Bartering from Berowick
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Set on January 5th, if that's alright? Decided to get it started a little early.

A chill wind blew through the quiet ruin of what had once been a hive of human activity. The sun was high in the sky, struggling to show its face through the gray veil of oppressive cloud, heralding midday to all those that dwelt in its suffocated glory. Skoll had been fortunate enough to make an early catch today, and had wondered what he would do with the rest of his day. He had spent a lot of time in the man-city, had met many people here, the most recent of which had been Matrix, the daughter of his friend, Twilight. Skoll sat on the hood of a dilapidated truck, faded blue slowly being overtaken by the orange-red of rust, a wide but thin book open in both hands.


The book was filled mostly with pictures, though there was small script underlying each image. Fantastic were the depictions there, with terrible multi-headed serpents, great winged wyrms with jaws enwreathed in flame, and fell human forms, sharp of tooth and pale of skin. He could not read most of the descriptions, so far he had only just done his best to try and say the names of each of these creatures of human legend. He was not having much luck, even then. The names meant little to him, for he had no similar stories to relate...it seemed as if most human and wolf legend derived from different sources.



Looking up from his book, he let his eyes slide across the peaceful ruin. He did not associate this place with peace...it usually bore a somewhat eeries quality, but there were too many useful things in the place to leave it alone. His axes came from this place, as well as his carving knife. There was even a chance that the cultist knife that he'd taken from between his own ribs had been salvaged from this very place...but, considering that they hadn't struck Inferni, Clouded Tears, or Jaded Shadows, before Storm, he found it unlikely that they'd spent much time south of his old pack.


The lone wolf, competent as he was, did sometimes miss the routine of Storm. Disciplined and strict with himself, he had fashioned a new routine, much the same as the old, but without any real responsibilities, he never new what new surprises life was going to bring him from day to day. Breathing deep, he wondered what life would bring him today. Freedom had its price, but there was something to be said for being your own master.

~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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