Haunted Wood how to rule gods and monsters

for @Anuniaq! weird post is weird~ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ♥

Kahlil is struck with the desire to part from Blackfeather Woods to think, to mull on what he has learned and, more specifically, his conversation with Miraak in private. This time he is absent childish, naïve and innocent illusions of adventure and grandeur that draw him from the safety of the Woods’ borders, nor is it childish rebellion. No one has explicitly told him he may not stray from the borders marked with blood and death, littered with corpses and the pungent reek of blood tempered by the sickly sweet scent of decay so he does not foresee his little day adventure as trouble inducing. He goes further than he initially intends, giving way to the vagrant within him, passing through Lion’s Head Mesa. Death clings to him like a musk and he rids it of himself of it by rolling in the bracken that litters the floor of the Haunted Wood until nothing remains but the strong, earthy, spiced musk of the eerie forests’ floor. The forest is thick and heavy laden with fog, each noise amplified causing the guard hairs to bristle along his spine. For a moment, Kahl finds himself briefly disoriented by the fog, sure that he has already passed that gnarled oak tree before. The soturi is not used to navigating such mist, unburnt by the heat of the sun’s golden rays as it is; the kind of mist spoken of in lavish fables and to his frustration (and embarrassment) he finds himself unable to gather his bearings and feels a true thrill of panic — brief though it is — slither down his spine as he wonders if he will be forever lost here. If he will become apart of the fable they will speak of these woods: to change from corporeal to wraith and become one of the specters that are acclaimed to haunt these woods …and hopes feverishly that he is not left to their fate. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and closes his eyes. He is a soturi and fog will not best him. He can no longer rely upon his sense of smell and eyesight …so he must turn to his sense of direction, the internal compass that will find him freed of this cursed place.

After some backtracking he manages to latch onto his own scent and follows it back to the mouth of the woods, the light of day breaking through the fog and abysmal trees and he breaks free of it turning glacial eyes to the mountain range in the distance knowing that it is the direction of Blackfeather Woods though he is not yet ready to return.

Thank! Sorry for the novel lmao

He ranged ahead, far ahead. Away from the Hinterlands, over the mountains and deeper into the Wilds. It seemed wider here, free from the suffocating forests and instead opening up into sprawling lands ripe with hunting opportunities. In fact, Anuniaq followed a deer trail as he wandered, his ever-present hunger urging him to keep to the scent even as it led him further from his Tartok accomplices. He did not worry for them, however, knowing they had the sense to assume he was simply off scouting. That was what they were here for, after all.

The man followed the trail through a hilly landscape marred only by a single lake in the middle of it which he passed right by. It then led him into a forest where it quickly dissipated as if the deer had simply vanished into thin air. With a grunt, Anuniaq pressed onwards diligently, searching for the scent again until he came across something entirely different. A young cub's scent, it was faint, but he could tell it was surely no older than three months. It blended effortlessly into the surrounding odour of the forest and, for a moment, the man wondered if a pack resided here. Yet surely, if there was one, he would have been chased out by now?

Huffing, Anuniaq continued, straightening his shoulders. He crossed a small creek, unperturbed by the mist that snaked its way around the trees and hindered his vision. The pup's scent made itself known here and there until, finally, it seemed to strengthen. Anuniaq idly began to follow it until he came across the mysterious young wolf, a pudgy thing with darker extremities a shock of white around its neck. It was facing away from him, turned towards yet another dark forest that Anuniaq could make out from a distance. He followed its gaze, spying the peaks of mountains rising forebodingly along the horizon. His own dark eyes sparked with a hint of excitement — he knew what direction they would head next. He focused back on the cub before him and quietly came up behind, releasing a rumble to get its attention.

The Soturi heard the sound of approaching footfalls, ears perking atop his skull as he tries to discern if it is merely a trick of the fog or if he truly hears them. His fatal mistake is in brushing it off as a trick; until they grow louder and more distinct and the muscles hidden by baby pudge that has yet to melt into hardened muscle of puberty tense and he takes a rapid, single breath before he spins to face the stranger that has came across him as said stranger lets out a rumble. There is no trace of fear upon Kahl’s face as glacial eyes take in the older male; bearing a coat of the richest umbra (seriously, what was with all these wolves that bore pelages of the night?). For the briefest of moments he mistakes the stranger for the Dark Master but realizes quickly that he is not and the boy lets out a incoherent grumble, followed by a short, hissing huff. “Who’re you?” the warlord in the making demands of the older man, the boy's hackles ruffling as they bristle.

The child whips around quickly, yet Anuniaq sees no glimmer of fear or surprise within his pale stare. He lets out another rumble, but it was one of amusement. Or was it approval? His eyes darken however as the pup lets out a curt question, seeing the frosty fur upon his shoulders rise. The man's own stiffen in response and he instead bares his teeth in response, taking a step forward and leaning over the young wolf. Such insolence! He growls and slowly makes to push the stranger over with his sheer size. It was as much as an act of dominance as it was also a test.

Though his youth hinders and limits his physical capabilities (for now, at any rate) it does not affect the astuteness of his sharp mind, nor does it temper the instincts he feels in his bones that he subconsciously pays heed to. Even now, as the stranger draws forth after letting out another rumble and looms and nears with the intent to push him over. For as long as he can Kahl holds his ground, staring at the stranger with gaze apathetic and frigid, refusing to be cowed into submission. This domineering personality that breathes to life within him, that has caused him to seek rivalry with Neo and Vaati upon very first meeting is in his blood. He is soturi; he is tundrian and he was not built cower (even if it may be the smarter thing). Clearly, he has much to learn but he knows that giving up and relinquishing what (very little) control he has is to surrender and that to surrender is to lose. Being crowded triggers fight or flight within him but will never seek to flee; he also knows he stands no chance of winning a battle against this man. The towering stranger is not Neo, nor is he the older boy Vaati. He is an unknown variable who is very capable of ending Kahl's life without following repercussions …it is a chance the soturi is willing to take for he stoutly believes a true warrior would not back down, would not stop until death saw it so.

The child does not back down and, for a fleeting moment, a spark of interest flickers across Anuniaq's dark eyes. He leans so far over he is almost standing atop the boy, broad chest against the pale youth's face. He releases another grunt of something that sounds almost like approval, though his fangs remain bared as he continues to stare down the much smaller wolf. However, to stand your ground was one thing, to show the proper respect to authority was another. If the child submitted now, he passed the first test. If he did not, well, Anuniaq wasn't against the taste of wolf flesh.

He took another step forward, gaze boring into the child and with his tail held aloft, his demands clear.

Surrender does not come easy to Kahlil and admittedly, the young titan holds fast and fights it for as long as he can. Yet it becomes increasingly obvious to the soturi that this stranger isn’t going to back down as he asserts himself as superior over him. The instinct to fight such a claim is strong but fortunately, for Kahl, his instinct to survive is a much stronger one and he acquiescences, stepping back from the umbra wolf whose chest had been pressed against his face so he could draw in a deep breath and lower his tail from the banner of a conquering warlord into that of subservience, lowering himself to his belly and flattening his ears against his skull in further submission. He hates the taste that submission leaves in his mouth but he supposes that a good soturi knows when they have lost and that surrender does not make him weak. It means he is smart for choosing survival over certain death. He is no formidable opponent …not yet, at any rate and if he seeks to fulfill his goals Kahl is fairly certain he must be alive to do so.