There's Something About the Air Here

OOC: Though ex-Anathemans are invited, anyone can respond if they'd like to.

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10TH OF JULY, 2018
Musquodoboit Valley, At the Remains of Anathema's Fence

Dogmeat didn't like this place. The moment she glided over those wooden spikes, her gizzard squeezed tight. The crow didn't fly into Luperci territory as a rule, for they would respect hers as long as she respected theirs. Even scavenging in "abandoned" territory was bad - others might come to claim any leftovers. As a crow picked over the carcass of a dead deer, so too did Luperci pick over the remains of dead packs. Dogmeat almost made a sharp U-turn, frantic glances shot below in case an alarm rose.

Nothing. Not even a peep from a flock's warning crow, even though she knew there were murders nearby. Something about this place felt suffocating, dark, like a shadow cast over the land. Dogmeat's wings pumped faster, only for a strong wind to slam into her face-first. Cawing in surprise, Dogmeat barre-rolled, beating her wings against the turbulent air. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she looked up to see black clouds approaching. The edge of the storm moved fast from the southwest. Dogmeat could've sworn it was heading left a moment before

This wasn't foreboding at all, was it?

Another gust of wind convinced Dogmeat it was time to land. She'd wait out the coming downpour, then get out of this crazy place. The crow followed the gust, flying over some of the overgrown palisade. It looked like there hadn't been passage or maintenance through that part for some time. Diving down, she stretched her wings wide, reaching for the nearest, thickest branch. She'd hide and wait for a bit, then see if something had better cover. Other than a thick cluster of leaves, her current choice swayed with a groan, the limb battered and bare.

A thunderclap rolled from the southwest. Down here, the air seemed thicker, more heavy with something. It wasn't exactly malevolent, but it felt like a bad leftover would feel in her beak. Dogmeat clacked her bill together, feathers ruffling and rising. She tried to shake off the strange feeling, but it started to sink into her dark feathers. It might be humid fog coming down from the mountains, but her sight was still clear. Dogmeat hadn't seen anything from above, either.

No, not foreboding at all.

OOC: Hi! Want an ex-leader of the ex-Anathemans?

The grizzled wolf trodded along, steel clinking against steel as his long coat welcomed the coming breeze, the symbol of a now dead family that was once proudly emblazoned on it's back faded and chipped away by the weather. He and Greed were making their way through the peninsula, on the pretense of visiting Biff's Bar once again. Knowing Greed, he probably would want to stop in after all, and despite or maybe even because of the antics of last time, Lukos had little objection to the thought. With a softened smile, he clutched at the weight around his neck, marching on towards desolate lands. He was excited that they were moving onto the next stage of their life, to leave behind the death and despair from before. But there was one relic from the past, one reminder that he still wanted to keep with him.

Walking through the Dampwoods, the grey swordsman had told the young Lykoi that he wanted to make a detour before moving on, and so he set out for the old mountain he had once called home. Regardless, they'd either have to cross the mountain or go around to get to Amherst, considering Salsola didn't like visitors. Following that logic, he might as well visit the old resting grounds. Humming a small tune as he walked along, the trees, somehow began to grow dark and malignant. The bellowing sky echoed behind him, and the wolf turned to sense the air, the feeling of a storm hot on their heels from where they came. "Seems we've been followed." he said with a smirk, turning his back to the thunder. He hoped the kids were safe and warm back at the camp. Intending to find shelter before the rain caught him, Lukos pressed on, stopping only for a moment when he reached the wooden walls that nature was slowly reclaiming from their selfish use of her trees. It was something poetic, to see the crumbling and reclamation of their deeds.

If memory served him, there should've been a way in riiiight, ah, there it was. A gap presented itself in between the standing logs, and Lukos graciously stepped through, hand on the hilt of his trusted katana. In a way, the ancient weapon was having a homecoming of it's own, for it was here that he rescued the blade from collecting dust in their storage. His fur rippling in the wind now, he raised a paw over his eyes to look out into the rest of the territory. Ah, he forgot about this feeling. He stood for a moment more, looking over what he could feel in his body as a desolate place, he heard a small noise, just above and ahead of him. With the cock of his head, yellow eyes observed a small feathered creature, something of a wonder to the man. "Well, I'll be." he said mostly to himself.

Stepping closer to the winged loner, he called up to them, speaking in a friendly tone with a grin. "Hello there, friend. Are you lost?" he asked, wondering if this one had been one of their's, or just a traveler fearing the approaching storm. "If you'd like somewhere better to be, I can help." the grey male offered, noticing that the poor thing chose some pretty lackluster cover against what was coming.