The Weakening Balkar

[Nearo]

Large paws landed lightly on the powder snow that draped the entire forest, even the foreboding Balkar lands. Silently the two toned varg made his way through the thick mists of such a dangerous land. He knew where he was, a varg would have to be stupid or blind not to be able to destinguish this territory from the rest of Transylvania. He had come here for a purpous, and the purpous would be granted by the First of the Balkar...as Nearo knew all too well that their numbers and reputation were starting to dwindle dangerously.

A wide grin spread across his slender white muzzle as the male slunk silently through the vegetation, his thick tail held rigid behind him and his head hung low to the ground, black nasal scenting his way towards the grand Meeting Place where he was sure to find a varg...before one found him first and accused him of trespassing.

Ochre eyes glistened as a stray beam of sunlight penetrated through the empty canopy and managed to push through the misty atomosphere. Nearo winced and growled deeply before loping through it and stopping quite suddenly once entering a rather large clearing where a great boulder stood to the North end. His aud cocked and his grin broadened. He'd made it to the Meeting Place, and now he'd have his say.
Throwing back his head he let his wicked call pour out over the land - asking not for Tratto's Blessing, but calling for the great First of the Balkar; Serg.

[Carcharoth]

Since the announcement of War, Sarnes and the Balkar against Deor and Ge-Rad, the large ebony beast had made it his duty to watch over the pack's boundaries and to punish any useless varg that crossed his path. Though, on the chance that he'd taken to slumber through a rather peaceful day, one such varg had crossed the Balkar's terrain and was now within the heart of the pack's lands.
Laying in the shadows beyond the thick layer of misty fog which settled in the clearing of the Meeting Place, the Lead Lacan Carcharoth twitched his single aud relentlessly, both his emerald orb and his milky white blind orb hidden from view behind raven black lids.

But his casual sleep was suddenly disturbed by a shrieking howl that made his spine tingle. The beast's head shot up within an instant and his silvery flecked muzzle pulled back savagely into a malicious snarl. He heaved his massive bulk onto his sturdy limbs and the male bounded from his spot under the bare trees and tore speedily towards the strange male who now stood proudly, his head skywards, before the Firsts' great boulder.
Snapping his jaws and barking furiously at the newcomer, Carcharoth bore his only good eye into Nearo, saliva caking his ivory canines. "What business do you have here stranger? Speak quickly before that pretty little voice of yours is torn from that even more inticing throat," Carcharoth snapped feverishly.

[Serg]

the mud of Sarnes had frozen solid, leaving it easier terrain to walk across, if the watery patches that had frozen over were not slippery. so Serg's second pack was still hazardous to navigate across. lips curling as he picked his way across the solid mud he made that final leap for normal ground, leaping over the borders of Sarnes into the lands of the Balkar. with the threat of the oncoming war pressing ever more on his mind, the First had been sleeping less, patrolling more. constantly trekking from one pack to the other. they would not be the attackers no, this war was not theirs to start. for his plan for revenge was a different one. no, GeRad would attack them, with whatever other ally they could muster. so Serg's priority turned to defence, and with two packs, that was more of a job than any other Alpha in the lands of Transylvania had.

growling to himself and muttering under his breath, Serg slipped into the shadows of his lands. his midnight pelt blending into the dark. his amber eyes like two blazing coals set adrift in an endless abyss of black. the wood was dense here. and little, if any, snow had managed to make its way through the trees onto the ground. mist plumed from his nostrils as he exhaled.

the meeting hollow was where he should be going. he might find his Second Ziev to talk with about their situation of defence. for Serg was not one to mess about. if he had a job to do he would do it. and would not let himself think about nought else.

his ears perked as he picked up the growling tenors of a Balkar varg, an instant later he recognised the voice of Carcharoth. his teeth bared Serg prowled closed, scenting the air as he pushed his way through the iced-over vegetation. definately Carcharoth. and an alien scent. snarling as he emerged out into the open, Serg padded over, the fur along his back bristling.

'what vermin have you caught yourself there my Lacan?' he growled, prowling closer to the other side of the varg. blocking his back exit and pinning him in a position between himself, Carcharoth, and the great rock. if he had been thinking of an escape, all hope was lost now.

[Nearo]

Before Nearo's call could have been finished, the light tremours through earth made his paws shuffle and his lids snap open, their greeny yellow glow flashing instantly towards the charging form of a foreign Balkar male. Taking a slight step back in hesitation from the brute's enormous bulk and size, he knew fine well that this was a Lacan within the Balkar's ranks...and one varg not to pick a fight with. But what Nearo lacked in pure power and strength, he made up for in stamina and agility. He was sly and cunning. Hell he'd made it into the heart of the Balkar terrain without being spotted till now; he knew that had to count for something.
His head lowered from it's high point and grew level with his spine - not a nod in respect nor a bow to the varg larger than himself, but so that his cunning grin could be seen easily with the light flick of his muzzle to the side. "If I were you varg, I'd take a little less force against me than you desire. After all, you do want your pack to grow don't you?" he chuckled in a mad fashion before his eyes flashed and his entire body shifted so that he could see the shadow that was the First emerge from the mist. But shifting his gaze back to Carcharoth, he made sure that from the corners of his eyes, both large and intimidating males were visible.

Cocking his aud towards Serg, slowly his eyes flitted back towards the ebony monster, his grin broadening with delight. Nearo's suspisions on this massive bear-like varg were true...he was indeed a Lacan. Knowing he had what it took to become a Balkar - despite his cocky attitude - Nearo persued with his attempts to enter the pack's ranks. "Oh what a true honour. Your more than wonderful Lacan here has caught himself a varg willing to join your ranks as a skilled Nightenge. Only of course...if you approve," his sarcastic tone and sneering grin would surely have enraged the First of such a disiplined pack...but wasn't personality also part of the job?

[Serg]

Serg snarled, emitted a roaring snarl towards the newcomer and trespasser in these lands. his temper had not improved and his fuse. short enough already, had deterioated much with the looming threat of war, and he was not one to tolerate such remarks, or have anyone in his lands invited. especially at such a time as this. lunging closer, Serg snapped at the varg. jaws wide and gaping and teeth flashing before they swung towards flesh. ivory bone yearning for the sweet taste of warm blood.

'when i wish to talk to you, runt, you shall know it!' he snarled. tail flicking in irritance behind him 'and i will not tolerate such attitude. you wish to join my pack, as a Nihtgenge....' Serg scoffed lightly. then his expression darkened, head slinking low on his shoulders. 'you intrude on our meeting hollow, with no respect for our borders. tell me why i'd want such an impertinent and likely untrustworthy wolf into my ranks, where there is no place for disloyalty.' Serg growled. 'no, no i want you to tell me why i shouldnt just tear out your throat. go on, beg for your life. give me a reason to let you live.' fiery eyes flickered with a devious light. oh he loved this part. a subconcious part of his mind pricked at him. he would need every varg he could get for the war. but that thought had yet to prick through the cloud of anger. and this newcomer had yet to impress him.

[Carcharoth]

Carcharoth's muzzle wrinkled and distorted even further as his snarl pulled back on pink lips, making them turn white with the force. He'd never suspected such talk from such a varg in his life! He sure was lucky to still be allowed to speak with Serg now on the scene. "Hold your tongue back if all you can think of is witty replies varg! Unless you wish your death to come to you sooner than you planned," he snapped irritably, tongue flicking out and licking his nasal as he too lunged forward and snapped just after Serg's lunge.
The Lacan was not made head of the fierce group for no reason. His enormous bulk was not mere fat and loose skin, it hid thick layers of muscle beneath that skin. His massive head held an unbearable jaw power that could have crushed this pathetic varg's skull within an instant. He prided his place as Head Lacan, and he bore it with great dignity. This varg would only suffer at his merciless teeth if he was to continue the way he was going.

[Nearo]

Serg's jaws came flying towards him, and with a great leap to the side he managed to evade them, if only just. But the lunge from Carcharoth he was not expecting, so with a yelp he stumbled backwards, signifying that he had been hit. Snarling angrily at the Lead Lacan he turned his head with a quick movement to observe his shoulder. He had moved quickly enough for it to have just nipped through his skin, but still a trail of his crimson blood began to leak down the side of his leg, dripping off individually raised hairs.
Turning his muzzle back towards Serg he frowned and took a step back. He knew the power of these varg well - and that was his reason for joining the ranks. Kerls where he roamed had whispered of war. War that would strike between four large packs. And the Balkar were one of them. Nearo had long wished to join the ranks of the Balkar, but never had he the heart to even bother. Though with sheer boredom now drawing out his everyday life, Nearo knew it was time for him to make the move...and what better time than just before war?

The grin that had flashed instantly into a defensive snarl now crawled back into a broad sneer as he peered towards Serg, a single aud flexed back so that he could determine Carcharoth's movements and prepare himself if another lunge or attack was made. "I've never needed to beg for my life before sir, and I'm still not ready to do so," he spoke first off - stating a fact more so than making a sarcastic statement. "And if I managed to tresspass into your borders and make it all the way here without being caught until I made my pressence clear, do you not think for a minute that I could be useful to your pack? I am not a memberthis instant am I? So I need not show respect for a Dragga who is not mine. Though I can assure you, respect is something I shall show you Serg if you make the decission of allowing me into your ranks. The right decission," he growled deeply, a more serious tone rather than witty taking over his voice. He threw Carcharoth another glance to make sure that the Lacan was making no moves before slowly bringing it back onto Serg, awaiting to First's choice on the matter.
In the end, if he were to die now...let it be so. At least he tried.