Bighead and the Bird (Ruzan x Lanius - DotW RP)Ruzan Spring was beginning to appear with a vengeance in the mountains. The thaw had come at last, accompanied in force by heavy rains and the first wave of new growth, and life stirred in all corners. The day was a mild one, though there was a chill quality to the air dampened by its heavy stillness. Dark clouds had begun to move in from the west, the edge of the front diffusing the light of the lowering sun. The mountainside afternoon was quickly approaching evening, and a certain Heylian was bringing her day's labors to a close. Ruzan loped along at a comfortable pace, following a branch of the Mountain Vein back toward the main den. The broad river was running wild with snowmelt and the recent rains, and so she kept her distance- no sense in tempting fate. The stunted she-wolf was not worried by the threatening storm; home was not far off, and a little rain would not kill her. Pleased with her progress she allowed herself to
Gift to the Gods (Acheron x Eztli x Miron - DotW)Acheron Acheron sat, frozen, near the entrance of the Reliquary. It had been a strange trip. Not long ago he had entered the Vektreni swamp for the first time, mesmerised by the way the light gleamed on the water's ice-crusted surface. He had been lead directly to a place called "The Nest," where he had been looked over by many strange wolves who had made comments he mostly did not understand. Then, blessed food, and a short nap. All too soon he was awakened to be led on another trek through the swamp by a large, scarred wolf. The sky had begun to cloud over when the scenery gave way to a massive, foreboding peak- far too steep and treacherous for the pup to even imagine climbing under his own power. The scarred wolf did not look happy to be carrying a pup up the cold, windy mountain, but he was dutiful. Acheron had taken all of this in with a numb disbelief; his world was shifting and changing much faster than he could ke
Lost Sons (Dahlia x Hiero - DotW RP)HieronymusThe news of Ambrose's disappearance had hit him like a herd of Bison. Neglecting his duties, Hiero had spent days roaming the territory frantically, calling out for his lost brother. Through Glasmuir to the Southern Gates, around Beithwood to the north, and even a longer trip to Loch Soilse- all had passed by in a frenzied blur. He had barely stopped by the main camp to eat and sleep in fits, and by the end of the week he was near hysterical. His cries to his brother turned to vicious curses, aimed at himself and all of the Gods that he could name. Ambrose would not have left of his own will without a word to his family, he simply wouldn't have, and the unspoken thought of what must have befallen him hung over Hiero's head like the jaws of some terrible beast, unspeakable. This was an unimaginable failure. He would have fought to the death for any one of his siblings, if only the world would give him something to fight!