Bargain (OPEN/PLOTISH!)

[Sivoncé™]

(If two Blood Misties would want to hop in behind Assyria, that would be great; it would reall ybe nice if whoever pops in first would throw someone in )

Carpe Diem....sieze the day...
The time was ripe for something explosive. Blood Mist had never made a formal alliance since the ancient times, where they were practically united with Night Mist. A smirk formed on the femme's lips. Ironic, isn't it? But perfect. Fitting, even. The Yozorans are the direct descendants of Night Mist, they just changed their name once or twice...
With the 'normal' way of pack life falling apart around them, how easy would it be to get the remaining Yozorans to embrace their own history? How easy would it be for them to change their name again?
The russet-furred femme padded calmly towards the Yozoran camp, two of her warriors flanking her. She and her fellow Blood Mists had nothing to fear from these wolves, though they would be majorly outnumbered. It would've been poor strategy to bring a brigade and demand alliance -- she wanted a solid pact with these wolves, not a flimsy agreement. Besides, coming as they did, they appeared confident. And if they were killed, they would return to have their vengeance. After all, would the other packs really help them, now that the old alliance had broken?
The Blood Mist queen strode casually into the camp, and cleared her throat. In a ringing voice, she called out, "I am Assyria, and I am here with two of my warriors to discuss certain matters pertaining to Blood Mist and the Yozoran pack. Where may I find your leader?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

The softness of soil folded easily under the weight of their paws, the Blood Mist wolves ceremonially entering an all-too-familiar territory. Not familiar to them personally, but in the grand scheme of things, it was way too priceless a correlation. Lupus and Verlust, it would seem, were getting back together.
One of the trio, a great hulking brute with broad iron shoulders, eyed the camp with the blankest of expressions trained on his muzzle. As if eternally unimpressed with what the world had to offer, Macabre walked with a casual confidence that almost diluted his enormous size.
Almost.

“What the—Blood Mist? In our camp!?”

The stone walls could hardly barricade the climate of illness that wreathed the den, surrounding a single, lopsided figure in the center of the housing. The air was thick with an almost tropical flavor of humidity, and no amount of labored breathing could pacify the wrath of his fever.
Or, at least, he assumed it was a fever. The black wolf shook his great mane, an aged tiredness rising to his eyes—his eyes, not the demonic shell that was so keen to consume his soul. On your feet, old man. Bain dragged himself to a stand; what had happened to the last couple of days? It was a blank slate, an infinite expanse of emptiness as far as the eye could see. Like ink spilling over freshly graffitied parchment, the words had vanished—the knowledge had vanished.
And why did he feel so ill?
…they can’t see me like this, not in this time. But… maybe I should have Slip take a look. Just a precaution. I’m… getting too old for this.
A slight commotion rustled distantly from his ears, and his eyes flashed open. Something vaguely familiar, yet far from recognizable. And yet, the sound was almost soothing. Like a lullaby. Feeling a bit sleepy, too… should go get… Slip…
On your feet, old man.

(( I don’t actually have any free regular Yozorans, so random generated wolfies FOR THE WIN… but seriously, if anyone would like to step in on that part… xD ))

[Sivoncé™]

(This is totally open to everyone, so please jump in peoples )

"Blood Mist? Where, where?! Are we being attacked?!" A ripple of alarm swept throughout the Yozoran camp. Mary and Plum poked their heads out from the sleeping dens, eyes wide and fearful. Their sights locked on the approaching trio of Blood Mists and shivers of fear shuddered down their spines. Quivering, the two young neophytes drew back into the shadows.

Assyria's pawsteps came to a stop when she reached the heart of the camp. Her emotionless amber gaze drifted across the clearing as fear breathed over the Yozoran wolves. She couldn't hide the smirk of satisfaction that curved the corners of her lips. Good. They should be afraid.

Olive's heart pattered in her chest. Blood Mist? Here? Instantly, her eyes went to her daughters, Mary and Plum, and she feared for them. The Yozorans, through the wear and tear of Blood Mist and a growing trend of desertion, had thinned in numbers. There appeared to be only three of them now, and they said they only wanted to talk, but any involvement with Blood Mist could only lead to more death. If there's more of them, they could have us wiped out in half an hour! Who would help us, now that we've turned our backs on the other packs? Olive had mixed feelings about Bain's decision on the last battle. True, it had saved them more death in the short-term, but what about the long-term? They no longer had a single ally in the valley.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

…attacked?
The world was too hazy, colors meshing and thoughts blurring into incomprehensible slurs of emotion. It was nausea of the mind, and even as his feet planted steadily onto the ground, he was hardly aware of the earth at all. We have company. The comfort of forfeiting control to some other being guided his eyes to the cavern entrance, and within the minute, the ebony brujo peered out into the camp, his features naked of any headdress.
Assyria.
Assyria.
Bain blinked harshly, glancing about at the sight of his comrades either cowering or uncertain. Understandably so, but also disappointing. The Yozorans were weakened to the point of practical extinction; any sort of foul confrontation with Blood Mist could very possibly exterminate the pack as it stood. His brow lifted, noting the number of wolves, but still confused as to their purpose. For the time being, the Alpha remained in the shadows of the den’s entrance, but the darkness could hardly shield him forever.
Besides, with the pack’s life on the line, some diplomatic courtesy was in order.
“We were not expecting guests, but I suppose something can be accommodated…”
His voice was on the hoarse side, with a sickly shade to his vocals that he was unable to completely conceal. Whatever they want, they better not start any trouble.
Far from it. Let them in.
He made a motion for the newcomers to enter his den.

[mudmudmud]

This place seemed familiar. Maybe Aerowyn had dreamed it or told him about it before. He was blind, metaphorically, following behind his two pack mates like a lost pup. Humpfry wasn't so used to doing things on his own or without guidance from another, only completing tasks after countless hours of orders being barked or insults being thrown. Despite this slight weakness, the large, smoke-like wolf was frightening. He didn't say much and he didn't lead, but he could break through fur, muscle, and bone in a matter of seconds. Isn't that all that really matters?

***

Quietly, a petite, dainty wolf made her way toward her pack mate. When she sat, for just a moment, she prayed. Oh Golden Wolf, please help us in this time of need. Lead us not toward evil, but toward goodness in Your favor. Amen.

Rochelle leaned toward Olive. "Are you knowledgeable about what subject this is of?" It was true that Rocky had a rather peculiar way of communication.

[Sivoncé™]

Olive trembled slightly, mouth hanging agape. He's letting them in, just like that? Of course, it would do no good to kill the Blood Mists here, even though they could do so. Rumor had it Assyria had actually died a bloody death in the previous battle -- and yet, there she stood, solid and malicious as ever. I wonder if they reincarnate faster the more they're cut down... Olive had to turn away in order to swallow the bile rising in her throat. Her fretful eyes landed on Rochelle's confused ones. Shaking her head sadly, she murmured to the other she-wolf, "I don't know much more than anyone else does, I suppose. Nothing is certain anymore, all it is is rumors. After Bain kept us out of the last fight with Blood Mist, I guess it was a given something would come of it, but nobody really knows what. I thought for sure the other pack leaders would come to our doorstep, looking to persuade us to their side. We're so weak, though, we really can't afford to be taking sides anymore. Whatever keeps us alive...." Her words trailed off as she watched the Blood Mists respond to Bain's welcome. Is living really worth it if you have nothing respectable left to live for?

Lyell sat down on Olive's other side, casting a dark gaze over the Blood Mist triad. I don't like this....I don't like this one bit. He looked across the clearing to the frightened faces of his two daughters, Plum and Mary, and then forced himself to look away when sharp tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't help but wonder if they'd live to have children of their own.

Assyria dipped her head in assent to Bain's call, and led her brethren forward, eyes flashing delightedly across the dumbfounded features of the Yozorans. Welcome to your new destiny...brothers. Before she took her first step into the alpha's den, she paused thoughtfully. Time to clear the air. "By the way," she spoke casually to her audience, "Babylonia is gone." I'm queen now. She slipped into the shadows of Bain's cave.
At first, she found the figure before he scarcely recognizable. For one thing, she had never truly seen the face of this wolf. She had met with the rather charming mastermind once before, of course, but that was when he was in the form of Hades. Up until now, she had assumed the dual identity was a guise he was forced to operate under until the Yozorans were properly prepared for the revolution that was to come; now, looking at his dilapidated, sickly figure, Assyria was scarcely sure she had the right wolf. Nodding curtly to Bain, she took a seat and swept her tail across her paws.
"And so we meet again. But what am I to call you now? You seem to be a familiar stranger at present."

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Of all his years, he never appeared more aged than he did now. Weighted heavily with mounting exhaustion, he led the trio toward the back of the den, pausing halfway to murmur, “If this is truly a genial visit, I’d prefer if your companions would remain at the entrance—one on one, if you will. It is a rather small den, after all…” His voice was noticeably higher-pitched and hoarser than that of Hades—as if the skull had deepened his throat, sharpened his senses, and tensed his muscles. At present, he appeared helplessly ill… and, for the most part, he was.
“A familiar stranger? Amusing talk for one of Hellfirian ilk. Assyria, is it?” A flash of the eyes, caught somewhere between gold and chocolate-crimson, but nearly incomprehensible besides. “‘Bain’ seems appropriate enough for this conversation, I would say. Lest rumors of other names transverse these walls.” He glanced about, the world still sideways within his vision, as if waiting for some ghost to filter through this stone cage.
“…in any case, what’s this I hear about Babylonia?” His gaze narrowed a bit. “Family troubles?”
His head lowered sharply (though little), as if some headache had seized his skull. Play nice with the lady. Rest your tired eyes, and sleep.

[Sivoncé™]

What's he playing at?
Assyria couldn't make him out. With a swish of her tail, she signaled for the other two Blood Mists to take up posts just outside of the den. She was glad to have them away from her for the time being; with his current state, Assyria was beginning to fear Bain would not be so easy to bargain with as she had hoped. Frankly, she wouldn't recognize him at all if it weren't for the fact that she knew Hades had kept the Yozorans out of the last battle at her request. Who else would have such powers besides the alpha himself? Her amber eyes searched his, half-amused, half-inquisitive. "Well then, Bain it is, then. I hope you take no offense, however, to my preference of Hades. I find him to be quite charming. He had some very interesting ideas on the workings of this world....I'd come to think of him as a friend of mine, you see. I was very much eager to meet him again." Assyria's head tilted slightly as she analyzed his strange speech. He spoke to her as if he'd never personally been acquainted. For a split second, Assyria felt fear clog her throat as she wondered briefly if she had the wrong wolf.
Eyes narrowed, she growled coldly, "I have no interest in Bain. What might entice you to allow me to call you Hades?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Absurdly enough, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open, as if a haze of noxious fumes had descended over them, and rendered him seeking nothing but silence. …no… pay attention, old man. You can sleep when this is over with.
Make haste, now—she is addressing you, friend.
His brow kneaded, his stance shifting to rouse him from the temptations of slumber. But the conversation itself was more than peculiar. “I’m afraid there is no ‘Hades’ in this pack, miss. Now, if there is some Hellfirian custom that involves taunting a pack wolf and switching their names about, I’ve never heard of it, and I’d rather not partake, if you don’t mind. Bain will do. You’ve done an excellent job of shoving us around already…”
Somehow, after speaking the foreign name, an ashy residue crept up his throat—not visually, but by some imaginary taste—and the word all at once became… not so foreign. Whatever train of thought he was following began to slip from his grasp, as if his jaws were decomposing as he spoke. A troubled expression seized his features, and he mumbled something along the lines of, “…it does sound… familiar…”
Sleep, Bain. Sleep.
He winced slightly, glancing vaguely over Assyria and toward the den entrance, pupils shriveling at the sliver of light that meandered through. He felt himself sliding before it happened, but whatever will he had to stop it had been absorbed by some spectral sponge of some sort. Or something.
By the end of it, he was lying down, regarding Assyria with an almost glassy expression.
Don’t I know you.
Don’t… I…
Somehow, by the conclusion of that thought, he ended up leaping at Assyria with fangs flashing like violent pearls through the air.

[Sivoncé™]

Assyria blinked back at the sorry excuse for a wolf with disbelief and disdain. How could she have been so blind as to think such a mangy scrap of fur could really be Hades? He was useless, sickly, frail, and elderly. What use was he to her? Decisively, Assyria rapped her claws against the den floor as he babbled on. All right, then. Guess we'll just have to kill him and take out the Yozorans altogether. Such a shame. But as she prepared for the killing strike, a sudden change in his movements caught her off guard. Her attentions snapped back to him as he laid down before her, staring up at her with hollow eyes that stared forward at nothing. Assyria found her heart racing and skin crawling.
What is this wolf? He's very old and ill -- he could be in the first stages of dementia and is trying to hide it from his pack. Tenatively, she stretched forward to sniff the stilled figure. Is he dead, or just dying?
Suddenly, he surged forward. She yelped in shock and pain as blood spurted from fresh slashes across her maw. Shaking in shock, she took a few anxious steps towards the mouth of the den, eyes wide as she behled the tortured Yozoran alpha. As she recovered herself, she snarled back at him.
"Get yourself together, Hades! It's time for you to decide what side you're really on!"

[featherswift]

Amber eyes followed the Blood Mist's as they entered the camp. The pack seemed frightened of them, but his form didn't tremble. Jolon was stepping up for them, bravely taking a threatening paw towards the group with teeth showing. Bain had caused this for sure and Jolon was getting mad.

When Bain decided to let in the Blood Mists he watched from the outside of the warrior's den. Two Blood Mists stood outside the entrance as Assyria entered where Bain was. Right here and now his points to Trianna were being proven. The pack had no more pride or wants to resist. Yozoran was a small pack that couldn't face the whole of Blood Mist, but that didn't mean they couldn't force them out of the territory without drawing blood.

See this is what we get for not siding with the other packs, fear. Jolon blew out air in contempt towards the den of Bain and where the Blood Mist scum were. The leader of the Blood Mists was here, at least from what they had all just heard. The dark wolf walked towards Olive's group with eyes sending daggers towards the Blood Mists. "They are probably here to discuss terms with Bain because we didn't declare our loyalites in the battle," he said for their ears, answering the question that filled the air around the camp.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

The barricade had already crashed upon them, between them, announcing its arrival with a crimson spray across the cavern carpet. Whatever Assyria had to say was lost upon him; Bain was lost.
Consciousness flowed like a film reel—no, more like waves at high tide. Images, tastes, thoughts—they swelled and ebbed and carved into the fragile shoreline. Some sort of tempest rampaged just off the coast, and the long out-of-commission lighthouse blinked weakly at the reaper’s encroaching stare.
Whatever macabre festivities unfolded in his mind, however, the molting creature seemed outwardly amused with it all. It had neither rhythm nor rhyme, no discernable motivation, and yet, a trill of amusement rumbled from his chest. The specter, so certainly close to death moments before, began to quiver with a hyena’s applause, and grew only more passionate in his vocalizations with the second.
Where am I, friend? Can’t you see me?
It was too hilarious, wasn’t it?
Still purring, the creature stood and began to frantically shred at the shallow mound of rocks toward the rear of his den, until they finally submitted under his persistence. It was a small opening, but the brute, thinned from age and ill health, contorted himself almost unnaturally until he was able to slip through the escape route he had carved out of the cave. There were only a small bundle of briars and thickets to witness, really, from the outside of the camp, but a peculiar mound of bones—presumably the remains of hunts, what little there was—leaned up amongst the trees. Greedily, like a child at Christmas, the demonic silhouette dived hungrily, manically, until he surfaced with his most precious of tokens.
Toss’ skull, smiling delightedly up at them.
Initially stilling his breath, then deeply inhaling the scorched scent of decay from under his bone hood. Just allowing its presence to charge his lungs with a new vitality. New memories.
Another guttural noise, presumably a chuckle. Different now.
[glow=maroon,2,300]“You seem to forget, Assyria… that there are no sides.”[/glow]

[mudmudmud]

Humpfry had tensed, confused as to what he should do in a situation like this one. His leader had gone, leaving him to stand beside another warrior without instruction. Nervously, he kneaded his paws into the ground, waiting for any signal whatsoever. A crash from inside took him by surprise, sending him to his feet. Again, he looked toward Macabre and back to the den cautiously. He hadn't taken any action yet, tensely waiting for the bark of an order or the howl of instruction. An apprehensive whine rose slightly in his throat.

***

Rocky's jaw tensed at Assyria's words. She looked upward in irritation. Had their God left them alone in this? The Golden Wolf had been with her through everything. The night her mother died, her training to become a warrior alone, even her birth, he had been there. So, why was he absent now, when her pack needed him the most? Was he angry at the mass of non-believers? Was he angry with her? Bitterly, she muttered under her breath. "Strong, we seem to be. All is not lost, for dear stars still twinkle and happy moon still shines. Evil can not breathe when good does not even seem to be present. At today's time, pleasant is nonexistent and this makes unhappy seem..." With a distant look in her eye, Rochelle trailed off.

[Destiny]

Many moons had gone past since the ancient wolf''s paws had trod across these familiar rocky paths. Quixotically, the pads of his great feet, once cracked and battered from old age, were smooth, leathery - like those of a full-grown proeliator once again. Camouflaged perfectly for the terrain, he had spent several days on the outskirts of Yozoran territory in order to mask himself once more in the scent; not that it had ever completely left him. Such things cling like burrs, after all.

With painstakingly careful movements, he had traversed the forest surrounding the old pack camp, relearning every nook and cranny, dedicating the quietest means of reaching it to memory by nightfall, when those left inside slept peacefully. Or fitfully. He had begun to wonder just how many remained from the days of old; everything depended on one of a very small group of wolves being within reach. Truth be told, the plan had been to lay in wait, for as many days as it took, until the desired fellow came in the proper direction at the perfect time. Things change, though.

Blood Mist? But not enough for an attack, and not in the right formation.. Many years of devising strategic maneuvers involved in hunting and the occasional battle, or simply to keep his mind keen, had paid off. The tactics were all wrong for anything threatening, unless they were just that brave, or just that stupid. Or were the Yozorans just that weak? What are they playing at..

With the grace of a shadow, he was no longer lurking behind some great tree. The movements were confusing. Not fast, but not slow, and not in a path that would take him quickly or directly down into the camp, but one that provided the most cover for his already well-blended figure. After several minutes, he had successfully lurked his way down to the darkest recesses of their home-base, and it was there that he spotted the perfect wolf, in the near perfect place. Pressed tight into the underbrush, masked by their scent and the sticky claws of the shadows, his voice was barely a whisper. "Lyell..!" He prayed that his old trustee still remembered his voice - and that no one else had heard.

[Sivoncé™]

Strangely, Olive found herself calming as the hidden meeting between Assyria and Bain progressed; her ears had captured none of the sounds of struggle that Bain had caused during his transformation into Hades. Her mind was far from settled -- it was whirring a mile a minute -- but outwardly, she was able to compose herself. She dipped her head in welcome to Jolon. He seems a little bitter, she realized. Of course, most of us are. I probably would be too if I wasn't trying not to be. She smiled sadly at her packmates. Yozoran spirit was at an all time low, but as long as they were determined to keep it alive and burning, it would carry on no matter what the circumstances.
"I know this sounds strange, but things aren't ever going to be as they were ever again. We had to sit out of the battle so we wouldn't get ourselves killed trying to take out an enemy that reincarnates. Maybe if we strike some sort of accord with Blood Mist, we can find out why they reincarnate. Whatever move we make might be dangerous, but we're Yozorans for cripes' sakes, we're just as capable of being sneaky as they are!"

Lyell's ears twitched as a voice reached for his attention from someplace out of his view. With a furrowed brow, he turned to scrutinize the source of the noise. He saw no one, but his senses told him he hadn't just been hearing things. "I'll be right back, I think I ate something spoiled," he murmured to Olive. Briskly, he turned and ducked into the undergrowth. When he could no longer see the camp, he whirled around, eyes scanning the brush.
"Show yourself!"

Assyria pushed herself against the stone wall of the den in an attempt to give the strange creature before her some breathing room. It wasn't Bain anymore -- that much she could tell -- but with the way he had been acting, Assyria couldn't be certain it was Hades, either. At Humpfry's wind, she hissed back at him to be quiet. "I have this under control, just keep the Yozorans out of here!" she growled. And suddenly, Bain was out of the den. And then he wasn't Bain anymore. A smile twitched on her lips at the sound of a familiar, velvety dark chuckle from the back of the den. Slowly, she moved away from her post and strode towards the new opening at the back of the cave. A smile lit up across her face.
Hades is here.
"Of course, of course," she chuckled softly. "Forgive me for forgetting myself. But I'm not the only one who seems to have a faulty memory." She slithered out of the back of the den, coming to face to face with the masked wolf.
"Why did you hide yourself?"