose that’s what you’re the grandmaster for, isn’t it? the hard decisions?“ renard smiled faintly. they were just the enforcer, in the end. no matter what they thought of donovan’s choice, it was where their teeth would be applied.

He doesn’t answer their first question until they finish all they have to say. To which he even contemplated telling Renard. Though he is not ashamed, he shrugs as he begins speaking. “They got involved in something they shouldn't have been poking their nose into. I beat their warrior have to death. Then apparently I wandered into Seelie Courts lands and said I was rude to them.” He scoffs. “Image people being nice to you all the time and being mentally unable to handle when they’re not.” He sighs at the end of his rather petty sentence regarding the other packs.

Just as easily he moves on. “We do have allies — Ursus. A pack southeast from here residing in Bearclaw valley. I met their leader, Merrick, sometimes ago. They share many of the same views as us. Though yes, it will depend on how many they bring to run us out and if we want to deal with the consequences of what comes after.” He begins walking, a silent plea for Renard to follow in his short glance back. Heading over to the shade he leans against the wall and scratches his hip on the red clay. “It all depends on the situation, Renard. Just know I will always think of the packs health in regard. There is no point in going into a battle that we cannot win.”

renard lifted a brow. their expression had fallen back to neutrality, if only for a moment. donovan was, apparently, just as reluctant to come out with things as they were. they weren’t sure he knew if he was doing it. but the specifics here didn’t matter much. trespassing and assault: hardly anything to get worked up about, but then, nobody here seemed to know how to handle a pack that was disinterested in wasting its time playing nice.

they hadn’t expected an alliance out of it.

“if they do force us to leave,” renard mused, “we could settle closer to ursus. might be a deterrent.” whatever many of the same views meant – but donovan was the one who’d met this merrick, after all. “are they willing to help? or is this just…in name only.” they didn’t rely on allies, in principle. or care all that much for them. but the threat of two packs was greater than one.

“good.” just keep nemisis on a leash, then. another thing they knew better than to say. with only a moment’s consideration, renard padded after him, trailing a short distance behind. “but let’s try and make this winnable. people should be out scouting, spying. preparing. maybe secure this border before they show up to piss on it.”

If they do force us to leave. The thought of the wolf equivalent of the Avengers driving them out of their grounds for a second time drives him up the wall. The hairs on his spine bristle at the mere thought of it. Nothing good would come out of that, for either pack. If the “good” packs have strength in numbers they’d have to use a tactical approach. Poisoning, sabotaging, killing off their prey and starving them out — anything to have them understand they’re not to be driven around like livestock.

Nonetheless Donovan nods positively at their suggestion. “Yes that would be our best bet. They definitely seem willing to help. They also like a bit of bloodshed. I’m sure they wouldn’t miss an opportunity to spill some. So yes I would find them reliable, but truly only time will tell.”

Then Renard brings up another valid point and for a second Donovan smiles at them — he’s glad Renard agreed to joining, they’re quite the asset. “You’re not wrong.” He comments easily. “We will send out spies. Though where they have strength in numbers we would have to take a more cunning approach. Attacking one pack at a time while continuing to be on the defensive. We’d have to stick to methods like poisoning and such. It’s risky but doable.”

enjoying a bit of bloodshed was a plus, even if renard couldn’t help but find the explanation…lacking in detail. seeming willing to help and being willing to help were a far cry from each other. another point to add to the list of things they would have to take donovan’s word on.

it was his pack, though, wasn’t it? his vision. they had no real stake in it, in the end; if it fell, that was all down to donovan. they were here to watch – and apparently only that, since they had yet to be instructed to a single task – until it stopped being an entertaining wreck to witness.

at least there was a plan now.

renard tipped their muzzle. “a good start. do you have any orders for me?”

Do you have any orders for me? Is their next inquiry and, honestly, no he didn’t. If he does give them a task he wants Renard to feel confident in his ability to complete it. So he’ll give them a few options.

“You could go East and scout for anymore packs we’re unaware of. Or perhaps stalk a pack that we already know. Perhaps one of our enemies?” He offers to them. “Whichever you feel most confident in.”