Jun 7, 2015 20:34:55 GMT
Post by Shard on Jun 7, 2015 20:34:55 GMT
Darkness fell over the vale and the moon began its ascent into the ebon night. Across the glimmering, crystalline waters of the Gray Lake, a wolf stood upon an isle. He was massive in stature and in presence and his body language emanated confidence. As the howls of outlandish canines penetrated the air, he began to run. Massive paws thundered powerfully against the earth, his impressive muscles rippling beneath his pelt. The ground beneath his pads was a blur as he crossed it briskly in athletic, loping strides. Keen to investigate the origins of these disturbances. It was not the first time that Tor had noticed howls in the vicinity, but he had not been ready to confirm his suspicions then. Now, it was different. Now he was absolutely determined to discover if, as he suspected, these howls belonged to the wolves of the other packs in the legend.
Soon, he emerged from the leafy thicket and bounded onto the shoreline, leaving colossal paw-prints in his wake. As soon as he broke out of the tree-line, he saw them. A small group of wolves arranged on the opposite coast, the moonlight reflecting off of their fur and illuminating them like a beacon.
"Most definitely pack wolves." Tor murmured to himself, a slight grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth. Straining his ears to listen, he could catch none of their conversation, the wind wasn't blowing in the correct direction. Stifling a growl of frustration, he planted his feet firmly on the ground, a little apart. Then, gathering a large breath, he threw his head back into the air and released a low, thrumming howl, alerting all in the proximity to his presence. A neutral howl, not welcoming but not hostile either.
Then having given his signal, he padded right to the edge of the coast, until the cool waters lapped at his front paws. His ardent amber eyes pierced through the night, stoic. Tor wouldn't give himself away. Perhaps he would begin to enact his vengeance tonight, but there was no way he was going to give his victims any sign of hostility until it was too late for them to react. Besides, there was no reason for him to attack straight away, this required careful planning and it might be beneficial for him to learn about his prey before he slaughtered it. Tor didn't want a war if he could help it, a war would mean casualties on both sides, but it was a risk he was willing to take to restore his ancestors' honour. He must confirm first. If these wolves were indeed of one of the other three fabled packs, then it would mean that everything he had been told was true and that the fury that had laid dormant in the pit of his stomach was justified.
Completely assured, the Herculean wolf began to stride forwards, until the lake encased him. Crossing the lake was a feat that Tor undertook practically everyday and his muscles were well accustomed to it, allowing him to glide gracefully through the current. His enormous toes were spread, signifying his refined swimming technique and his thick, waterproof coat kept his skin completely dry beneath it. Swiftly he made directly for the cluster of wolves, almost as at home in water as he was on land. This would be the time for him to find out, for certain, if the legend was true.
Mentioned: The Shriners, Red (howl).
Tremble, little lion man,
Addressed: All in the vicinity (howl).
You'll never settle any of your scores
Your grace is wasted in your face,
Your boldness stands alone among the wreck