Dragoncrest Cliffs i thought i was different but it seems i’m just the same

set exactly during this thread: https://wolf-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=31450 .  please allow erzulie & illidan to post first. <3

every night, @Erzulie crooned for her purloined lover. caiaphas heard the call as it drifted over the cliff-tops - a lone and sad melody that mingled with the cold night. she wondered if @Rosalyn heard them; and she wondered if rosalyn was alive at all. 

eurycrates had stolen out in the middle of the night. he was hotheaded and rash - and it was a matter of time before he did something drastic. 

little did he know when he left ankyra, several shadows followed. 

they did not take the same route. caiaphas was nothing if she was not slippery, and she knew the slopes that met drageda better than the contours of any old lover. covert and silent, the group stole across the forest and soon would cross into drageda territory. 

it was impossibly dark when they broke through the final receding tree line that marked the monolith’s ending reign. caiaphas had never been fond of storms, but was thankful tonight for the gale that shrieked above. it had grown in force day by day, and tonight forked tongues of lashing wind screamed down the stone walls in deafening bellows. it concealed the sound of their intrusion, and the lack of a moon made drifting undetected far easier. 

the only question was - where was rosalyn? 

they at least had surprise on their side. with the commotion caused by eurycrates’ hopeless errand, it was likely the eyes of drageda would be turned solely to him.. any wolf that came across them now would be a wolf likely on patrol - alone and easily dispatched between their crew of amazonian viragos. 

meanwhile, as eurycrates fought for his life as ankyra’s sacrificial lamb, caiaphas and her crew prowled inwards, the reflective flash of their furtive eyes the only sign of their presence in the swallowing blackness of a restless and roaring night.

there was a chilling feeling of purpose in the limbs of the wildling as he stalked close to his mother's wiry frame. his head was held low – the wild furs along his neck and shoulders stood like jagged quills against the grey backdrop of the sky – and his youthful muscles rolled beneath the coarse hairs of his coat. after he had heard that his mother was convinced the cliff wolves had stolen rosalyn, he had braced himself for their action against them. though he had not met the corsair woman, he was prepared to clash with fang and claw against any who had threatened his pack – his blood's pack.

with a savage expression and bristling hackles, the young boy trailed alongside the sea witch. his hawkish yellow gaze darted about for signs of anyone else. the scent of their pack was heavy against his flared nostrils. he felt like an alien; they didn't belong there, but he knew that they had to try to do what they could to retrieve rosalyn. if they didn't tend to their own, then illidan would have made himself into a liar to firefly.

so, he followed and waited for the command that would allow him to release whatever rage had festered and grown within him.

eurycrates —! what a fool, what a fool!
the only interactions the harlot had been blessed with in regards to the male had given her a goodly impression of his aggressive, hotheaded nature. but even she could not had fathomed that he would go so willingly to the teeth of drageda. gently, the trio stole after him, and the darkness veiled them in great ways.
she winced only once to hear the snarling upon the ridge, and then the chai-tea woman followed caiaphas willingly into the heart of drageda. and while a healthy fear lingered in her spirit, it was buoyed by the potential of seeing her lover again, and meting out terrible justice to those who had taken her.
erzulie flanked caiaphas opposite illidan, two-toned eyes burning though the night to spot rosalyn or sentry alike. drageda would soon be upon them, she knew, but the woman who led them was a masterful warrior, and she herself unbidden by mortal terror.

No, I was not excited ;)

I probably don't need to add this since it's noted but Drageda follows Wolf's trespassing guidelines and recommends (but no pressure to!) HCM rolls! <3 Most of all, have fun!!

Antumbra is in the secluded beach where they keep @Rosalyn, quietly talking to @Helix when the first call goes up. Ending the conversation quietly, she orders Helix to stand guard while she moves quietly around the cavern, slipping through Hougeda in a flurry of movement. The storm does little to give them an advantage but she moves on swift paws through wet ground.

However, she doesn’t get far before she sees a flash of moment, a crack of thunder, and then an outline against a redwood backdrop. Antumbra freezes in the shadows and watches, her heart pounding in her chest and beating all the way out to her ears. She has no clue what Furi’s call demands and she stands in silence, using the wind to misguide her scent and sound. She turn her head slightly for signs of others, listening as best she can through the ruckus of the storm. A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth.

Quietly, Antumbra back pedals away from them and returns the way she’d come, swerving back around large redwoods and back out into the opening near the lake. The sky is angry and the moon is blocked off but as the wind slows, for the briefest of moments, she lifts her nose and howls for everyone’s return to the lake by Hougeda one way or the other, blocking off the only route to sea and the prize at hand.

tldr: firefly is guarding the rear, using erzulies bright coat as a guide, and easily falls in line with his comrades; he doesnt know what he has gotten involved in but is easily swayed to help the witch-woman. once jb finishes this particularly good sandwhich this will be rewritten.

He was given one look from Illidan, and silently crept along with questions brewing in his mind, unsure of what the group required of him - and frankly, concerned for the boy and his mother. There was concern for Erzulie too but that did not ignite until she came in to view at the head of their little swarm, leading the Rusalkans away from their new home and in to the forest; it was here that things became clearer still, for there was Caiaphas, and the heady scent of another - Eurycrates - which made Firefly think, perhaps, he had chosen the wolves of the cliff over his new family. This thought made his golden spine spike, his usually awkard gait straighten as he picked up the pace and slipped after his allies. It wasn't until one call sounded, then another, that he understood how wrong his assumption was. The wolf had not turned on them. They were going to rescue Erzulie's lost one.

Firefly was naturally slower than the others, not as fleet of foot, and thought for a split-second he should turn around. He was keeping to the rear and used his ears more than his ruined eyes, knowing that he was an unfortunate weak point, but the more bodies the better. He knew very little about the pack on the cliffs save for what the interloper had shared - they had a commander, and their ilk were bold, brash things. Firefly did not question this effort openly but he felt doubt in his heart as the group ducked through the trees and made their way; he thought he saw bright eyes flashing between the trees, thought he smelled a feral musk unlike the aroma of wolves — but told himself he was merely imagining it, struggling through his fear of the woods.

Just sneaking in to get this in my threadlog beep boop.  Bad mobile post.

The storm continued to rage on.  Despite his experience with being nearly consumed by the ocean, he had little fear as he stood high upon the cliffs, tendrils of wind snaking through his dense fur.  The waves churned and struck angrily at the cliffs.  The sky is devoid of light.

One howl of alert draws his attention from one end of the territory, then another from Heda.  With darkness and shadow on his side he sneaks to where Antumbra called and defaults to her immediately, eyes trained upon the horizon to catch a flash of the enemy as lightning rips across the sky.

East was on his way to visit Helix while she kept guard over Rosalyn. He had found himself wandering there anytime she was shouldered with guard duty; it was a good time to talk and try to repair things further. Trying to mend his relationship with his mom had turned out to be sort of a slow process, but it was at least going in the right direction so far.
 
Tonight, he padded silently through the red giants, lighting occasionally flashing through the sky and illuminated the forest for a few brief seconds. A call from Mallaidh made him freeze, and he turned to start running in her direction only to be stopped minutes later by a call from Heda. He was torn for a few painful seconds before finally deciding to go to Heda; she was closer after all.
 
When he arrived, he greeted Tux with a nod before coming to stand in front of Antumbra. He scanned the area once before looking to Heda. What’s going on? he asked.

Svalinn, storm-whipped and terrified, moved quickly with the covert rescue troupe. Every bit of him felt electrified and on edge, letting every sound strike him as an eerie cry and giving every shadow around him a set of flashing teeth. Though his head jerked in erratic swings - attempting to level every sensory disturbance with his frantic stare - and he felt like he might just vomit his hammering heart, he never lost faith in their goal to rescue Rosalyn or in Caiaphas, the most cunning of them all. This, being on foreign territory under threat of capture or death at any moment, fearing every second since breaching their borders for his life, would be worth it because what they were doing meant something.

Rusalka hadn't done the first wrong.

Suddenly there is a howl, calling the cliff wolves to this spot, and Svalinn felt like lightning had struck him. His teeth shone in the darkness, and he prepared to have a set of cleaving jaws on his hide at any second.

Only for a moment, Heda's call threw Easy back in time. Once again she was a tiny girl, and her sister was hurt and a stranger had done it - had come into her father's land to spill her family's blood. But she was bigger now, and she hadn't seen Lavender in many months - 

It was only for a moment, but in that moment, she was very afraid.

But the mottled woman had been doing a lot of pushing paspast herself, lately. Past her grief and insecurities and, yes, her fears. Quickly and quietly, she made her way to the lake to meet up with her comrades, ready to defend her new home. Blixen's mom was already there, as well as a few others that she didn't quite know. Nervous but determined, the blackbear awaited her marching orders.

short, just wanted to get in here :3c

Though Étoille lingers, he has not attempted to see the captive for himself, feeling rather that Heda and her kru have it under control. He is not remaining long enough to be of much use to any ongoing conflict, or so he thinks: Heda's call is not something to be ignored.

He is not near the borders and misses the ongoing conflict there, making his way swiftly toward Hougeda. The sky above is angry, lightning slicing the horizon, an eletric tension in the air as he arrives at the scene, taking in Tux, Heda, and two wolves he has not yet met. Like his blood-son he remains quiet -- he has not seen the enemy yet but will follow Thuringwethil into battle gladly, whatever she might need.

The first howl had gotten her attention, and Rosalyn froze, ice and hope mixing in her gut.  She turned and sprinted a ways on the beach before sliding to a stop, her ears flat back.  Who had come?  Was it Erzulie?  Or some random stranger perhaps, not even an intruder from Rusalka at all?

Please let it be the second.

She wanted to escape, but the wolves here were numerous and Caiaphas' hold on the beach was not strong.  It would be madness to provoke them, and she had intended to return herself.  Better to allow one to slip unseen than them try to enter a guarded space.  Surely the witch wouldn't... not for her sake.  But Erzulie, her beautiful sylph.... she might.  She closed her eyes, then turned.  Her course would take her straight for where Helix now stood guard, and she would attempt to barrel past, a course that would hopefully take her to where a second round of calls had now gone up.  

If it was them, she could not just sit there.  And if it was not, then this was the chance she'd been waiting for regardless.

There was nothing to say and not much to do except slip through the shadows to end up by Heda's side. There he stood, head held high, bicolored eyes cutting keenly through the darkness in search of Rusalka warriors trespassers.

Game on, motherfuckers.

Wyatt kept pace at Illidan's heels with a lightly-placed gait. His agreement to assist in Rosalyn's recovery had been solely decided on by his newfound loyalty to the wolves of Rusalka. Wyatt moved wordlessly, keeping his suspicions to himself—for now, he was calm. 

Antumbra's howl was what eventually corrupted his composure; Wyatt's expression betrayed his newfound awareness—this might have been a bad idea. The realization caused a weak stream of urine to dribble between his legs—he didn't even notice what his body had done. Wet, frightened, and uncertain, Wyatt waited for Caiaphas' command. 

For now, he would stand with the wolves of Rusalka.

like the storm above them, wolves collected in the darkness. a furtive glance behind her to the troupe, and then caiaphas motioned silently to erzulie — in the depths of her gaze was a hidden bidding — rusalka’s emblazoned harlot would know what to do. 

rusalka’s siren queen separated from the group, snaking away in the insidious manner of an oil spill. this was her element — her very master class — and a shrill beat of blood pounded through her, echoing the dissonant, blood-pumping peal of a war drum.  

boom, snarled a flash of searing lightning overhead — boom, boom went the singing course of adrenaline through her head. 

and then, the sylph came across them — a band of wolves lurking in the night’s long shadow like hyenas in a pit. 

she smiled, and raised her proud head high. hung on her lips was the grinning sneer of a spectre - a soul that did not fear death, but resigned itself to its own ruin - and that made the wicked she-wolf all the more dangerous as she flung herself into the crowd, aiming directly for the dark female she had met months ago.

like a bullet loosened from some hellsick holster, caiaphas flew — the flare and flash of her fangs illuminated by the thundering glow above. teeth bent on the destruction of drageda hide, meat, sinew, gristle and all.

During the days following the incident on the beach with Tux, the young Gona had venturing back to the cliffs and instead sought shelter among Drageda's forest. Exhaustion crept into his bones and he tried to rest, but found himself unable. His mother's absence weighed heavily on his mind, the wild weather roused great concern that she could be in very real danger, but this alone was not what kept him from settling. Something else hung over their territory that night - something oppressive.

When the first call rose to alert the pack to trespass, Dacio pulled himself to his paws at once. He swung his head in the direction from which Mallaidh's voice had come and his charcoal ears stood tall atop his silver crown, eager for more information, but only the nearby thrum of thunder sounded. The sterling youth lashed his dark tail in nervous agitation, limbs carrying him swiftly through the redwoods to investigate despite the uncertainty that coursed his veins, before Heda's summons made him veer toward her call instead.

Others had already gathered, and the sterling youth's hackles stood on end as he scanned the darkness for any sign of interlopers as he closed the distance. He'd never faced a real fight before and at only six months of age, he felt horribly inexperienced in the presence of the older wolves around him. This was what he trained for, however, and this was an opportunity to prove his worth of the Drakru name. 

He was afraid, however, and his gut lurched uncomfortably as a flash of lightning briefly revealed the strangers' approach. Dacio's tail flagged straight at his rear and his lip curled back as he fought against the current of his very real fear, and his frosty gaze peered through the rain and the darkness while his anxious heartbeat thrummed violently in his ears.

A flash of movement then, and one darted forward with fangs bared and yellow eyes glowing beneath another pulse of electricity above. The boy snarled, sweeping low as the need to protect Heda suddenly overpowered every fibre of terror in his body, and foolishly rushed forward into the fray toward the masked sea witch with jaws parted and teeth eager to pierce Rusalka hide.

It is Heda, not nomi, whose voice slices through the stormy gloom. Silkie fancies that he has no name, no face — just a mouthful of teeth and a beating heart. He emerges from the shadows to stand just behind his biological father, an unreadable expression on his face — he aims to observe, and nothing more — but when the dark-capped fiend lunges, he springs into motion. It’s foolish and impulsive, this kneejerk reaction that drives him forward, but he is young and fiery and full of lofty ideals. He wants to defend @Antumbra (and to prove his loyalty as ardently as Wildfire, Kiwi, and Sequoia have proven their disloyalty) and at the last second, he moves opposite @Dacio with ears pinned back against his head, moving low and fast to aim for the crazed female’s right hindquarter. He falters only once as he adjusts his trajectory not to collide with the Gona (and perhaps that stuttering step betrays his inexperience, or at least his unfamiliarity with Dacio’s combat style) but he moves like the water that borders the cliffs, jaws cracking open to clamp down on whatever he can reach.

The dark is especially deep tonight, meanwhile, the storm rages on and on. Thanks to the first howl from near opposite end to him, he was already on the move and painfully alert. It's tumultuous, but they are on home turf—to him, it just feels like a matter of time.

It was Heda's call, closer now, that sped up his great strides. They all had gathered before him, poised, and ready to meet their enemy's fates now that they have chanced a visit at home. How kind of them to spare the trip. Nevertheless, he came loping to the lakeshore after so many of the others, and scanned the darkness near for signs of his offspring. Some of the pack he saw, others only scented in the darkness. A few were notably missing still, though. Thankfully he scented Dacio well before he saw him but he didn't detect Opalia. The wocha arrived as Rusalka's most persistent came rushing, fast as lightning, with Heda in her crosshairs.

He was still closing distance but it served as an offense Drageda would not tolerate, even if they brought an army of greenhorns into their fray. Others were closer to her, his son among them, and surely descended on the black-headed coywolf before he could get all the way there. But with this, and the crackle of storm charging the air, mercy was in short supply. For all that dared to join their reckless leader, they were ready.

just getting him here basically /lateish

the savage should have cared more – he should have been filled with far more anger than he was, and ready to show it to the wolves who roamed the cliffs like pompous kings and queens. he should have been fearful of the premise of war. the truth was, the boy did not feel much of anything save for the numbness that life had offered him after his father's death. he understood the idea that there would come a time when all of the others around him would cease to exist. more than this, illidan understood that it would happen to him, as well. death was the only thing that was guaranteed.

so, when the wolves arrived to defend their territory, he did not seem to be stirred by them. the sharp yellow of his gaze swept from side to side, peering into the faces of the strangers he knew next to nothing about. he wondered if kavik and liri would have been proud of him then. he did not think that they would understand. with a twinge of his heart, illidan did not even think that they would have accepted him if they knew what he had marched off to do. he was nothing but a boy facing a war that he had very little business in.

with a quick glance over his shoulder, the wildling caught the eye of firefly and offered a ghostly little smile of encouragement. he was grateful that the sun-touched male was there. when he swept his gaze back, he saw the look on wyatt's face, and just happened to catch the drizzle of piss that had escaped down his leg. they were all just children, weren't they? they were children and they were doomed to die on the cliffs. illidan clenched his jaw against the thought before he readied himself for the thieves and bastards. his lip peeled to reveal sharp canines, but he did not dart forward – not yet. he waited to see if they would come to him.

drageda gathered, their numbers looming, and still rusalka did not bend.
erzulie's head began to swim with it all, her blood a drumbeat aria of anger. and fear, yes fear, for she was mortal, and therefore her life mattered to the harlot. but it did not matter, truly, not with her packmates beside her and the fierce guerrier at their helm.
hackles bristled; erzulie flashed her teeth before drageda and would have advanced, if not two reasons to hold back unveiled themselves then.
rosalyn's voice echoed from some cavern, reverberating from the cliffside, a flag that harboured agony and flung its scarlet warning across the sky, o'ertop the lunging form of caiaphas, who went without terror to meet the fangs of the wretched kidnappers.
the acrid stench of piss struck her nostrils then; she glanced round to see the boy wyatt, whose terror was plain. 
the battle lost already; she could not conceive of it, but the echoes of her lover's anguished shout were remembered, and quickly she turned to @Illidan. "get dem out of here," came her low order, eyes boring into the eyes of the boy. young, yes, not too young to lead rusalka back to the sound even with drageda following.
it was not a request.
in the next moment, she had snarled a great cry, stride carrying her behind caiaphas, down toward the dark woman who stood in their path, and at the last the harlot veered to intercept the pale @Silkie and @Dacio, seeking to snap her own teeth into one of the wretches' outreached muzzles.

Wolves start to show from all corners of the cliffs. Eastwood comes out with questions, standing in front of her, but she does not answer him. She does not have words. She has blood and boil and rage and they don’t all fit inside her. The hardened, cold stone that has been in her chest for weeks since her return threatens to spill, to unlock and unravel and release every ounce of anger she’s harbored. Her head turns slightly to see the others, to see Tux—she does not see her son upon approach but a warrior by her side—and her focus redirects.

The first sign of foreign wolves break the tree line. Cloaked in darkness she hides her adjustments, tail flagged high and feet light on the ground in preparation. They have not come to talk a deal, to ask for their wolf back, and any chance Rosalyn gets out alive has been sealed the moment their filthy paws touched sacred ground.

Antumbra growls low, excited. Her heart thrums in her chest and she can’t count the beats. Dark eyes watch as they continue to advance. Soft, untrained bodies trail behind the only wolf that is familiar to her and they are easily forgotten as Caiaphas moves in tune with her heart and closes the distance. Antumbra only moves a fraction to prepare as Eastwood stands firmly between her and the enemy.

From the corner of her eyes she sees a blur of bodies—Dacio and Silkie—before a blood curdling scream calls from the other side of the cliffs.

Caiaphas advances on swift paws and Antumbra stands her ground, her limbs the redwoods of Drageda rooted into her spot. The further they get the wolves to come in, the harder chance they’ll have to get back out, and she watches as the wolves come together to defend their homeland. Outnumbered nearly three to one (she hardly counts the terrified children as anything but), she releases a snarl, a roar, the beast of a tiger loosening as she welcomes Caiaphas into her embrace.

*sneaks into the party*

Artaax was a patient hunter. He'd heard the commander's call, of course, and had instantly abandoned what he'd been doing to answer it. He had flown through the trees and along the cliffs to bring himself onto the scene, but then he had stopped out of sight just behind the Rusalkans (lol), and the wait had begun.

The wolves approached one another with snarls and flashing teeth. He felt anger broiling in his chest at every one of them for trespassing on Drageda's sacred lands. It grew with each attack made on his pack, but still he waited until the super hot witch woman cried to her companions to abandon this attempt. Then, he flew.

While he'd waited, he had watched. He'd looked at each of their number and sized them out, trying to determine which was the most likely to be trouble. The two women in the forefront were deemed to be the most problematic, but they had made the mistake of attacking the commander. They were totally screwed. She didn't need him.

That left some pathetic looking puppies and a man covered in rough fur, which spoke of scars beneath. They only looked like teeny tiny little puppies in his head, of course, but that didn't matter. Artaax had chosen his mark - the one who had clearly seen a fight before and had been chosen to guard their rear (he figured). Plus, he's Niamh's brother and I'm the devil. And so Artaax sprinted, aiming to smash into @Firefly like freight train.

Thunder rolls and crashes overhead, reverberating through the ground beneath his feet and disturbs the rage that has attached to and settled into his bones over the weeks that have passed since his mother had turned her back on Drageda — since she turned her back on him.  

He is filled with a buzzing, adrenaline-soaked energy that needs release.  Eventually he will be able to suppress this instinct; adrenaline makes a warrior less accurate, have less stamina, and despite being reared for battle since birth, this is the first time that his iron will is being put to the test.  

The rest of Drageda arrives, one by one, and his chest swells with pride despite the danger of the slinking shadows at their feet.  He sees not nomi but heda as she turns her head just a fraction of an inch to regard him.  He imagines he can see pride there, but there is little time to register it.

A streak of lightning cuts across the sky, and the clouds above churn like the waves that crash against the rocks.  His lip curls up, his tail moves stock-straight as a mighty snarl rips from his jaws to reverberate with the thunder in the sky.  Then, everything else is a blur.

The woman launches herself at heda but all he can see is nomi.  He wants to lunge at her and tear her piece by piece, but before he knows it she is surrounded by one — two three four — wolves so fast they are uncountable.  The stench of urine causes him to wrinkle his nose, and he turns his gaze to

( natrona )

a thin brown child.  He doesn't wait before he launches himself with deathly intent at Wyatt, picturing none other than his own sister Kiwi in his mind's eye.

He barely noticed the sounds of the storm or anything else going on except the immediate threat to Heda. He turned as lightening lit up the sky, illuminating the wolves suddenly descending on them. Keeping himself as a barrier between his leader and the imminent danger, he released a snarl, his ears falling flat against his head. His first instinct was to lunge, but just as he braced himself to move, a flash of movement made him freeze. Dacio threw himself at the oncoming Caiaphas just as another packmate lunged towards the danger as well. Both of the wolves were basically children, and he was torn between coming to their aid and keeping his position in front of Heda. 

A second enemy, one of the other women he had run into at the sound that day came charging in to intercept his young packmates. A few more painful moments of indecision passed before he finally decided to remain in his place, guarding antumbra. It was not an easy choice and his eyes remained glued to the events unfolding in front of him, but now that his decision had been made, he pushed any lingering uncertainty from his mind and prepared for whatever came next.

A flash of lightning, and Svalinn saw Caiaphas in a vicious illumination. He knew immediately that any remaining strategy to this botched rescue mission had fled her, as there was no calculation to her expression, only bright and righteous acrimony. Another flash of lightning, and the sea witch was gone; her well-trained boy lurching after her reflexively, as if he had been imperceptibly commanded to heel. He didn't notice anyone else's hesitation, nor hear anyone's words - he only reacted in the same way he always did when his mother faced enemy fangs - and he rushed whoever moved first: a lanky, silver youth (@Dacio), who had dared to initiate Drageda's rebuttal.

They would all see just another boy - round about the edges and rather heavy of gait - but they would soon find the competent son of a master warrior; a young wolf both capable and experienced, despite appearances. Knowing that he was outnumbered, and hyper-aware of every tooth in the area, he focused on attacking in a way that would protect his own hide as much as Caiaphas', so he tried not to fixate on a single target; he only needed to keep her from being tightly surrounded.

He aimed for side of the other boy's throat in a breakneck lunge, hoping to knock him off balance, maybe get a chunk of him, and put him down in one swift move before he could fall prey himself to anyone else's attacks.

Easy was not the only one there. It seemed as though the whole pack had turned up to defend its borders. That made sense, except there were kids here. Not just Drageda's youth, but children brought by the intruders as well. Sure, they were strappling and grown, but so young and Easy saw red when teeth turned upon her pack's youngest. It didn't matter that they'd attacked first - she flung her burly form upon the cinnamon-clad woman whose teeth sought young, sweet Dacio, hoping to repel her so that she could attack the dark-headed woman as well. But, being an inexperienced fighter - and seeing as Svalinn sought to harm Dacio as well - she would likely find herself busy with those two.