Brethen, UNITE! ____for all! =D

[Sivoncé™]

The night was not just bitten; the darkness had been savaged and ripped apart by the horrific jaws of the bitterest blizzards. Tall drifts swooped and elevated against trees, ridges, any surface at all. A windy tail of ice and sleet lashed from the sky, which was but a murky blanket of deep gray cloud cover. Not a star gleamed through or could even penetrate the absolute carnage of the storm...
And yet, three lupine figures dared to do what not even the mystic heavens did. The first of the trio was a russet and red she-wolf, young and fresh, and with a carnal lust painted in her shadowed, secretive gaze. She was flanked on her left by a slightly older female, long, lanky, and aptly named Crimson. The third wolf held a Siverian scent, though it was fading swiftly. A traitorous fellow, deep ebony and silver-blue. Though he hid it well, the brute was a victim to fear. A coward to leave his pack. Didn't even have the strength to be of proper use to us, couldn't even spy.... The first female's eyes narrowed as she thought of this. Oh well. We need the warriors.
She tilted her head back, and let out a howl in unison with Crimson and Arkantos. Come to me, brethen!

[shila]

Akiak had left the Destinian Pack, due to the fact he wasn't suited well in that pack so now he roams the nomad lands alone....again. He almost regretted leaving the pack until he heard a howl up ahead. Akiak wasn't sure if he was going to go see who was howling. He wasn't scared if it was a pack calling because he could run away if it was. Akiak trotted toward the direction of the call and spotted three wolves. Hmm....three wolves?What could they be doing in the middle of a hollow? He thought to himself. Akiak was curious about these wolves and so he walked towards them with his head down yet keeping his guard.

"I am Akiak a loner of these lands.......Who might you three be?"

[blazepelt]

Bakar crouched low to the ground as he heard someone sound a howl. He crept forward until the other wolves came into view. He stood up straight, these wolves looked mean and dangerous. Trying to find the courage and pride he once held himself with, he spoke.

"I'm Bakar, a loner. I mean no harm to you, but I will protect myself if I must. Who might you be?"

His voice held the strength of all of his old sled dog team combined, and sounded five times as much bravery as he really had. The sound of it made Bakar feel stronger and braver and he stood even taller.

[aoboco]

((My internet failed the last time I typed this... so I might forget a few things that I meant to write.))

A howl caught the ear of a traveling roamer, a howl calling to brethren. Ears stood straight, black, gray, and white strands of fur standing on end. They swiveled around, catching the fainter echo. What is this? Who is this? The howl was strong, louder than even he could ever be. Father...? The lone thought sparked a small hope in his heart, and drove him in the direction he had first heard the howl, no doubt the direction that they howled from. His usual trudge opened into a stalk, which then opened into a full out run. He had to lift his front legs high over the blanket of snow, push with all his strength against the unyielding curtain of white.

Sinerius, as the monstrous wolf had been named, could see nothing through the thick snow, which only seemed to fall closer and closer together, and started to feel more like ice than fluffy clouds. It didn't matter, really, if he closed his eyes or kept them open. He had no clue as to what direction he was going, the only indicator that he was going the right way in the howl pounding in his ears. White. Black. White. Black. He closed his eyes against the barrage of snow, only to open them again for the off-chance of something new to see.

The howl got louder, and louder. He must have been getting closer. Almost there, he pushed harder, no longer hoping for his father, just willing himself to beat the things that held him back. Nothing could hold him back, in his mind. A little snow should be no different. White. Black. White. Black. White. Black. White. Black. White. Black. Russet? Three forms were barely visible, but they were there. No wonder the howl had reached so far! There were three voices to it. As he got even closer, he felt himself slowing down. Every muscle in his body strained to get him moving, but it didn't help him much. At last, he came to a stop, unable to take another step. A growl rumbled in his throat. What was it that made it so hard to move forward? The stone hadn't gotten too much deeper.

All around him was white, even the three wolves being shrouded. For half a second, he caught sight of two other wolves, drawn from their tracks of life by the same howl. In turn, both of them barked something, but the wind in his ears took away all meaning. Was the blizzard stronger where he was? In hind-sight, he knew that his guts had been screaming the whole way, telling him to stop, to turn back. I'm no coward.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Sinerius wasn't about to back away, even when his heart told him to. Ferocity was in his voice, but he was battling more with himself than the wolves who had dared come out in such weather.

[Sivoncé™]

Triplet broad smiled lit the faces of the howlers in response to the flood that they had drawn in.
"I am Assyria, daughter of Babylonia and Ashur, formerly of Hellfire, and now of Blood Mist," the young female drawled, still positively beaming. Her eyes flashed with interest as she examined the three that had come, one perhaps a young neophyte, with the scent of Destinian still on him, though it was fading slowly. The other was a loner, a local to the lands they'd marked as their new headquarters. And the third had an odd gait about him, seeming to hold his own with thick determination.
This was all completely perfect.
A neophyte to train in our ways...
A local to help us navigate our new lands....
And a strong-willed male. Lovely gatherings, but still, we need more -- where are the other Hellfirians?

Crimson's tail swished and she, too, took in the three that had arrived. "I am Crimson, daughter to none but Blood Mist, formerly of Hellfire."

"I am Arkantos, son of nature, formerly of the Siverians, and now of Blood Mist." Arkantos snickered softly, but his mild chucklings cut off sharp as new, eerier auras became apparent...

Four dark lurked in the premesis, each winding a seperate, meandering way towards the small grouping of wolves. A dark mist seemed to cloak each of them, and as one, they came forth from four different directions.
The first was a coarse, ruffian brute of dark peltage and eyes of glinting hunger. He swiped his pink tongue across his repulsively yellowed incisors, fangs flickering breifly. He took in the other wolves with a swooping glare, like the foreboding shadow of a hawk's wing over a fleeing family of mice. His undead eyes settled on Crimson, addressing the female he was most familiar with. "Merry meet, Crimson.....Assyria, Arkantos.....others. But why do you summon me from me trials and huntings? I find this life rich with fresh blood and throats to be ripped. You would understand my single fear then, that this will fall away as sand at any instant. Time is not on my side, and I have killings to make. Whatever your point is, by all means, reach it now," Regulus growled coarsely, imaptient and flexing his abnormally long claws.

Behind him came a she-wolf of dark satin midnight, making even the darkest of silhouettes seem a light gray in comparison. She remained in the shadows, nothing seen of her but the horrific terror of her gaze. If she'd been glaring, th apocalypse would seem a possibility. Luckily, though her tone was sharp and steely, the female was calm, intent, curious. "What is it that you call me from my lair for, mythic allies?"

The third was much unlike any of the other commanding prescences of the Hellfirians, or their more familiar living allies. However, there was no question of his undead immortality, and his calm, regal walk was a different taste than the others' outright menacing composure. But this did not lessen him. No, the young male was calm and collected, whittled to a fine point like an icicle. There was no telling when he would break and impale those under him. Paris sat at the edge of the surroundings, though couldn't resist, like Arachna had, the urge to show himself. "You rang, oh living dead alliances?"

Ripping laughter echoed throughout the forest, echoing all around the wolves in the midst of the storm. A ragged, shaggy figure streaked into the clearing, halting abruptly and shoving her way between Akiak and Bakar. "Lovely tidings, my dearies! Now, let's get started, shall we? Listen here, all you newbies: we're dead, but, well, not really--"

"Oh, so nice to see you Snare. Now shut the hell up, or I'll feed you to Regulus!" Arachna commanded from her place in the darkness. Her voice held a tangy sweetness.....sweetness dipped in the promise of blood. Regulus tilted his head towards the source of a threat, but shrugged, flashing a toothy grin at Snare. Snare said no more, but the insanity of her laughter never ceased, and it lingered tauntingly in the ears of all in hearing range.

[shila]

Akiak watched as Bakar arrived and another wolf who didn't seem to state his name, but he was sure no one would dare try to intimidate that strong looking wolf. Akiak was glad when the three wolves explained themselves. Although when they did it caught him off gaurd.
Did they just say the were of Hellfire? And what is this Blood Mist they speak of?

Akiak wondered many questions in his head but didn't feel the need to ask them for he was sure all would be revealed soon he hoped. Crimson and Assyria were kind of attractive to Akiak, but Arkantos was truly to intimidating to even act as if the two females appealed to him.
Then four other wolves arrived, at first they were hard to see until they showed themselves. The first wolf was more intimidating then Arkantos and the newest arrival combined. Akiak caught his name to be Regulus. Not only did Regulus look big and mean, his physical deposition matched his personality. Did he speak of slaughtering prey or...wolves?Akiak's mind was racing about this wolf. Then Akiak spotted a stunningly beautiful wolf whose name was apparently Arachna. Though beauty was facing up to intimidating. How could something so beautiful be so intimidating? Akiak wondered. The next wolf seemed a bit cocky and ready to please as Akiak classified him in his mind. The last wolf whose name was Snare as they called her looked like the type of wolf who played by her own rules. Akiak was pushed aside by her and suprisingly she was very strong unlike her appearance. He stepped back in his spot when he was pushed out of the way.

After seeing the new wolves Akiak was ready for some questions and answers. Although he really was overwhelmed by all these wolves who seemed to be forming a pack from the looks of it.
Ok...what is going on here? I am a bit confused....You say your from Hellfire, but how is that possible when Hellfire is for the dead wolves who did bad deeds? Unless you somehow managed to escape or something.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

WeLcOmE tO tHe GrEaTeSt ShOw On EaRtH


As swiftly as the sky would breathe further flakes unto the land, a masquerade of distorted shapes and colors paraded through the bleached terrain. The circus had arrived, with contortionists twisting down below and acrobats soaring overhead as they stirred up such a ruckus that there were no doubts in mind that the residents of the Twilight Realm would be rousing to the sound of their disorderly arrival. And when the ringleader took the lead, the crowd all but went to town. The rowdy nature of the arriving sinners was an event too loud to ignore, and it was only when a few challenging nips at flesh did the chaos dilute into growls and snarls of expectation. It took the wolf many tries to achieve silence, but when the ringleader finally succeeded in her efforts, the circus fell grave and quiet.
How interesting... I finally got them to keep their mouths shut the leader of the group—a lean, ivory fae with pale golden eyes—thought with a trace of disgust. Hopefully they’ll shape up enough to be of use to the new BloodMist...
Tongue sliding between her bloodied fangs, the pale phantom surveyed her traveling party, the helter-skelter formation managing, in the least, to contain the newest additions in the center, and the most loyal and trusted surrounding the outer edges of the group, prepared to spring on their recruits should they decide to reconsider their commitment. Among those imprisoned within the center of the faction were mostly thoroughly alive wolves that had not yet tasted the flames of Hellfire. These included the siblings Frenzy and Temper, who had been recruited from Black Fury’s disintegrating cult. Trailing close behind the two was the silent but lethal beast of a wolf, Macabre. The ominous streaks of onyx along his face and flanks rivaled the white of his underbelly, paws, and muzzle, and he remained utterly void of emotion. Yet even further behind the two wolves revealed a more familiar site: the cowardly ex-Proxy of the BloodMist from Bloodsbane’s reign, Lobo. More of a captive than a recruit, he whined pitifully and caused quite an uproar when he uttered snide comments within earshot of Zeffen, who quickly dealt warning blows to the brute’s jaw. The former apprentice of Mephisto, Magnus, was also held toward the center of the group, but after protesting and receiving a subsequent beating, he ambled onward in silence.
“Is that ‘Lobo’ whelp too much for you, Zef?” sneered Kill, her voice muffled by her following yawn.
Curling his lips in a snarl of disgust, Zeffen quickly snapped, “Why don’t you just keep your eyes on your prisoner… before he runs away again, that is.”
Kill’s grin fled from her features, and a deep growl rumbled in her throat. She glanced briefly at an undead recruit, Morgan, to make sure that he hadn’t fled—he had gotten away before, and it had taken her damn near an hour to find him and bring him down. “Quit talking tough, Zef—we all know that you’re just shaking in your fur right now, wondering where your beloved is right now!” She made an exaggerated swooning motion with her muzzle and torso, and batted her lashes before bursting into mocking laughter.
“Why, you little—”
“Enough, both of you!”
Shiver jumped between them, glaring at them both with such authority that they both backed off in their insults immediately. With a small sigh, she growled again, this time nodding toward a game trail that snaked through the woods. “Right through there, we’ll meet up with the call… now make sure none of our recruits decides to disobey, or you’ll each be down another life, understood?”
After proceeding nods, the two ran off, accompanied by the two other Hellfirians, Oso and Mange, to herd the new wolves toward the brethren cry. Shiver inwardly wondered if Blood would meet them there—she had not heard word of the old gypsy for a long while—but soon shrugged off the thought and took the lead of the parade once more.
With the confident stride of an alphess, Shiver padded into the clearing, leading the ten other wolves to a halt just in front of the others. She offered her gathered wolves a final, pleased glance. Ah, the makings of a new pack, perhaps… It seems I might not be alone in these ideas… no, of course I am not. All Hellfirians have been wanting this. BloodMist will live again!
Snowy fur coiling around the deep scar on her lower flank, she headed toward Assyria, bowing her head first to her, and then to Crimson. “Greetings, my friends,” the Hellfirian femme woofed coolly. “I have brought others to hear your words…” She nodded to the near-dozen wolves that were sitting at the edge of the clearing. Two, however, stood and came to flank Shiver’s sides: Zeffen and Kill. They, too, acknowledged the familiars with pleasant words. Then, they paused and surveyed the clearing, noticing other comrades that were beginning to emerge from the brush.

ThE gReAtEsT sHoW uNeArThEd

[shila]

Akiak heard pawsteps from behind. The thought of even more wolves was very unpleasant to him. He wasn't sure what was going on and he just wanted to stay out of a quarrel with these tough looking brutes. Akiak turned around to see the rather large group who he had heard. He trotted over to an area where it wasn't as crowded and only hoped he could just manage to walk away. What have I gotten myself into?...

[blazepelt]

"Uh... Pardon, but I'm still confused. What's going on? I'm just a mere loner simply just trying to live without getting into too much trouble." Bakar looked from one wolf to the next. Wolves from Hellfire? Impossible. Bakar had always thought it to be a myth, but it looks like he was wrong.

Looking around, he tried to find a place to escape. He didn't want to be involved with this. He wanted to leave and find some food and a nice place to sleep to forget all his troubles.

[Sivoncé™]

(*rubs paws together*
Time to bring Damien & Sylvana out....and Saskia for that matter xD Poor Zef! I think he's still technically alive, too, right? =[ )

As the troops flooded into the gates between the trees, Assyria's eyes gleamed bright with long-repressed triumph. Finally, their anti-climatic dreams would come to a head -- this was going to be the largest gathering of tyrants and bloodlusters the earth had ever had the sinning pleasure to witness. Sheer numbers would crush the packs soon enough, but each of this array were cunning and sly and unpredictable.....the packs seemed but flies they could bat away with their tails now. More were coming....the feeling was in her bones.....
Assyria's head inclined slightly, observing the arriving brigade. Her eyes rested on Zeffen and what seemed an emptiness about the brute... "No Sylvana? Ha....I knew she'd side with him. With that hateful Redfang and.....Damien." She spat the last name through gritted teeth, tongues of flame ripping up and down her throat as she spoke it. Ire growled in her eyes, but a sly smile curved across her face. Let the idiot think that dimwitted fae found a new mate! Let him thirst to kill Damien as well...
Crimson twitched with a sudden anxious burst, eyes shifting uneasily at the mere mention of her offspring. Rosa had made it out, too....she was Damien's equal.....if not the holder of more dominant skills.
"We'll take care of that problem soon enough, Assyria -- don't we have more pressing matters?"
Assyria lashed around to face Crimson, a snarl curling her lip. "Not so anxious to see the death of your only son, Crimson?"
"Okay, okay, I want the whelp dead, too, but we ain't gonna do nothin' 'bout him until we get the damn pack together!" Snare snorted, disgruntled.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

((yeah, Zef is a survivor… and Kill won’t give him a break XP ))

A rush of anguish swelled in Zeffen’s eyes, his form growing rigid at the words spilling from Assyria’s knavish tongue. Sylvana. Redfang. A name he cherished, and a name he knew well… but this Damien figure? Who was this? The stone gray and beige that formed a hood over his face bristled in unease.
“…what did you say about Sylvana?” he whispered softly, approaching Assyria with clouded eyes. "Who is Damien...?"
Kill rolled her eyes in an inconsiderate manner, flicking her long, ash-stained tail in one direction. What a wimp when it comes to faes… at least I know when I get in too deep in a relationship she thought with a hint of arrogance, the notorious flirt smirking a little as she observed Zeffen flooded with concern. What an idiot.
One wolf, Morgan, stood up and stepped away from the collected recruits. The brute inspected the clearing, eyes narrowing as he scented the air. Where the hell is she?
“—hey!”
Kill jumped up from her settled area, jumping toward Morgan and grabbing the fur on the back of his tail. Giving an assertive tug, she hissed, “Get your furry behind back over here, whelp!”
Morgan hardly budged, but when he did not find what he was seeking, he relented and returned to the huddle of newcomers. Kill spat in his direction when he sat down, thoroughly irritated by his actions. He better learn to obey or he’ll be dead within a few days…

[Sivoncé™]

( ;D )

Damien.
The word seared through several in particular of the undead, burning holes of hate, etching soot-stained plans of killing the blood traitor in to their brains. Different motives, maybe, but nevertheless, he was on a hit list.
Crimson glared coldly at Zeffen as he approached. "He is no son of mine."
Assyria merely shrugged as Crimson's sudden flare of disdain. "To be fair, he was more like Redfang's kid. Turned an offspring of Blood Mist dissent...wait....who was the freak's father?" Assyria glanced at Crimson with mild interest.
"Lithium. Rejected alpha from the mountain lands."
Assyria nodded, as if she'd already known. "Well, anyway, he was of good blood. Could've, should've made a Blood Mist elite proeliator."
"But," Snare interjected, voice thick with excitement, "Redfang stole 'em away and taught him. I got his sister, Rosalinda, on the right track. Redfang had this little pack in Tartarus, wolves she was trying to convert into goodie-two-shoes-es. Damien 'n Rosa were like newborns, or something in between, and ripe for her taking. She only got away with one....."
"Wait -- Damien didn't have Sylvana's scent on him when I met him the other day--" Regulus began, then stopped. No other wolf knew about the small brawl between Damien, Regulus, and Sancuel....
"You let him get away from you, Regulus?" Crimson asked, voice blank.
"Blood's daughter. He was with Blood's daughter -- Sanceul. I was trying to convince her to join us. She wouldn't have it, said some nasty shit, so I attacked. And then Damien came in, and....they ran off. Sylvana was in the old pack, and I haven't seen her for ages. I would've recognized the scent of the old pack."
Assyria nodded, taking in the pools of new information. "Wasn't she pregnant? Do you really think Damien would be running about with us on the loose and her scent all over him?" Come on, Regulus, you're ruining my game....it's New Moon. Regulus' is freakishly in love, too. Of course he won't let me do this to Zeffen...damnit.
"She died, remember? She had her pups in the Yozoran camp and died there. That's how she ended up in Hellfire," Snare woofed, a bit miffed at Assyria's apparent "lack of knowledge".
"That may be so, but they were friends, if nothing else. If you're looking for Sylvana, Zeffen, finding Damien would probably be the best option," Assyria woofed, fallacious concern layering her voice now. Time for a new approach.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

((they could make monuments to the addiction that I feel toward this site right now XDXD))

Zeffen stared at the moving jaws of each wolf as they took their turns spinning the tale of Damien, and the fate of his lover. Wherever she was. But each new puzzle piece of information proved only to complicate what the previous wolf had said. Is Damien her enemy? Her friend? Her… mate? No. He did not allow himself to think that far; he couldn’t bear the thought of Sylvana with another male. And when Assyria concluded the discussion with the tidbit that Damein could quite possibly know her whereabouts, he felt words slipping from his tongue before he even realized it.
“Then I will find him,” he found himself growling, eyes darkening with a sense of purpose.
But the words of the Hellfirians had not only roused Zeffen’s interest. Oh, no… the brutish male, Morgan, was on his feet and shoving past Kill seconds after Zeffen had spoken. His eyes were flames; twin smoldering embers with hidden emotions concealed within them.
“Blood’s daughter?” Morgan growled. He was staring at Regulus. “Sanceul… she’s with this Damien, you say?”
How interesting… my dear daughter is still meddling in my affairs even now… This Damien that she is acquainted with will no doubt be a problem for the new BloodMist… but still, I could offer to, say, kill two birds with one stone…

[Sivoncé™]

Assyria restrained a smile that was dying to break through --- her plot was apparently working, at least, to some extent. "Then, by all means, you should go now, Zeffen. We wouldn't want our dear Sylvana led astray a moment more, now would we?" Perfect. We've got someone after Damien, someone who will most likely kill him. And if he brings Sylvana the traitor back, we can kill her for bending her knees to the Yozoran pack. Might as well take out her stupid little daughter, too. That'll probably happen in battle, anyway....
"Dear daughter, you're neglecting to tell poor Zeffen the most painful piece!"
Assyria whirled around, suddenly face to face with the ice-eyed image of herself. A snow-and-gray pelted beauty, lined and skirted with midnight black. Babylonia.
"And what would I be forgetting to tell my dear friend, Mother?" Assyria murmured through gritted teeth.
Babylonia ignored her and smiled maliciously at Zeffen. "That Sylvana was a traitor, of course. She went to the Yozorans to have her pups, Zeffen. What does that tell us?"
"That the few of us that remained after Verlust's fall were scattered and scarce, and that her pups would've died had she not done what was necessary," a voice commented harshly, the black lithe form of Arachna from the tree line.
Babylonia's gaze instantly diverted from the many eyes of the crowd. "Then..." she breathed, voice thick with one of the few emotions she had, "it is agreed. We find Sylvana and ask her of these things. Perhaps she did not leave us after all. I did the same thing with Sumer and Euphrates."
Assyria's ears twitched oddly. That's not true mother, and you know it. Sumer and Euphrates aren't coming back, and they left on their own accord. You've got new heirs coming, just give them up already.
"Go, Zeffen. And that's exactly what I said, Morgan. What's the girl to you?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Bowing his head to Assyria, Zeffen swiveled about and felt his muscles tensing as he prepared to depart. But the familiar voice and the subsequent statement from an arriving wolf halted him in his tracks. Without turning around, he listened to Babylonia’s accusations of his mate without word or revealing a mere trace of emotions. He was a statue, save for his ears, which twitched silently as he listened.
But the information did not affect him, apparently, in any way, shape, or form. He simply managed a brief nod, and burst into flight, eager to begin his search of the traitor, Damien. Whatever you have done, Sylvana, I don’t care… just be safe when I find you…
Morgan, however, remained fast. Looking directly back at the questioning wolf, he replied, “I was, and remain to this day, a good friend of Blood, and was an acquaintance to her daughter before I died.” He relished the fact that Blood had not arrived nor had spoken of her rape in Hellfire, and the fact that no one knew that he was the true father of Sanceul. “Therefore, that girl trusts me more than any of you… and she hangs around with this Damien wolf that you seek to dispose of. I purpose that I go with Zeffen. Together, Damien could be killed and I could convince Sanceul to join us. Blood might even come out in the open—wherever she is—to follow her daughter. Wouldn’t it be nice to have two strong additions and Damien killed? Of course, this is merely a suggestion…”
Morgan sat back down, knowing inwardly that as soon as he got near Sanceul, the only thing he would offer to her was a fang to her throat.