Nocturne Summit Tis a far cry from home for a poor lonely thing

The Taggerung had been met with two choices, you see. He could have followed his path through the prickly brambles and journeyed northeast for days more. 

Or he could scale a towering mountain. 

The Taggerung had been named as a warrior. It was an honorable thing to be named. He had always felt great pride for it...but you must understand that he was not fit to be much of a knight. The Taggerung never did have a knack for battle. All accounts he'd had of it had been rather pathetic. 

Even still, as he looked down across the new lands he had found, he wondered if he had cursed himself by shedding what it meant to be... the Taggerung. 

These thoughts were chased with a hum of song, perhaps a bit more somber than before.

RIP my timeline but I had to join ;)

Kynareth’s on his way back to Teya to possibly get a final answer on the blossoming of an alliance, he passes by the peak of a familiar mountain. Only, he usually sees it from the opposite side, in his beautiful Strath. Though, the brindled giant isn’t usually distracted by beauty — unless it’s of the wolven kind — he happens to peer skyward and catch a glimpse of something. Or rather someone.

They interest him, his attention for the matter at hand is fickle, so he decides to ascend the peak himself. With broad muscles flexing, he climbs fairly nimble for a man of his stature. His eyes set on this stranger, which now he can tell is male by his wafting scent. Not only does he notice that as he closes in, as calm as ever, but he notices the beautiful fading of gold to silvery white that makes of his coat. A rugged man, lithe and seemingly quick, but perhaps holds power — judging by the rippling of the others own form that he can see. 

So finally, the beast makes himself known with a chuff, if he hasn’t been spotted already. His gait is easy going, almost lazy as large paws cross the ground to meet him a comfortable distance away. Instantly, a smile comes to his face. Though, it’s friendly, the Grandmaster always has a confident aura about him and said smile always leans more towards a smirk now matter what he does. 

Kynareth dips his wide set head a pinch in greeting. “Hey there, stranger.” He hums with a hint of amusement in his deep, burly tone. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Who might you be?” He wonders aloud, hoping to get a name or something else from this interesting man. 

Until he remembers his own manners and chuckles. “Apologies. Where are my manners?” He asks uselessly if only to add a bit of spice to the conversation. “I’m Kynareth Deagon.” He hums casually. Intentionally leaving out the fact that he’s an alpha of the pack next door.

Cheers! Thanks for joining mate. I'm glad to have someone like yourself to write with. ^^

 

And there it was, a foreign voice that sounded within his tall auds, swiveling them atop his head of gold. As the Taggerung turned to face his approacher, it was with a cheery grin - pointed teeth glinted in the light. 

Oi! Jolly good, my man, jolly good, the Taggerung exclaimed in a jovial way. 

A wily grin and a swift sway of his tail met the company who had been introduced proudly as Kynareth Deagon. The bard had not missed the commanding confidence that this large figure displayed. 

I am the Taggerung, good sir! A bard from a distant land called the Farthing Wood. And what do I owe the pleasure o' noble Deagon? 

Confidence displayed in a different way, but confident he was. The approacher was not hostile and had shown nothing more than curious kindness in their short conversation. The Taggerung could not help but to eye him with interest. 

Oh, the songs he could sing of a man such as that...

As he greets this man, he greets him back with a gleaming smile and a friendly wag of a tail. One that captivated the Grandmaster in a way that makes his golden hued orbs gaze back at him curiously. Thick auds cupped towards him listening intently when the other makes voice greets his own ears. It’s obvious he’s enraptured, he doesn’t try to hide it either. 

As he introduces himself, Kynareth can’t help but notice the charisma this man holds. A confident, but smooth aura surrounds him and shines through his voice and the brindle giant can’t help but smile and laugh in return. 

Man’s got an interesting name and after the other goes quiet, he wastes no time speaking said thoughts out loud.

“Oh? No, the pleasure’s all mine, darling.” Kyn rumbles attractively, before getting distracted by thinking more on his name. “And Taggerung, eh? That’s an interesting name my friend — I like it.” The brute hums honestly with an interested, and borderline flirty, gleam in his sun kissed eyes.

He continues anyhow.

“And a bard? Oh my.” The alpha purrs with a rumbling bout of laughter. “I would love to hear one or two of your stories of old if you have any.” It’s an offer, but if denied, the brindle wouldn’t mind one bit.

'... darling...'

Hot burned the cheeks of the golden bard. The Taggerung did not show the way he was touched by this friendly addressing. The large male was something of a charmer, it appeared. This was rather strange for a wolf of his size and muscular definition. 

Aha! Thank you, sir, for I am rather fond of it myself, he responded jovially in reference to his name. The wide spread of his grin softened only just so that he could eye Kynareth Deagon closer. 

Once the brindled behemoth took interest in the Taggerung's role as a bard, the slender traveller came alive again. 

Allow me, if you will, to tell the story of Kojall the Mountain, he began swiftly, as if the story had been waiting on the edge of his lips. He paused for only a moment to allow Kynareth to make himself comfortable.

The other responds in kind — joyously and extravagant is his voice. Kyn can’t help but smirk back, eyeing him with that slighted heated but extremely interested expression of his. Mischief also swirls in his eyes and instantly Kyn inwardly wonders if he’s be able to take this man home. 

He doesn’t stay in his own head for long, for the other off brightens up so much more at Kyn’s mention of a possible opportunity to tell one of his, surely many, stories. He can tell this excites Taggerung and if the brindled brute is being honest, it would be nice to rest his feet and listen to what surely will be an interesting story. 

So, not missing the opportunity, Kyn chuckles. Settling his bum on the rocky earth beneath him he jerks his chin up in a way that says ‘carry on’. 

“I wouldn’t want it no other way.” He grins, regarding the telling of the others tale. “I’d love to hear it.”

The Taggerung was visibly delighted, joyous in the willing nature of the large brute across from him. If only all his stories and songs could have been shared in such an easy way, to one who seemed as though he desired nothing more than to bask in tales of old.

It was best not to keep the man waiting, of course.

Once, long before wolves of our kind walked these lands, there were great towering creatures of unspeakable power, the Taggerung began in a mystic’s voice.

The way he wove his story was reverent bordering on thrilled. There was nothing quite like the first telling of a tale.

Kojall of the mountains, Enokhe of the oceans, Aellar of the skies, and Ipnos of the forests. These wolves were larger than any wolf ever known, taller than the trees, stronger than stone, wiser than any who had come before, he went on and then paused to gauge his audience’s reaction.

He can tell the other is ecstatic to tell said story and somehow, Kynareth believes it will be absolutely amazing. Just the way this man is shaking with energy and the way joyous fire dances in his eyes. He knows it’s going to be good. So he remains planted in his spot as the other begins. 

Once, long before wolves of our kind walked these lands, there were great towering creatures of unspeakable power,

Even the beginning is enthralling and Kyn can’t help the way his lips curve skyward at the others voice. He has to admit, its making his body stiff with anticipation already. Still, he says nothing as his eyes settle on the others own in a selfless display that he’s caught the brindled man’s attentions.

Kojall of the mountains, Enokhe of the oceans, Aellar of the skies, and Ipnos of the forests. These wolves were larger than any wolf ever known, taller than the trees, stronger than stone, wiser than any who had come before,

At this, Kyn’s brows shift up and his eyes glimmer with intrigue. Where could this be going? He wonder internally. Though he’s moved from his thoughts as the other takes a soft pause, seemingly gauging Kyn’s own reactions — which are nothing but pleasant in the wake of his grand story telling. He dips his head forward as if to show that he’s listening even further than he was before, a silent tell to continue with those interesting story of old, mythical lands.

Kojall was a mighty warrior. Mountains stood along his back, and he carried them with pride, confidence, superiority. You see, Kojall knew that he was the strongest of them, the most disciplined.

For Enokhe, though she had a sharp tongue, was not made for the weight of the mountain ranges.

Aellar was too unpredictable, too spirited, too fleeting. She belonged to the skies and to the heavens beyond it.

Ipnos, his brother, was noble and just. Kojall did not see eye to eye with his brother. He had never known courage to go to so much waste before, the Taggerung paused here. His eyes danced like magic. He was filled with joy, energy, and his own story had swept him away.

The Taggerung hoped too that his audience was pleased, for the tale of Kojall was a wonderous one to behold. The bard could not help but to think that this fierce figure before him was a descendant of the mountain’s great line.

Kojall called upon his siblings one night, bidding them to his meeting place. They each came, confused and intrigued by the summons of their brutish brother.

Enokhe washed to the shores and lingered at its edge. Kojall was wise to have chosen the meeting grounds he had. Her eyes were sharp and did betrayed her suspicion. She did not say a word to her brother, but waited.

Aellar fluttered down from the clouded skies, landing with a joyous bark and a burst of wind. She was pleased to see her kin and did not think to question the motive behind such a calling.

Ipnos was the last to arrive. The great wolf prowled from the depths of the trees and emerged near the edge of the ocean water. His brown eyes sought Kojall’s, distrust burning inside of him.

The Taggerung held his breath for a moment, seeking to gauge his audience’s reaction. The bard was alight with the storyteller’s magic. He all but glimmered in gold. It could not be said just how thrilled the Taggerung was by the prospect of so many strangers who could be turned captivated listeners.

Kojall was a mighty warrior. Mountains stood along his back, and he carried them with pride, confidence, superiority.

Kyn grins. This Kojall reminds him a lot of himself. He likes the guy. He doesn’t want to make any assumptions just yet. Maybe this man is something other than what Kyn expects. So he listens as the other describes each and every wolf — or perhaps God — in this story of old ancient times. 

The fact that this man is vibrating with a tale of his own voice — let alone one he’s probably told many times before — only makes Kyn even more enraptured. He’s invested now and he won’t be zoning out anytime soon that’s for sure. 

He carries on. Speaking of how they assemble. Why? He doesn’t know, but he plans to find out. So when Taggerung temporarily halts the story, Kyn’s eyes narrow in comically faux suspicion.

“And what did this Kojall call them for? I must know.” He purrs back, getting into the tale just as much as the other.

Hmm! The need to have his questions answered hung upon his lips. Kynareth was indeed invested in the bard’s tale.

The Taggerung smiled knowingly, nodding his head, and entering the state of storyteller once again. He wanted to be sure that his audience was listening, that he understood the importance of such fanciful legend.

To rule them, of course.

The smile on the Taggerung’s face spread slowly.

I have called you here today to propose a pact. I will rule over you as your king, and in turn you will have all that you could desire, Kojall told them.

The storyteller looked to Kynareth with interest at this point in the story, but he did not stop again.

The sisters of sea and air did not respond immediately. Aellar was sure to follow her brother. She could not help but to be enticed at the thought of eternal life with no cares to burden her. Enokhe was more resistant, but this was the pride of the ruler of the ocean.

Still, both Enokhe and Aellar conceded. Enokhe requested to rule over the sea as a commander of King Kojall. The mountain agreed. Aellar asked for the skies to remain hers, for none to invade her peaceful world. The mountain agreed again, pleased that he had convinced them with nothing more than his brawn and his confidence.

Another knowing expression found its way onto the Taggerung’s snout. His whiskers twitched with anticipation.

Ipnos had said nothing. He stood beside the trees. He gazed at his siblings coldly, sadly.

I cannot agree, Kojall. The forest has taught me many things, and I do not believe you could rule in my domain – king or no king.

The Taggerung sighed heavily. As a boy, this had always been his favorite part of that story.

What do you think Kojall thought when faced with his brother’s words? the Taggerung asked of his audience, curious to know what the descendant of the mountain thought.

The knowing smile that graces his eyes and splits the others handsome face has his own maw tilting up into a smile. Oh, this should be good then. And if that’s the answer to his question then he knows it has to have some kind of twist. A twist he’s so ungodly ready for. 

So when the other smiles back at him he laughs breathily with an “Oh boy.” that follows. The suspense!

To rule them, of course.

Kyn’s smile becomes a smirk. “Oh?” He hums out in curious questioning. His brows rise a bit and his smirk remains. Of course he was going to rule them. How did he not see that coming?

The other continues the story. Kyn listens respectfully — horribly intrigued in where this might go. The sister gods agree to Kojall’s offer, but some are iffy and Kyn silently hopes there will be conflict — chaos. And then there is. Ipnos, god of the forests, refuses the request. Oh, this is where it gets good-good.

Then Kyn is asked a question. He’s ready for it and he answers quickly. “Disappointed. Maybe pissed.” The Saint hums with a cheeky smirk, but falls silent after, urging the male to continue. He has to see this through. He needs to know what happens. He wants drama!

Tagg nodded his head swiftly at the prompted speculation.

Kynareth was smart to infer as much about the mighty Kojall. Disappointment and anger dwelled just beneath the surface of the mountain.

Fury, righteous and hot like magma, grew inside of Kojall and he bristled at his brother.

How can you stand so calmly and refuse me? Are we not kin? Are we not brothers, Ipnos? He demanded of his sibling.

Ipnos regarded him carefully. It did not appear that he wished to engage in battle. He was calm, cold, even indifferent to the invitation. Ipnos did not seek to rule. He lacked much of the desire for power required to lead others of his kind. Ipnos knew his brother well, however, and had seen the mountain shift over a great many years.

The Taggerung gathered his breath.

Kojall was proud. He did not like that Ipnos would behave this way. It was dishonorable, unjust, and felt like a betrayal, the bard went on to say, feeling the weight of the events that would follow, Kojall warned Ipnos.

If you should not join us, then you are no longer one of us, the great mountain spoke in words that became law once they had left his tongue.

It was here that the Taggerung found a more comfortable position. He seated himself carefully, paws placed together. His posture was polite and friendly. The rest of the story had always carried with it a great deal of information for growing pups. This was how their world had come to be how it was. These events had created all wolves of the earth, great and small.

Kojall left the seaside. Enokhe and Aellar returned to their domains. Kojall carried his fury with him to the mountainside where he contemplated the treachery of his blood and bone, his only brother.

Unable to help himself, Tagg thought of Rhulain for a moment. Of his sister Mossflower too. He hoped that they were well.

Now what you must understand is that Kojall did not act immediately. It took many years for the mountain to determine what he must do, whether he could reason with Ipnos. Three years passed after their initial meeting. Kojall united the mountains with the seas and the skies above. He had made a kingdom of indomitable force and power.

A trickster’s smile was woven on the Taggerung’s snout.

Ipnos had spent those three years in a different way.

There is magic in the world. Magic beyond what we are capable of understanding. In the time of the great wolves, that magic was far more potent and existed in even the smallest living creatures. Ipnos had been learning the ways of the enchanters, the great magical beings. He studied beneath the wise eye of the Moon Owl, who urged him to be careful with the powers he had studied, to respect the unknown in the world.

Kojall did not need magic. He had his brawn. He had the alliances he had forged with his sisters, and he had the power to overcome anything that stood in his way, or so he believed.

Once more, the storyteller looked to his audience to gauge his interest.

Fury, righteous and hot like magma, grew inside of Kojall and he bristled at his brother.

The words are powerful and Kynareth swears by now he is a direct descendant of this man. Though he feels like he knows where this is going and if he’s thinking right, it won’t end well for the man of the mountains. He continues to listen away, interested by the possible twist he might find himself immersed in.

If you should not join us, then you are no longer one of us. 

This statement fills Kynareth with all types of familiarity. The subject of a common fear he’s known all his life: betrayal. Only then it’s met by something just as familiar as that — 

Kojall carried his fury with him to the mountainside where he contemplated the treachery of his blood and bone, his only brother.

— revenge. 

Kyn’s brows furrow in concentration when the other continues to tell what the forest brother was up to for the many years that passed. Learning of the wonders of another world — another realm. Kyn suspects they’re both plotting something against the other. Kojall seems much more confident in his way of attack, but it seems his brother is merely calm and collected. Perhaps he’s found solstice in the teachings of this other world. 

Kojall did not need magic. He had his brawn. He had the alliances he had forged with his sisters, and he had the power to overcome anything that stood in his way,

Kyn knows exactly where this is going and the similarities to himself and Kojall are uncanny.

or so he believed.

Yep. Kyn was just waiting for that. And dare he say, he’s almost getting anxiety from the anticipation. When Taggerung looks back at him this time, his expression would be pensive. He wonders if this man is narrowly predicting his future. 

When he realizes his attention is solely on the Saints expression, Kyn lightens up some. Raising a brow and cracking a smile as if to say continue as well as adding a cheeky “I knew that was coming.” 

Aha! Of course you did, for what would a story be without its morals?

The Taggerung grinned toothily, pleased that the story had captured Kynareth well enough to withdraw predictions from his mind. To inspire thought and wonder was a treat.

Perhaps this story will not end the way you think, the bard then remarked with a small nod to the son of the mountain.

Returning to his storyteller’s expression, the golden bard continued his tale of the gods. Tagg was pleased with Kynareth and how captivated he had been throughout the story.

Kojall thought to reason with his brother one last time. He climbed from the mountains and walked to the very same place that he had before, summoning Ipnos with an ominous howl.

The forest god arrived in his own time. He calmly stood at the edge of the trees as he had before. There were differences that could only be felt, but not seen.

The Taggerung glanced out across the expanse of land.

Ipnos listened to Kojall and refused him again. Kojall did not leave this time. The mountain reared his head and declared war. As if to answer this declaration, the mountain behind them spewed lava down its side.

On the edge of all things, the mountain and forest clashed.

The bard looked again to Kynareth. The bard’s expression was not as lively but existed in a reverent state.

Magic and strength are not things that respond well to each other. Kojall was mighty and threw his weight against Ipnos, shattering his brother’s ribs and puncturing his organs.

The mountain stood over his sibling with a greedy stare and blood about his maw. Ipnos was smiling.

Why do you smile, brother? You have failed! You have lost.

Ipnos looked back to Kojall and shared his last words with the looming mountain, with his brother.

Your greed has ruined you, Kojall. The Moon Owl has placed a curse upon my body. Your betrayal has cost you today.

The Taggerung appraised his audience member with a sharp glance. The wind tousled his blonde pelt and ruffled the hair near his ears softly. What he would not have given to hear the story of the great wolves for the first time, to stare in wonder at what their war might have meant.

Kojall was not convinced. He looked down at Ipnos and sneered.

Magic has no place in these lands, brother. With your death, you will rid us of the last of it.

But the mountain was mistaken. For his fangs had broken the seal of something much more powerful than either of the two wolves. The Moon Owl had seen what danger their fangs had wrought. It had looked down as Kojall swelled with greed and ambition beyond his limits and it had seen only one fitting end.

The mountain began to shrink. Kojall did not know at first but his back had begun to ache. Ipnos’ life was fading swiftly. He would be upon his last breath within minutes.

The waves washed Enokhe ashore. Her figure too was decreasing in size. The watery shape of her limbs and her pelt were slowly stripped and replaced with fur, with bones of a mortal. From the skies a sheen of light appeared and Aellar fell to the ground. A leg was broken in her landing, and she could not stand. They looked at their dying brother and the betrayer who stood over him.

The Taggerung latched his gaze on Kynareth for the finale.

Greed has punished you and your kin. The Moon Owl is displeased and has taken our power from us. Once, we were the only four of our kind. Now, our blood will be used and spread. There will be many wolves upon the world, hunters, warriors, fishers, and more. Today our blood is the creation of a world we would have destroyed.

Ipnos’ final words marked the end of the age of the four wolves. Since that time, all wolves have come from their blood. Each of us is a descendant of one of the great four. Each of us carries a lesson to learn from them.

A bow and another grin to Kynareth.

The other calls out the fact that Kyn probably knew it was heading in that direction. But he answers back in a toothy, knowing grin as he mentions that the story might not end like how he thinks. That alone has Kyn endlessly wondering what could be at the end of this story. So, he sits back, buckles in, and gets ready for the climax of the ride. 

Taggerung continues as he has, mentioning the two brothers and their quarrel. Then, unsurprisingly, Kojall makes a move to confront his brother once more. Kojal is fowl about it, but the forest brother is deceptively calm. Kyn knows the man has something up his sleeve, especially when Tagger mentioned magic.

Then they clash. Kyn can’t help his interested gaze being stuck into he storyteller. Horribly enraptured he can’t help but smile deviously when Tagger reveals the forest brothers plan. Kojall, bring as stubborn and pig-headed as he is, doesn’t believe a lick of what he says.
The owl, he’s not pleased by Kojall’s betrayal and now they all have to pay.

Kyn actually gasps when he begins telling of their gruesome turning. Their bodies morph into that of a mortal, losing their godly abilities and melting into the ground where Kyn finds out would make their kind. Their flesh and bone would be used to create all the wolves that live today. And THAT twist he did not expect. 

To show as such Kyn smiles massively, showing rows of dangerous mountains of teeth. “Now, that is a fucking story, my friend. Holy hell.” Kyn chuckles in amazement, eyes wide but his smile wider. “You can tell one hell of a story. Would it be greedy of me to nab you for myself?” He jests lightly, but his eyes gently cross the line of flirty. “My sons would be enraptured by your tales of old.”  

The Taggerung chuckled warmly at Kynareth’s reaction and offer. It had not been the first time a leader had felt covetous of the bard’s skill to weave stories, and the curious wolf did not think it would be the last.

I’m afraid it would be very unlike me to settle in, you see, the golden wolf responded with a cheery wink. He did not want for the large wolf to take offense to his offer being turned down. Your kin are surely like yourself and will be strong children of Kojall.

Taggerung glanced to the wild surroundings, lured by the venture of the unknown around every corner. There was nothing quite like finding oneself in a foreign land, he thought.

My journey is to continue gathering and telling stories, sharing songs, and perhaps when I have had my fill of that… I will find a place to settle, he shared with the brindled man.

After a short discussion longer, the Taggerung set out on his way.