Post by Astriferuus on Jun 2, 2016 6:29:56 GMT -4
The morning was cold.
It was the first thing Yusef noticed as he stirred from his makeshift den. Spring was quickly delving into Summer; the cool air had been dissipating into sweltering heat and heavy humidity for the past few weeks, but now it seemed the world had gone cold again. Like winter had never left at all.
Perhaps the rumors were true. Ever since Man had begun their invasion of the east, Tamarack Forest had gained the reputation of being haunted. Unnatural death left a linger stench in the woodlands. Wherever one could go, they could not escape it. Ghosts, however, were another thing entirely. The Warfather snorted at the thought of it. In his life, Yusef's fangs had claimed as much territory as they did lives, and not one of those lives ever did return from the dead. Weeping families cursed him, their howls of anguish ringing in his ear about how the slain would come back to take him. Even now, the golden wolf couldn't help but tsk aloud. He wouldn't buy into such nonsense.
Dead was dead.
That didn't explain the coldness of the morning, however. Drawn back from his reverie, Yusef rises and shakes the pine needles and moss from his blonde coat. He supposed it was the trees blocking out the sun that had to do with it. The shade provided relief, and for that Yusef was thankful. Summer had never really been one of his favorite times.
He winces softly in mid-shake, hot pain flashing up his left foreleg. Memories instantly came flooding back like cold, icy water through a broken beaver's dam. Multitude of teeth as white as winter suns and just as hot had sliced into his body, tearing away not only his flesh but his right as king.
Ah, right.
Damn peasants. Yusef lapped at the worst of the wound, cleaning the blood that oozed from the open gash in his shoulder. They had the nerve to strip him of his title after all he had done for them. The people he had called family turning on him when all was said in done. His muzzle wrinkled at the thought of it, that he had been used to claim land and safety. And now, throughout all of Aktesh, he was known as the Fallen King. What they didn't know though was if he could do it once, he could most certainly do it again.
Grunting, Yusef limped into the brush, lacking his usual grace. They would see, and in Tamarack Forest, this is where it would all begin.
It was the first thing Yusef noticed as he stirred from his makeshift den. Spring was quickly delving into Summer; the cool air had been dissipating into sweltering heat and heavy humidity for the past few weeks, but now it seemed the world had gone cold again. Like winter had never left at all.
Perhaps the rumors were true. Ever since Man had begun their invasion of the east, Tamarack Forest had gained the reputation of being haunted. Unnatural death left a linger stench in the woodlands. Wherever one could go, they could not escape it. Ghosts, however, were another thing entirely. The Warfather snorted at the thought of it. In his life, Yusef's fangs had claimed as much territory as they did lives, and not one of those lives ever did return from the dead. Weeping families cursed him, their howls of anguish ringing in his ear about how the slain would come back to take him. Even now, the golden wolf couldn't help but tsk aloud. He wouldn't buy into such nonsense.
Dead was dead.
That didn't explain the coldness of the morning, however. Drawn back from his reverie, Yusef rises and shakes the pine needles and moss from his blonde coat. He supposed it was the trees blocking out the sun that had to do with it. The shade provided relief, and for that Yusef was thankful. Summer had never really been one of his favorite times.
He winces softly in mid-shake, hot pain flashing up his left foreleg. Memories instantly came flooding back like cold, icy water through a broken beaver's dam. Multitude of teeth as white as winter suns and just as hot had sliced into his body, tearing away not only his flesh but his right as king.
Ah, right.
Damn peasants. Yusef lapped at the worst of the wound, cleaning the blood that oozed from the open gash in his shoulder. They had the nerve to strip him of his title after all he had done for them. The people he had called family turning on him when all was said in done. His muzzle wrinkled at the thought of it, that he had been used to claim land and safety. And now, throughout all of Aktesh, he was known as the Fallen King. What they didn't know though was if he could do it once, he could most certainly do it again.
Grunting, Yusef limped into the brush, lacking his usual grace. They would see, and in Tamarack Forest, this is where it would all begin.
