Post by helaku on Jan 11, 2010 23:14:12 GMT -5
Survivor - Male Wolf.
Wanagesska - Adolescent Male Wolf.
Kezu - Male Wolf.
Hahtalekin - Male Wolf.
Wyanet - Female Wolf.
----
Survivor is a newcomer to the Ute, but Skelaghe has passed along the word that a strange scar-covered male who goes simply by Survivor has formally been granted permission to be in the packlands, and has pledged to serve as a pledgeling-omega. It is rather hard to miss that Survivor is the wolf, as there is no hiding his scars -- fur is completely absent from them. Some might find it ugly or scary, but in contrast to what some might think of this, the male has properly expressed omega-submission to all members and friends of the pack, and presently is silly-like rolled on his back in the softness and fragrance-laden Clover Lawn.
Wan had been in the territory for some time, though the pack was mostly unaware of his presence, thanks to his silence and heavy dampening of his scent as performed in his training. With little cover in this place, he remained among boulders, rather stop them and low to minimalize himself being scene. First and foremost, Wan was trained for stealth, absolute stealth as his own father was, in a place very far from here. His ears raised, listening for anything that could be heard, eyes open for anything that moved. He was a hunter, tracker, and most of all on a mission. What that mission was he did not say, only passed by other creatures on his way. The Clover Lawn was one of the strangest places he had seen, being used to greater, grander sights.
With so much of his fur missing, Survivor lacks in physical softness. Though some of his nerves had been lost in the fight that brought him his scars, his patches of bare skin still tend to feel irritated, and goofily wriggling around on his back helps offset such discomfort and irritation with more pleasant stimulation. Between playful snorts and his squirming-squishes through the clover on his back, the newest inductee to the pack is far from silent. Having his need for rolling in soft clover sated for the moment, he rolls back onto his legs, stands with his fur all puffed out from the play, and to absolutely no one but the wind he gives a cheerful, almost puppyish yip.
Wanageeska's ears sensed the frolicking of this creature not far from him. These lands--they were strange. Everyone here seemed more at ease in some sort of unnatural state of utopia, not the dystopia he grew up in. Wan silently climbed over the boulders and finally set his eyes on the one, yes just one, that played here. It was puppyish behavior, but behavior which was rather warming to see. He considered something, but...no. He fully stood on the boulder, looking down at the scarred wolf, the Sun on his own shoulder prominent, though it was likely the other would not notice the small blue crescent moon at its center.
Survivor spots the other wolf, tucks his tail submissively and peceably sits. "Hello there," he woofs up. Wolves are known for very keen smelling and hearing, but vision is another thing, and indeed the scarred male does not notice the sun with blue crescent moon at its center from this distance. "I am Survivor," he greets in a pleasant, soft tone in seeming contrast to his gruff-looking body.
Wanageeska watched Survivor carefully, how easy he stood and greeted him. What an odd name, Survivor. Wan jumped down, yes, jumped down from the boulder on which he stood, his eyes never leaving the wolf before him. "Of what pack do you belong, Survivor?" he said softly. A simple question, but this wolf did not yet give a name. That honor was meant for someone else first.
Survivor answers, "With Alphess Skelaghe's gracious permission granted just yesterday, I am a pledgeling to the pack of Ute. I have no other loyalties." The scarred male maintains a relaxed and submissive posture, neither defensive of himself nor the slightest crouch to prepare to attack nor even give flight. Considering the two wolves have never met, it is actually a bit odd, even if Survivor had been granted permission back the pack alphess to be here, to give such blind-faith trust to another and hold no fear of being attacked.
"Pledgeling," repeated Wan. "What a curious choice of words." The wolf came closer to Survivor, his scent practically non-existant in the wind. What wolf kept their presence so obscure as to deny the right of scent? Apparently, this one did. "Do not cower or bow. I am no superior to you." Wan circled the other once, ears lax and tail rather practical. "These scars...not given to you by wolves, bears, but something else, and more than one." A keen eye, this young wolf. While he may not recognize the specie that caused the scars, he knew how to read them. "And yet you live. Your disposition is not of a fighter which leads me to one conclusion--you were punished. Am I correct in my assumptions, Pledgeling?"
Survivor bobs his head, but refuses to undo his submissive posture. "You read them well, but ... the scars were not the punishment. Being allowed to live, to carry the knowledge of the fatal wrong I committed, in defiance of Luna's ways, was and is the punishment. I fancied myself a fighter, alongside my siblings and young packmates. We were young, reckless and felt invincible. Their deaths came quick and merciful ... whilst I was denied such mercy, for I did not earn it. My guilt, my shame brought their deaths, the complete destruction of our entire pack ... death was and is an inadequate punishment for my crime," he says, neither mopingly nor with hesitation. "I must learn what I refused to before. I know now that surviving is not a blessing, and life is not a gift to waste. I have been on a quest, since I earned these scars, to start anew and understand how meaningless the life of a fighter and survivor is by imbibing the spirit of those whose hearts energize lives other than fighting and surviving." Long-winded fellow!
Wanageeska wouldn't force the other to sincerely stand if he did not feel inclined to, and the story he told added to the fact he wouldn't. "So you come to Skelaghe's land to find this peace," he said. "You will find it here if she is your Alpha. Her name is known a very long way from here as a very kind, generous wolf when opened to friendship." Finally, Wan sat in front of Survivor, his ears kept aloft. "The meaning of a fighter's life is dependent on what that fighter protects, not what it attacks."
Survivor nods his head. "I know nothing, so I fear it may have been my ignorance, but ... I felt Skelaghe exuded the very wisdom I have been seeking since I earned my punishment. I have not gotten to meet any of the pack beyond her yet, but ... she mentioned she cares for a blind cougar cub, and I did witness ... close relations ... with non-wolf canines as well. I believed cougars to be unworthy, mindless hunters there only to menace wolfkind, and that a wolf's duty was to find a way to kill cougars. That is how I and my packmates came to arrogantly attempt to snuff out a small tribe of cougars. We believed wolves are supreme and by our mere existence deserved to rule and dominate all other inferior beasts ... a belief so far from Luna's ways that we deserved no forgiveness from her. I can never repay to her the debt of my crime, but I must -- before she finally grants me a merciful release from all I carry with me -- come to truly know the right way of things. Balance, life, love and family ... a wolf is not a wolf is no more supreme in these things than a cougar or a coyote, and in believing we were, I failed to understand these things at all. I know nothing of them, except that I must come to know them. I believe, without knowing why or how I believe, that in Ute, under Skelaghe, that I can have no better opportunity to learn the true meaning to life."
Wanageeska listened politely, his white eyes watching how he spoke and moved. Cougars? Not an animal he encountered before, but one he knew of through his father. "You speak of Luna," he said. "Is this your name for the moon's goddess?" He had to ask. Information was essential and few other things mattered as much as information. Had he been part of Ute, he'd approve of this wolf being in it. But...Wan was not Ute.
Survivor's cheerful demeanor finally lessens, a look of failure starting to take his lives. "Yes ... though truly, I should not mention Her name, as I have failed her so badly, I am not worthy of Her. Her children -- Her /true/ children -- who know love and life -- are my key to salvation, I feel, to learn all I can from as many of them as I can, and ... though I have passed through so many vast lands, crossed a vast distance from where I started, and in that have seen some strange and freakish relationships in that ... there has never been such a powerful harmony as I have already found here. Wolf and ... dag was it? No, dog she said ... a cougar cub ... and no arrogant wolf supremacism."
Wanageeska watched, still, how the wolf easily fell under his own convictions. "You are on a quest to regain that which you have lost. Mentioning her name is no sin," replied Wan. "There is something I must ask of you, Survivor. This pack, I sense much internal focus. Skelaghe is the one I seek for it is she whom will learn my name first." This wolf before him beat himself up a lot, but in a good way. He built himself on failures and no wolf was strong without them. "Your disposition tells me that you would do this for me, and it would be much appreciated if you did."
Survivor cocks his head, now looking a bit concerned. "You are neither a member nor even known to the Ute?" he asks. Should he be en garde?
Wanageeska's ears twitched softly, that being a good question. "You are right in questioning this, Survivor," he said softly. "Neither member or known, but I know her and her pack through another. It is a message that I must ask you to carry; doing so will help you in gaining your place here and help me achieving my goal." His tone was soft, gentle, non-threatening and otherwise...warm. It conveyed the truth of his mission, which was non-hostile.
Survivor sits, looking much less relaxed despite this unnamed other's non-threatening state. "I ... am in doubt," he states. Was this a test for him of some sort? "I will convey your message for you, but I am ... uncomfortably uncertain ... as to my duties and whether your status is, to the Ute, a friend or unknown intruder." He still does not take an offensive or defensive stance, but he is a lot less comfortable than he appeared a few minutes ago. He looks toward the hill where the alphess had gone, but he was forbidden to go. Feeling pensive and uncertain, he settles on a course of action: sitting erectly, he arches his head upward and howls.
Wanageeska watched. Of course, he'd howl. This was partialy expected, though the actual courage this rather submissive wolf displayed was impressive. Unfortunately, it only put his task in danger as he was to follow it to the letter. "You perform your duty well, Surivor," said Wan, his eyes mating note of the hill. Something important was there, and the wolf had unknowingly given him a hint as to where the Alpha may be, as well as the dens. "Tell her a wolf with a Tobba on his shoulder seeks her audience, a wolf known well to Helaku. Speak this name to her, and she will understand...hopefully." Wan wasn't keen on sticking around for other pack members to show up. This business did not concern them, regardless of how they may feel. He did not turn from Survivor, but walked backwards, into the boulders spread among the land, where he disappeared without a trace or scent to follow. Just as Helaku might, that is, if Survivor ever knew him.
Survivor pensively takes a pace after the male who refused to give his name, trembling. Could have have failed in his basic duty to protect the pack he'd just joined already? The wolf's eyes fill with stress, worry and sorrow. No! Its not fair! He howls twice more.
The howls barely touch the air when first one and then a second howl are voiced in response. The first is high and clear, but the second is harsh, a hoarse rasp, a deep and gutteral sound that is closed by the snap of jaws. Ruddy red jaws that soon appear cresting the hilltop, attached to black face and cold blue eyes. Hahtalekin looks down, tail cresting up over his rump at the unfamiliar voice as he looks down towards the summoner. A glance is passed over his shoulder, ears cocked forward expectantly, before he turns and begins a steady trot down the hill.
Making her way along the hill is Wyanet, striding side by side with Hahtalekin. The timber wolf's ear, and a half is raised upwards upon her crown curiousy, tail swaying back and forth behind her. "That must be Survivor, the one Skelaghe was telling me about. She told me to be nice to him." She says with a bit of amusement on her broad muzzle as she settles down at the side of the black, scarred wolf. Canting her head to one side, she squints her amber gaze. "He seems to be panicky." She says, before pushing off on her paws, making her way down towards the lawn, her tail raised high upon her frame. As she sizes up the brawny, scarred wolf, she takes in the sight of the history of wounds upon him, inwardly cringing for a moment. Eesh. "I am Wyanet." She states simply. "Of the Ute pack, you are Survivor, right? What's going on? Is everything alright?" She asks, catching the scent of something foreign upon the breeze, another male she does not recognize.
The soft swish of water... ears raising from the creek nearby to the west, from the water rising quite the large frame of a dusky black wolf, interspersed with greys, two fish caught in the large jaws of the great wolf, one eye without pupil, without sight... the other, staring forward with great purpose... opposite the other two arriving wolves, grinning to himself as he shrugs his large shoulders... chuckling softly, as he eyes over the two before the two upon the hill... In a way, pincering the guests. He says nothing, simply approaching.
Survivor is looking quite dishevelled. "Yes, I am Survivor ... there's ... a male in the territory ... I haven't even met anyone ... I don't know what to do ... he would not give his name ..." the omega panics a bit. "He had a Tobba. He said Skelaghe knew him ... but Ute does not ... he went that way," he motions toward the boulders." In stark contrast to the great calm he had felt and been with at meeting the gracious alphess the night before, and even just a few minutes ago, the scarred wolf looks to be a bit of a nervous wreck. "I ... didn't know what to do ...! Drive him off? Hold him here? I ... don't know anyone in the pack yet ...!"
Hahtalekin lets his tail settle to a more neutral position as he strides alongside Wyanet, his eyes passing with a quick, professional gaze across the gaunt wolf's battered form before he turns towards the approaching giant. There's a subtle nod and a directed glance that follows the gesture of Survivor before he turns his eyes back onto the nervous wolf. "Peace, stranger." He says with his gruff voice, scarred throat making even his warmest words rough. "We'll see to any other visitors, that isn't a responsibility of yours."
"Hey, calm the hell down, first of all, and take a deep breath. For someone that has 'survived' quite a few ... well... wars, obviously, you seem to have the nerves of a puppy." Wyanet says, practically snapping as the royal bitch of the pack raises her head, taking in a deep breath of air, and catching the scent. "Was it a Tobba of the sun, or the moon? If he was once Ute, he'd have no problem giving his name, or sticking around. I don't like mysteries, mysterious wolves are just asking for an ass beating in my opinion." She rumbles in her throat, before glancing between the two black brothers. "Scout outwards a few yards, see if you can spot this stranger. We'll tighten up the proximity for tonight, and let Skelaghe know what's going on in the morning." She huffs to herself, rather annoyed now.
Survivor answers, "It ... looked like a sun ... with a blue moon inside of it. I ... I don't really know Tobbas. Skelaghe tried to explain them to me last night, but it was the first I had heard of them. I ... I know nothing," he says, "except for one way to absolutely not go about things. Survival is not grand. I vowed to the Alphess last night that my service was hers and the pack's. Surely, my blood must now go to the pack's?" he says. He shakes his head. "Can I at least know your names? I won't be able to handle myself much better if I don't know friend and foe."
Snuff... snuff snuff... A drawing sniff draws from behind Survivor, Kezu dropping the fish beside the scarred wolf's hind paw. "Eat. Calm. Ease your mind, and thus, your body..." The silken, silver voice of the wolf drifts over the wind... chuckling as he turns, and starts moving to the boulders... before, after only five, or six steps, he goes into a full on dash, moving very surprisingly quick for his size. "The smell is so quiet..." He says to himself, furrowing his brows, as he considers to himself...
Hahtalekin keeps one eye on Kezu, no doubt ready to aid him should he need, but he also watches Survivor and encourages him towards the fish with a nod. "I am Hahtalekin, and that is my brother, Kezu. If you bring no harm to the pack, than you'll find no harm from me." He says to the damaged wolf before he looks towards Wyanet. "I'll keep watch through the night, and Kezu and I will see what we can find. If anyone is near, we'll do what we can to find them."
"I already told you my name, so if you forgot it, that's too bad." Wyanet says with a sniff to the air once more, watching the two brothers head off through the thicket to find this mystery wolf. "So, a sun and a blue moon in it, huh? Well, I guess I'll have to ask Skelaghe about that. As you see, the three of us don't have anything on our shoulders, because I guess we're not special or something." She says with an amused grin on her face. "You're among friends, so far, now eat the fish and calm down before I knock you out, you being all wired is freaking me out." She says as she flops back down to her haunches, giving herself a stretch of her frame.
Survivor is startled a bit by the drawn sniff from behind himself. Nervous and panicked a bit, even the wolves' customary keen hearing and smelling was dulled to the new pledgeling. Not knowing what else to do, he unleashes a terribly ferocious growl ... not aimed at anyone obvious, but the effect seems to be on himself. His ears perk, his panicked expression turns to a stoic, nearly unreadable statue and his posture, while submissive, changes to a more alert one. In short, he looks much more like the fighter his scars would seem to indicate than the panicked uncertain puppy he was acting like just a moment ago. Looking to Hahtalekin, he says, "If I let an intruder into the packlands with the weakness of my uncertainty, and he causes harm ... then I fear I have already brought harm to the pack," he says matter-of-factly. He hovers over the fish, but he feels undeserving of food. He listens to Wyanet. At her ... command ... he lowers his muzzle to the pescalian, pressing his nose to it. He suddenly snaps his jaws around it, then arches his muzzle skyward for better leverage and, with a few large bites, the fish is downed quickly.
Kezu lowers his ears, snuffling over the boulders... leaping atop one... and peering across the landscape... baring his fangs at the sunlight, his wet fur holding close and tight to his form, as he glares up at the sun... before turning his eyes downward. "Well... I have one thing to say..." And his voice booms out, carrying far and wide. "If one is so impolite as to trespass and not make himself known, they deserve to have their neck snapped!" And his brows furrow, as his pupiless eye... begins to... open, truely open, his pupil widening out into a tangible hole.
"If that it the case, then we will tend to it then." Hahtalekin says as he looks towards Survivor. "But for now, relax yourself." His ears jerk as Kezu calls out, and the black wolf departs from the side of Wyanet to head towards his brother, muzzle wrinkling until his teeth begin to show. He sucks in deeply through his nostrils, trying to pick up any scent, his voice muttering gruffly towards Kezu, "What is out there? ...who is out there?"
"Look at it this way, Survivor, or whatever your name is, if someone you don't know comes on to the lands, and they refuse to give you their name, I don't care if they say they know the God's themselves. They're obviously not being reasonable. In my opinion, you give them hell. Either they tell you their name by courtesy, or you beat it out of them, or chase them off. I don't want morons hanging around, trying to act pretentious, or important, thinking they don't have to give a name here at the territory." Wyanet says with a loud snort as she watches the scarred wolf eat. "I think you did the right thing by howling for us. Skelaghe seems to trust you, which means I have to trust you, so, there you go, I trust you.. so far." She says as she curls her tail about her haunches. With a motion of her head, she says, "Haht', and Kezu, are my mates." Both? Well now. "They're good wolves, and I'm sure they would like to get to know you better."
Survivor nods, still in his stiff-warrior-stance. "I think it would be eminently beneficial for me to know all who are Ute, and friends of Ute. It is ... difficult, not knowing anyone, knowing whether I should bite a tail and hold them here or obey one who claims kinship to the pack."
Kezu bares his fangs a moment longer... before huffing and turning his head to peer at Hahtalekin, huffing. "... It's hard to see. The scent. It's really thin. I see a bit here, and there, and further along, but it's like it's... dotted... almost like, half the time, he doesn't have a scent. It's strange." He huffs at that, closing his eyes. "Moon on the shoulder huh...? So it's him, coming out of the mist."
Hahtalekin curls his lips up fully, the hackles along his neck bristling and raising, the black fur blazing burnished copper at the tips. "I have no taste for mysteries and magics. What ever happened to good, normal wolves? Wolves not touched by spirits and... madness." He snorts out loudly, a deep and grating growl escaping from his scarred throat. "I am tired of chasing phantoms. Brother, tonight, we hunt. If a stranger rests in these lands, than I will stalk each shadow until I find where they hide."
"You get me so hot when you talk like that, Hahtalekin." Wyanet says with a broad grin on her face, tail wagging back and forth quickly after her stretch, then lets out a loud yawn, jaws splitting wide for a moment. "Me? I'm going to head back to the den and peek in on the puppies, and ensure that they're still sleeping peacefully. Maybe take Survivor with you on your hunt. He looks like someone that can handle himself." She says as she makes her way past him, allowing her shoulder to brush his for a moment. "Welcome to the Ute, warrior." She says with a grin over to him, before heading through the grass.
Survivor cocks his head toward Kezu. "'Him'? You ... do know this wolf?" He bows politely to Wyanet at her welcome. "Thank you, Wyanet. I hope I can prove worthy of the many blessings and graces I have caught whiff of already in Ute." He looks to Hahtalekin and Kezu. "My blood, flesh, fangs and claws are yours to command," he pledges. "Lead with honor, and anything I sacrifice reduces my dishonor."
Kezu huffs as he claws at the boulder underneath him, rrrrling forward, as if angry at something, before rolling his shoulders, grinning at Haht... "It will be a good hunt." He agrees, passing a glance to Wyanet, chuckling to himself as he looks forward... bounding from the boulder with a slash of his tail. "Come on then, if you're coming... we'll teach you how to -really- hunt." As he cocks his head torwards the outlying lands. "I saw a wolf with a moon on his shoulder with a certain dog, that I particularly want to stop existing."
Hahtalekin turns a sharp, blue eye onto Survivor, his gaze blatantly scrutinizing and judging before he nods, a subtle gesture perhaps meant more for himself. Tail whisking skyward, the scarred black wolf tips his muzzle up and his harsh voice sounds out a loud, reverberating howl that carries across the landscape. It's a dark and feral sound, promising a swift run and the taste of blood, and then without a further word he pushes off the ground and begins to take off into a long, ground eating lope, settling into the effortless pace that'll carry him through the night.
Wanagesska - Adolescent Male Wolf.
Kezu - Male Wolf.
Hahtalekin - Male Wolf.
Wyanet - Female Wolf.
----
Survivor is a newcomer to the Ute, but Skelaghe has passed along the word that a strange scar-covered male who goes simply by Survivor has formally been granted permission to be in the packlands, and has pledged to serve as a pledgeling-omega. It is rather hard to miss that Survivor is the wolf, as there is no hiding his scars -- fur is completely absent from them. Some might find it ugly or scary, but in contrast to what some might think of this, the male has properly expressed omega-submission to all members and friends of the pack, and presently is silly-like rolled on his back in the softness and fragrance-laden Clover Lawn.
Wan had been in the territory for some time, though the pack was mostly unaware of his presence, thanks to his silence and heavy dampening of his scent as performed in his training. With little cover in this place, he remained among boulders, rather stop them and low to minimalize himself being scene. First and foremost, Wan was trained for stealth, absolute stealth as his own father was, in a place very far from here. His ears raised, listening for anything that could be heard, eyes open for anything that moved. He was a hunter, tracker, and most of all on a mission. What that mission was he did not say, only passed by other creatures on his way. The Clover Lawn was one of the strangest places he had seen, being used to greater, grander sights.
With so much of his fur missing, Survivor lacks in physical softness. Though some of his nerves had been lost in the fight that brought him his scars, his patches of bare skin still tend to feel irritated, and goofily wriggling around on his back helps offset such discomfort and irritation with more pleasant stimulation. Between playful snorts and his squirming-squishes through the clover on his back, the newest inductee to the pack is far from silent. Having his need for rolling in soft clover sated for the moment, he rolls back onto his legs, stands with his fur all puffed out from the play, and to absolutely no one but the wind he gives a cheerful, almost puppyish yip.
Wanageeska's ears sensed the frolicking of this creature not far from him. These lands--they were strange. Everyone here seemed more at ease in some sort of unnatural state of utopia, not the dystopia he grew up in. Wan silently climbed over the boulders and finally set his eyes on the one, yes just one, that played here. It was puppyish behavior, but behavior which was rather warming to see. He considered something, but...no. He fully stood on the boulder, looking down at the scarred wolf, the Sun on his own shoulder prominent, though it was likely the other would not notice the small blue crescent moon at its center.
Survivor spots the other wolf, tucks his tail submissively and peceably sits. "Hello there," he woofs up. Wolves are known for very keen smelling and hearing, but vision is another thing, and indeed the scarred male does not notice the sun with blue crescent moon at its center from this distance. "I am Survivor," he greets in a pleasant, soft tone in seeming contrast to his gruff-looking body.
Wanageeska watched Survivor carefully, how easy he stood and greeted him. What an odd name, Survivor. Wan jumped down, yes, jumped down from the boulder on which he stood, his eyes never leaving the wolf before him. "Of what pack do you belong, Survivor?" he said softly. A simple question, but this wolf did not yet give a name. That honor was meant for someone else first.
Survivor answers, "With Alphess Skelaghe's gracious permission granted just yesterday, I am a pledgeling to the pack of Ute. I have no other loyalties." The scarred male maintains a relaxed and submissive posture, neither defensive of himself nor the slightest crouch to prepare to attack nor even give flight. Considering the two wolves have never met, it is actually a bit odd, even if Survivor had been granted permission back the pack alphess to be here, to give such blind-faith trust to another and hold no fear of being attacked.
"Pledgeling," repeated Wan. "What a curious choice of words." The wolf came closer to Survivor, his scent practically non-existant in the wind. What wolf kept their presence so obscure as to deny the right of scent? Apparently, this one did. "Do not cower or bow. I am no superior to you." Wan circled the other once, ears lax and tail rather practical. "These scars...not given to you by wolves, bears, but something else, and more than one." A keen eye, this young wolf. While he may not recognize the specie that caused the scars, he knew how to read them. "And yet you live. Your disposition is not of a fighter which leads me to one conclusion--you were punished. Am I correct in my assumptions, Pledgeling?"
Survivor bobs his head, but refuses to undo his submissive posture. "You read them well, but ... the scars were not the punishment. Being allowed to live, to carry the knowledge of the fatal wrong I committed, in defiance of Luna's ways, was and is the punishment. I fancied myself a fighter, alongside my siblings and young packmates. We were young, reckless and felt invincible. Their deaths came quick and merciful ... whilst I was denied such mercy, for I did not earn it. My guilt, my shame brought their deaths, the complete destruction of our entire pack ... death was and is an inadequate punishment for my crime," he says, neither mopingly nor with hesitation. "I must learn what I refused to before. I know now that surviving is not a blessing, and life is not a gift to waste. I have been on a quest, since I earned these scars, to start anew and understand how meaningless the life of a fighter and survivor is by imbibing the spirit of those whose hearts energize lives other than fighting and surviving." Long-winded fellow!
Wanageeska wouldn't force the other to sincerely stand if he did not feel inclined to, and the story he told added to the fact he wouldn't. "So you come to Skelaghe's land to find this peace," he said. "You will find it here if she is your Alpha. Her name is known a very long way from here as a very kind, generous wolf when opened to friendship." Finally, Wan sat in front of Survivor, his ears kept aloft. "The meaning of a fighter's life is dependent on what that fighter protects, not what it attacks."
Survivor nods his head. "I know nothing, so I fear it may have been my ignorance, but ... I felt Skelaghe exuded the very wisdom I have been seeking since I earned my punishment. I have not gotten to meet any of the pack beyond her yet, but ... she mentioned she cares for a blind cougar cub, and I did witness ... close relations ... with non-wolf canines as well. I believed cougars to be unworthy, mindless hunters there only to menace wolfkind, and that a wolf's duty was to find a way to kill cougars. That is how I and my packmates came to arrogantly attempt to snuff out a small tribe of cougars. We believed wolves are supreme and by our mere existence deserved to rule and dominate all other inferior beasts ... a belief so far from Luna's ways that we deserved no forgiveness from her. I can never repay to her the debt of my crime, but I must -- before she finally grants me a merciful release from all I carry with me -- come to truly know the right way of things. Balance, life, love and family ... a wolf is not a wolf is no more supreme in these things than a cougar or a coyote, and in believing we were, I failed to understand these things at all. I know nothing of them, except that I must come to know them. I believe, without knowing why or how I believe, that in Ute, under Skelaghe, that I can have no better opportunity to learn the true meaning to life."
Wanageeska listened politely, his white eyes watching how he spoke and moved. Cougars? Not an animal he encountered before, but one he knew of through his father. "You speak of Luna," he said. "Is this your name for the moon's goddess?" He had to ask. Information was essential and few other things mattered as much as information. Had he been part of Ute, he'd approve of this wolf being in it. But...Wan was not Ute.
Survivor's cheerful demeanor finally lessens, a look of failure starting to take his lives. "Yes ... though truly, I should not mention Her name, as I have failed her so badly, I am not worthy of Her. Her children -- Her /true/ children -- who know love and life -- are my key to salvation, I feel, to learn all I can from as many of them as I can, and ... though I have passed through so many vast lands, crossed a vast distance from where I started, and in that have seen some strange and freakish relationships in that ... there has never been such a powerful harmony as I have already found here. Wolf and ... dag was it? No, dog she said ... a cougar cub ... and no arrogant wolf supremacism."
Wanageeska watched, still, how the wolf easily fell under his own convictions. "You are on a quest to regain that which you have lost. Mentioning her name is no sin," replied Wan. "There is something I must ask of you, Survivor. This pack, I sense much internal focus. Skelaghe is the one I seek for it is she whom will learn my name first." This wolf before him beat himself up a lot, but in a good way. He built himself on failures and no wolf was strong without them. "Your disposition tells me that you would do this for me, and it would be much appreciated if you did."
Survivor cocks his head, now looking a bit concerned. "You are neither a member nor even known to the Ute?" he asks. Should he be en garde?
Wanageeska's ears twitched softly, that being a good question. "You are right in questioning this, Survivor," he said softly. "Neither member or known, but I know her and her pack through another. It is a message that I must ask you to carry; doing so will help you in gaining your place here and help me achieving my goal." His tone was soft, gentle, non-threatening and otherwise...warm. It conveyed the truth of his mission, which was non-hostile.
Survivor sits, looking much less relaxed despite this unnamed other's non-threatening state. "I ... am in doubt," he states. Was this a test for him of some sort? "I will convey your message for you, but I am ... uncomfortably uncertain ... as to my duties and whether your status is, to the Ute, a friend or unknown intruder." He still does not take an offensive or defensive stance, but he is a lot less comfortable than he appeared a few minutes ago. He looks toward the hill where the alphess had gone, but he was forbidden to go. Feeling pensive and uncertain, he settles on a course of action: sitting erectly, he arches his head upward and howls.
Wanageeska watched. Of course, he'd howl. This was partialy expected, though the actual courage this rather submissive wolf displayed was impressive. Unfortunately, it only put his task in danger as he was to follow it to the letter. "You perform your duty well, Surivor," said Wan, his eyes mating note of the hill. Something important was there, and the wolf had unknowingly given him a hint as to where the Alpha may be, as well as the dens. "Tell her a wolf with a Tobba on his shoulder seeks her audience, a wolf known well to Helaku. Speak this name to her, and she will understand...hopefully." Wan wasn't keen on sticking around for other pack members to show up. This business did not concern them, regardless of how they may feel. He did not turn from Survivor, but walked backwards, into the boulders spread among the land, where he disappeared without a trace or scent to follow. Just as Helaku might, that is, if Survivor ever knew him.
Survivor pensively takes a pace after the male who refused to give his name, trembling. Could have have failed in his basic duty to protect the pack he'd just joined already? The wolf's eyes fill with stress, worry and sorrow. No! Its not fair! He howls twice more.
The howls barely touch the air when first one and then a second howl are voiced in response. The first is high and clear, but the second is harsh, a hoarse rasp, a deep and gutteral sound that is closed by the snap of jaws. Ruddy red jaws that soon appear cresting the hilltop, attached to black face and cold blue eyes. Hahtalekin looks down, tail cresting up over his rump at the unfamiliar voice as he looks down towards the summoner. A glance is passed over his shoulder, ears cocked forward expectantly, before he turns and begins a steady trot down the hill.
Making her way along the hill is Wyanet, striding side by side with Hahtalekin. The timber wolf's ear, and a half is raised upwards upon her crown curiousy, tail swaying back and forth behind her. "That must be Survivor, the one Skelaghe was telling me about. She told me to be nice to him." She says with a bit of amusement on her broad muzzle as she settles down at the side of the black, scarred wolf. Canting her head to one side, she squints her amber gaze. "He seems to be panicky." She says, before pushing off on her paws, making her way down towards the lawn, her tail raised high upon her frame. As she sizes up the brawny, scarred wolf, she takes in the sight of the history of wounds upon him, inwardly cringing for a moment. Eesh. "I am Wyanet." She states simply. "Of the Ute pack, you are Survivor, right? What's going on? Is everything alright?" She asks, catching the scent of something foreign upon the breeze, another male she does not recognize.
The soft swish of water... ears raising from the creek nearby to the west, from the water rising quite the large frame of a dusky black wolf, interspersed with greys, two fish caught in the large jaws of the great wolf, one eye without pupil, without sight... the other, staring forward with great purpose... opposite the other two arriving wolves, grinning to himself as he shrugs his large shoulders... chuckling softly, as he eyes over the two before the two upon the hill... In a way, pincering the guests. He says nothing, simply approaching.
Survivor is looking quite dishevelled. "Yes, I am Survivor ... there's ... a male in the territory ... I haven't even met anyone ... I don't know what to do ... he would not give his name ..." the omega panics a bit. "He had a Tobba. He said Skelaghe knew him ... but Ute does not ... he went that way," he motions toward the boulders." In stark contrast to the great calm he had felt and been with at meeting the gracious alphess the night before, and even just a few minutes ago, the scarred wolf looks to be a bit of a nervous wreck. "I ... didn't know what to do ...! Drive him off? Hold him here? I ... don't know anyone in the pack yet ...!"
Hahtalekin lets his tail settle to a more neutral position as he strides alongside Wyanet, his eyes passing with a quick, professional gaze across the gaunt wolf's battered form before he turns towards the approaching giant. There's a subtle nod and a directed glance that follows the gesture of Survivor before he turns his eyes back onto the nervous wolf. "Peace, stranger." He says with his gruff voice, scarred throat making even his warmest words rough. "We'll see to any other visitors, that isn't a responsibility of yours."
"Hey, calm the hell down, first of all, and take a deep breath. For someone that has 'survived' quite a few ... well... wars, obviously, you seem to have the nerves of a puppy." Wyanet says, practically snapping as the royal bitch of the pack raises her head, taking in a deep breath of air, and catching the scent. "Was it a Tobba of the sun, or the moon? If he was once Ute, he'd have no problem giving his name, or sticking around. I don't like mysteries, mysterious wolves are just asking for an ass beating in my opinion." She rumbles in her throat, before glancing between the two black brothers. "Scout outwards a few yards, see if you can spot this stranger. We'll tighten up the proximity for tonight, and let Skelaghe know what's going on in the morning." She huffs to herself, rather annoyed now.
Survivor answers, "It ... looked like a sun ... with a blue moon inside of it. I ... I don't really know Tobbas. Skelaghe tried to explain them to me last night, but it was the first I had heard of them. I ... I know nothing," he says, "except for one way to absolutely not go about things. Survival is not grand. I vowed to the Alphess last night that my service was hers and the pack's. Surely, my blood must now go to the pack's?" he says. He shakes his head. "Can I at least know your names? I won't be able to handle myself much better if I don't know friend and foe."
Snuff... snuff snuff... A drawing sniff draws from behind Survivor, Kezu dropping the fish beside the scarred wolf's hind paw. "Eat. Calm. Ease your mind, and thus, your body..." The silken, silver voice of the wolf drifts over the wind... chuckling as he turns, and starts moving to the boulders... before, after only five, or six steps, he goes into a full on dash, moving very surprisingly quick for his size. "The smell is so quiet..." He says to himself, furrowing his brows, as he considers to himself...
Hahtalekin keeps one eye on Kezu, no doubt ready to aid him should he need, but he also watches Survivor and encourages him towards the fish with a nod. "I am Hahtalekin, and that is my brother, Kezu. If you bring no harm to the pack, than you'll find no harm from me." He says to the damaged wolf before he looks towards Wyanet. "I'll keep watch through the night, and Kezu and I will see what we can find. If anyone is near, we'll do what we can to find them."
"I already told you my name, so if you forgot it, that's too bad." Wyanet says with a sniff to the air once more, watching the two brothers head off through the thicket to find this mystery wolf. "So, a sun and a blue moon in it, huh? Well, I guess I'll have to ask Skelaghe about that. As you see, the three of us don't have anything on our shoulders, because I guess we're not special or something." She says with an amused grin on her face. "You're among friends, so far, now eat the fish and calm down before I knock you out, you being all wired is freaking me out." She says as she flops back down to her haunches, giving herself a stretch of her frame.
Survivor is startled a bit by the drawn sniff from behind himself. Nervous and panicked a bit, even the wolves' customary keen hearing and smelling was dulled to the new pledgeling. Not knowing what else to do, he unleashes a terribly ferocious growl ... not aimed at anyone obvious, but the effect seems to be on himself. His ears perk, his panicked expression turns to a stoic, nearly unreadable statue and his posture, while submissive, changes to a more alert one. In short, he looks much more like the fighter his scars would seem to indicate than the panicked uncertain puppy he was acting like just a moment ago. Looking to Hahtalekin, he says, "If I let an intruder into the packlands with the weakness of my uncertainty, and he causes harm ... then I fear I have already brought harm to the pack," he says matter-of-factly. He hovers over the fish, but he feels undeserving of food. He listens to Wyanet. At her ... command ... he lowers his muzzle to the pescalian, pressing his nose to it. He suddenly snaps his jaws around it, then arches his muzzle skyward for better leverage and, with a few large bites, the fish is downed quickly.
Kezu lowers his ears, snuffling over the boulders... leaping atop one... and peering across the landscape... baring his fangs at the sunlight, his wet fur holding close and tight to his form, as he glares up at the sun... before turning his eyes downward. "Well... I have one thing to say..." And his voice booms out, carrying far and wide. "If one is so impolite as to trespass and not make himself known, they deserve to have their neck snapped!" And his brows furrow, as his pupiless eye... begins to... open, truely open, his pupil widening out into a tangible hole.
"If that it the case, then we will tend to it then." Hahtalekin says as he looks towards Survivor. "But for now, relax yourself." His ears jerk as Kezu calls out, and the black wolf departs from the side of Wyanet to head towards his brother, muzzle wrinkling until his teeth begin to show. He sucks in deeply through his nostrils, trying to pick up any scent, his voice muttering gruffly towards Kezu, "What is out there? ...who is out there?"
"Look at it this way, Survivor, or whatever your name is, if someone you don't know comes on to the lands, and they refuse to give you their name, I don't care if they say they know the God's themselves. They're obviously not being reasonable. In my opinion, you give them hell. Either they tell you their name by courtesy, or you beat it out of them, or chase them off. I don't want morons hanging around, trying to act pretentious, or important, thinking they don't have to give a name here at the territory." Wyanet says with a loud snort as she watches the scarred wolf eat. "I think you did the right thing by howling for us. Skelaghe seems to trust you, which means I have to trust you, so, there you go, I trust you.. so far." She says as she curls her tail about her haunches. With a motion of her head, she says, "Haht', and Kezu, are my mates." Both? Well now. "They're good wolves, and I'm sure they would like to get to know you better."
Survivor nods, still in his stiff-warrior-stance. "I think it would be eminently beneficial for me to know all who are Ute, and friends of Ute. It is ... difficult, not knowing anyone, knowing whether I should bite a tail and hold them here or obey one who claims kinship to the pack."
Kezu bares his fangs a moment longer... before huffing and turning his head to peer at Hahtalekin, huffing. "... It's hard to see. The scent. It's really thin. I see a bit here, and there, and further along, but it's like it's... dotted... almost like, half the time, he doesn't have a scent. It's strange." He huffs at that, closing his eyes. "Moon on the shoulder huh...? So it's him, coming out of the mist."
Hahtalekin curls his lips up fully, the hackles along his neck bristling and raising, the black fur blazing burnished copper at the tips. "I have no taste for mysteries and magics. What ever happened to good, normal wolves? Wolves not touched by spirits and... madness." He snorts out loudly, a deep and grating growl escaping from his scarred throat. "I am tired of chasing phantoms. Brother, tonight, we hunt. If a stranger rests in these lands, than I will stalk each shadow until I find where they hide."
"You get me so hot when you talk like that, Hahtalekin." Wyanet says with a broad grin on her face, tail wagging back and forth quickly after her stretch, then lets out a loud yawn, jaws splitting wide for a moment. "Me? I'm going to head back to the den and peek in on the puppies, and ensure that they're still sleeping peacefully. Maybe take Survivor with you on your hunt. He looks like someone that can handle himself." She says as she makes her way past him, allowing her shoulder to brush his for a moment. "Welcome to the Ute, warrior." She says with a grin over to him, before heading through the grass.
Survivor cocks his head toward Kezu. "'Him'? You ... do know this wolf?" He bows politely to Wyanet at her welcome. "Thank you, Wyanet. I hope I can prove worthy of the many blessings and graces I have caught whiff of already in Ute." He looks to Hahtalekin and Kezu. "My blood, flesh, fangs and claws are yours to command," he pledges. "Lead with honor, and anything I sacrifice reduces my dishonor."
Kezu huffs as he claws at the boulder underneath him, rrrrling forward, as if angry at something, before rolling his shoulders, grinning at Haht... "It will be a good hunt." He agrees, passing a glance to Wyanet, chuckling to himself as he looks forward... bounding from the boulder with a slash of his tail. "Come on then, if you're coming... we'll teach you how to -really- hunt." As he cocks his head torwards the outlying lands. "I saw a wolf with a moon on his shoulder with a certain dog, that I particularly want to stop existing."
Hahtalekin turns a sharp, blue eye onto Survivor, his gaze blatantly scrutinizing and judging before he nods, a subtle gesture perhaps meant more for himself. Tail whisking skyward, the scarred black wolf tips his muzzle up and his harsh voice sounds out a loud, reverberating howl that carries across the landscape. It's a dark and feral sound, promising a swift run and the taste of blood, and then without a further word he pushes off the ground and begins to take off into a long, ground eating lope, settling into the effortless pace that'll carry him through the night.