Sawtooth Spire stars are not small or gentle

founding howl! @Mahler @Wylla @Nyx @Agana @Brook @Gracious @Moonshadow @Andromaque @Lave @Aries @Eros @Star @Elfie @Stag

after so much uncertainty and travel on the end of the remnants of courtfall's side whom he has trekked from the vale to the hushed willows to sawtooth spire where courtfall and diaspora have merged into something stronger, melkor is tired but a good kind of tired. together, they forged a new empire, a new dynasty. something that is theirs. impressed by the studious and quick work of the two groups as they came together to become pack-mates and help mark borders; melkor feels good about what they've accomplished. pride swells beneath the curve of his strong and scarred chest. pride that he hopes others feel as well, for this is as much their accomplishment as the trio of svordmenn at the helm.

as the moon aligns with the tallest peak ( from where melkor stands upon the borders, at least — vigilant as he's advised stag ) melkor tips his head back and lets out the rallying cry.

sawtooth is ours. melkor would relish in the way his voice, joined soon as it would be by the others, would rise to a chorus that echoes against and across the stone peaks and into the valley below. a haunting and fierce symphony of voices; a declaration and a warning to any who would brave the climb to cross them.