Zeth
Sikla
Liquify your senses, and inhale the poison.
Posts: 149
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Post by Zeth on Mar 10, 2007 12:33:02 GMT -5
(For Carcharoth at first, then I don't mind who joins)
The sun was setting in a spectacular red sunset that sent red light cascading over the lands of Transylvania. The lands of this varg's birthing place. Although he had not grown up here, he had grown up further away from here, always travelling, always being taught, and groomed, into becoming one thing - a Balkar.
Now, as the red light began to disappate, and twilight caught up with the world, sending everything into shades of blue and grey, Zeth prowled closer and closer to his ultimate goal. He was a little bit nervous, but the blackened face of his father snapped into his mind, growled at him, and the nerves were sent flying away. Zeth held his head up high, he was going to be a Balkar, he needed to be strong, proud, and confident. This was what he was born to be. He only hopd that they would see the Balkar in him and accept him into their ranks.
In truth, Zeth didn't look anything like his father, who was completely black with blazing amber eyes. Zeth figured that he must take after his mother, whoever she was - his father didn't talk about her at all. For Zeth had a dark grey pelt, flecked with dark amber, and brown eyes. Unfortunately for him, he had not inherited his father's muscular physique either, but he had been trained how to fight like a Balkar, stalk, like a Balkar, and had grown up with their code and their ways.
Slipping through the trees, Zeth stalked like a shadow to the place where he had been instructed to find, and he found it easy enough, the musk of the border. Zeth let out a low growl. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for.
He released a howl into the night, a summoning howl. Trespassing into their lands was not the way to join their ranks, although he could easily have done so without being caught, with all that he had been taught. But his task as not to stoke their anger.
Zeth ran through everything he had been told in his mind. For no reason whatsoever was he to mention that his father was Serg. For the former first had disappeared from this pack, and his other pack, when Zeth had been nothing but a newborn. now Serg feared his honour with the Balkar would be brought to nothing, and that if Seth wanted to join, his name would not be a password in. Zeth was to mention to only one varg that Serg was back - to Carcharoth. The Balkar with one ear and one blind eye, but Zeth was told to trust him, and so he would. He only hoped that his father was right about this Balkar, and that his disappearance hadn't shifted loyalties too much.
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Post by Carcharoth on Mar 11, 2007 9:38:31 GMT -5
Times had been hectic lately; far more activity had roused the Balkan lands than it had done for more than at least 6 moons. Carcharoth had taken to scouting the borders frequently to prevent any emissaries or scouts from other enemy packs from entering past their borders. So far two strangers had crossed the borders, and one at least was there for the purpose of joining the Balkan ranks. The other, a butch faemme who had simply ‘lost her way’ so to speak. On this fateful day however, duty had been quiet and scent free. After scent marking his last sprouting of dead grass, the beast growled darkly and made his wat back towards the dark heart of the territory, thick tail held erect in dominance and sickening loose skin that hung from his belly swayed back and forth with his forceful gait. Carcharoth, the Second of the feared Balkar pack, was one monstrosity few enjoyed facing. And by facing, it was quite in the literal sense. The enormous brute was bear-like in proportions to most varg in Transylvania. One varg to almost match his size was the Lead Lacan of the very same pack; Carnage the fiery pelted varg.
Slowing to a halt, the Second’s single aud stood on end and swivelled back towards the borders. The other ear, nothing more than a tuft of fur where it once stood, remained deaf to the sound of a near-by howl. Running down from this fallen soldier there was a long, silver stretch of scarred flesh that cut straight through his left eye. This orb was sightless and bore an uncanny resemblance to the great Tor; Moon Goddess to those more heavenly religious varg. It appeared to roll sickeningly in its socket and stare through the very souls of anyone who laid their own eyes upon it. The other was that of a poisonous green, an emerald jewel that shimmered in the dim light of the devilish lands. Turning his head round now to face the borders once more, Carcharoth quirked a brow in curiosity. A broad grin tweaked the edges of his silver flecked muzzle and he chuckled coldly before turning round and making his way back towards the newcomer. “Some varg at least have manners,” he growled darkly to himself, wondering now who could possibly show this much respect for the Balkan pack. Even Bane who was wishing to join the pack had passed the borders, impatient little imp that he was. It took little to no time to find the source of the howl – as the Second hadn’t gotten very far in his mission back to the Meeting Place – and he remained in the shadows whilst laying eyes upon a youth. Scenting the air tentively he caught a familiar whiff from the little mann that Carcharoth couldn’t quite place. Frowning slightly he let out a deep growl before pushing through the thick, entangled brush and emerging before the young varg, his size dwarfing the adolescent. Stopping a mere tails length away from him, forcing the intruder to look up and lower his body slightly, The Second replaced his frown with a wicked grin and let out a dark chortle. “And who do we have here who knocks upon the border of the Big Bad Balkan lands?”
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Zeth
Sikla
Liquify your senses, and inhale the poison.
Posts: 149
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Post by Zeth on Mar 11, 2007 9:52:17 GMT -5
Zeth had not been waiting very long, when a giant of a wolf came striding towards him, Zeth had keen nightvision, and in the twilight he didn't need the brute to come up so close as to recognise him at the very varg he had been told to look out for. Though he had to be careful not to mention he knew this varg's name already. His brown eyes flickered from side to side, it didn't seem like any other varg had answered his howl - yet.
Raising his head in a proud arch, Zeth began to speak. "My name is Zeth, I came to seek entry, and, if you think me worthy, to join your ranks."
Zeth knew most vargs who sought out this pack were cocky and arrogant, and although Zeth was not any of these, he was no sikla either, and not willing to let any varg walk all over him, he was no push-over. That was no what he had been trained to be. Young he was, that was true enough, but already cunning and sly - and he would need every last skill he possessed to keep his secret.
Zeth looked about again, then lowered his head and his voice to a whisper. "I also bear a message, for one ear only." Zeth tried to keep himself from smirking at that part, and succeeded. He could be a very good actor, in this pack he would need it. He would also need a certain amount of attitude to keep on top here, but attitude wasn't the best way to gain entry. That would come later.
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Post by Carcharoth on Mar 11, 2007 11:27:01 GMT -5
The youngster, known now as Zeth, showed himself proudly to the monstrosity that stood before him, and Carcharoth quirked his brow with curiosity. Lately more varg had found his appearance terrifying and grotesque, shying their eyes away from his features and showing a more subordinate stature. This little mite however, held his head proudly and showed no signs of fear or uneasiness. Shaking this thought from his head, the Second listened to the youngster’s words and chuckled coldly. So the little brute wanted to join the ranks of this pack? Well…he would certainly need to work himself out a bit more. He wasn’t large enough of muscular enough to become a Lacan – that seemed clear. Yet what about a Nihtgenge? Ah finally, someone for that ridiculous clown of a varg to train, take them all off my paws, Carcharoth thought cheerfully to himself. At least that was one pro in this plan.
Shifting his hulking weight from one paw to the next, the Second was about to reply to his inclination of joining the Balkan ranks when suddenly he mentioned something about a message. Carcharoth’s single aud perked up and strained forward. Was the little mann trying to make some sort of joke? Or was the message in fact not for him and he was merely playing a dodgy choice of words? The Second couldn’t be sure. Taking a step forward he craned his neck down and closed the distance between their muzzles swiftly. A deep frown furrowed his brow and the beast’s broad muzzle wrinkled slightly, emerald hue boring into the deep brown eyes of Zeth. “You trying to be funny lad?” He questioned darkly, his tone clearly threatening. “Or is it not me that needs to hear this message you bring?”
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Zeth
Sikla
Liquify your senses, and inhale the poison.
Posts: 149
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Post by Zeth on Mar 11, 2007 12:00:22 GMT -5
Zeth could see why some vargs might be intimidated or scared of this brute's appearance, but Zeth had been taught to feel no fear, and maybe it helped that he had already known what Carcharoth would look like. In fact, Zeth was a little jealous of him, he knew that Carcharoth was a Lacan, he has the biggest build of a varg that Zeth had ever seen. But however much Zeth had trained, he had never worked up much of a muscular bulk, he could fight well, but he wasn't as strong as this Carcharoth was, or his father was. He only wished he had inherited that trait off his father. He only seemed to have inherited his father's way to thinking.
Zeth didnt flink or so much as blink when Carcharoth stepped forward, even though the older, stronger, and more experienced Balkar dwarfed his young adolescent form. To his credit, Zeth held Carch's gaze for a while, before his eyes flickered around yet again. Nope, no other Balkar seemed to be around. Unless they were hiding, and they had no such reason to do so, in their own lands.
Zeth's proud arched neck lowered again, and a slight smile worked its way onto his maw. "Funny doesn't even come into it." He whispered. "I not only want to join the ranks of Balkar, but I bring word from someone, words for you to hear, Carcharoth."
Zeth's brown eyes sparked an amber fire as he waited for this mann's reaction to him already knowing his name. But he didn't waste too much time pausing, he was treading on dangerous ground here.
Lowering his voice even more, Zeth licked his lips and whispered. "We hope that your loyalities have not turned too much, for your old Dragga returns. He regretted that he had to leave, but trusts that you have found yourself promoted and kept yourself steady in the turnover of power. But now, he has returned, and he would like to know where your loyalities lie?"
Zeth smiled, and flicked his tail. "I, as his son, am always faithful. But you Carcharoth? Are you a friend or foe of Serg?"
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Post by Carcharoth on Mar 20, 2007 13:26:11 GMT -5
The little whelp continued to show no fear towards him and Carcharoth’s lips began to twitch in annoyance, his incisors and gum flashing under the dim light of the Balkan borders – far better lit than the heart that was sure. Why waste his time with this little runt when he had more important matters to be dealing with? Kill him and drink his warm blood. That would satisfy him, enough at least to put him in the spirit for war. And yet, the mention of his name suddenly stopped the Second in his tracks. His lips fell and his aud perked forward, brow creasing into a deep frown. “How d-“ he was about to ask but the youth continued, delivering now the message that he had been sent to give – clearly to only his ‘ear’.
Carcharoth listened intently, about to scoff and beat this young rascal down for once again attempting to be ‘funny’, yet once again he remained quiet as Zeth spoke once more, revealing that he was the son of Serg. Quirking a brow now and looking away from the young varg, Carcharoth glanced beyond at the horizon and thought carefully over his words. The son of Serg? When on earth did… then suddenly his eyes widened and his two-toned gaze fell back onto the smaller form of Zeth. This was the little runt that the Balkar and Sarnes had attacked Ge-Rad all those moons for? This was the cub that Lheaht had stolen from Cwen and Draeg’s den?
Suddenly it all made sense now, and Carcharoth was able to believe the words of Zeth. His heart began to beat at the thought of his previous Dragga returning and he chuckled coldly, the look of shock now replaced by something much darker. Sneering now he lowered his head and brought it in closer to Zeth’s far more delicate frame. “Ah well you can be sure that I won’t say a word little lad, my loyalties remain with Serg, and the Balkar alike,” he replied deeply, keeping his voice low enough so that even a Nihtgenge that may have been wandering passed would not have heard.
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Zeth
Sikla
Liquify your senses, and inhale the poison.
Posts: 149
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Post by Zeth on Mar 31, 2007 10:21:35 GMT -5
Heart hammering in his chest, Zeth found himself holding his breath as he awaited Carcharoth's reaction. His message had been delivered, and now he only had to wait for his answer. His father had been clear to him that this was a dangerous part of his mission, but the only the first, and the smallest of the obstacles that Zeth would have to overcome. His brown eyes watched the Second of the Balkar keenly as the Second turned to look away, evidently thinking.
At the cold chuckle Zeth didn't flinch again, but he did exhale. Either this was something really good, or something really bad. A dark look took over the Second's features, and Zeth refused to allow himself to move an inch as Carcharoth's head came even closer to him. Zeth was suddenly becoming very aware of his neck, and his jugular veins that resided therein. But at Carch's promise of silence, a wave of relief flooded through him.
'Then my father sends you his warmest greetings, and congratulates you on your promotion. Regretting that you were not his Second in his reign.' Zeth tilted his head to the side, then raised his voice back to a more normal level. 'So then, do you judge me worthy of joining the Balkan ranks?' he asked. Zeth needed a yes or no answer, a nod or a shake just to prove that he had passed the first little test.
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Post by Carcharoth on Apr 7, 2007 7:32:52 GMT -5
The relief that seemed to wash over the youth brought Carcharoth’s muzzle back up and he chuckled darkly. This task he had gotten over with ‘ease’, and though he was gladly accepted by the Second of the Balkar, he may have a harder time trying to convince the First of his potential for the pack. Especially seeing as they were going to war. Carcharoth listened to the little whelp’s words and frowned slightly at the message. If Serg had wished that he indeed had been Second under his rein, then what in Wolfbane’s den was he thinking promoting Ziev to his Second in command? Throwing these thoughts to the back of his mind, he shrugged at the comment, feeling that he still had a duty to do and was still respective of Ziev’s commands. Though Serg indeed was a better First, Carcharoth would never utter such words out loud – especially to another of his comrades.
Zeth then asked the question. Was he to become one of them? Carcharoth had never accepted another varg into the ranks before; he had always considered it Ziev’s job being that he was the First. However, for once Carcharoth felt it was his responsibility. He would take this little runt under his watchful eye and make sure he would be accepted. He was unable to train the little whelp however, as he was clearly no Lacan. It would be Nearo’s job as lead Nihtgenge to train him. As infuriating as Nearo was, Carcharoth had no choice. Though he would watch them – keep Zeth on the straight and narrow, not let his mind be corrupted by the idiotic fool of the Balkar. And with this decision made, he looked down through his venomous hue and grinned broadly, nodding slowly in response. “I do Zeth. Welcome.”
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Zeth
Sikla
Liquify your senses, and inhale the poison.
Posts: 149
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Post by Zeth on Apr 8, 2007 8:04:59 GMT -5
Zeth allowed himself a smile at Carcharoth's words of welcome, and he dipped his head in respect. "Thank you." Then he tilted his head to the side. "I won't be able to be a Lacan will I?" He could not help the edge of disappointment that crept into his voice. How he longed to be a fighter, the muscle behind this pack. But sadly, he could not. He would have to be their eyes and ears. And although that would satisfy him, he still could not help being jealous of Serg, and of Carcharoth, for their big and muscular builds.
Zeth allowed himself a small chuckle. "Ah, I only wish I had inherited that gene, and I was built to be a fighter." But then he shrugged. "Ah well." But then he held his head up high. "I am a Balkar now, nonetheless, and I shall do my best to do this pack proud."
(yeah, short and sweet as they say.)
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