Horizon Ridge above the clouds of pompeii

@Dakarai  — and in a few posts, @Arturo!

Consider the rest of the herd NPCs!

Winter was upon them, and it was the season he loathed.  Summer was a time of mirth, activity and procreation; life was so good that the blustery, bone chilling snows were simple memories that crumbled in the wind. When the temperatures dropped and the drifts resumed, dreadful responsibility overtook his life. Lands of plenty transformed into alabasterer wastelands. The burdens of his harem [for which he fought so hard to acquire and maintain] fell heavily onto his withers and it gave Marlowe great anxiety.

He alone controlled their movements and their speed. Their strength and attention was greater in their numbers, but he assumed most of the responsibility out of red blooded gallantry. He was not a young buck anymore, but a man grown — after all, Marlowe had not been ousted from his position as sultan for two years now, successfully safeguarding his estate from those brimming with youthful brimming with bravado. He was big and he was strong; he knew how to survive and knew how to lead his wives and his children through the dark nights. But this did not stop him from worrying, as so much could go so wrong, so easily.

The cold meant that they were constantly on the move. Their flat teeth ground and chewed the frozen leaves, their summer tenderness surrendered to invasive sleeted crystals. A frozen landscape was easily stripped by his herd [a group the size of a perfect baker’s dozen] and their hunger nudged them on, razoring away at the edges of the undergrowth. They created meandering paths [in the snow] that the other creatures often utilized for the ease of movement. It was not uncommon to look back and see a rabbit loping closely behind. Usually a stamp of the hoof was enough to send them scurrying off, as smaller warm-blooded creatures could attract the others… those dark creatures of the night, with the teeth that maimed and killed.

The group of elk silently moved through the woods, seeking both nourishment and protection from the timbers.

going to assume that @Arturo is following him.

His wounds had long since scabbed over and healed completely, his fur thickening and becoming glossy again. His flesh had filled out, and muscle mass grown until he was once more the large and strong brute he had been upon meeting Olive. The thought of his beautiful lover made him pause and bring to mind the image of her, her soft fur and exotic green eyes. Smiling he sniffed the ground and air, thinking about where he would go if he were a herd of Elk. He knew that there was a herd that had migrated to the forest that lay beside the ocean of Horizon Ridge, and inside there was a river. This time of year the water would be frozen, and the ground unflooded. Thinking rapidly, he thought of the massive hooves that elk seemed to have, and knew that they would be able to smash through the ice. The trees provided a bit of shelter from massive snow storms, and the river provided hydration. He had found some berries that still seemed to be growing despite the cold, and supposed that The elk would be eating berries or nibbling on frozen grass beneath the snow.


Satisfied with that logic he turned and beckoned for Arturo to follow him. It was his task to track down a herd for a pack hunt, and he had caught the the trail of the herd a while back after spotting many piles of various sized dung. Only a few feet back had he spotted Urine puddled around the first lines of trees that began the forest. "I believe they have moved to Echo Channel" he announced and began to walk into the forest.

Slowly and steadily they moved amongst the trees, the hooven beasts. Their bodies stepped forward without as much as a precautionary look and they often bumped into one another. Their heads were held low to the ground, drawing in the chilled scents of the earth and rooting around for any sort of vegetation. The bumping and the touching did not beget annoyance, but instead gave them a sense of comfort and eased their ragged herd mentality.

But not Marlowe.

He strode behind his harem, standing tall and ever vigilant. Nourishment was their job, but safety was his. His large, inky eyes [flamed with flecks of chestnut] drifted across the horizon, taking in all things at once. It was not difficult to notice abnormalities in the alabaster landscape, for anything darker than a eggshell stood out drastically. For this reason, Marlowe felt safe but also found himself spooked by simple rocks or saplings and would nip at the hocks of his harem in a mild panic. 

The scent of fresh water drew them forth, enticed by the indulgence of a long drink. The body of water in question was under a thin layer of ice and his harem stood at the frozen water’s edge, snorting and stamping their feet in protest of this hurdle. But this was an issue they would have to figure out themselves, for he was a king and they were akin to his serfdom. Most beloved, of course, but a serfdom still. As the does knocked their hooves against the ice, Marlowe stood towards the back in an illustrious stance, jutting his check out with an undeserved sense of ego.

edit! Aturo is not with Dakky. He is alone.

 Dakarai could feel the adrenaline running through his system as he made the trek to the flowing body of water. He saw the hoove marks that moved downstream and once again he moved deep into the trees, close enough to keep the river in sight. Finally the musky scent of Elk filled his nose and his stomach growled eagerly. He crept behind a falled tree covered with green moss Olive... the sight made him think of her eyes once again, but he cleared his mind. For now he had to focus on the hunt, on feeding the family and providing for them, on claiming his right to join.


He scoped out the Elk that he could see, eyes falling on the large and hulking form of what seemed to be the Herd master. Taking him down wouldn't be possible alone, and even if he did he would never be able to carry that beast back. Instead he spotted a few Doe, and even better some fawns.He supposed he could attempt to take down the half grown fawn he spotted prancing around.


He scoped the area out, and saw that only slightly farther downstream the water froze and widened. If he could get the fawn to the water and onto the ice, then it would slip and fall leaving him able to kill it with ease. Liking his plan he went even farther downstream, lifting his muzzle to test the air which was blowing in his direction. "Thank you Gaia" he murmured and quickly bounded over the stream, hiding once again behind the trees and frozen bushes.


He crept closer and closer to the drinking and resting herd, until he was diagnal to the fawn. Waiting patiently for the medium sized creature to stray away from its mother he crouched down, and rolled on the snow careful not to make any crunching noises in the ice. Now that his fur was wet and cover in snow, his scent would be hidden from the nostrils of the dominant Male Elk, and he could succesfully creep up on the fawn. Moving forward until he stood behind the fawn, he raised himself to his full height and snapped his jaws, nipping the fawn on its rear and causing it to startle and scamper away in the right dorection. yes! he thought as the adrenaline rose making his pupils dilate and his lips curl.

He chased after the fawn and cursed as it turned to move into the woods. He shot forward pushing himself to cut it off, and with a desperate move he slammed his weight into its side, causing it to stumble and roll over a few times. It desperately tried to get up again, bleating pitifully for its mother as Dakarai rounded on it. It Froze with shock and fear, staring into Dakarai's eyes as he approached. Quickly he clamped his jaws around its neck and squeezed, feeling pride make his chest puff out as he stared in the direction of the herd master.

Their every head picked up, every ears attuned and craned towards a singlulsr noise in their midst.

Suddenly, chaos!

The earth reverberated strongly with the abrupt din of panicked hooves, stamping the slushed dirt that lay along the steep banks of the channel.  The atmosphere was dominated by mobocracy; the frenetic movements of the masses guided solely by the jostling and bumping of their collective musculature. The  cries of the unnerved group of massive animals pierced the foggy melancholy of the channel, falling harshly upon Marlowe's ears. 

Marlowe was astounded, unable to move at first. It was his nightmare, manifested and brought forth into his reality at the behest of the dark monster. It was a small thing, the shadowed blur that penetrated their refuge. The fanged stalker wove towards his child, eschewing the thunderous pendulums that swung to and from carrying the does around and forth, away and away from that place. The brute stood strong and observant as his harem fled back towards the studded treeline, suddenly awakening from their bedlam, reassimilating into a semblance of organization and weaving between the trunks in a well-choreographed dance [practiced for and by events such as these].

The herd moved one way but [to Marlowe's dismay] the wolf's juvenile victim moved another way entirely. Too late did it recognize its folly, scrambling on the frozen banks in order to course-correct and head into the undergrowth of the forest, following flattened path of its mothers, brothers and sisters. Of course the demon followed suit; following its macabre bloodlust. It was a creature of insatiable desire, a hellhound bent on obliterating any sense of the elk's organic pacifism. As they doubled back around Marlowe was moved to action; his chestnut-rippling legs thrust out and carrier him to a murderous scene.

Death happened quickly for the adolescent buck, but was not without its suffering. The shadowed creature hunched over the broken form of his child, ivories penetrating tender flesh and jaws crushing delicate passageways. Marlowe felt his insides churn at the sight and he came to the realization that hope for that particular life was lost. Even if he were to rush at the canine, it would bring about no positive outcome. He knew his harem waited for him, just beyond the trees - Marlowe could not ethically but himself in danger for a life already lost, in order to save them. 

But the wolf's spiteful gaze infiltrated his mind, igniting an inferno of rage that consumer the sultan. He paced back and forth in a truly agitated manner, stamping his impressive hooves into the ground, bellowing and roaring in protest.

The satisfaction he felt in killing the juvenile Elk was sick in some ways, but he knew that this would help to root his place in the family. His mind was still full of the adrenaline from the hunt, and as he saw the herd master run forward as if to shoo him away he snarled in defiance standing over his catch. Eyes narrowed and ears flattened nowhere was the warm gentlemen that was Dakarai, but instead a savage hunter trying to feed his family by any means necessary.



The roars and bellows of the gigantic Elk were met with roars and growls of his own and the occasional snap of his jaws. This went on for a while until Dakarai slowly came back to himself, and began to drag the carcass away from its death spot and back home to Teaghlaigh. He kept his vivid eyes trained on Marlowe's hulking form until both him and the deceased were out of sight. Once hidden from the enraged view of the herd he lifted his muzzle to the sky and let loose a piercing howl, one of victory and pride. 


Finishing his solitary show of celebration he gripped the fawn by its forelegs and tugged it away, pausing for rest until he reached the borders of Teaghlaigh and crossed them.

They carried on for some time in a verbal battle of the titans. Marlowe lifted his chin to lengthen his vocal cords that ran down the thick sinew of his neck, his baying and bellows rolling into one another and becoming louder, louder, ever louder. They were cries of frustration and petulance, unable to accept the fact this his child perished, under his watch. His harem trusted him to protect them, and in turn they gave him the most valuable asset imaginable: life. Now, that life was lost in order to sustain the true evils of their world.

The hellhound answered Marlowes cries with his own, snapping and clipping the air with its fangs. What else did the creature have to prove? He had taken one of their own, Marlowe's future - did he want more by further antognizing him? In some ways Marlowe was envious of these fanged animals who could plot and deceive. They had stealth, whereas the elk had none. The blood, the fear... that he could do without. But they had so much ability and freedom, qualities the dark-furred wild thing possessed and easily used against them...They used it for evil, which was a power that Marlowe could hardly fathom.

After those interminable moments, the wolf begun to tug to corpse away. Good. It was now over. Marlowe deeply inhaled and released his breath in a sharp snort, then turned away to rejoin his harem. In a short time they would forget, but for now it weighed heavy on his heart.