history is written by the victors
#1
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 324

A host of distractions had interrupted Vesper from the crest of the mountains to the warm pools in Inferni. Finally, however, she managed to orient her mind and force herself to do something more or less productive. Once she had managed to drag herself away from the grotto springs, she made the brisk walk toward a hollowed-out tree in the eastern forest and grabbed the gift she had stored there, remaining only long enough to snatch the cousin of the rabbit she’d eaten that morning. From there, she traveled back northwest across the territory.

The going was slow, her speed hindered by her two-legged form—a necessity to grip the large antler she carried. The dead rabbit hung from her jaws, impairing her sense of smell with its musty aroma and flavor; she would have been salivating if she hadn’t already eaten. It was still frustrating, however, but she refused to drop anything or take a break in her journey.

Relief flooded her once she reached the outskirts of the Great Village. The dilapidated houses and snow-covered road had once seemed strange to her, but she could see it as something more than just waste leftover from humankind. It was being reclaimed by nature, after all; grass would sprout up through the pavement in the spring as the vegetation swallowed the collapsed houses. All that remained to bother her was the smell of horses and sheep, but she ignored the domesticated herbivores as she padded toward the old schoolhouse.

The coywolf opened her mouth once she reached the door, letting the rabbit fall down and drape across the antler gripped awkwardly in her hands. Unable to knock or whatever else luperci custom demanded, she let up a short cry to let the other woman know that she was there—hoping that the Praetorian wasn’t off doing her job. She felt sheepish enough without standing cluelessly outside the building for the rest of the day.


Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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[/html]
#2
[html]

(691)
Ramble, sorry. Only the last 3 paragraphs matter. >_>



Myrika is by me!

As it happened, the rust-hued woman was not within the confines of the schoolhouse as Vesper called. She was, however, engrossed in her tasks within the small, lean-to shack that served as her horse's stables. They had restored an old wooden outbuilding of the school, one that had been in a terrible state of disrepair when Myrika had first moved to the village. Now, not only was there a restored stable for Eira, Farai, and her new addition Cahal, but also a corral for both sheep and horses.

Myrika was engrossed in the task of brushing Cahal's sleek fur. It was not in any terrible need of grooming -- the horse had been in good condition when she'd traded for him, if a little tired from his journey northward from the Chesapeake Bay area, wherever that was. His previous owner had known horses, it seemed, and outside of simple knowledge, strove to take care of them. The same could be said of the pretty strawberry roan she'd picked up for Inferni's uses. On the contrary, Myrika's grooming rituals were simply to accustom the horse to her presence and touch.

She yearned to ride him, but the rusty-hued woman knew better than to saddle a stallion as big as Cahal and give him his lead. She would have to make him trust her first. The coyote was glad she was able to obtain this second horse before Eira's foal came. The Praetorian thought it would be good to rest the blue roan when it came closer to her foaling date, and afterward, well -- the new mother would need to attend to her foal, whether it was filly or colt. Eira would be mostly out of commission for a few months around the birthing, and Myrika was quite glad to have a horse such as Cahal.

The bulky stallion, nervous as he'd been, seemed to understand the concept of ownership, and finally seemed to comprehend (after long weeks) the idea he'd been traded to this new coyote owner. The horse nickered softly and bumped Myrika's shoulder with her muzzle. Eira gave an answering whinny from outside, and Myrika's big coyote ears detected the yelping sound of a visitor. She carried the brush out of the stall, setting it on the long, narrow shelf running the length of the inner wall, and dusted her hands off. She'd still smell of horse, but there was nothing to be done about that.

The woman opened Cahal's stall and led the horse out by his lead rope, unhooking it and giving him over to pasture before she turned toward the village and her visitor. With pleasurable surprise, the coyote saw it was Vesper. She called to the woman with a yelp of her own, waving her arm at the new Optio with perhaps too much easy friendliness. Myrika was forgetful when it came to rank and not so very deft with changes of rank -- it might take her some time to accustom herself to the idea that Vesper now out-ranked her. Thankfully, Myri's errors of this nature were perfectly innocuous -- the rusty woman had never sought to usurp anyone of their rightful position, and in her mind, Vesper had earned her title.

Cahal trotted over to Eira, and in a moment, the two horses were playing with one another, looping around the corral with long and easy strides. Eira, the smaller of the pair, darted deftly around the corners, where Cahal had to slow down and take them more uneasily. Myrika, though she moved toward the gate and Vesper, turned her head to watch this play, finding it interesting and indicative of the horses' different strengths. She opened and closed the gate, trotting quickly toward Vesper. She had no intention of making her companion wait, and greeted the other woman with a broad smile.

Hey, Vesper! What have you got there? she inquired, peering curiously at the rabbit and the antler. It's nice you've come to visit, she added, tail wagging to accentuate her happiness at receiving visitors.

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</style>[/html]
#3
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 388

When the return yelp came from an unanticipated direction, Vesper lowered her ears sheepishly. She might have cursed herself for not checking around the house first, but she was sure such skulking would only make the situation more awkward than it was. Quickly, however, large ears tilted forward again with friendly curiosity, and in lieu of a wave she smirked warmly at the sight of the tawny woman.

Paler blue eyes followed the other’s attention toward the horses, but only a quick shifting of her position that could’ve passed off as physical discomfort from standing showed her unease around the large animals. She still couldn’t quite figure out how some canines managed mastery over them while others even let the beasts dominate, and the different handling styles made her suspicious of new horses. She recognized the roan, but the golden-brown one looked new. Not that she really had any knowledge of what animals dwelled in Inferni, save the edible ones.

Myrika trotted quickly to her, and the smaller hybrid glanced at the gifts as they were indicated. She laughed shortly, holding them up a little for inspection. “Didn’t know if you’d want lunch,” she said. “And the antler looked cool, I guess; it’s pretty big.” She twisted it around in her hands, careful not to drop the limp rabbit flopped over it. “Couldn’t find the other one, but I figured you might be able to do something with this one, whether useful or pretty or both.” She was still learning to appreciate art, but she did know for certain that she couldn’t do anything of the sort with her own hands. The Praetorian would likely have better luck.

“Also, I was wondering…” She cocked her head, one hand shifting its grip on the antler as it was denied the freedom of scratching at her scalp. “I mean, I wanted to come see you anyway, but I’ve realized lately that I know jack shit about Inferni when it comes to anything beyond the basic stuff.” Admitting this was risky, not that she thought Myri would call the Optio out for not knowing her own clan’s customs; but it still took a little give from the proud coywolf to say this. “I thought you might be able to tell me a little bit about its history, things like that.”


Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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[/html]
#4
[html]


(440)



Myrika is by Alaine!

It didn't surprise Myrika to see the scarred canine in her Optime form, though perhaps more familiarity might have led Myrika to surprise. Though they'd discussed Vesper's upbringing, the russet-tinged woman could not know if old custom still held the Optio. The tawny canine stooped a bit more, however, upon drawing closer and realizing the height difference between herself and Vesper. It was the greater part of a foot, but Myrika hoped to minimize it by her stoop and perhaps by sitting down rather soon. She smiled and nodded enthusiastically at the proposition of lunch. The rust-haired woman had a large appetite to match her size, though she tried not to let others in on this little secret and went as far as to deny her hunger altogether on occasion.

I like it, and an antler is a good thing to have, she said, remembering Thamur. You can make needles out of antler shards, and other tools as well -- but it'll do just as well dangling over my doorway, the woman said, still smiling. Thanks, she said, considering what she might do with the antler. I'd be glad to share some history with you, though. Her ears pricked up and her tail wagged with enthusiasm. Inferni's history was supposed to be her specialty, after all -- she might carry the rank of Praetorian, but she had worked on the book, and perhaps she'd end up as the clan's Notarii sooner or later.

I've actually started a book -- a real chronicle of all the clan's history. It's tough, though, since there were so many years before me, she said, her voice growing quieter as she spoke of her goal. The rust-tinged coyote was not a particularly proud creature, and she expected mockery for her accomplishments rather than praise. It's not done yet, though, and there's no reason I can't share what I know by word of mouth, she added quickly, having realized Vesper might not be able to read. A few canines had this disadvantage (at least, Myrika saw it as such) and Myri did not wish to make her Optio feel inadequate.

Do you want to come inside? Or I could cook that, she offered, gesturing to the door and the firepit in turn. The embers had long turned to ash, but this was nothing fresh kindling and firewood wouldn't fix. Either way, she said, ambivalent about the rabbit's flesh. Though she enjoyed cooked meat, she rarely cooked for herself, finding it too tiresome a process to engage for her own taste.

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</style>[/html]
#5
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 328 :: Crappypost >__>

The gift was accepted, and as an invisible weight was lifted off her chest, Vesper realized how uncharacteristically uncertain she’d been about offering the antler. She supposed it was because she didn’t know how a luperci would use such a thing, but Myrika seemed resourceful. Her pale claws scraping ever so lightly across the bony appendage, she nodded then grinned when the taller woman agreed to tell her some of the clan history. Acceptance, once again—something the independent coywolf strove for even though she didn’t particularly feel like she needed it. Her experience in Inferni would only improve through making friends and understanding the culture better, though.

Myrika mentioned a book, and large ears stood up in faint interest—even though she had no idea how to read. She didn’t spit upon the hobby, knowing its uses, but it was something that seemed so inherently beyond her that she saw no point in trying to learn. Every time she looked at those intricate glyphs swimming across a page or sign, she wanted to claw her eyes out of her head. When the Praetorian seemed to correct her statement, though, Ves nodded more eagerly.

“Doesn’t matter to me, either,” Vesper said, grinning slightly as she wondered whether the two would be able to decide. Eventually, she made up her own mind. “I can’t remember the last time I had cooked meat, though, so that might be interesting.” She glanced toward the firepit and approached it, setting the antler down carefully where it wouldn’t be stepped on and holding onto the rabbit.

“Has Inferni always had its reputation?” the tawny hybrid decided to ask first, wondering whether she should take a seat or help kindle the flames. Her tone showed that she believed little in the actual reputation; she had come after all of the wars, of course, and saw the coyotes with common sense before the ruffians who’d go out of their way to gut a purebred wolf.


Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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[/html]
#6
[html]



Myrika is by Alaine!

The rusty-furred woman nodded and set to work preparing the fire, dipping into the front hall of the schoolhouse to draw out a few logs. The stack was close enough to the door one needed only lean through the busted-out hole where a window had once been. Myrika had taken care to cover the open spaces with flaps of leather -- not good leather, of course, but passable flaps of skin nonetheless. As she spread kindling around the fire's base and spruced it up around the bigger logs and sticks, Vesper inquired on Inferni's reputation. Myrika tilted her head, thinking on the question a moment. It was strange to speak of times when she was no member of Inferni -- but this had been her job, and she was supposed to be an authority on these matters, after all.

I think so. Kaena told me when Inferni formed, coyotes had been causing trouble for the packs, so... the coyote said, shrugging a shoulder. Her blue-green eyes did not turn toward Vesper, but neither was she faced entirely away from the scarred woman -- the mahogany-haired woman kept her Optio in her peripheral vision, ready to turn and look at the woman if the need arose. For the moment, though, the fire held most of her attention. Sparking it with a few quick flicks of steel against a flint stone, the hybrid carried on with her answer. I guess we just got off on the wrong foot there. Even I was told of Inferni's violent tendencies -- my own dad gave me many warnings. It was, perhaps, no wonder she'd spend long months pondering whether or not to come to this place.

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</style>[/html]
#7
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 361 :: Forcing Vesper replies...

Cornflower blue eyes watched idly as the russet hybrid began to stack larger logs on the kindling with the ease of one at ease with the flames. Vesper wasn’t really that fearful of fire, but she’d always seen the ability to control it as a luperci thing. It wasn’t until Inferni that she’d started to poke about and help feed such flames, though she’d never started one herself. Though she remained on edge, at the ready to fetch wood or whatever was needed, she settled down at last and let Myrika answer her.

She supposed now that her question wasn’t the greatest—at best, it had an obvious answer but one that was interesting nonetheless. Ears tilted forward at the first crackles and pops of the flint-struck flames, Vesper nodded lightly. “And yet you came anyway,” she remarked with a tiny smirk when the woman mentioned her father warning away from the place. “I guess it’s always been Lykois? I guess that a group that’s been around long enough would interbreed and have a family structure, but… Not a lot of outsiders.” Like herself, a former loner with zero ties to the coyote clan. It must have been a relief for Ezekiel to have someone on his side that wasn’t a blood relative.

“I heard there were wars too.” Her tattered ear twitched against her head. She wasn’t leaving a lot of time for comment or answer, but she spoke softly enough that Myri could interrupt her whenever she wanted. The fact of the wars interested her, however, as a fighter and one anxious about the current tensions between the packs. She’d caught wind of the conflicts in the south, but mostly she thought of the north: the mountain pack that harbored a traitor, the dark cavern pack, the pack of wolves, and the pack that she herself had invaded in a poorly-planned self-righteous strike.

She grinned suddenly, resting her elbows on her knees and shaking her head. “I forget you wouldn’t be able to tell me about a lot of this stuff firsthand. It seems like you’ve been here a hell of a lot longer than me, but Inferni’s old.”



Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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[/html]
#8
[html]


(564)
Stoooop. ;_; It's okay to leave me sit for a few days.

In truth, it had taken Myrika some time to work up the courage to come to Inferni. The skulls ringing the borders hadn't helped her any, and her father's warnings had echoed in her head like some terrible and tuneless chorus. She was ashamed to admit such now, and wouldn't have volunteered such information to one she admired, such as Vesper. Instead, she continued her work about the fire, eventually reaching for the rabbit. She skinned it expertly with the same knife she'd used to spark the fire. It was an ugly thing, built for utility and work rather than show or combat, but it worked quite well for Myrika, who was careful to keep the blade razor-sharp.

She put the wet hide aside, draping it over the windowsill rather carelessly. She wasn't certain if she'd cure that one, as it was almost sure to have holes and imperfections, but neither was she one to discard potentially good leather and pelt, so she'd done as she customarily did, and set it aside for a later decision. The naked rabbit carcass was gutted and split in a few moments, and the coyote set it on a stick, using a rather thin leather cord she unwound from the stick, wrapping and tying the rabbit corpse to the makeshift spit. As she dangled it out over the fire, one ear flicked toward the scarred woman, turquoise eyes following shortly thereafter. She enjoyed this bandy of words and it was good practice to be on the giving end of a historical discussion. She had received much, and it was due time for her to start retelling.

It really is old, the woman said, shaking her head. Unfathomably, she added. Inferni had existed seven years longer than her -- seven years was more than twice her life thus far. But -- well. Kaena was here for the foundation, though she didn't stay all this time, either. And at first, the only Lykoi in Inferni was Kaena -- until Gabriel was born, anyway. Ezekiel's dad, the Aquila before Ezekiel and after Kaena's last time as Aquila, she explained. Gabriel had many siblings, too, but he was the one she knew by name, and it was him she referred to. It's never been exclusively Lykois, she said, glad of that. She would find a clan consisting entirely of family tiresome. There's the Massacre family and the Mogotsi family, though that latter isn't currently represented in our ranks. There had been Tedros, whose name she now recognized in her history, but he was gone now, wasn't he? She did not know Sylvia Odessa Mogotsi, the Tirones Minor.

But there were wars -- against Clouded Tears and Aremys, two wolf packs of the time before the fire. Then, since the fire, Inferni warred with the pack Dahlia de Mai twice. Dahlia's no more, though. She had never encountered anyone of Aremys or Clouded Tears -- even the time of Dahlia de Mai was before her acceptance into Inferni. The rusty-tinged woman spoke of these things comfortably, though, as they were subjects integral to Inferni's history, and she had put a lot of time into the writing about them. There was much else to be said about their history, of course, but the wars were an undeniably large part of it.



Myrika is by Nat!

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</style>[/html]
#9
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 375 :: It was a few days x3 And it's okay. I needed to kick myself for being lazy; after I get motivated, I'm glad to be posting. xD

Myrika worked to skin and spit the rabbit, her fingers moving easily with the knife to free the pelt from the flesh and gut the creature. Specks of blood coated her tan hands as she set the creature over the fire to roast, and Vesper found herself entranced. Such actions had to be complicated to learn, but it was nearly intimidating how simply they came to the taller hybrid woman. It didn’t quite make the former non-luperci feel adequate, however, as she knew that running through the Waste and snapping up the grazing rabbits would be child’s play for her, but it still made her watch carefully as if she could become better by viewing the process.

The Optio managed to look away from the woman’s fingers long enough to meet her turquoise gaze, and she listened with interest about the matriarch of the Lykoi family, the grandmother to what seemed to be half the clan. The thought of the number of litters that had to be born for this to happen made her ache, but she also found herself curious about what it would be like to have such a large family. Her own mother had been completely solitary, presumably growing independent from her mother before her as soon as she grew. As for her wolf father—she knew nothing about Marcel and wanted to keep it that way. She didn’t think she’d like the answers.

“I didn’t know Ezekiel’s father led,” Vesper murmured, mostly to herself. She supposed she would have picked up on it from small talk. It was still interesting that the mantle of leader had passed from mother to son to son again, and she wondered if that would continue. Then again, she wished for Ezekiel to remain Aquila for a long time; she didn’t know who else she trusted to be capable enough to lead besides him. By no means did she believe that the de le Poer was faultless, but everyone else’s vices were plain to see.

Her ears perked slightly at mention of the packs who’d warred with Inferni, but even though she’d been prepared to ask more about them, a phrase grabbed at her attention and caused confusion to flicker across her angular face.

“The fire?”



Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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[/html]
#10
[html]


(428) <3

As Myrika continued talking, talking became easier -- her words were motions she knew how to make, rather like the cuts and slices she'd made in the rabbit to separate pelt from flesh. Ezekiel, Gabriel, Kaena, Roane, Segodi, Kidorah, Kaena, Arlo, Kaena, and Zarah, the coyote said, saying the names slowly so Vesper did not become overwhelmed. All the Aquilas -- well, it was a different word sometimes, but the leaders, anyway. She knew little of any but Ezekiel, Gabriel, and Kaena -- the scarred old woman had spoken of the rest only briefly, explaining the various details and accomplishments (if there were any) during the particular leader's reign and little of their personalities or relations to herself. The Causarius had been particularly denigrating regarding her first two stints as Inferni's leader, though to Myrika it had sounded rather like the scarred woman had held the clan together through peril.

The fire -- well. Inferni started out way over the mountains. Have you ever been up over them? Between Ichika and Anathema, and over the mountain, I mean. The whole territory's burned to ashes, and the fire -- here, she turned to Vesper and emphasized with a one-handed gesture to illustrate the fire's importance -- that was what drove Inferni out of their old territory and into this one. The clan used to live way up north, along the beaches up that way, and when the fire came, Gabriel led them through a pass in the mountain to safety. Inferni was the only one of those old wolf packs to survive the flames, she said, repeating almost verbatim what her scarred grandmother said. Kaena seemed immensely proud of Inferni for its survival of the fire.

Kaena didn't know its cause. I don't think anyone does, she added, shrugging and frowning as she looked into her fire. Strange how something could be so destructive and beneficial. Myrika didn't doubt for a second the fire would consume the inside of her brick schoolhouse, leaving nothing but a burnt shell, but luckily, the outside of the building was brick, and the overhang some kind of metal. It was highly unlikely to burn even if she lost control of her fire. The rust-hued coyote turned the rabbit around on her spit, pulling it out to check on the state of her cooking. She stuck it back over the fire with a flexuous, well-toned arm and nodded. Should be done soon, the woman said, pausing here with the information overload so Vesper might have a moment to process.



Myrika is by Alaine!

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</style>[/html]
#11
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 514 :: omfg i finally replied stop being so slow raze

The tawny woman listed off a multitude of names that was too much for her to remember even as she took care to speak slowly. While she’d understood that Inferni was old, to hear the names of the many coyotes that had led it made that fact only more concrete. Kaena herself was testament to its age; she couldn’t have been too young when she first rose to power, no less than a few years at least. She would have been just old enough to be able to command respect, though then again there was likely a reason she was reigned as Aquila a few nonconsecutive times.

Her ears perked at mention of the mountain territory, and Vesper gave her head a small shake to show she had not gone that far. Perhaps she should have, but Ichika no Ho-en was as far as she normally went; she’d yet to pass between that territory and Anathema’s. However, she could clearly conjure the image of destruction—of burned trunks and sooty rivers and desolation in place of once-flourishing life—and was somewhat in awe. Her blue eyes flicked once to the flames lapping underneath the spitted rabbit, trying to imagine it in a scale that had forced wolves to abandon their homes for so long. She wondered how many had died, and if any had come back.

Pride swelled in her ink-spotted chest, however, at thought of the coyotes settling in the new land. Born of fire—how often had she thought of flames and phoenixes since coming to stay with the clan? It was such a cliché that she wanted to laugh, but nothing else suited Inferni and its warriors more.

She chewed on these thoughts and watched as Myrika checked the rabbit, her thoughtful expression transforming into the slightest of smiles. “That’s strange, though,” she murmured, after acknowledging the meat’s progress with a nod. “It sounds like it must have been insanely large, to destroy those lands like that. I wonder how many others didn’t make it—the other wolf packs that didn’t reform.” She knew that there were other defunct groups that had lived in Nova Scotia, like Dahlia de Mai, but to think of those who lived before… Had they been as large and numerable?

She gave her head another shake, somewhat amused that she was fixating herself on the past. It wasn’t her past, which made it easier to mull over, but she’d always believed that looking back was a waste of time.

“What’s your favorite story?” Vesper asked suddenly, her blue eyes flicking to Myri as a somewhat crooked smirk overtook her angled face. “I don’t want to make you ramble about the boring bits… What do you think is most interesting to talk about?” Her tone was teasing and challenging, but the friendliness behind that showed she would be happy to hear whatever the tall woman wanted to say. She hated the thought that she was dragging all these subjects from the Praetorian’s mouth with no benefit to her—other than a rabbit and antler and some company.




Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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[/html]
#12
[html]


(536)



Myrika is by Kiki!

The dead were something Myri had not considered. Inferni had lived far to the north, yet it alone had survived the flames -- what did that say of the myriad wolf packs between Inferni's beach and the Halcyon range? The tawny woman supposed it meant they had all perished, or their leadership had crumbled at the first signs of thick smoke upon the horizon. Either seemed equally plausible, and perhaps it was not so exclusive -- perhaps a bit of both had contributed to the collapse of packs on the far side of the mountain. Myri grew thoughtful -- these were the questions historians were supposed to ponder, and it was relevant to Inferni. Why had they survived when all others perished, despite their northerly position? Myri herself had seen the long lands between the uppermost rises of the mountain range and the northernmost beach. She knew what a long distance it was. It was a mystery to ponder, certainly, and one she'd devote some thought to.

The Praetorian glanced to her companion with surprise -- albeit pleasant surprise -- upon her inquiry, cocking her head to the side and giving a thoughtful glance to the metal rafters of the overhang. There were many stories to choose from, though she did not know them all so well. I guess the story of the skulls. The tradition of hanging them around the borders came with Gabriel from Scintilla -- where he was a war-leader, and where Ithiel and Aemon were born. Gabriel and Kaena hung the first ones together. She supposed she liked it because she could envision Kaena and Gabriel -- though she'd never seen him, she imagined he looked a lot like Ezekiel, with a dash of Ithiel and Aemon for good measure -- painting the first skull and placing it on a pike along the edge of Inferni's territory.

She yanked the rabbit back once more, checking over it with bright turquoise eyes. She held it out to her Optio, smiling. Take the stick, it'll be hot, she warned. I guess it's kind of a boring story, but I like knowing why we do things, she said, shrugging. I mean. It's obviously why they're there, to scare off invaders, but I like knowing where traditions come from and all that other boring shit. I guess that's why I make a good historian, she said, forcing a laugh. The same with the ranks and why they are the way they are, she said. I like that story, too. Figuring her companion might inquiry, the russet-haired woman did not hesitate before speaking on the clan's rankings.

When the clan was first founded, there was only the leader, subleader, member, and youth's positions. When Kidorah took over, she made a new ranking system, more complex. Segodi changed it to his liking, and Kaena, Gabriel, and Ezekiel did more of the same. It's like a continuous project, always improving, she said, shrugging helplessly. Again, it wasn't that interesting, but Myri liked the story and the idea that things were getting better. The parts I like are the boring ones, she murmured, shaking her head and laughing softly to and at herself.

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</style>
[/html]
#13
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 439

Myrika spoke of the skulls, of the silent sentries appointed to deter their fully-fleshed brethren from crossing the borders. It was a tradition that the Optio assumed had simply been around forever, perhaps even carrying over from the days of near-feral coyotes when their fearsome and terrible reputation had been earned. The news of Scintilla and the former Aquila as a war-leader was news to her, however, and her ears pricked with interest—though true to her word, she held her tongue and let the history-keeper continue to talk about what she wanted.

It still amazed her, however, how cultures presumably far apart could craft such customs as the hanging of the skulls. She knew little of Aemon and Ithiel, other than that they were in her tier and seemed to need little guidance from her, but it cast a unique light on them. Scintilla, war. She wondered if she should speak to the pair of de le Poer brothers.

The scent of cooked rabbit had been pushed to the background of her senses, but now it near blasted her in the face once Myrika seemed to decide it was done. Pale hands reached out to grasp the stick, gingerly, as she drew it close to her mouth for another pleased sniff. She wondered how to eat it and how much the other woman would want—for it was a gift for her, anyway—and decided on taking an experimental nibble near a shoulder. She ate but little and passed the rabbit back with a smile—one that told she wasn’t that hungry, not that the rabbit tasted bad. It had a unique taste cooked, one she wasn’t used to.

“It makes you think about everything more,” Vesper agreed lightly. “Even if it isn’t important for the now, it helps you to really understand, I guess.” It was becoming obvious she wasn’t used to having such intellectual conversations, and so she fell silent, teasing a piece of rabbit out from between her teeth with a claw.

She nodded as the ranks were explained; it all made good sense. With civilization came expansion and streamlining, and it seemed that Inferni’s ranks worked well for the clan even if they might have been overly complex many generations in the past.

Vesper snorted at the woman’s final remark. “It’s interesting when you talk about it,” she protested, and scratched her ear. “Are there any famous Optio or Praetorian coyotes from the past?” she asked, grinning slightly. She was interested in who she should be looking up to, what figures had passed through her rank and what they had done right and wrong.



Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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[/html]
#14
[html]

(407)



Myrika is by me!

Go ahead, the woman said, passing the rabbit back without a bite. I can eat later -- it's tough to talk with your mouth full, Myri added with a grin. She considered her scarred Optio's question with a tilt of her head, her face growing ponderous and faraway. There was nothing she could think of with quite the brisance as starting a war or anything to that effect. Inferni had many subleaders, though, and it was foolish to dismiss their contributions.

Anselm de le Poer, she said. After the fire, he helped Inferni settle down. A cousin of Gabriel's, he was -- he knew the land and helped us re-found ourselves this side of the mountain, right here on the Waste. I dunno what his rank was off-hand, though, she offered, shrugging. It was written in the book, but she had not taken the time to memorize the list of subleaders' names and ranks; just their names and deeds would suffice, she supposed. As for infamous... well, she said, grimacing. The second subleader Inferni had, he raped a wolf in Clouded Tears. He died for it at the hands of a different Clouded Tears wolf, and the wolf died, too -- but one of their sons lived. That son eventually gave Kaena children, and her daughter Rachias is my mother.

She had learned the deeper truth of her origins, prying into Kaena's mind. At first, the scarred woman offered a santized version of the history, sparing Myri the more gruesome details. Parts of it simply did not add up, however, and Myri had pestered the truth from the old woman at long last. This was far back in her own history, however -- her great-grandfather's deeds did not reflect down on her, and her father and grandfather both were consentual lovers of her maternal ancestors. Aside from that, it's Kaena and Gabriel who did the most sub-leading. The rest were made leaders quickly or passed out of memory, she said, smiling faintly. You don't have to do much to distinguish yourself from them -- just last more than a few months, and don't run off to some other pack, the woman said, speaking brightly and to reassure Vesper. Unfortunately, I guess a lot of it gets passed over. People remember the leaders, but not the subleaders -- even though many subleaders have served vitally in times of turmoil, she said, frowning.

<style>
@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css');
</style>[/html]
#15
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 221 :: omg tl;dr post ahead

Reluctantly holding on to the stick for now, doing no more than nibbling once more at an interesting-tasting piece, Vesper listened. She found the fact that Anslem already lived in the Nova Scotia reason interesting and a blessing for Inferni, perhaps a factor in the fire clan’s survival compared to the lost and singed wolf packs. Her ears pricked with interest at the second subleader, not for the gruesome account of what made him memorable, but the end result. She, of course, thought nothing of family and bad blood—overcoming her father, a less distant relative, was proof—but heritage interested her faintly. There were so many Lykoi children that it made some sense not all came from the same father, especially as some Lykois did not carry that name, but she hadn’t heard about any of Kaena’s partners.

She laughed when Myrika gave her reassurance, and shrugged at her last thoughtful statement. “I don’t know if I’d even want fame anyway,” she said, vaguely waving the stick in the direction of the Praetorian as another offer for her to actually eat. “It’s overrated, and I more or less keep to myself as it is. Mostly I don’t want to screw anything up.” She smirked crookedly. “Though I guess you’ll record my epic tales too, whether I like it or not.”



Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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[/html]
#16
[html]

(--)



Myrika is by Sie!

The mahogany-haired woman was thinking of her book, almost finished as it was, and wishing she could simply sit down and finish it. There never was finishing it, though, was there? As long as Inferni persisted, there would be new history to record, new pages to add, new deeds to preserve forever in ink. Myri had encountered some discouragement in her project, all of it her own. She had considered whether anyone would continue the project after she was gone, whether anyone would care to read it if she did finish it, whether it would become a treasured possession of the clan -- Myri did not know.

I will, she promised, grinning broadly. Inferni would have a better upkeep of its history now, Myri suspected, and she had left plenty of blank space for Vesper, Ezekiel, and any future leaders of Inferni who came into power. But it is overrated, she agreed, smiling. Kaena wasn't fond of remembering some of that history. If you get famous for Inferni, expect the same someday, I guess. I'll be happy if anyone ever reads my name out of the book's front over, she confided, though her grin broadened to indicate the statement was made in jest.

<style>
@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css');
</style>[/html]
#17
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 302 :: so lame

The Optio smiled more softly at the other’s light enthusiasm and her remark on her grandmother and the fame that came with getting deeds written down in the history book. She nodded lightly, wondering if any of the memories of the past would become painful to her—the wars she’d face, the drama that would be carried out even within the clan. Despite her love of fighting and her interest in the tales, she was already a little sick at the thought of war or anything else. She wouldn’t wish that on the comrades she’d come to care about.

Her blue eyes traced the other’s face for a moment, and she propped the spit with the rabbit against her leg, removing her hands from it so the other could grab what was hers. “Personally, I hope that the history of our time in Inferni is boring as hell,” she said with another crooked grin. “The stories are great but I’m sure that living through them isn’t.” She was tired of death without even experiencing as much of it as she could have.

She snorted at the other’s jesting remark. “I’d be glad to do that for you, if I knew how to read.” She lifted a paw as if to fend off any offers to teach her, though it was a subconscious gesture. “Myrika Tears: chronicler of the great history of the fire clan—its triumphs, its failures, its survival, and the story of that one skinny-ass Optio.” Her tone was unused to such elaborate theatrics that it all felt lame pouring from her mouth, but then she started laughing at how stupid she was more than anything else, leaning back and putting her hands behind her to brace herself. Why did she want to act like a moron around this woman?



Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


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</style>

[/html]
#18
[html]

(--) Not as lame as me. .____. Can wrap this up soon? I am stupid and this is stupidshort. :c



Myrika is by Bobbi!

The russet-furred woman could agree with that -- if only because it afforded her some time to catch up! She was still trying to figure out all the history that had come before the present time, and there was plenty of that. It would be good to have long years in which to contemplate the stories of the past she had collected, but it seemed unlikely. Inferni had many close neighbors, and closeness frequently led to conflict, if the past was any indication of the future.

You'll have your own section, the woman promised. I want to write a bit about any important figures Inferni has, and ... you're important, you're a leader, she said, smiling. I mean, that's why I have to write about you in the book, not why you're... why I consider you my friend, I mean. Myri didn't think it was really necessary to clarify herself like that, but she hadn't been able to help herself, either. It's easier to write about people who can tell you about themselves, rather than people who have been dead the better part of a decade, she said, rolling her eyes.

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}
#myrikaBobbi p.sieImage + p:first-letter {
font-size:65px;
display:block;
float:left;
margin:5px;
}
#myrikaBobbi p.sieImage + p { text-indent:0; }
#myrikaBobbi .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif
text-transform:none;
line-height:16px;
font-weight:normal; }
#myrikaBobbi .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#myrikaBobbi b { letter-spacing:-.5px; }
#myrikaBobbi u { text-decoration: underline; }
#myrikaBobbi b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
#myrikaBobbi b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
#myrikaBobbi b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]


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