Cry Tratto

[Bane]

Tired paws made their way though the terrain, as the white wolf heaved along panting heavily. He was a younger male, with a black patch on the right side of his face, and a black sock on his left forepaw. His ice blue eyes stared ahead into the dawning of the sun, as he limped heavily on both sides of his body. His semi-large frame held nothing but wounds, clots of blood dried over some suns time. With every move, he felt as if each scab was being torn open again, as blood oozed and trickled over his once white coat, now stained a brown crimson.

It was apparent the Varg was in a recent fight, any fool could see that. It’s the fact that he had been traveling non stop ever since that made his body that weak. Bane growled at himself, he hated feeling so weak, and vulnerable. Bane was the type of wolf, who liked to feel as though he could jump over the moon, so to speak.

Still, rumor has it that it was this way to one of the packs, Ge-Rad, was it? Bane wasn’t sure what to expect, or even know who the Dragga and Drappa were. Apparently they were good hunters, too. Bane stopped and sniffed the air, the scent of Varg was certainly becoming stronger. Bane just hoped that it was the pack, and not any others. Especially Sarnes, for Bane wore it’s stench in his very wounds, and on his claws and in his mouth. They’d tear him apart, for one of their numbers had already tried. Bane could see the anger, the fire burning in her mismatched gold and crimson eyes. But also, he could see the madness that poisoned her mind.

Bane began to move forward again, only to trip and fall. He lay there, weak, until finding the strength to pick himself up and move forward again. A huge sent line wafted the male’s nose, a for- sure pack boundary line. Weak and exhausted, Bane lifted his muzzle towards the heavens, issuing a mighty call to the pack he soon wished to enter. Tratto’s Blessing, they called it. His strength quickly escaping, a short yelp escaped from his maw at the end, and the brute collapsed onto the ground he only hoped was Ge-Rad.

[orin]

At first she was sure it was her imagination, yet the scent grew more and more notable as she padded onward. Blood.
Amaya’s ebony ears drew forward as she thrust her nose skyward and drew in a deep breath of air through her flared nostrils. Yes, it was blood. Old blood, but from who? The smell over powered the identity of the wounded stranger, masking it from the keen nares of the warrioress. Of course she immediately went in search of the source, it could be a Ge-Rad member, or maybe a Night Hunter looking for trouble- a howl sliced through her thoughts, the tone was strained and foreign. Quickly Amaya caught the sound in her auds, listening as the words ‘Tratto’s Blessing’ were spoken. No she did run.

The stranger was a white young dragga, a splash of white was painted across one side of her face. Wounds scored his sides, some went deep. Most seemed to have stopped bleeding, others still oozed the red liquid a little. The smell of death seemed prominent in her nostrils but this Varg was not dead, yet.
Cautiously the black Warrior approached, her muscle straining, ready to switch into action if this stranger promoted any danger. Yet he didn’t, in fact he seemed to truly be un conscious. Silently Amaya scolded herself for being to paranoid at times and turned, padding off a little ways. From her memories she recalled Lydair- the Ge-Rad’s Healer and Beta using cobwebs on open wounds to stop the bleeding. The fae found some and carefully caught them with her muzzle, returning to the Mann’s side and scratching the webs from her snout and gently swiping them across a few unhealed wounds. It seemed a fairly feeble attempt and looked more like she had aided the wound in looked even worse, so she sighed and decided to try carry him to where she may find Lydair.

Lowering herself Amaya got her muzzle underneath the Varg and some how managed to get him onto her back, standing: She bounding off into her homeland, howling a warning to the Ge-Rad as she did so.

//Crapping post. Writer’s block.//

[Lydair]

The Beta femme did, too, catch the prominent scent of blood, repugnant in a healthy land, and the courteous –though weak- howl that accompanied it. A frown curled her muzzle and she lifted her head, wondering from what creature the odor was produced from- lera or herla. Parting her jaws in an effort to taste the scent and elect what animal the blood originated from, she started. That was not the smell of blood from prey. It was that of a predator. Of the Varg.
From her stand-still the dark cobalt fae lunged into a swift lope, her white-splashed pillars pummeling the earth; the emerald shoots of grass pricked at her rough pads as the ground disappeared from her paws, beneath the endless cycle of her run. The wind tore at her maw and howled in her ears, pulsing through her body as her thick pelt was whipped and buffeted by the cold drafts that provoked her alacrity. As the wind grew fiercer, the scent was blown in the opposite direction and the overpowering aroma of the crimson life-liquid was swept from her nares, leaving another scent, one that identified the intruder as male, perhaps less seasoned than she. Yet as she drew closer, mingling with the tang of Ge-Rad and the air of the wild another scent, barely traceable but fresh, stung her nostrils. Sarnes. Dropping her muzzle the femme snarled in contempt for the wretched, loathed pack and forced her to fly faster, a blur of blue on white wings.
Her cyan eyes narrowed; all of Ge-Rad screamed Vendetta! against the brutes that had caused so much turmoil, and the pride that hung in every wolf’s heart, the ferocity and instinct to protect one’s friends and family and children burst in her, yet one more scent struck her- Amaya, a dear friend of the cobalt hybrid, one who was younger but intelligent, brave and strong and was an amiable and admirable warrioress. It grew stronger and Lydair could see prints running parallel to her own, and with a quick smile the Beta was relieved that someone had gotten there sooner than she. Amaya’s brisk howl coursed through the land and Lydair wheeled to the side, sliding to a stop and planting her front limbs as her tassel rose, watching for the warrior. Not surprisingly, the ebony fea was only moments behind her howl- and upon her back, the wounded wolf hung limply, blood dripping down his black-and-white pelt and drying into a crust that made him look far worse than he likely was. A few cobwebs had been smeared crudely across the wounds and Lydair smiled as she saw the warrior’s handiwork; Amaya was no healer but Lydair still held both positions proudly and had saved Amaya when she first came to Ge-Rad. Lydair barked roughly, alerting the femme as she loped forward, ensuring the midnight-furred Varg saw the hybrid. “Amaya!” the Beta growled. “Drop him; let me have a look.” Unconscious, the male was handsome and well-muscled; a kerl, perhaps? As she lowered her leathery nose to identify the scents, her lip curled and her voice was an angry snarl: “Shunke.” The femme was the Sarnes Beta, and a mortal enemy of the hybrid- yet, through her brother Shako, Shunke was a sister, although she would like nothing more than ripping her throat out. The scar that traced her right eye and the one across her side were both tokens from the fight the two had fought against each other, though Lydair had come out victorious and the evil-natured pack had been ran from the lands. Nosing the body of the male, Lydair pulled away with a frown. “Not all this blood is his… He’s been in a fight. With…a Varg from Sarnes.” The Beta turned to Amaya, furrowing her brow. “Do you remember when Sarnes invaded Ge-Rad? The black femme we fought? Her name was Shunke- she’s Shako’s sister. I think this wolf might have…kill her.”

[Bane]

The sound of voices, angry it sounded like, filled the brute’s ebony and ivory ears. For a moment, all pain had ceased from his wounded and exhausted body. But as it began to throb, Bane realized that he must have blacked out.

Eyes opened again the surroundings of which he lay. Strange scents filled his nose, as he quickly regained knowledge of why he was here, in this strange new place. Two voices hovered over him, as the male casted his blue eyes upwards. At first, he felt a snarl rise in his throat, but remembering he was in foreign territory the male thought better of it. But now he could see two female Vargs; one wearing a pure black coat, the other a short cobalt coat. Though the black fae was indeed a creation of beauty, it was the cobalt one who caught Bane’s eye. He had never seen such strange markings upon a Varg, or a form so delicate looking.

“Misses,” he said in a feeble voice, attempting to reposition himself so he lay on his stomach. But stretching his body in such a way only bought pain as his wounds starched, though partly healed. His jaw locked and with great effort, the weakened Varg was able to pull himself to the desired position. Standing up? That was a whole other issue. “Thank you- for aiding me. Is this the pack, named Ge-Rad?” Though usually cruel, Bane was very polite to the two young faes. “By the way, you can call me Bane.”

[Lydair]

(((Amaya, you post, and then I will. I'm going to like this thread, LOL...)))

[orin]

"Shunke." Amaya found her lips twitching, a growl threatening to break out in her chest. "Yes, yes. I remember her." The Sarnes and Balkar had decided to cause a bit of trouble, just after Cwen's pup had been born, and the day the little dragga had been 'snatched' and eaten by a wild cat. She didn't believe it.
As she allowed the stranger to slip off her back he suddenly began to move. Eyes opening. With mild interest Amaya looked down at him with her dark violet eyes.
"Yes. This is the Ge-Rad. But why did you come here?"
He may have killed that black she-wolf, yet she didn't trust a Varg as soon as she met one.

[Bane]

//Then you must post already, LOL! Sorries, couldn’t resist posting before you, Lydair. But, I’m really going to enjoy this thread, also. Not to mention, Shakó is supposed to post, also.//

A sigh of relief came over Bane, as the black faemme told him that this was, indeed, Ge-Rad. “I came here- because I was told a certain Varg lies loyal to this pack. I need to warn him of something-” Bane sighed again, with noticeable exhaustion. Carefully, in his mind, he was thinking of what to say. “There, in the Valley of Kosov, I happened to come upon a fight. A small, brown Varg- or something of it’s kind- battling fighting for his life against, a couple other Vargs. They were skinny, sick- looking. A glint in their eyes told me that they were- perhaps, mad. These Vargs were torturing him. I’d seen these Vargs before, they tore up my pack, which lie deep in the mountains. A horrible, bloody night. I don’t know how many of our number they killed, but I fled in search of help. You see, our Dragga and Drappa had grown weak, due to lack of prey. Human fire wiped out most of our territory, and nothing was left but ash. When I came back, the grounds were bloodied, and I only saw one mangled body, of my mother, our Drappa.” Bane let out a small whimper, and put his head upon his paws. He only let his eyes show hurt, for only he and Tor knows what else he was feeling. Still, he continued.

“I didn‘t look any further, for fear of what else I might see. So I followed their trail, to the Valley of Kosov. That‘s when I spotted them, torturing the little brown Varg. “As soon as they caught sight of me, in the Valley, they snapped his neck and ran. Well, all but one. A tall, skinny, black fae, his mismatched eyes reflected the madness within. The left- a deep crimson, the right- a startling gold. You see, I had known these eyes before- from the days of my cub hood. But never- had I seen her like this.” Bane paused, and lowered his head in ears in what seemed to be painful memories. It was only a moment before he spoke again, but his eyes weren’t at lever with the other two Vargs.

“You see, misses, this once kind and gentle Varg, was banned from my pack a long time ago. We all thought her to be dead- but now it looks as if she’s worse than dead. She’s the one that attacked me; she’s as rabid as they come. Angry at the world, she whispered bitterly in my ear, that she was the one who killed my mother, Kehré. What killed me, is she laughed- laughed. She killed her own mother, and laughed.” Bane shook his head, in disgust.

“I cam to Ge-Rad, because I was afraid of any other packs that might be allied with Sarnes. I’m new to these parts, and I was told a white and silver Varg named Shko lives in these parts. He has to know- what happened. What had become of our pack, and of our sister.”

[Lydair]

Lydair paused, her cyan eyes boring into those of Bane, but they shifted, and ran the length of his body. Peculiar markings, he had, not mottled but splotched with black and white patches. His question kept her guarded, and her bristling hackles didn't soothe themselves as Amaya responded to his query. "Tell us the identity of this Varg, and we will acknowledge his presence, if he truly does inhabit these lands.” His sagging form and oozing wounds gave him the appearance of being weak, but from his thickly muscled bodice it would be difficult to deceive any Varg. She watched him from under shielded eyes, conscious of the fact that his story neither may nor may not have been the full truth, but as he spoke of his deceased mother, Lydair felt a whine pulling at her lips, as she remembered her own mother’s death. Eyes clouded, her auds pulled forward, engaging themselves fully in the narrative. “And did this ‘little brown Varg’ scent of a pack, or of a kerl?” She growled, puzzling the story. Suddenly, she seemed to grow agitated…it didn’t add up, to her, and her suspicion returned, pulsing, though she did not let it show; she played it off as though she knew the little brown Varg.
It was at his vague descriptions- perhaps that was what threw his story off; the descriptions were amazingly vague- of the black she-wolf, with mismatched eyes, that Lydair snarled viciously. “Oh yes, I know of that femme, Bane. She and her pack attacked this one; my companion and I fought her ourselves.” She turned slightly, offering more of her profile to come into view: A thick scar traced itself around her eye. “She gave me this scar.” Her black lips twitched in anger, but she stepped forward, her tassel rising slightly with surprise.
“Shako- is your brother?”

Her voice was soft, but held an edge. Was his sister dead; did he know of this wolf? “Indeed, Bane, the wolf you search for resides here. He is Beta Mann of this pack, and I am Beta Femme. In his eyes, I am his sister as well; though not biologically, it was well known to or entire pack- and to your sister Shunke as well.”

[orin]

The growl pulsed in her throat at hearing of the black Fae again. Listening to Bane's words just awoke even more hate and disdain within her.
"Pathetic!" She spat. "Picking on the weak!"
Though inside words that someone from the past had whispered to her echoed in her head; Obey the strong. Oppress the weak... Yet still she knew better than to trust such a vow, it only showed weakness.

Something did catch Amaya's ears as the varg continued his tale. Shako, the beta of the Ge-Rad was his brother? That would mean Shunke, she was his sister. An uneasy feeling passed through her, yet she dismissed it. The white and black Dragga seemed to only be searching for a safe place, meaning no harm. By nature she had her doubts, her cautions. However, the discomfort she had been feeling now retreated- a little.

[Bane]

//sorry, kind of suxs//

Bane listened patiently, to the two feas speak. Apparently, they already knew Shunké; and to Bane’s luck, didn’t think much of her. “Yes, as you can tell by the shreds of my own pelt, I’ll soon have my own keepsake of our encounter,” Bane growled, giving emotion. He wanted to laugh- but didn’t. Bane had a hell of a poker face, and wasn’t one to easily be overcome with emotion. Well, that was a lie. Bane was simple controlled by envy, along with power and slyness. Something, that he gained from the experience he endured in his old pack. The pack, that was most likely shattered by now.

“Yes, Shakó is my brother, I have to say. I thought he was dead, a long time ago. But at the recent discovery of Shunké, also my blood, I learned he was still alive. At least I can see that he has a decent home. And judging by the kindness shown by you two ladies, I wouldn’t doubt that he could ever find a better family.” Bane gave a sigh, the pits of his stomach burning. It had been such a long time, if ever, that he had truly ever had a family. It made him jealous - sick- whatever the feeling was, it made him both depressed and angered. Quickly, Bane thought of something else- anything else- to get rid of this dreaded feeling.

“So, you two have meet- and fought- my dear sister. Tell me, on what grounds? Did her pack attack you? Or did her tainted paws happen to befall upon your sacred grounds?” Bane ask, though truly curious. He wondered if his sister was truly this hated. If so, it would make things much easier for him.

[orin]

Amay's violet optics wandered over to Lydair. What should she tell this varg? Her uneasness toward him had yet to ware. With great care she chose her words- making sure not to mention aything about Cwen and Dreag's pup.

"It was the Night Hunters and Sarnes. Apparently they wanted to 'play' around a bit with the Ge-Rad buy crossing our borders without permission. We encountered Shunke then."
When finished the black fae sat, her eyes seemed to be slightly glazed as she recalled the event with a disdianful look. Shunke had insulted Lydair- about the dog blood that flowed through her viens. She hated when wolves did that, she was one of the greatest (and only) healer she knew.
Sighing Amaya gently shook her maw as she looked at the deep and bloddy wounds that scored Bane's body, what was this world coming too?

[Draeg]

((Right, being as bored as I am I decided to join this thread and right a post. Hopefully none of you mind my presence, and if so then I can alway s just delete this post.))

“‘Play’ is hardly the word I would use to describe it, Amaya.” A cold voice sounded out from amidst the bracken, parting aside a moment later as the amber form of a heavily scarred varg emerged from the lush vegetation. “It was an warning, they were taunting us. Had Serg decided to launch a full scale attack he would’ve caught us by surprise and probably could’ve done considerable damage to the pack, as it was he was just showing us that his warriors are ready and willing to fight. Shunke’s presence that night was little more than a coincidence, nothing more.” Nearly four moons had past since the assault that Draeg spoke of had taken place however it was clear that the amber Dragga still remembered the events that had transpired that night as though it had just happened, recalling how he and Cwen had run alongside each other as they rushed to face the opposing pack and drive them off with surprising little effort only to return to find that their den had been raided and their newborn son, Krael, was missing.

Closing his eyes he lifted his head, giving out something that sounded as though it was caught somewhere between a snarl and a whimper before turning his attention back down to the trio before him. As far as Dragga’s went the amber varg was probably the least intimidating of the six packs, holding nowhere near the immense bulk or muscle mass of his peers and standing around the height of the average varg, if anything his scrawny frame might have been able to pass him off as a subordinate or even Ge-Rad’s sikla rather than the awe inspiring Dragga rumors claimed him to be. However despite this the numerous scars that lined his body showed that he was no stranger to combat and his eyes were filled with distinct cunning, though at the moment the twin amber orbs had hardened and grown cold as his gaze settled upon Bane’s battered form.

Like his packmates Draeg had come in response to the Kerl’s call, ducking into the thick vegetation after having arrived on the scene a short while ago. By the time he had arrived Bane was already halfway done with his explanation of how he had come to his current state and was in the process of telling Lydair of his apparent connection to the pack’s Beta male, Shako, and his sister the Beridan of Sarnes, Shunke, of whom Ge-Rad had grown quite familiar with over the past several moons. Padding over to the downed varg Draeg gave him a quick but thorough study, carefully looking him over before stepping away to place himself between Lydair and Amaya. So this was Shako’s brother.

“I suppose introductions should be made, I am Draeg, Dragga of Ge-Rad. You seem to have already acquainted yourself with one of my warriors as well as our packs healer, I trust that you are not here to cause any trouble?” he growled, maintaining his dominant posture and eying the battered varg warily. “Tell me, how did you come by those injuries?”

[orin]

Amaya jerked around with a sharp snarl at the sound of the voice. Though in seeing it was Dreag she snapped her open jaws shut with a slightly embarrassed look on her face.
“Sorry about that.”
The dragga had returned not that long ago from a mission to rescue his son- and here she was, growling at him. Some greeting! Slowly she stepped back letting him get a better view Bane, keeping her head low as he spoke.
A warning... A slight shudder ran down her spine. Dreag was correct, if they had attacked... We'll just have to give them a little surprise next time. She thought with an invisible smirk. Okay! Enough day dreaming! She scolded herself mentally. They looked up- speaking in hearing the dragga’s words.
“His name is Bane.”
She though about explaining the rest, decided against it. It just didn’t seem like her place to do so. Instead she sat glancing over her shoulder at Bane and Lydair in an almost nervous sort of way. Why? She wasn’t sure herself. Maybe it was the thought of their enemy attacking the Ge-Rad, the ordeal with the newcomer and Shunke or just snapping at Dreag. But whatever it was she found it very… unnerving.

//Well, that was just a rambling post…//

[Bane]

//Woot! I am back, sorries for the absence. I hope you all continue this thread!//

Bane listened, as the black varg spoke of the terror that his sister had plagued this pack. But, it wasn’t only her, but the Balker as well? My, my, this was certainly turning out to be quite lovely. Bane couldn’t help but feel a warm sort of feeling overcome him. “What a naughty little Varg, indeed;” Bane said, mostly to himself. “She needs to be taught manners, no?”

A cold voice seeped out from the brush, as eager eyes lifted to the source. A male varg, his foot steps heavy, peered from the brush, forcing himself though to their “little group”. “Ah, so, the Balker were in this as well. Tsk tsk, I say.” Bane said, voicing his thoughts. He shook his stained head, his eyes lowered. After a moment, he left his gaze fall upward, wondering if this male was indeed the Dragga, for his poise was held strong. Bane felt challenged at the least, and would give anything to lash out. He never did well in dominant situations, for his nature held no heed. Only when the male told of his rank, did Bane drop his gaze. “My apologies, Sir Draeg of Ge-Rad.” he said lowly, smiting himself. But, he was going to behave himself, that he was sure of. He didn’t want trouble, that was a fact.

Bane opened his maw and was about to speak, when the black warrior had spoke quickly, of his name. Bane let his maw fall shut, as he turned slowly to the one who spoke for him. Her words seemed rushed, if that. But she did not speak any more, which told Bane that it was his turn to speak for himself.
“As your kind warrior has said, my name is indeed Bane. As for my injuries- A quarrel with my sister. It seemed that she was not very fond of my mother. In her anger and spite, she killed the one who gave birth to her. Only did I learn this later, after finding a pack of wolves hovering over a small brown varg, which they killed.” Bane rolled her ears back, and shook his head. Repeating this- was not something he wanted to do. “That’s when she attacked me, and I fought back.” Bane concluded, and looked back at the Dragga. He was careful to look past him, and not directly at the dominant varg. After all, he didn’t want a fight.