run before you have to walk -

Arda Perrio · 08-02-2010, 12:13 AM

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OOC Name: Draggar
Preferred method of contact: PM, email upon request
Character Name: Arda Perrio
Character Age: 14 years
Character Gender: male
Desired Profession Path, if any: He's getting quite a bit up there in the years, but he might be of a little help in the craftsmen department.
Regular Wolf or Luperci: Canis lupus lycaon ortus.
How did you hear about 'Souls?: The RPG-D.
Ugh, I got confused. Was I supposed to use the joining form from the roleplay guide or from AniWaya's website?

Old eyes dropped to the ground. A grey-streaked paw fell upon the ground weakly, followed by two others. The fourth - his left hind - was clutched high, tickling the long matted fur of his underbelly. The great, age-speckled muzzle lifted up as his nostrils flared, half in pain, half in curiousity. The scent of strange wolves hit him with the wind and he hesitated. Going forth could be dangerous to one of his age and current condition, but if he turned back, he would never reach safety with this limp.

Arda Perrio was used to taking risks in his lifetime. It was how he had survive thus far. One more would not hurt, he was confident. The old wolf pressed forward, hindquarters bouncing as he hopped along. It was just a sprain, but even the smallest of sprains could turn into the worst of injuries when you had lived so long. Surely, if Arda had ever been blessed with the gift of grace, all had left him now. With every weak step, the scent of strangers grew. He felt himself shudder, despite his youthful bravery. He had no energy for shifting now, and he wouldn't last on two legs. A fight was out of the question. The old fighter bit down in frustration on the sharpened stone clutched in his mouth. It would have to do for protection.

On the old wolf crawled, breathing rate and heartbeat increasing as he went. He supposed he was nearing a dangerous level of exhaustion. Seven years ago, he could have run the distance he had just walked in five minutes, tops. Everything slowed down with age. Life slowed down so much that looking up at the stars on a clear night could be just as painful as having a bone snapped. But for his restless paws and enduring dignity, he would be useless. Arda cringed. He was not one to accept the pain that came from age. The stronger part of him wanted to believe it was all in his head, that he wasn't really so weak and so broken. The less dominant, and undoubtedly more intelligent, area of the old Luperci's brain argued helplessly, begging his body to give up and take a break. Yet such things as rest had never played a large part in Arda's life.

It made no sense to give up on life when he had made it this far. Why rest now when tomorrow might not even arrive? And he felt certain that he would not see tomorrow anyways. Two things could happen tonight: The strange wolves would rip him to shreds, or chase him away to be killed by something else. A third, more potentially welcoming idea did not even enter the old wolf's mind. Wisdom did not come with age in all cases.

Arda would go down with one last fight, of that he was determined. He didn't count on anything coming his way with good intentions. In the past, the male had found that you could wish one thing and be given the opposite, consistently. The inspiration to take risks still haunted his soul, but the truth of his risks was that when he put his weight against the world, the world pushed back, hard. And yet, the bravery of the wolf led him on, for what was life without a surprise here and there? Without chancing it all for the slim potential of success? There was nothing worth living for if one simply wasted away, even if one was as old as Arda. Believe it or not, the older you get, the more you need hope. The more you need a goal, something worth living for. Death is inevitable, but the circumstances surrounding it can always be changed, or so went the teaching that the old wolf clung to.

He laughed despite himself. Who was he trying to kid? There was nothing to live for anymore. There was only the hope of one more day, maybe one more risk. If he kept walking, there was the possibility of a new day. If he turned back, all that would await Arda was the jaw of a hungry predator, looking for an easy kill. The jagged edges of the sharpened stone in his mouth dug at his lips, but he held it tighter and continued his journey.

Dawali Amara · 08-02-2010, 04:04 PM

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Hi, and welcome! Big Grin About the joining forms: The AW one is really the general one just with some points added, so don't worry. You covered it all anyway Smile I'm glad you checked our webpage out! Also, I think you already know this, since you seem pretty thorough, but according to our age guidelines, your wolf is equal to 93 human years. If this is above what you intended, maybe you should adjust it? If not, simply ignore me! Wink

His feet carried him with ease along the old path. He didn't know how old it was; it had been here when they first settled. Maybe it was created by all the wapiti that used to inhabit these lands. They were scarcer now, having moved further south as his tribe invaded their feeding grounds. A wise decision, if wisdom was something one could apply to prey animals. Dawali decided not to dwell on that subject, and his thoughts continued on to other subjects as he moved absent-mindedly along the path. The habit of patrolling had a long time ago infested him, and he found himself covering at least a fourth of the length of their borders every night. It wasn't so much that he didn't have competent scouts, as it was his need for something to do. Occasionally, something would happen, and lately this something was more often found along the borders, than elsewhere. Tonight provided him with one such event, he realized, as a stranger's scent traveled into his nostrils and he turned, automatically, in the direction of its owner. He could smell the age on this one, and it made him curious. This curiosity was all but satisfied when the red wolf's eyes finally spotted the owner of the scent.

His hand was lifted in greeting as his two-legged form approached the stranger, but Dawali's usually kind face was a question mark, now. Here was an old (a very old!) male, with a stone in his mouth and an injured hind foot, slowly making his way forward. If he had been curious before, he was itching to ask this male about all these things now. A fascination from his youth sprung up on him as in an ambush. He remembered asking the tribe's elders all kinds of things as a young puppy, thinking they were at least hundreds of years old, though he knew, now, that their age at the time had been less than that of the male in front of him. In fact, they had been little older than himself at his current age. The Chief lowered his hand he approached the older male, and he greeted him as he usually greeted others. His head tipped forward in a small bow, like an elongated nod, eyes all the while seeking those of the stranger. "Greetings. You are close to our borders; I picked up your scent and decided to seek you out." He paused for a moment, and his eyes moved quickly to the stone in the male's mouth. "I am Dawali, Chief of the AniWaya tribe. We claim the territories behind me.". Yellow gaze traveled to the stranger's injured foot, and back again to his face. "Are you injured?" It seemed that a lot of injured wolves were turning up in these parts lately. Perhaps he would be wise to increase the number of members that scouted their borders.

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Arda Perrio · 08-02-2010, 05:40 PM

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ooc : Thanks! And yeah, he's supposed to be an old geezer. I'll test the waters with him around here until he dies. He might have a year or so left to live. Old geezers are fun, I think.

The old Luperci's age-stricken feet found their way along the worn path. It was quite the improvement compared with many of his previous travels - finding a nice old path to walk on without many risks of stumbling or getting a paw caught, as had been the case with his injured foot. Rheumy golden eyes, clouded with cataracts and age, flashed under the hardened expression of the beast. The scars that fell as mazes on his back rippled under his thin layer of greying fur as he sat himself upon the ground with a hardy grunt. His nostrils flared. Now he could pick up the scent of so many familiar things. The sting of smoke wafted ever so faintly through the breeze and he remembered fondly the pipe he had left behind him when he had sprained his leg. The scent of food and fresh herbs - all the scents that came with a pack were there. And not a moment had gone by as he sat when a new scent came rushing toward him. He was up on his paws as quickly as his years would allow and walking forward again, ears perked in curiousity. A stranger, coming close.

Before he had trudged much longer, he spotted the figure. Blurry but getting closer, he saw the hand raise. Arda's lips quivered on the rock in his mouth and he hesitated, debating whether to drop it or prepare himself for that last fight that still haunted his mind. He stopped, looking suspiciously at the new wolf, taking in the features of the tall red male. This stranger looked millions of times stronger than Arda, and perhaps 10 years ago the old one may have had the faintest - very faintest - hope of besting him in a fight. Today was much different. Alone, old and broken - a dangerous combination. As the stranger grew closer and more in focus, Arda observed the graceful dip of the head. He felt his eyes meet with those of this red wolf's, and he instantly looked away. A protesting muscle somewhere in the back of his neck creaked and fussed as he too lowered his head in greeting. Arda's eyes, however, remained fixed on the ground at the new wolf's paws.

After the wolf had spoken, Arda gently dropped his lone weapon. He recognized the authority in Dawali's voice, the youthful power. Arda dropped his tail in further attempt to show that he meant no harm. What trouble could he possibly cause anyway? He stepped back at this thought. How stupid it had been to head toward the scent of wolves. Arda quickly sent a silent prayer of gratitude to whatever may have been watching over him, glad that this Dawali had not killed him quickly. Perhaps it would be a blessing, to be put out of his suffering, but Arda did not wish to think of it. AniWaya. The words washed over the old one. He had heard of the tribes in this area, but had passed all others by to continue whatever journey he thought he was on. Injured and with nowhere else to go, he had walked straight toward this one. Was it a sign? Perhaps, but Arda was nowhere near as spiritual as he had once been. Wisdom and the secrets of the universe? None of it really mattered when all you had to look forward to was a next, forgiving breath. His eyes flashed upward briefly, and he spoke. The worlds fell out like smoke on the breeze, husky, crackling like the falling of a tree. "Greetings, young Chief. I am Arda Perrio. I have been a simple traveler for as long as I can remember, and I mean you no harm, as I suppose should be... painfully, clear. I hope that I am not disturbing any of your... more important duties."

He had tried to pick his words carefully. Much grace and tact had long been lost to the old male's lips. Respect of Dawali's power and position rang in his tone, though Arda could very well have been this wolf's great-grandfather. His head remained bowed, against the argument of his muscles. "It is a simple sprain. And yet, it's made me lame for days now. I would not imagine there is much to be done with it. Things break easily when you get to be... like me. I apologize for intruding so rudely. I am lost here in this place, in this land."

Dawali Amara · 08-03-2010, 01:15 PM

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Playing an old wolf is fun! I'm used to Dawali being the oldest in AW, so this'll be a nice change for him Wink Sorry for the delay; I'm at work Smile

Dawali considered himself an old person; most of the wolves that inhabited AniWaya were many years younger than himself, and only rarely did he meet someone as old, or older. Kaena was equal to his age, or perhaps older, he was sure. He'd never dared to ask her. The same with Tayui, perhaps. He had learned the hard way not to ask a female for the dreaded number of her age. Used to being surrounded by wolves maximum 3 years of age, the Chief almost chuckled at being called 'young'. For certain, he did pity him for the obvious pains he was in, but he hid this feeling well. The Elders of his tribe, many years ago, had scolded him for pitying the old and frail. But even stronger than his pity was the awe that washed over him, because this wolf was older than anyone he had ever seen, and it was truly an accomplishment to be alive at all. He'd grown up being taught that the Elders were wiser beyond anything, except perhaps the spirit guides, and automatically Dawali applied this image to the much older male in front of him. "Don't worry, you are not disturbing anyone." He'd scouted in the search of something, and something had been found. Pity stabbed at the Chief once more as Arda continued to explain, but he tried not to show it. He sought not to disrespect the much older wolf, out of habit and tradition more than anything. His traditions might not mean anything to Arda, but they were as much part of Dawali as was his own tail. "I can brew you a tea for the pain, if you want." One cream-colored hand motioned to the little pouch that hung from his belt. It had saved many a stranger from pain, if not from death, and Dawali never left the house without it. It was not enough in itself tonight, though, as he would still need a little kettle to hold the liquid. He dared not say so, but Arda looked as if he could use some rest more than anything.

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Arda Perrio · 08-03-2010, 05:33 PM

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Thank you. And that's no problem. I've just been looking around the forum and such.

Arda's eyes brightened in senseless glee. He wondered if all the AniWayans were so painfully polite. He was not used to such formality, having been practically chased this far by other, more barbaric wolves that he had stumbled upon in the past. He had done his best of avoiding those in this new land however. But the sharp tongues of the red-and-grey wolves of his past still hung in the air around him, weighing down his shoulders, better reminders of his past than the scars that decorated his skin. Manners, formality - what was it to this wolf? He was in no way aristocratic, and had no plans on embracing the stereotype of age. Wisdom and respect got you nowhere in the end. It did not save a life on the brink of disaster, wisdom did not run down the strongest elk or stop the enemy in its track. At least, never had it seemed that way to Arda. Wisdom was in the head - what Arda wanted for himself came from the heart.

Having regained much of his self-confidence, Arda pulled himself forward, hopping awkwardly to favor his leg. A tea for the pain, eh? Now it had not become so much pain as it was numbness. Nothing hurt that badly when you had seen so much in your life. Arda had taken lives, seen the greatest wolves taken brutally down to earth, blood spilling, warming the frozen, unforgiving earth. A tea for the pain. If only a simple tea could cure all the pain, could take him away from this place. Forever, he would be free from the burden of life. Memories were all that the world held for him anymore. There was nothing to look forward to, nothing to look back on but the memories, the worthlessness of a life wasted in the winds. He found himself wondering, hoping perhaps, if this polite strange creature would have the nerve to poison an old man with this tea. He almost laughed at his unwarranted suspicion. What was there to suspect anymore? Nothing mattered like it once had. He could not even hope to remember being as young as this Chief. Tea for the pain. He chuckled despite himself. If there was a tea for every pain, he'd have been wasted long ago.

"That would be quite kind of you. I've traveled too far on these legs, I think. I might need a lot of that tea," he said, jokingly, voice trembling with wear.

Dawali Amara · 08-04-2010, 11:31 AM

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The Chief questioned himself briefly. He knew it was not the wrong thing, to shelter this elderly wolf, because the traditions and guidelines for life that had manifested themselves in him from early childhood craved that he did so. But perhaps it was wrong, as well, for him to offer this wolf a place among them without as much as a second thought. Most of their members had been allowed on the inside of their ranks because of their abilities, and his belief in their contribution, and here he was, making no such demands from this one. But the customs of his tribe screamed at him to respect the older male, and he bowed his head to them, though not physically. If nothing else, having an Elder in the tribe would mean something to the children. He might be more able than he seemed. Dawali remained quite serious, but chuckled briefly at Arda's joke. He was not wrong, either; the male looked as if he could need a long, hard sleep. The Chief glanced at the other's leg again, and his face returned to more serious folds. "Are you okay to walk to the village? It is quite a distance." He paused for a moment, worried that Arda might take offense. But it had to be at least 10 miles, and with a limp... It could be as unhealthy for him as not coming in at all. "I can fetch us some help, easy," he offered, still very serious. Now that he had decided to take him in, it was no good to have him die halfway to his new home.

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Arda Perrio · 08-05-2010, 04:26 PM

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"You are too kind. I do not wish to leech off of you and your tribe. An old man like me is not much more than just weight on your shoulders."

A catch. There had to be sort of a catch to this. Arda was not used to wolves being this kind. It was strange, being treated so respectfully and even invited into a pack's village. Village. The word echoed in his head. He had come from far south, where his small family had taken over an ancient pueblos. From the spot on the sandy desert hill, they could spot prey a mile away, safely, and plan their own routes to hunt. The memory warmed Arda's heart. He knew not what had become of his packmates, his family, and his friends. He had left the home so long ago, when he was perhaps two years younger than Dawali was now. It seemed so distant - the memory danced in the very outskirts of his mind.

At the thought of watching prey from the old, failing adobes and running with a pack, Arda's stomach roared. The wolf had developed a good tolerance to feelings of starvation, but now he could almost taste the sweetness of good meat on his tongue. Hunting was hard - almost impossible - for him. For a wolf as old as Arda, there were two options when it came to hunting. Find a stupid babe to trick, or search for the elusive creature that was older or weaker than Arda. As the years progressed, he found it was increasingly harder to find things older than him, so he had taken to more desperate pursuits, eating from leftover carcasses, picking up favorable-looking fruits... He sighed at the thought of food and the possibility of finding some at the tribe. Dignity, pride - they kept him from just hanging on to this opportunity like a helpless babe. He nosed the sharpened rock he had dropped earlier and looked up at Dawali, being careful not to look into the chief's eyes.

"I would not wish to be so much of a burden. I may have grown weak and tired, but my hands are not entirely useless. This rock here, it's not finished. But... it's what I do. Shape rock. Knives, arrowheads... They are a hobby of mine. While the more able-bodied of your group go about their business, an old man like myself can do at this, when I have the energy for shifting again. That is, of course, only if you should allow me a place to rest. I would not wish to intrude upon your tribe without some type of payment. I would not ask so much if I was not so desperate for a place to rest, a place to die perhaps. I do not wish to abuse the hospitality you have shown me, not at all. But perhaps..."

Arda cringed. His matted tail twitched beneath his legs and he quivered. The slightest breeze could very well have knocked him over, and the wolf was not used to being so frail, so... desperate. He had not the slightest idea of what he was saying. Just that perhaps, he might not have to walk much longer. The traveling spirit in him had died long ago, and it was a miracle he had lasted so long on his own anyway. What the old one had said was not untrue. His hands, though increasingly more unsteady, knew their way around stone. With the single tap of a claw, he could tell you what a rock was good for. It had once been his job, truly his passion, to bend stone to his will, with not but two hard shaping stones and his clever hands. His assortment of tools and weapons had been left behind weeks ago, when his leg had gone out and painful exhaustion had set in. Shifting took far too much energy from him in such a state, and stuck in lupus form, he had decided against dragging his collection with him so far.

Dawali Amara · 08-05-2010, 06:05 PM

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That's it, then, we can continue this thread if you want, or you can post once more and we fade to black; up to you. Titling him as a craftsman! :3

Dawali nodded as Arda spoke, feeling his respect for the other male rise. Perhaps the day would come when he would feel as this male did now, but the chief was determined to stop such silly talk. There had never been a day as long as Dawali lived that the advice of someone older than him had not been valuable, and this male might very well be twice his own age. His feathered mane bobbed as his head moved up and down, and just as Dawali took breath to reply, the male continued. Red figure bent down to pick the stone up, studying it as Arda's words streamed into his ears. There were many skills the tribe was currently in need of, and as far as Dawali knew, only Nayati and himself had been providing the tribe with arrowheads and hammerheads and spear-tips. It was crude work, and he did not care much for it. His fingers were made for other work, softer materials, and he did not excel in working with stone, by any means. His work was good enough to be put to use, but the tribe lacked proper expertise. The guilty conscience he had had moments ago evaporated with this newfound knowledge, and he smiled at the older male. "I am not lying when I say we've been waiting for someone like you to come along. Two of us provide the arrowheads around these parts, and I'm certain you would best us with ease." One hand motioned towards the very crude stone knife that hung from his belt, naming it an example of his own 'skill'. He glanced again at the rock in his hands before stuffing it into the pouch at his belt; surely, the male would not mind, as it was likely more than awkward to carry it himself. "You are more than welcome here, Arda, both for a rest and for a permanent place in our family, should you find that you want it." He turned halfway and motioned with his hand towards the path where he had come. "It is a long walk to the Village. Come, allow me to carry you, and it will be less of a strain." He had his doubts about making this suggestion; it was easy to offend someone like that, but the male did not seem shy about admitting his weakness in his current state. Hoping that the male would not take his suggestion in the wrong way, Dawali waited anxiously for a response. From a medical viewpoint, the need for food and rest for this one would easily reach a critical level, and quite soon, if his eyes did not deceive him.

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Dawali Amara · 08-05-2010, 06:05 PM

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Arda Perrio · 08-05-2010, 07:07 PM

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Arda's foggy eyes brightened considerably at Dawali's reply. His tail rose a little and he flared his nostrils with just the smallest bit of pride. Someone as old as dirt, like Arda, was rarely welcomed so kindly, and never told that they might have a place in someone's family. His heart raced with excitement, or as much as it could in his state. It was nice. Was that warmth he felt in the pit of his stomach? Perhaps. He might belong somewhere soon, might have something to claim as his own before he died - a family. The word rang bitterly in his mind. It was not always a good thing. But perhaps now, he would not mind. And as he watched the chief pick up his stone, he could have blushed with pride. Stoneworking and weapons-making was one of the only things he was good at anymore. Most of the things he made he could hardly use himself.

"You are truly far too kind. Thank you very much, Chief Dawali. I hope that perhaps I can be of some use to your tribe, and that perhaps you will not regret letting an old furbag like myself join you." He coughed and his entire body rocked. He flicked in ear, agitated with himself. At Dawali's offer, he cringed momentarily. Pride was a powerful thing, even when it had no more place in such an old wolf's life. He did not quite wish for others to meet him as a weak, fragile thing but he would not be meeting anyone at all if he pushed himself much farther. As much as one might hate growing old and weak, there was nothing that could be done to stop the process. And Arda did not think he could walk another step. He breathed in deep and replied, attempting to keep what little dignity he might have left. "That would be very nice of you. I do suppose there are a few perks to being old, like being carried. Thank you for the generosity."

Oh, thank you. This'll be it then, I suppose. Ooh, I'm all excited now.

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