Into the lion's den.

Nuki Rakezael · 02-03-2011, 06:15 PM

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OOC All welcome! WC 513

So, this was what it was like to join a pack in this continent... A little anti climactic, if you asked her. Where was the pageantry? The hazing? The wild initiation?

Back in End World if you were discovered to be a loner, and could convince the rapscallions that plagued the city that you were not loyal to a rival gang, they would force you into submission. Swear fealty to their alpha or suffer the consequences... the consequences usually being a slow and torturous death. Nuki knew many a Luperci who had succumbed to this fate, and many more who became loyal mob drones in order to save their pelts. It didn't do them much good, though. With the way life went in End World, unless you were in favor of the rich, fat bosses than ran the place, you would be dead in six months doing their dirty work.

Nuki skated below the radar for most of her life, thanks to deft survival skills and two rogue parents who stuck together long enough to teach the youth how to endure. The life had hardened the woman into a hellion not unlike those she detested in End World, the only difference was she had the brains, skills, and pride to survive on her own. Her caution had afforded her three years so far, and with any luck would fashion many more to come.

Yet after all that time spent in hell, avoiding assimilation into a gang, look at where she found herself now? She had followed a rumor, a rumor spoken by drunkards, the leper-like Luperci of the End World bars. 'There is this place called 'Souls... Nova Scotia, it is... there's no packs there.' Yeah right, disgusting fools. She ought to go back and slay each and every last one of those despicable men.

Three years of avoiding capture in End World... for this? For dropping her tail, averting her eyes, and requesting admittance into a pack. A damnable pack. And still she did not know the purpose, she only knew that she had to do it. Her instincts screamed at her, she had to follow them. There was something... something looming over the horizon that she could not yet understand, that forced her to seek rank among a pack... just days after she murdered one of their members.

Now she stood in the lion's den surrounded by the Crimson Dreams territory. This place was seething with mindless wolves, packed to the borders, she assumed, with people quick to tuck their tails and obey – just as she had to in order to ensure her survival. But they were not merely trying to survive. Their membership here was permanent. They were disgusting.

The scoundrel, the newest member of Crimson Dreams, stood outside Haven Manor, her hands on her hips as she studied the structure. For now, she would find a room inside and make it her home. Her very, very temporary home, she promised herself. Just long enough to find out what this feeling was all about, then get out of here.

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