King Elk Forest Hop skip jump, etc

SETTING: Around the border of Kingslend
Weather: Overcast
cool
Midday
TERRITORY: King Elk Forest

TAGS: @Cenric + anyone in Kingslend! Feel free to join in any order, Cenric does NOT need to be first

The pale boy bounds up and down the slopes of the land, his paws dancing whenever they touch as he moves to the rhythm of his heart—it's beat steady and loud under his breast. After the sickness had come and gone Primrose felt more lively than ever, pep filled his every step and muscle across his face to flash a bright smile to the world.

A flower bundle, small and white, filled his jaws as he came to stand before the forest, and with a tilt of his head he looked up to see where the tops ended. Sadly there seemed to be no end to their expanse—their leaves touched the clouds and furthered on into a land Primrose had always dreamed of. How cool!

But clouds and trees weren't on his greeting list today.

Turning his attention back down from the heavens, the boy peered into the deep, dark forest ahead. The trees so thick and so wide that there was no way to see past their trunks, nor the shadows they cast down. It was almost as if there was a barrier there; Separating him and the outside world from the deer wolves.

"Um..," he pondered, doing a little dance of uncertainty. Should he go in? Would it be trespassing? He worried his lip as he looked around. "Hellooooo?" he called, ears forward to listen as his voice faded into echos.

Unfortunate as it may, it was Calhoun who would be answering the call. The hunter turned Baron was quick to put use to his new name as he scoured the forest, learning of every nook and cranny, more importantly, the areas of importance to the elk herd that graced their territory. Quietly he traced the steps of an apostle, its trot easy as it headed for a stream before a voice echoed through the trees.

Right on queue, the elk before him shot to attention, now moving further away wary of its surroundings. An irritated growl rumbled from his chest as he raised to his full height, his head swiveling in the direction of the childlike cry. Someone had disturbed their land and that just wouldn't do.

Red would be the first to shine through the shade of the trees, soon followed by the rest of Calhoun as his hardened gaze locked on the flower boy who teetered at the edge of their territory. He recognized him, one of those bird folk who tried to misguide them, though this time he was alone. Aren't you a little far from home, kid? For his mother to be as territorial as she was, it was quite a surprise her child was a complete opposite. Though he bore flowers...perhaps a gift, or an apology. Still, it was strange that no adult accompanied him.

Lucky for Prim, Calhoun stopped there, holding his breath to see which way the encounter might turn before he jumped to anything too hasty. Things were not a paradise given his rocky relations with the Kings, namely Celnes, but they were on the path to redemption...it would be best not to disappoint now.

It didn't take long for someone to show, and as they headed their way Prim wagged his tail at the evergrowing scent. Unluckily though, he wasn't met with Cenric, nor warm smile, neither a face[mdsh]only two foreign lonely orbs red as the setting sun, observing him from the shadows of their home. It did little to upset the boy, only unnerving him to a point of slowly lifting a paw to step back.

But he had to be brave! Cenric explained everything to his mom and all was good. The deer wolves weren't bad!

"Not at all!" He exclaimed gleefully back towards the voice. "My name is Primrose and i'm here to see my friend, is King Cenric around?" The pale boy narrowed his eyes as he peered into the forest, desperate to see the man he knew.

"oh, come off it," he exhales dramatically as he moves to try to slink past calhoun. "don't be such a bastard. they're a kid," the bard laments with equal theatre.  his rosy eyes follow the young wolf in front of them.  given that ravinger is so new to the wilds, he hasn't the foggiest idea who the yearling is or where he's come from.  although, that doesn't matter, as his gaze finds the bouquet of flowers, and he immediately exclaims in delight.

"my, my, a fan!" ravinger chirrups, sweeping forward in an effort to snatch the flowers up.  he knows they're for him without any second-guessing, as usual. "how lovely of you; how nice.  don't you think this young fellow is thoughtful?" the words are cast over his shoulder to calhoun.  if prim doesn't stop ravinger, he's going to pick the bouquet up in his teeth. "you want to come in, pup?  i don't see why not," never mind that he doesn't have the authority to, uh, do that.  in ravinger's mind, he's king of the whole world.

"so, your name is primrose. cute. i'm sure you know mine, but it's ravinger. fans can call me rav, though, of course." his tail sways with delight behind his slender frame, slightly aloft in a show of casual dominance. "king's busy, no doubt, doing king stuff."

Not two seconds had passed when the words left his mouth that another voice grated his ears, his cousin who oh so quickly insulted him. Him. Perhaps on any other day he would deserve it and brush it off like usual, but Calhoun hadn't even done anything yet, he was playing nice for the sake of the Kings. Ravinger quickly passed him as Primrose gave his introduction only to make a swoop for his flowers in maw.

With a roll of his eyes, Cal stepped closer intending to whip the other's face with his tail for his self-absorbed forwardness. Ignore him. Gods knew many in Kingslend already did. There was only one thing he agreed with his distant cousin and that was Cenric. He wasn't sure how Primrose now knew of the other King, nor who he might have befriended here, but their pack lands were not this kid's playground. As Ravinger said, our Kings are busy. There's much to do with our recent settlement, including keeping outsiders on the other side of our claim's borders. This time his words were directed to Ravinger as his gaze shifted to the other Déorwine.

Does your mother know you've...befriended one of our family? We have no children here, not yet at least. The thought was enough for him to raise a brow, just who exactly had he come to visit? Cenric was the only name he had given, surely not... the hunter stifled a laugh at the thought. There was no way in the High Elk's name that his King had befriended the problem pack's pup. It wasn't Ravinger who was idolized, but Cenric. Though the thought had just been a shot in the dark for some personal entertainment unbeknownst to Calhoun, his mark was as spot-on as when he hunted.

Kingslend was more lively than ever before. Now that the family had finally found their god’s domain, everyone was doing their part to lay their claim. As King, Cenric had the most business to attend to. There was prey to hunt, borders to mark, and—unfortunately—trespassing children to deal with. 

He came upon the trio by chance. His cousin’s scents converged on the same path Cenric walked along, and he followed it out of curiosity. He was surprised to see Primrose at the end of the road. What was he doing on their borders?

Cenric approached the group with confidence and grace, as a King should. He glanced towards Ravinger, who held a bouquet of flowers in his jaws (how strange), then Calhoun.

Just able to catch question he answers, She knows we’ve met. Cenric couldn’t call it a friendship. They were aquatinted at best, but even that was misleading. I ran into Primrose on neutral ground, and he took me to meet his mother.

He cast his gaze down towards the boy. Greetings, I wasn’t expecting a visit. Does your mother know you’re here?

More appeared to his delight, though he was caught off guard by their quick movement. A wolf just as dark as the rest had snatched the pretty flowers from his jaw, and to his dismay, Primrose blinked at the sudden loss. "I, um..." he murmured, watching as the stranger was off in their own world, proclaiming loudly about fans to himself. "Those are for Cenric, please, please, please don't destroy them!" Primrose squeaked. They took forever to hunt down with the dwindling summer's warmth.

"I don't know what a fan is either, but I can be one if you really want me to. Is it like being friends?" The pale boy questioned before turning to the one still shrouded in darkness. His ears falling at the news of Cenric being busy. "Oh..." He didn't mean to sound disappointed, but he really was looking forward to seeing the king and hearing stories. He had been patiently waiting till he wasn't sick and was able to leave.

Perhaps Rav could have the flowers then...

But at the sudden shift in air, Primrose turned his head to the tune of Cenric. Ecstatic and overwhelmed with joy, he rushed past the border of trees in an attempt to barrel into his newly found friend. "Cenric! Hi!"

the impact of calhoun's bushy tail straight into his face is certainly unexpected.  ravinger exhales sharply through his nose, purposefully pretending to spit out any stray hair that had made their way into his mouth. "rude," he flings the accusation at his cousin with righteous indignation.  even his own family is full of barbarians with no respect for the arts.  his gaze narrows as the baron attempts to allude something or another to the bard.  it manages to go directly over ravinger's head.  

"destroy them?" he balks at the thought.  carefully, with a tenderness reserved for only a pawful, he sets the flowers down at his own paws. "why would i ever do that?  i was raised correctly.  these were a gift." ravinger very pointedly ignores the part where primrose insists they're for someone else.  he has selective hearing, and today, he is perceiving exactly none of that nonsense.  these are for him.  this kind young wolf brought them to kingslend as a pack-warming gift.  perhaps the wolves of the wilds aren't so distasteful, after all. 

cenric appears almost as summoned, and primrose makes a beeline for the king.  ravinger quirks a brow but does nothing to stop the youth.  all he sees is a child begging for the attention of their superior.  it would be cute if he wasn't so confused by it all.  cenric had never seemed like the sort to go around making friends with pups.

cameo unless talked to

There was distrust to the firebirds from one King, but the othere was dutifully filling out a peaceful meeting. Alliances had crossed her mind, but at the same time Kingslend had never had alliances before- she wanted changes, of course. Though it had been proven difficult with the voices giving objections, and the wolves gauging her 'redemption.'

The elken woman was thankful to have her brother take on the more peaceful pace as she took on the more forecful change. She was only vaguely aware of his greetings to packs, as well as the bird-group.

A crowd had gathered, particular to the flower-boy she remembered earlier. Célnes observed from the distant trees as she saw her brother, Calhoun, and even Ravinger surround him so.

pp permission given by wilth

As if his name alone had summoned him, his King approached answering the Baron's questions in place of the boy. His squabble with Ravinger was mostly ignored along with the kid's pleas to treat his flowers gently, but at the very least his dramatic cousin didn't make him cry.

When Prim finally caught sight of the King he was quick to call out and worse, cross their borders. Oh no no no no no no no that wouldn't do. The kid might have been quick to sprint, but Calhoun was faster. As the orange boy dash by, the hunter's fangs flashed with the accuracy of a cobra latching onto his scruff before he could trespass any further and lifted him from the ground so he had no way to fight the hold. Have you any respect for the King? His words were muffled by his hold of the child, but he was willing to sacrifice speech for control.

Hot breath would hit the boy's nape as a growled sigh left Calhoun's lips, eyes flicking back to meet his King's gaze to see just what exactly he wanted to do with the boy. If he allowed him in the territory, he could not argue, but until then he was a trespasser, one he wouldn't let roam so freely.

muttons gave me permission to skip

One moment he was barreling towards his friend; The next he was danging, feet mere inches off the ground and confused.

Gasping at the feeling of teeth clasped around the excess of his scruff, the small boy attempted to turn his head to see who held him but was stopped short of flexibility. "Huh?" He murmured, tail tucking up between his legs as he brought them inwards instinctively.

It had been so long since he was scruffed, and the feeling of it, let alone an outsider doing it, sent a flush of embarassment right through his body and up towards his face. Why couldn't he see Cenric? The king had met before, he wasn't going to hurt him! Of course he had respect for Cenric, he loved him. He was his hero!

Tears bloomed at the edges of his brown eyes. He was uncomfortable in this position, scared, and with the flowers he spent so long searching being snatched, felt as if maybe he shouldn't have come.

Letting out a small whimper, the boy looked towards Cenric and the others with a wet face and trembling lip.

skipping rav with permission! the posting order is prim, cen, rav, and cal now

An answer was not given. Instead the boy ecstatically galloped forward and chirped a greeting. Foolish. His cousin snatched him up before he could reach the King, and scolded him for his actions. It’s harsh punishment, but not completely cruel. Clearly his mother was too incompetent to teach her son about borders and the risks of crossing them. He’d have to learn the hard way.

Had this been any other child, Cenric would have them leave immediately. But this was Primrose, son of the Firebirds, a link between the two nations. He’s important to them, and thus will see a kinder side of the Déorwine.

Calhoun, drop him, he ordered. That’s no way to treat our neighbor’s son.

he watches the swift motion with which the child is snatched mid-bound. his furrowed brow suggests he doesn't approve; however, his face otherwise reads an expression of interest. ravinger sighs deeply, now seeming bored with the barbarism. "is this who we are now? wolves who manhandle pups?" he shoots a look first at cenric, then calhoun. "the boy brought you flowers, cenric. be nice." this suggestion comes even despite the fact that the king appears to agree.

"if a child can hurt one of our kings, we're a sorry lot indeed," he tosses the words to calhoun. "unless you feel our kings cannot protect themselves from puppies, calhoun." ravinger muses thoughtfully, his pink eyes wandering to examine the nails of his right forepaw. part of him feels sorry for prim; he seems utterly harmless. "perhaps i'll compose a song... calhoun: the mighty child-slayer." he chuckles smugly.

Calhoun cared not for the sniveling child dangling from his maw. He hadn't hurt him, in his mind, this was a justified punishment, a warning of what could happen for crossing pack lines so easily. Any other pack, hell even some here might have done worse for his actions. Primrose should have known by now how packs work, and if he didn't that wasn't his fault. Alas, his King spoke, so he would lower the boy to the ground before releasing him.

The hunter was scolded, but he merely flicked an ear. It was starting to feel like he could never win, but be as it may the only approval he truly needed was the High Elk's. A red gaze shifted to the bard beside him who tried to test his patience. He boiled underneath, but blowing up now would do him no good. Who was Ravinger to look down on him anyway? Calhoun had already proved himself Of course he can not harm us, it is about respect and worthiness. Shall we allow him to cross our borders so freely once he is no longer small? To disrespect us and our God? Cenric does not need protection, but he should not have his time wasted unless he so chooses to waste it himself.

The male snorted with a shake of his head, If you choose to sing about me, make sure my history is accurate. Keep in mind, you speak to a Baron. My deeds are already exalted for my devotion and discovery of the new land. To think one would even suggest rewriting history into a false vision. Ravinger would never be exalted with that kind of mindset. You should take pride in reciting our history. Do make sure you do not disappoint your ancestors. 

Eventually his wish is granted and the boy is placed back onto the earth without a moment's hesitation. Instantly, he runs to Cenric, crowding under the older man and gripping his front leg with as much force as he can muster, face plastered close and cheek distorting with the weight. He doesn't understand much of what is being said, too embarrassed and scared.

Only that cenric is here.

"You all fight a lot...." He wonders aloud. "I wanted to see you," Primrose mumbles. "I want to hear more stories about your kingdom and the elk! Can you tell me more? Please Cenric, pleaseee." He looks up at the king with big, round eyes, pleading for any sort of admiration.

Calhoun obeyed without hesitation, much to his relief. There was more fighting within their ranks than he would have liked. He didn’t want Primrose to be the source of yet another argument.

Speak of the devil, the boy scampered towards him as soon as he was released and latched onto his leg like a parasite. It was not pleasant—Cenric’s teeth were clenched behind a closed mouth— but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He was already punished by Calhoun. That was enough.

“Is this who we are now?” his kin proclaimed, “Wolves who manhandle pups?”

Not now, he thought, and hopefully not ever. Hurting children was a guaranteed way to make enemies, and Kingslend did not need them.

Cenric glanced at the bouquet Ravinger mentioned  and raised a brow. The flowers that are in your mouth?  He could keep them. They’re most certainly covered in slobber by now, and it wasn’t like the King had any need for them.

He found it amusing that Ravinger would even think Primrose was a threat, though it was in jest. Calhoun was quick to deny that, and went on about future possibilities. He doubted the boy would make the same mistake twice, especially after today.

Finally the whelp spoke up, commenting on the quarrel. Cenric frowned slightly. It’s a problem that needed to be solved soon.

He looked down at the boy. I’m afraid now is a bad time. I’ve been very busy as of late, but I could tell you a story or two another day. But you must return home now. Do you know the way? If not, Cenric would have to escort him home himself. He didn’t trust Calhoun to keep the peace. Ravinger, well, he didn’t know how the Firebirds would react to such a loud personality.

"Pardon me for believing the child brought them to the world's most famous bard, your majesty," he remarks casually, brows lifted as pink eyes seek out Calhoun again.  Ravinger's just gotten an earful he hadn't asked for.  The words of the devout Baron go in one ear and out the other.  The bard's never cared for such talk.  He's loyal to the High Elk and to his family; that's all that matters.  Politics are useless to a wolf of his trade.

"Right then, Calhoun, darling, perhaps you should pray to the High Elf for a bit of restraint," that winning smile returns, undeterred by the Baron's warning words. "You may be Baron, but you forget that I am the grandson of the old King just as much as our valiant leader here.  You'd do well to remember that." He cants his head to the side and trots toward Primrose and Cenric.

"Oh, dear King, I would be happy to escort the wayward boy back home.  He wants stories!  Who better to receive stories from than Kingslend's royal bard?" Aside to Primrose, he whispers conspiratorily: "I do tell the best ones, little duck.  Perhaps I'll write a song about how you stood bravely against the child-slayer and won." 

The Baron rolls his eyes as Ravinger flatters himself once more, the single thought crossing his mind, no one asked. There were times he could stand his cousin, though now was not one of those times. He was overbearing and too far up his own ass to be grand company.

It was then that his name was chid out by the very man that had captivated his attention in the worst way. The hunter had intended to stand quiet to see if there was anything his King might need, for the High Elk knows Ravinger would be of no use, but it seemed this quarrel had no intention of ending here.

Calhoun snorted as the other tried to flex his lineage over his head, though it did little to phase the man. Yes, look where that has placed you. The words were merely muttered under his breath with a huff. He too was related to Cenric just as much as the bard. Maybe it was through his mother's side and not technically the old King's lineage, but it mattered little.

I need not prove myself to someone like you Ravinger, the High Elk knows of my deeds. Pick a fight with someone who deserves a lashing. Almost as if his own words had breezed over the head of his kin, Ravinger was quick to bound over to the other two, whispering what he could only assume were jests to the pale boy that now clung to the King.

This was more than tiring. Calhoun had only come to investigate since his hunt was ruined, but seeing how Cenric was now here to deal with things, there was no need for his presence. Is there anything you need Cenric, or shall I go?

Primrose once more didn't really understand what was going on between all the wolves, but he understood that Cenric said no to him, and that was enough for the boy to lower his eyes before detaching himself from his idol. He tried not to cry again, to get upset at everything that had gone wrong, but tears formed between the edges of his brown eyes and he blinked rapidly in attempt to get rid of them.

Shaking his head at The King, the pale boy turned and took a few steps before looking back. "Of course I know the way! I grew up here!" His cheeks puffed out in agitation a bit, his tail rising as he grew tempered. Cenric didn't want to spend time with him unless he was leaving!

"I don't need any help, and I dont need any of YOUR stories!" He said bitterly as he looked at the bard. "Good bye." Primrose tacked on before turning and heading home, stepping out of the shadow realm of the weird deer wolves and into the light.

-exit-

His cousin’s bickering was toned out. Cenric’s attention was on the boy, who detested the answer. He (finally) released his leg, backed up, and spat at the trio before returning from where he came.

Cenric once again compared Primrose to the Déorwine children. They’d never act up in the way he had. These outsiders truly were a different breed, but he must have patience.

Our neighbors are not to be messed with. Understood? He glanced between the two. There’s already enough bad blood between us. By the way Primrose reacted, there may be more to come. A sigh escaped his lips. More cracks to fix. What would it take for the glass to shatter?

That will be all. He dismissed the two with a nod.