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.

The trip was tiring for many, weary paws placed against the soft dirts of the earth and eyes beggining for rest would look onward to the horizon, hoping for the new day to begin where rest may ensue. Gracious was amoung many who were tired and, a little bit, felt as if she was left in the dark about some things that happened in Courtfall. However, she was here, here now with who she knows and who she doesn't.

New faces and scents, new leaders and new customs. Life was an adventure book, today she started a new chapter. A silvery voice merges itself with the howls of others, low in the beginning but gaining in pitch as it reached the end. Home, once again, home. Perhaps, a more permanent home than the last.

Things were changing. 

Star had heard the news. The lovely queen was gone. It had broken her heart- the woman who first offered her a home in her return to the Wilds was dead. She had spent the past several days alone, not wanting to meet with the others. She could not look at them. Andraste had been a living sense of stability, a leader she trusted and valued. And now her widower husband was taking over, and they were moving. It was a lot for her all at once.

Nevertheless, her loyalty lied with the pack. So when Melkor leads them, and releases a song of their claim, she's ready to join in once again. Throwing back pearly white head, she releases a song of her own. Promising herself as loyal to the new pack, promising that she would give all that remained of her strength in old age to hunt and fight and defend Sagtannet.

Brook had followed orders. That's what she was good at doing, at least to the best of her ability. When Mahler said they were moving, she didn't bat an eye. When Mahler said they were joining another pack, she didn't question him. She had been with them only days, and here they were, united. Brook didn't know what to expect. She didn't know what would follow. She only knew that Mahler was willing to take her in, and so here she was. Her voice didn't lift with the others, for she had deemed herself unworthy of such a thing. Instead, Brook listened to all the voices, united, and told herself that she would do her best (which was never good enough) to help out where she was needed.

the joining had been swift, precise, and organized. sawtooth was theirs, and the man, general no longer, eisen now, felt something akin to satisfaction.
he spent several hours refreshing the oldest marks, stripping bark with fragrant paws, adding scuffmarks, lavender eyes glinting in the cold air.
when melkor sounded his great call over the spire, the man was silent, experiencing the wash of pleasure as first one voice, then another, joined the song.
his own spiraled out, began lowly, rising into round golden notes that greeted every reach of sagtannet.

Wylla was lying at the edge of a pool near the mountain's outskirts when Melkor's howl curled down from the summit, soaking her sore paws in the cold water. She angled her muzzle up to listen as one by one, additional voices joined his. She still wasn't sure what to make of the merger, so she waited until she hear Mahler's deep voice mixing with the lighter tones of Courtfall before she joined her own.

It wasn't a sweet howl nor a full-bodied one, but a high and ululating one. It rose above the others not in competition but in solidarity. She thought the territory was crap and she wasn't sure about all the Courtfall wolves who'd joined them, so she sang of victory mostly for her comrades from Diaspora. The rest would need time to make an impression on her.

Travelling was far from being a new concept to the man, for his heart lied beyond any pack’s claim. So when they travelled, he followed—and it was in those travels that he rediscovered his calling, longing to return to his old ways. So when the others settled, claiming the spire as their own, Eros’ voice did not join them. He continued on his way, a phantom disappearing back into the wilds, a nomad he was destined to be.

The silver died, and so did the Court; they could no longer hold the vale as their own. The news broke her; but with every sunset, there will always be a sunrise. And this was the sunrise to them; Sagtannet. She was still unsure about this, but she will carry on her legacy; she and her children. Oh! Children; Agana was to be a mother.
 
Deep breaths escaped her throat as she raised her muzzle to sing along the rest of Sagtannet. The Sawtooth was now her home; too far from her lovely Kavik, her pearl Kukutux. The argent sighed and marched to the Sawtooth with her new packmates beside her.

She was loathe to leave again, despite the knowledge that their fox hollow had never meant to provide a permanent solution. It had proven quite suitable for them in the end, what with the gradual return of larger game following the earth's tremblings. She and Blodreina had been the ones to source it, so it was somewhat dear to her in a sense.

They were not far, the Ostrega wolfess had to remind herself. There was nothing stopping her from visiting.

Nyx, too, waited to hear Mahler's voice before she joined their rallying call.

For days before the move she had fallen into a deep slumber, a deep sadness -- her heart never handled loss well, and certainly it would not handle this one any better. Pale wolf still haunted memory, the vision of them following beast through the valley her fondest inkling of what had been lost to them. Always so reluctant to be called queen. And she had killed the beast in her name, had brought peace to the court for her -- always for her.

Her heart ached the whole way to the spire and when howl finally touched her ears it was as if she was lifted from her sleep. Andromaque followed it and found the rest of the wolves who had come to the spire, a patchwork of court and Diaspora. Old faces, new faces. Familiar and not. She rose her maw to join the chorus, her own howl weakened by how tired she had become, how hopeless -- she knew little of the wolves who led her now. She knew little of anything, only that she was in pain.

The only issue Elfie had with the move was the fact that, if Maegi returned, she would not be able to find them in the old place. He had promissed to wait for her return and leaving Sleepy Fox Hollow behind felt, as if he was breaking it. But staying behind would mean that he would be alone and that - in his opinion - was worse fate than death.

Therefore he decided to trust Mahler's judgement and kept together with the group all the way to their new location. He observed the new faces quietly and once free to roam, wherever he wanted, he set off to find Stag and see, what the other boy was up to.

Swift move, uniting of forces - he'd observed from a distance as the silver queen fell and birthed from her demise the rise of this foreign trio. A move he would not question, but descry from his cloak of enigmatic tenebrosity. The silencer's only target, his only motive for remaining was Tundra, and Tundra alone.

But continue his duties he would, and to the sky rose a smoked call, in obligated joining of the others.