Blackfeather Woods There might have been a time
Atâtak Atsanik
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Ooc — Kuro
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#1
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Backdated to the fourth, early morning.

The calls of the crows awoke him that morning, their cries ringing out all around him as they engaged in an argument with the ravens; tensions were high since the news of the war reached them, causing the two flocks to often go after one another. Shutting them out, he rose from just within a tunnel’s entrance and stretched out his body, joints popping and bones creaking whilst his muscles warmed. He turned eastward and began moving that way at a steady pace, intending to get a drink from the creek and then start his morning off with a leisurely stroll—which, like most days, would double as a patrol. It was good for him, keeping his body in motion, despite the pain that it occasionally brought with it; never did he show this, always standing just as proud as ever, essentially ignoring his aging body to keep from reaching the same state mentally.

At some point on his way, a crow swooped down and glided alongside him for a short while, attempting to converse—if you could call it that. It was more like a series of complaints—aimed at the ravens, of course—all of which were ignored by the Inuk, which soon led to the crow’s abandonment of the conversation altogether. So, by the time he’d reached the end of the creek just beyond the treeline, he was alone. Leaning down, he took a few mouthfuls of water, rehydrating his mouth and fully ridding himself of any lingering sleep. Though, still, once he was finished he continued to linger around there, just within the outskirts of the territory; not yet ready for his patrol, he instead watched the slow rise of the sun, enjoying what little warmth it had to offer.
in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold, blood and flame
390 Posts
Ooc — jal
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#2
The yearling prowls about the forest floor, heavy footfalls striking the ground in abandon as frustratingly he quickens to a lope. The time has come for him to consider who may lead the dark woods, should he fail to survive the battle ahead. As a principle of trust, he trusted no one within the walls of the dark woods, and rightly so. But the matter of his successor did not rely on trust, rather, who was best equipped for it. It had been the case upon his ascension, that while Vaati was surely not qualified to lead, he had been the best candidate for the job. The only one willing to commit to the role and carry its burden. 

Potema and Cicero were out of the picture. Miraak, too old. Koume and Kotake were flight-risks, Astrid... too cautionary. Perhaps he would have named his brother the inheritor, had he stuck around. The process of elimination left only Kove, who he knew nothing of by neither had an issue with. Latching onto the scent of the Conjurer, Vaati finds the man sooner than expected, lingering on the outskirts of the territory. "Kove." He barks lowly, calling his name out like a greeting rather than a summon. The flash of red against the white of the other's shoulder reminds him of the initiation into the Dark Brotherhood, the cult within the dark woods that rarely existed at the moment. A mark Vaati was eager to get, that solidified his claim to the Dark Master title. However, one thing at a time. "I've been looking to name a second leader within the dark council, as there is no one to take up the mantle of Dark Master should I cease to exist in the coming weeks." He refers to the war, unable to foretell his fate. "My mother is not capable at the moment. The rank of Listener needs an occupant and you are the only choice." A choice he really did not have a way around. They do not know each other except by name, but for the sake of the woods, would need to get over the lack of familiarity with the threat of extinction on the horizon. Vaati, placed sitting two feet apart from the man, turns to his elder without much intensity in his stare. "Will you accept?"
for the sins of the unworthy
must be baptized in blood & fear
Atâtak Atsanik
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Ooc — Kuro
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#3
The sound of his own name drew his attention away from the sunrise, head turning to face the speaker: Vaati. To say he was surprised would be an understatement, though his expression, like in most situations, did not reveal this. He nodded, acknowledging him, which was followed by a simple, “Hello, Vaati.” He knew nothing of the younger male aside from his lineage, and even half of that was a mystery; he did not know of Kjalarr, having not seen Potema in a long while. All he knew was that the boy had risen to power somehow, taking over where Damien and Astrid had left off and had a leading role in the start of the war. For the longest time, and even slightly now, he’d viewed the yearling as an unfit leader—something he would have had no problem with saying aloud, should he be asked.

Kove expected trivial a conversation topic, something simply to pass the time, or perhaps an update on the progress of the war. Instead, he spoke of naming a new Listener. Interest piqued, his ears swiveled forward and he offered his full attention, listening closely to what was being said. Potema was not able to take on the role, so it was being offered to him in her place. In truth, he had never strived to lead before, content with working behind the scenes as a member of the Dark Brotherhood. Yet, at the same time, he could recall a time when Damien spoke to him about someday leading with the Melonii children. Since then, the seed had been planted within his head, though it’d received no attention—until now, that is.

“I accept,” he decided after a long moment of thought. “As a Brother, I can’t let this pack fall to ruins. I’ll accept the title, only to keep things from falling apart should you not make it out of this war alive.” He felt it his duty to Meldresi, too, to not allow her legacy to fail.
in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold, blood and flame
390 Posts
Ooc — jal
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#4
Kove accepts -- much to his relief -- and Vaati sounds out an echoing howl, notifying the pack of his ascension. Brother. A Dark Brother, he figures the man refers to himself as. Something Vaati is presently, not. He finishes, and returns his gaze to the elder, curious inquisition upon his eyes. "I too, would like to be marked as a Dark Brother. I assume you would do me this favour, as I cannot truly be the Dark Master if I have not earned the mark, now can I?" He holds hopeful eyes, a sliver of apprehension placed behind the sheer good-will he feels. This is what the dark brotherhood needs, a leader, a rightful one at that. What the pack needs -- a decorated commander with the sacred red mark upon his shoulder. It is not what Vaati needs, not what he wants. He wants youth, the ability to mess up and make mistakes, the chance to learn from them too.

The chance to be reckless and not have his head knocked off for it.

That right has been stripped from him and he cannot complain -- this is what the pack needs. So, he swallows what little urge for free will that screams at the back of mind and looks hopefully to the male before him, awaiting fate.
for the sins of the unworthy
must be baptized in blood & fear
Atâtak Atsanik
918 Posts
Ooc — Kuro
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#5
Kove fell silent following his acceptance, ears twisting back as the younger male loosed a howl; it was loud, especially when in such close proximity. As soon as it faded out his ears were back up, eyes trained on the other with a question lingering in them: was that it? Apparently not. “Traditionally, you should be approached by a member of the Brotherhood about being marked, not request it,” he pointed out. It had always been that way, at least since he’s been a part of them. “But,” he continued, shrugging his shoulders in the process. “Given the circumstances, I suppose I can welcome you into the Brotherhood. It would happen eventually, anyways, with Potema being your mother. I see no reason to wait it out any longer.” In spite of the voice that nagged at him from the farthest reaches of his mind, he would do this one thing, if only to reinforce the existence of the Brotherhood within Blackfeather Woods.

—that being the reason, Vaati would not be the only one with a mark placed upon his shoulder.

“With you being marked, your sisters and my daughter will be, too,” he decided, leaving no room for arguments. “I will hold a separate meeting to reapply the marks of the current members afterwards. Everyone’s have faded with time.” His terms were not presented to be negotiated—he made it clear with his tone alone that he would not accept any alterations. And when the terms were agreed to, the man offered a nod before dismissing himself, giving his mind an opportunity to take in fully the new role given to him.