Setting out
#1
Lukos is glad to be on the move. He's been waiting to see the rest of Nova Scotia, and now he has the chance. As if he had a choice in the say. His last pack practically threw him out. They were always saying that he should find a pack of his own, and now he's off to do so. "Thanks for the kick out the door." He murmured to himself. He knew that it would happen eventually. It wasn't even his own pack. He had been adopted, out of pity, and now they didn't want him anymore. He didn't care. In fact, he was glad to leave, even if it hurt a little. He was sad at first, but focused on finding a pack. he heard about the Anathema, so he decided to head that way. So he walked in a straight shot for their borders, thorough the Dampwoods, hoping they weren't too busy and that they might consider him. He checked his elkskin bag, making sure his dagger and carving wood were there. Got to keep some hobbies, he thought to himself. Maybe they have a bow he can use too, he pondered. If not, he could always make one, maybe out of oak, or rowan - Focus, focus. "Anathema, here I come."
#2
He was two hours in when a freak storm just started pouring, and he was about to cross a mile long meadow. Or, at least it looked like it. "I'm not taking any chances," he said to himself. He paused, and thought that he needs a pack soon or he's gonna go crazy. Or just lonely. Either way, he starts setting up a makeshift tent out of branches and leaves. By the time he's done, it looks like you would get drenched if you stepped out for five seconds. He glares at the cloud-ridden sky and just asks, "Why, just, why?" He settled in his makeshift tent for a long night. I guess they call it the Dampwoods for a reason he mused in his head. Eventually he nodded off, until tomorrow.
#3
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Mind if I hop in? :o Also, when you're roleplaying here for real, if you want to add more, you just edit your post and don't make a new one. <3

Word Count → 366


Although the desert hound was used to vast stretches of time without a drop of water falling from the vast blue sky, he also knew of the downpours that came afterward—the flash floods, sheets of water falling down into the desert and bringing deliverance to all that lived there. The wasteland would be beautiful afterward, frogs mating in the puddles, flowers blooming from all the spiny or dry plants that lived there. Water was his god, and water often liked to make an entrance in his homeland.

Malik Maayan Maji was not bothered when the torrential downpour came, but he was not stupid either; he’d seen the wrath of his god just as well, and like most forces of nature, it did not always discriminate between believers and nonbelievers. He managed to find shelter at the edge of the expansive meadow, a hill that kept him out of flooding range and a thick canopy of leaves over his head from the thick trees. In the desert he usually had less than that, other than caves that often just flooded and drowned their occupants. He could find no suitable caves here, and so he’d have to make do with this unnaturally thick foliage.

For once, Hapi was not jabbering away at him. He was sleeping, curled up in a tight ball against the giant trunk of the tree, safe and in the driest part. Smiling, the man stroked the hyena child’s bristly mane then peered through the sheets of water to where another shelter was going up—a luperci working to make the wood stand together. Curious, he left the cub and walked through the trees, keeping to the driest sections although for once he wore no clothes to get drenched from the adventure; his thin coat didn’t weigh him down, either. Luckily, the summer rains were not too cold.

He was close enough to hear the wolf speak to the heavens, and at that point, Malik laughed. “Would you rather it never rain, stranger?” he asked, pressed close to a tree just a few yards from the wolf’s shelter. His dark grey eyes gleamed, and he fingered the bone pendant hanging around his elegant neck.


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#4
Lukos was almost asleep when he heard a dog ask him about the rain. From the looks of it, he was a desert hound, because he only wore his coat, so he had to have come from a hot place. The hottest but survivable place was the desert. "I would rather it wait until I was across the meadow." Where did he come from, Lukos wondered.
#5
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The other didn't seem altogether surprised by his appearance, but perhaps that was just a matter of the stranger being as calm and collected as Malik tried to be when faced with something unexpected. Betraying fear led to weakness; it was always best to be confident but quiet and ready for what the world threw at you. At least, that was how he'd been raised, and how he tried to raise Hapi, although the hyena was too young to take the full lesson to heart.

The wolf spoke again, and the tan dog smirked, his expression turning a shade colder. "Water waits for no man," he replied, enjoying the feel of the rain running down his emaciated-looking body. Wearing absolutely nothing but his own fur, he felt light and strong, although he knew he would have to make use of clothing when the seasons changed. The wolf, interestingly, was clothed -- but to what purpose, the dog couldn't know. He didn't know why someone who already wore a thick timber coat would need fabric on top of that.

"It's folly you would think that," he added. Perhaps his disapproval was a jab, but he did need to see how these northern folk operated. He wasn't in Africa anymore.


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#6
He was definately from the desert. His accent made that clear, as well as his coat's color. It can't be helped that the dog took him seriously. At least, that's what Lukos thought. But how did he sneak up like that? Lukos thought. Lukos prided himself in being the most silent and observant in his pack, although his lax pack members didn't prove to be much of a challenge. That tends to happen in a backwater fishing pack.

Lukos was a hunter, not a fisher, but a few traits rubbed off on him that helped with hunting. But this dog is on a different level than the meager prey Lukos hunted. Not that the dog was prey, of course. Lukos thought for a while, and came to a conclusion of how the desert dog did it. The rain from the storm washed the dog's smell away, and it also was louder than his footsteps. The dog himself was pretty quiet when walking. Lukos wondered if anyone from his old pack could do that.....

His old pack was probably eating fish again. Lukos was the only hunter who could actually hunt, and everyone else in the packjust fished and gathered berries. Well they weren't really a pack. More like a group of loners banded together. They weren't an official pack. Yet. But why was the dog here? And is he alone?


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