family ties

sorting ceremony!

POSTED: Tue Jan 01, 2019 7:37 pm

During the winter, the church looked more majestic than ever - its muddled old windows, covered with broken glass and pelts, let through only a bit of the golden and blue dim lights of the season. Candles lit the interior, casting dancing shadows on the old walls, cracked and weathered with time. It was a good meeting place, Felix thought, warmed as soon as he entered. He gave out a howl - one that the members of his pack knew well by now - and waited at the back of the softly glowing church.

He waited for the last of the members to filter in, and stepped up to the front, prepared for the sorting, which was almost a full year since their first. The pack had joined forces at the harshest time of the year, and yet they have survived. Thrived. They've stuck together, and made a family together - all others now knew the name of Mistfell Vale. The thought made his heart rumble - and now their newer members, Falcon, Zuri, could be a part of their future, hopefully for years to come.

As everyone finally filtered in, and he knew that none more would come, he beckoned those chosen few to step forward and began to speak.

"Come, my packmates - come, my kin! It's time to find what house you're in," he said simply, giving a dramatic wiggle of his brow at the soon-to-be sorted Mistwalkers. Not as extravagant as his previous poetry, perhaps, but there was never harm in something simple every now and then, now was there?

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now dissolve me,
two tabs on your tongue
reality doesn't change

POSTED: Fri Jan 04, 2019 5:56 pm

Optime | Old Brassard Church | NPC: Glade (+578)

Her face wore a grim line as she took note of how much feed the horses had left. They weren’t anywhere near critical levels, however, it was low enough that the scout knew that she’d need to make arrangements to get more, preferably within the next week or so. She knew of a vendor, a Luperci that she had made use of during her time as a Loner, but, if all else failed, she supposed she could temporarily dip into the communal supply and pay it back twice over. As shame it was, that Jack was an eating machine. Thankfully, at the very least, she didn’t have to worry about vermin getting into the horses’ food with a marten around.

The flaxen gelding—perhaps sensing that she was thinking about him—came up behind her and nudged her back with his head. It caused the darkly furred woman to turn, a soft exhale escaping from her nostrils as she shook her head negatively at him. “No, Jack,” she told her ex-companion’s horse. She reached a hand up and patted his neck. “I swear, you’d graze until you popped if I let you.” A soft pressure was placed on his chest, and the draft horse stepped backwards at her wordless command. With Jack moved, Ragna secured the storage area she’d used for the feed.

A familiar, beckoning howl carried across the winter air then, and, not a moment later, Glade came bounding from out of the house. “Sorting day! Sorting day!” He chattered excitedly. The marten, for whatever reason, loved the traditional ceremonies. Maybe it was because he loved to see which paths the Mistwalkers would walk, perhaps it was because he loved to watch the Ravenking’s antics and silly phrases. Though, Ragna supposed, the food that typically accompanied any sort of pack gathering could have also been a factor. The mustelid was a glutton for such things, after all.

“Yes, I can hear that.” Ragna replied dryly, letting the marten climb up her clothes and position himself in his typical perch across the back of her shoulders.

“Let’s go! Let’s go! Want see if new Wolverthornes!”

Ragna let out a trying sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” She gave Jack another pat before leaving the gelding to linger or find companionship in Brimstone.

It didn’t take the Eklund long to make the journey from her home on the outskirts of town to the church. Looking upon the building, it brought back a fleeting moment of nostalgia. Snow collected upon its steps and rooftop, cast upon a backdrop of a winter’s sky. The last ceremony had been before the snow had fallen, and, seeing the church as it was that day, it reminded Ragna and Glade of the pack’s earliest days, when Felix and Calia had brought them all together under one allegiance.

For almost a year, Ragna had suffered through the Ravenking’s ridiculous antics and the companionship of Luperci that were not soldiers or wolves scorned by their own god.

Making her way up the steps, the scout made her way into the church and tried to not dwell on such mundane things. It appeared that she was amongst the first few to arrive, and Glade whispered animatedly in her ear of his thoughts of who would be sorted into their houses that day. When the pack had gathered, Felix began the ceremony with his usual flair.

Ragna Eklund

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Luperci Scout II
Do not go gentle
into that good night

POSTED: Fri Jan 04, 2019 6:43 pm

667- ya'll can ignore everything before the last paragraph, sosu rambles

Contrary to popular belief, hunting in winter was, in fact, a bounteous endeavour. While the blanket of snow and frost made for unfavourable terrain when it came to gaining purchase on which to give chase, the sluggish nature of prey animals played directly into the waiting hands, and maws, of those native to this wintery landscape. With fresh foliage scarce, creatures of a herbivorous disposition had little choice but to use precious energy looking for their next meal which, of course, left them all the more vulnerable. Over the cold season, many various ungulates had fallen foul to the Starkhelm and she'd hunted far past what her quota usually was. She did this somewhat often when the mood struck her, depositing what remained once she'd taken her share at the Vale's food store.

The hunt today was born of boredom and in search of entertainment. While she was no stranger to hunting beavers, having bested then multiple times before, she'd never attempted a hunt in the dead cold of winter. The strange creatures remained largely under the thick ice and it was often more effort than it was worth to break through it and chase them done. If one could. In the water, canines were vastly outrun and outmanoeuvred by the semi-aquatic mammals and, again, efforts often proved unfruitful.

The D'Angelo knew she was an adept swimmer, as fast and agile as she was on the land was she submerged. It was nowhere impressive enough to hold a candle to a beaver's skills, but it gave her more of a fighting chance than most others. She'd spent most the day stalking the icy rivers where she knew they lived, her verdant eyes brightening everytime a brown shape shuffled slowly through the snow and slipped effortlessly back through the snow into the water. The ice on this portion of the river wasn't particularly thick, mostly due to the unsteady flow of the water as it bubbled over the rocks and logs. After some few hours, Saga decided to set the wheels in motion and, as quietly as she could, snuck closer towards the water's edge.

Poisonous eyes were narrow in concentration as she waited for her cue and before long it came. The dark shape flitted past under the ice and without a moment's hesitation, she leapt.

The ice broke as soon as she made contact with it and pearly whites lashed forward and latched onto thick wet fur before the shock of the cold water could stop her. Blindly the pair struggled, claws dug into two-tone fur and a two-tone muzzle bit down further. Eventually, movement ceased and with a crash, the ice above the river broke apart again, this time from below. Saga took in the air without relinquishing her grip on her prey, it burned fiercly and she hadn't time to fill her lungs completely before momentum dragged her back underwater. She surfaced a second time, this time with more control, two mismatched paws gaining purchase on the thin ice for a moment before it cracked and split. To an outside observer, this might have looked like a further struggle, but it had been exactly her plan since realising how far she'd drifted from the shoreline. Again and again, this happened until she reached firm ground, crashing through fragile ice and swimming forward through the newly broken channel.

Finally able to fill her lungs and steady herself, Saga dropped her quarry just as a call rang through the air. Perfect timing. She took a few long minutes to gather herself, shaking as much of the water free from her coat as she was able. It didn't take her long to find the little group that had accumulated before her own arrival, still high from the adrenaline of her hunt. Still wet, she took up her position near the front of the group and sat silently, beaver at her paws.
Saga D'Angelo
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Luperci the crowned bear

ursa major

POSTED: Fri Jan 04, 2019 7:35 pm

The call was heard, and he felt like he shouldn't go. Still he found himself entering the building and standing near the entrance since he was unsure of where to sit. Malfoy noticed his sister, soaking wet for some reason, and frowned. Had she gone swimming in such harsh weather? For a moment he debated on sitting next to her, then crossed his arms and decided not to. She would just think he was up to something for sure, though he did make a mental note to try and speak to her before the day was done. Maybe even Baelish as well, if his brother was even around. As he got out of others way, he looked around the room and could feel a type of excitement in the air. Already having a house, he figured this was for the newer members of the pack.

Frowning he couldn't recall such a meeting for him, or perhaps he had missed it somehow. Shrugging to himself, he supposed it didn't truly matter in the long run of things. Looking around again, he had yet to see anyone he knew besides Saga. The grey wolf dog didn't even know who the main speaker was, though he guessed it was their leader. If he had already met the man, he couldn't remember when or even what had happened during that time. Supposing it did not truly matter, he settled in his spot and watched and listened as the ceremony proceeded to take place. His mind wandered, though he was still paying attention to what was going on. It was just that he didn't completely focus on the event, feeling like it didn't really matter if he was there or not in the long run.

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Trans rights are human rights

POSTED: Fri Jan 04, 2019 9:41 pm

WC: 337

When Falcon first heard about Mistfell Vale’s houses, he hadn’t given them much thought. Elkenfrey, Hawkesond, Wolverthorne, what difference did it make? Even now, as the green-eyed Crowstooth stepped into the old, candlelit church, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Falcon saw how the houses unified Mistfell Vale, bringing his packmates together in unique ways, but he was still wary. It’s not like they mattered, anyway; Falcon was never going to be one of the Chosen, guiding his house like Saga guided hers.

The young hybrid smiled at familiar faces, even the ones that didn’t smile back, and found a place to stand near the back of the room. He knew he, alongside his fellow Crowstooth, would be sorted after everyone arrived. It was nerve-wracking, but also… Kind of exciting? There was something about the energy of the growing crowd, something wonderfully contagious. Falcon tried to regain some sense of caution or uncertainty, but those feelings had become ephemeral and distant.

When the Ravenking called the Crowstooth forward, Falcon took a deep breath and walked to the front of the room. His heart fluttered nervously in his chest. Elkenfrey, Hawkesond, and Wolverthorne… Which would he pick, if he had the choice? In truth, Falcon wasn’t sure—he’d spent too much time pretending he didn’t care. Now, with the moment of truth upon him, he wished he’d done more research.

Once the last of the Mistwalkers filtered in, Felix addressed the crowd. His rhyme was simple, if a bit silly, and Falcon smiled despite his nerves. There was something special about the Ravenking. If some leaders led with an iron fist, and others led with a firm hand, Felix… Well, Felix Nightlark led with a warm embrace. The Ravenking was personable and present, kind and understanding, funny and easygoing; if Falcon had to pick one thing that made Mistfell Vale feel like home, maybe it was that. Where leaders went, pack members followed, after all.
Note: Falcon uses he/him pronouns publicly (i.e. to most packmates, acquaintances, and strangers) and she/her pronouns privately (i.e. to specific, close friends).
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With great distinction, I carry on They stole my dirty socks... :( Spring Spree 2020

POSTED: Sat Jan 05, 2019 2:50 pm

WC: 377

Sedona was out riding Hopi when the call came to gather in the old church. Thankfully she was already nearly back to the stables. Her mare was antsy being cooped up so much in the barn due to the snowy, icy conditions that were not only treacherous to Luperci but horse as well. It made Sedona feel better having her equine companion close to home and somewhere where she could better control the amount of snowpack was, hoof. But she knew she needed to take the poor creature out every now and then to stretch her legs or else she would start acting out. And that was the last thing Sedona needed.

Clicking her tongue to bring the mustang paint to a trot she brought her mount around to the barn as swiftly as she could on the slippery walkway, making a mental note to once again go through and shovel around the barn's pathways once the meeting for sorting the newest pack members into their houses was over. A sense of excitement rose in the woman's chest as she pondered who might join her in her house, Hawkesond. Smiling, she dismounted and worked quickly to get Hopi's tack off and put stowed away near her stall. She then lead the animal to her stall for the time being not brushing her down knowing she needed to get to the summons of the Ravenking. "I'll be back as soon as possible, girl. I'm sorry. Stay warm sweetheart." She kissed the mare's nose, throwing a blanket over Hopi's back and shutting her into the stall. The horse was content simply to graze at her feeding trough and snorted her goodbye. Sedona chuckled and then hurried on her way.

She almost slipped about four or five times, but eventually rushed up the church stairs hoping she wasn't the last person to arrive. Seeing many familiar faces, but not all, Sedona sighed and slowed in her rush and came to stand nearby Ragna and smiled kindly to her, nodding her head to Saga and a few others in acknowledgement before focusing up front on Felix and the soon to be sorted. She couldn't help but grin at the leader's rhyme of greeting as he started the ceremony. Classic Felix.


POSTED: Sat Jan 05, 2019 11:53 pm

WC: 543

Since arriving in Mistfell Vale, Ginny had managed to, so far, cause absolutely no trouble. Rupert was giving her confused looks because of trouble she had been known to cause back in Portland. Nothing harmful or dangerous - usually - but she was always amused. Her own amusement was always indirectly proportionate to Rupert's annoyance, so it always worked out well.

Now, it was as though Rupert was just expecting her to pull some kind of prank on him. He was constantly keeping her within his line of sight, which was probably a good idea in general. He had gotten her out of more trouble that she would like to admit before they decided to strike out on their own from Portland. He had also gotten her out of a little trouble during their travels as well. Who knew that some traveling merchants would be so difficult to steal from? Her mother had always made it sound so easy!

But no, there would be no theft from pack mates, which meant she would need to travel around a bit again, but first she wanted to get them settled and established. Part of that included learning about the pack's culture, which Ginny had done her best to do. Rupert was much better at that, but so far Ginny knew that she would eventually get sorted into one of the houses, and that the pack members in each house tended to be similar to each other in personality. It was much different from how Sapient was. Ginny had not gotten a chance to climb the ranks there, nor was she certain which she had wanted to go with. While she had learned how to fight with a sword from Naenia, she was not sure that the defense tier was right for her.

So maybe, for her, this whole personality house thing would work out well. Then she could be whatever she wanted and change her mind at will. It was likely that she would change her mind a lot.

When the call went up to gather, Ginny felt a frisson of excitement go through her belly. The first pack event! She would get to see everyone who showed up, and hopefully there would be some more new faces for her to meet.

"Come on, Rupert!" She grabbed his hand and tugged him along. He was taller than she was, so he only stumbled for a couple of steps before he was able to easily keep up with her brisk pace.

"With this reaction, you would think it was your sorting ceremony that we are going to," Rupert told her, though he made no effort to pull his hand from hers. That warmed Ginny's chest.

She pulled him into the church and then stopped in the doorway, looking around with wide eyes. Rupert guided her off to the side so that they would not be in the way of anyone else who was coming in after them. At least one of the pair had good manners. Ginny edged closer to the front of the gathered group, wanting to make sure that she could see everything that went on. She glanced around to look at who else was here before focusing on Felix when he spoke.

POSTED: Tue Jan 08, 2019 11:06 pm

Word spreads quickly, and the fact that there were more new members meant that a new sorting ceremony was bound to happen. Crassus had been a handful lately, and Cairina hadn't been too focused on general pack affairs. So, Felix's summoning howl didn't catch her by surprise. She swiftly ran to her den, and rummaged through the burlap sack where she stored her clothing. The old, girly dress would be of use once again.

Cairina fixed her hair as best and as quick as she could, and unable to run to any form of water body to check on her appearance, she just put some extra effort to make her mane look presentable. She had been running thropugh the forst, so folliage and dirt was bound to get stuck, but she managed to get most of it out. Her feet were luckily only a bit dirty, but she figured that it would wash off as she walked through the sheet of snow that stubbornly still clung to most of the Vale's lands.

The church was unusually crowded and lit, an unusual but still very welcome sight. People were already starting to enter the church, and Cairina followed them. She greeted her packmates as she saw them, either a nod or a hug was given, but soon enough, she claimed a spot for herself as the attention shifted towards their leader, and a few chosen that took their place beside him.

POSTED: Wed Jan 16, 2019 1:51 pm


Winter had come around again, and it made Posey think of when the pack first came together onto the steps of the old church. She was a year older now, perhaps, but she wasn’t so thin and tired; Mistfell Vale as a whole had seen to that. She would forever be grateful to Felix for opening his arms up to her and making a home for so many others. The cold, snowy days reminded Posey of suffering no longer, but of warm earthen dens and smoked meats and good company.

She arrived precisely on time, and paused at the entryway to shake out all the clumps of snow from her chalky fur. Her tongue lolled as she trotted betwen her packmates, finding a good place to sit where her four-legged form could see Felix and the handful of Crowstooth about to be sorted. Her bushy tail thumped the ground.

Mistfell Vale
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Luperci With Great Distinction

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