Dragoncrest Cliffs only equals speak the truth
the gunslinger
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#1
All Welcome 
something in the wind had changed. it was not that illidan knew something was amiss on the cliffs. he had only wandered that way out of curiosity. part of him thought to check on the pale woman who had been pregnant the last time he had crossed paths with her. he wondered if he would be tempting his own fate by drawing so close to their borders. it was not until he had reached the very corners of their claim that he noted the absence of nearly all the scents that had occupied the cliffs and had remained so strong.
 
his shark gaze searched the terrain for a sign of them. he wondered if they were in hiding and would ambush him the moment that he crossed over into their fold. when he took a tentative step and was not immediately accosted for his actions, illidan realized that they had left their home. he moved through the drageda’s former pack site as though the ghosts of all of them were upon his back.
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#2
ooc; always wanted an illydan thread don't mind meee

it was quiet. at first, Benedict thought a pack resided here. he would be disappointed. a pack had resided here, yes, but now it was gone. as he stepped over the old border, he would wonder where it had gone. he was completely new to this realm and their ways. he was ignorant of the troubles. perhaps that was best for him and them. he wasn't one to take sides so easily. he tried to remain neutral, always seeing both sides had a point. maybe not a fair one, but they had a point.

his own pack status iffy, the Swiftcurrent man would walk further in. maybe he thought he'd find a remnant of this pack here. someone who had refused to leave or needed assistance. whatever he assumed, he'd be met with another soon enough. baby blues cast to the fading pelt of the boy. his head would dip, though from his own scent it was clear Benedict had never called this place home. "did ye live 'ere?" he'd ask, for he didn't know. still a bit far away from the other to catch his scent easily, all he smelt was the coast. he wanted to know more, but politeness would make him pause.
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major focus on group hunting, patrolling, defensive fighting
benedict speaks with a heavy accent; if you need a translation just ask!
tell me what the rain knows
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#3
please feel free to skip me!

Tunerk could not help but follow Illidan as he left the territory. However, her following of him was hardly direct. Other scents caught her interest, and for a while she followed them, until she gazed toward the direction Illidan had wandered off in. Recognition came late, but it was better then than never. Did he seek to fight? Or simply check and see if anything new could be learned...?

The Nu was not a woman who knew professional reconaissance. It would be no mystery that someone was nearing him (read: her); belatedly, she recognized there was someone else there. Having not heard their own introduction, or gotten a good read on their scent, she drew alongside her Beta with hackles flared. Tunerk had not even the time to observe the stale scents, only to process that Illidan might be in danger. Well, he would not face it alone. Not now that she had returned, at least.
the gunslinger
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so wrapped up in his searching, illidan did not even notice that he had been approached by a stranger until the other wolf spoke. the wildling spun on his heels, hackles bristling instinctively, and squared up with the stranger. the other male was not familiar to illidan. he had never seen this wolf on the cliffs before, and he did not carry the same saline scent as the others who had called drageda their home. he must have been from further inland somewhere. in the back of his mind, illidan recalled the scent as being familiar, but he could not place a name to it.
 
“i did not. i live down there in rusalka,” illidan answered him with a gesture toward the pack in the sound. this was when tunerk found her place beside him. the young man pressed his shoulder against her own to let her know that it was alright… they were not in any danger. this was foreign enough of a thought that it even rattled him, but he did not want the other male to think them savages.
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first one, then two. he would look upon the others with calm acceptance. Benedict was not here to fight so he did not bristle or rise. he merely stood where he was, showing no sign of aggression to them. "Rusalka" he'd say clearly enough, the name entirely foreign to him. his gaze swept around to the broken campsite. "so yer neighbors, then" as if that wasn't obvious enough. "do ye know what made 'em fall?" he wasn't going to assume it was terrible alliances. sometimes packs fell. there was nothing you could do about it.
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benedict speaks with a heavy accent; if you need a translation just ask!
the gunslinger
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the wariness fades away from him once the stranger asks further questions. it was obvious that he was not familiar with that area – at least not well enough to have realized the two packs were not the friendly neighborly type. if he didn’t know on his own, the expression on illidan’s face might have been enough to tip him off. the young ghost had gritted his jaw tightly and his eyes darted about the territory as though he expected the wolves of drageda to appear from nowhere and tear him down.
 
“i’m hoping it was us,” he admitted without really thinking about what he was saying. when he realized who he was talking to and what they were discussing, he blinked rapidly and shook his head. his thoughts couldn’t have been trusted in that moment to provide anything of foundation. “but i honestly don’t know,” he added after a moment.
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Benedict twitched one ear at the young man's reply. though he couldn't agree with the words he spoke, finding no harm in diplomacy, there was usually something deeper at play. whatever this pack had done to others was beyond him. he didn't have the right to be opinionated. for all he knew, the lost pack were tyrants and the others along the coast were glad to be rid of them. he chose to change the subject. he was clearly outnumbered and did not want to push his beliefs upon these two for any reason.

"m' Benedict" he introduced himself easily enough, a dip of his head for politeness "live n' Swiftcurrent 'reek" a further down pack, away from the coast. though he did not flash a rank toward the other. the man did not really care to put stock in such things. "hope yer pack's well." even if he had no knowledge of the community, he would easily offer a more well-meaning tune. it was clear if the others did not want to discuss their pack, he was not going to be offended. sometimes people kept their secrets close.
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benedict speaks with a heavy accent; if you need a translation just ask!
the gunslinger
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benedict… the name was something entirely unfamiliar to illidan. he still nodded his head politely and offered a ghostly little smile. it was when the stranger mentioned that they were from the creek pack that the dark-hooded young man perked up some. his hawkish yellow gaze came to life and he glanced in the direction he knew benedict’s pack to be.
 
“i trekked out there once looking for someone i used to know,” he admitted softly, his graveled tone seemed to come out with a hitch. then, benedict was kind enough to offer well-wishes for rusalka. illidan turned his sights back on the creamy man and bowed his head. “we will do much better now that this land is unclaimed. how long have you been with the creek?”
 
then, realizing how poor his manners were, illidan shook his head and gestured toward tunerk with a soft smile on his features. “this is tunerk, and my name is illidan. sorry that took me so long to choke out.” then, a soft sort of laugh, as though he were making himself out to be a foolish and forgetful thing when he was not.
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"not long" he'd respond, watching as the ashen boy looked toward where he had come from. he could only boast a week or so at most with Swiftcurrent and he wasn't even sure where he stood with them. all Benedict wanted to do was assist the pack. hunt. patrol. such things were easy enough to do. he didn't care what title he got for his efforts, only that he had the satisfaction of doing a good thing.

the man would chuckle at Illidan, casting a glance at the girl briefly, before his eyes returned to the boy. it was quite clear who was doing the talking and who was doing the guarding. he only hoped Tunerk would see he was of no threat. "s' nice t' meet ye both" his head dipped once more "fergive m' but... are our packs allies?" he hadn't had the chance to ask Kavik about alliances and he saw no real harm with forming a friendship with either Rusalka wolf. he was a man beyond a pack. 

he could do what he liked. Swiftcurrent did not own him nor his beliefs.
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major focus on group hunting, patrolling, defensive fighting
benedict speaks with a heavy accent; if you need a translation just ask!
the gunslinger
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#10
while the man called benedict spoke in an odd accent of sorts, it seemed that he was relatively harmless. he had a kind tone to his words and he had not displayed any aggressive body language to illidan or tunerk. it would have been a foolish mistake if he had, anyway – rusalka was right below them. it would not have been that challenging to call someone up from the sound. aside from that, the ghost felt confident in his own abilities. besides, the guy was fairly safe to begin with.

“nice to meet you too,” illidan returned with a small and respectful nod of his head. the sharp yellow of his gaze was glued to the features of the stranger, trying to learn more about him as though he could gain that knowledge by digging into him with a sharp look. when benedict inquired about whether or not their packs had an alliance with each other, the dark-hooded young man frowned. “i'm not sure, to be honest. don't believe we have many alliances, but that doesn't mean we're against them,” he did his best to respond and hoped that his tone was hopeful enough that benedict wouldn't think of them as a group of savage tyrants.

a thought struck him, and he squinted at the golden fellow. “you know, the creek is a good ways away from here. are you a scout for them, or do you just have itchy paws?”