Panther Park Ideals of a Disturbed Mind

Today would have marked the first Cycle of the Nightmare Child's time in the world. As a gift, Slade gave a thought to something that was unexpected of him; a gift. Nothing materialistic. He wasn't that shallow. No, knowledge was what he would stoke the mind of his apprentice with. He had trained the youth hard, from the Birth, seclusion from the prying eyes of the Overworld giving the whelp nothing he would want from an audience, as they wouldn't approve over such ritual.
Slade was going to give the Prophet the locaction of where one of the wolves who slaughtered the totality of his birthpack.

He had tracked each of them down, taking each night he could to locate where they lay their head at night, afternoon, and morn. In the wee hours before the sun rose, in the lightest brush of dawn, he set out, finding them all.
Two had died, one had watched from rabies, and the other he hadn't. One had been taken by poachers, Slade's molten gaze upon the once fully breathing wolf who now was being packed into the back of a pickup truck with humans holding rifles and looking for their next victim. He had disappeared back into the bush, nothing more than a wind and a well honed nose capable of finding anything dealing with him, that day. But one of the ones he had found specifically, the one who unbeknownst to him was he who taunted the pup upon his near final breath.

After an hour of observation, he had come to find it wasn't alone, leading a pack of wolves made up almost entirely of youths, a year being the median age of them all, 5, he counted. The alpha was the Prophet's goal. Of course Slade would go to watch. He told himself he wouldn't help the apprentice on his Trial, but the one thing they would need to pass through was a flat treeland holding a well stocked lake, the place being Panther Park and nothing but wounded soldiers left the park, if at all. It was a favored spot for panthers, the large cats being able to pick off young wolves for meals, or even just to kill for encroaching upon territory. The seasoned wolves barley left, unscathed. Slade had a tangle with a panther there once. A savage thing it was, but it's cunning didn't match Slade's own malice. He walked from the won fight, lucky enough to have only gotten 4 slashed new scars across the right right shoulder, where his Brotherhood mark once hung like the omen it used to be. Metaphorical as it seems, it showed to him how the old and original Brotherhood was no more. He appreciated that, as it felt without him and his fellow Brother Bane, the pack's order in silent and deadly but still sanely composed murderers hung in ruins. Though he couldn't get the internal intel he wanted form the pack, as they were full of those who watched back, he just held to the gut feeling, and mayhap ignorant arrogant pride, that it was just not the same.

Up he howled for @Makaro, the baritones of his vocals calling for the onyxian heir as he sat atop the gnarled woodwork of the Hallow's overground root system. And without fail, the void emerged.

Stalking Shadow...

                 ...he moved without the slightest amount of failure. Stalking among-st the brush with only the Moon spirit knowing where he may truly be as the Wolf, Makaro, set upon and owl devouring what was perhaps once a mouse. Now the dissected meat nugget reflected only the meaty remains of a nasty eating habit but it wasn't the owl's meal that drove Makaro's sleek form across shrub and tree root. It was the owl itself...

Such a kill would warrant true recognition, to have slain a winged beast of the night, that even Slade would have to acknowledge it.

Meters away he thought about his approach... -the spacing between him and his target warranted just a few more meters to appropriately allow a proper pounce yet as Markaro neared, as he smelt the musk of the feathered creature, Slade commanded him to his side with a howl that tore across the plain. Makaro's ears perked up while his head turned to the source with a roll of his eyes looking back to the bird with a defeated sigh. His legs rose with a sharp bark from his voice, "Almost had you this time Ezmotious!"

The Owl lazily turned his head around in a near complete 90 degree spin. The tail of the ground dwelling creature driveled from his beak like a limp noodle only to be sieved and slurped, "Aye ladd, no'run along home tah mother!"

"Sharp tongue and fat gut, same old Bird!" ...."AYE! Same ol'fluff and scratch tat gave you one-for tah last time yee tried tah ruffle de Feather-pins! Com back when Mother replaces tos stones yee call babe makers!" 

Both Makaro and the Owl named Ezmotious laughed from the exchange and went about their lives with Makaro running full speed to Slade and the hollow. Climbing the twisted bark and roots of their domain Makaro sat next to Slade nearly slumping to the ground but only so that if Slade struck he would have plenty of mobility to dodge the attempted mauling. After all who knew what this old wolf would do now adays in the name of 'academics'. Makaro began licking the crud from his front left paw commenting offhandedly and coldly to Slade as a greeting, "Old Man..."

​He wouldn't dare call the Nightmare King Father even though he was the closest thing to that image. However he would poke at him in Makaro's own fashion and perhaps garner some wanted attention.

"Old Man..." the youth came him, presenting him with the subtle sass that gave Slade enough trouble that only flies could pester him with. Just as painless as it was, dear Sithis was it annoying. But today was different. He was in a good mood. So with the ghost of a smirk he replied as he leapt from atop the woodwork to be before the apprentice.

"Old enough to still remember you put too much of your weight on your right hind when you spin to dash-lunge behind you."

Volcanic gems glowed their usual eerie ire, but they weren't as malevolent today. The animated things held secrets, as usualy, but unlike usual, one was coming forth today. Placing himself before the youth, Slade began, his revelation.

"I have found the swine that murdered your family. And as a trial of your One Cycle, you will be tested to kill this wolf who near ruined your potential, as you snuff his life flame as he and his useless pack once almost did yours."

The Shadow Sire silenced himself momentarily, not to gauge the swarthy youth's deduction of this news, but to figure his next piece to lay upon the onyx. How would he feel knowing he had to both go trhough the park of death to deliver death? So deep had he instilled lessons he had sewn deep in the prince.  This would give him a title, a graduation from a mere child of Nightmares, to the true heir. He would still need time before the rank of King could be placed heavy on his shoulders, but that in itself would take time. And Slade had no intention of dying, just yet.

"To get to this curr, you need to make your way through Panther Park."

The grooming stopped...

                   ...Makaro lifted his head with ears perfectly stimulated as Slade gave the young wolf something he never thought possible, a gift. Looking up to the moon Makaro drifted into memory having to relive those days long gone thinking about the wolf that gave him those memories to begin with. "They were NOT my family..."

In reality they were not at all anything of the sort but those that did care for him deserved to be put at ease, "...-though. Compensation is due."

More information flooded the wolf and he only began to formulate what was about to come his way was nothing short of an assassination. However- panther park was no simple playing field. More then a rival pack lay in wait there and when it came to the golden eyed cats of that domain was Makaro ready? "How many still stand with him? " A whirly smile hit his maw, "-unless you didn't have time to count paws."

Slade flicked a halfhearted attempt of an ear to the woodpecker that announced it's home creating to any who could be withn distance to it. After discerning the noise, the Sire swiveled the auds back to the smartass. A snort left his maw, the challenge shedding nothing from neither the brute's pride nor pelt.

"That is for me to know, and for you to find out."

He was Slade, not Santa Paws. He wouldn't hand out gifts like they were willy-nilly, no. This was a test, and no cheats were to be given, only hints, if that.
The ingrate was lucky he got even a confirmed location. However, as hard as Slade was on the onyxian, Slade slipped up too on rare occasions, giving the heir more than he would have any of his other Nightmares. A softspot he had for the youth, though admitting it was nowhere in the horizon.

"I advise you make your move before the next month. They're quite the travelling lot."

With that said, Slade turned deftly on a dark hind, padding silently towards the nearest cache for an easy meal. He had hunted hard for the last two weeks, and this was a wonderful moment to relax, basking in the ambiance of the nocturnal hours.

"so let them be..."

.      Makaro drew a sad expression as his legs grew weak. Laying his belly down he looked into the eyes of Slade without a shard of fear realizing how he must look. "Father..." He never called him that...

"Sir..."

That was more respectful in this moment of doubt. "...they deserve life. It was their kill as the right of the strong so why should I avenge the weak or rather the dead."

God's this was tough to disolve, "am I wrong? Besides... I envy the kill.... An entire pack in one night." His eyes flew in the glint of the moon like shining topez gems. That hunt... To be blooded in perfect exicution.