TheWolfPack

Ahmond wasn't sure where she was. She struggled to find her place in this pitch-black underworld, and as she took jittery breaths, she accidentally swallowed dust. Her coughs wracked her injured ribs, so she had to calm herself into sputters. Even with the lights from the overworld, she couldn't make out her surroundings. Ahmond examined her injuries: Everywhere. She also went over what hurt: Everything. After falling hundreds of feet, that seemed about right. A few footsteps clambered from the depths. Lilu, Cyras, Rosod? No, what if these were those gross goats or crimsons? She had to run. No, what if there were traps even this far in the recesses? She didn't want to stumble on one. Also, she could barely move. A light came from an alleyway that glinted off storefronts and shops of the ruins. The glow intensified with every echoing step, getting nearer. Horror filled her to the point she couldn’t still her breath. The coywolf tried to drag herself up, tried to prepare herself

Kryyk's body was recovered by his friend Portus. As his body lay in the casket, he seemed like he was in a peaceful slumber. The burn marks suffered had been painted over, the corpse photographed and researched for any leads, and his paws were arranged in a polite manner. A ring of trees surrounded the funeral as was Violet tradition. Some mourners spoke their apologies to Sliva, a ranger and head druid of Saint Owlis, assuming she was upset by the loss of Kryyk. She had taken him in when he first arrived on a boat under mysterious circumstances. However, she only stared at her watch. She was the only one unsurprised, when during a eulogy, Kryyk sat up, gasping. Instead of enjoying the implication of immortality or resurrection, nearly everyone present screeched in horror. The sight spurned them from their seats. Kryyk blinked thrice. He turned his head, realized he was back in Saint Owlis and placed his paw on the coffin's lid. Staring at Sliva, he asked, "What's going on?" As he

The ships hit the sandy shore of Aegisvale with the yells of citizens in their wake. Rhett the Tamer scanned the surface, sighting a library built under an arch of stone, then a giant dome-shaped capital building. He took in a deep breath of the lush, humid jungle, about to declare his ultimate victory against Wysdom by taking over their biggest port city. Rhett invaded many places over his lifetime, spreading the Rose family everywhere, to the the Shatter continent, to the planet Voto. Even on the planet Vytyl. The grand monarch traipsed through the jungle with his retinue, towards the capital, towards the main temple, towards the ruler: The Summer Goddess. Bipedal mustelid guards accompanied him. Their species was known as "crimsons" for the colors of their fur. At the capital, the stone door arose with a rumbling noise. Rhett held tightly onto his staff, waiting. A golden fox sat in the middle of the square room on a velvet throne. She was drinking a cup of juice she'd rest

"Vixen of the Dead" Even after all the work to return people's emotions, several crystals hung on the palace wall, glinting with red anger or purple fear. Their colorful, almost flirtatious, display only occasionally captured the diners' attentions. Queen Raynfall enacted this "criminal therapy" as an ill-advised attempt to protect Glacialane, even helping herself with her newfound remedy. But instead of ruling more logically, she slumped. Without emotion, there was no logical reason to care about survival. Cyras sat at her right, eyeing her over the sea of food. When she fought the queen, her will won out—her battle prowess was insufficient—but even after Queen Raynfall admitted her wrongdoing, the rebuilding process took time. Honestly, if the Queen's cabinet didn't notice she was depressed, then the chefs should have. The dining lounge was filled with offerings to the altar of Raynfall in the form of fatty cakes drizzled with chocolate. Vanilla wafers. Cocoa sprinkles. She

Part 8: The Ethereal King "You're colder than the permafrost." The Ethereal King stood still. Her inky fur was blacker than the night. She grinned at Snofall before both canines gave each other a fist bump. "Glad to see you again, Swillow." The Ethereal King scanned the area, ignoring the Fangs with the crossbows and slings, and instead bobbed to the howling of her faction. She muttered under her breath like she was singing. "Because you hide yourself in that shell. No point in salvaging what's been lost." Azuwe shook. The corners of his mouth tensed up, just like his muzzle, just like his teeth, and he glanced back at Snofall, then glared at the Ethereal King. She stuck her tongue out like a panting mutt. He was lost at level two of the plan while she stood at level three, and to rub this in, she said, "You're a little slow, Wasting." Kryyk ordered: "Don't trust that thing! Attack!" Arrows zoomed at the Ethereal King, but they all flicked off her thick skin, making her

Part 7: Welcome, Immortal Prince Snofall told Spree Riva, "And that's when I'll tell Cyras she needs to be bait." The Ethereal King's pack guarded the edge of the forest, just beyond the floodlights of civilization. Snofall had assumed Bellafauna's form so no Civic saw her. Spree Riva mentally examined the plan, gliding over any faults or gaps, and found none. He nodded. "The Ethereal King will be there." "And the Prince?" "He was already trailing Cyras the entire time," Spree told her, "and then we just gotta keep her here until Ramatos shows up." Eulyale said, "What if Cyras manages to escape us or doesn't come along?" Snofall's eyes glowed. "We'll go through with as much of the plan as possible and hope for the best." * * * Bellafauna spearheaded the v-formation, while Cyras and Rosod watched the tails. Snofall explained that she would bait the Fangs of Liberty using her, and once they were assembled, Ramatos and Raynfall were sure to come along. The Winter Goddess could

Part 6: Tears of a Goddess Cyras leaped out of her chair, about to save her friends from having their emotions drained, when the palace vanished. Neon lights replaced delicately crafted walls, the riveting warm colors having been swapped out for bright lights. Orange-green chains wrapped around Cyras. Cyras roared and pulled against the chains, trying to break them. She didn't progress even an inch. "Raynfall, stop! Don't drain them! Please!" Raynfall loomed and walked forward, her steps echoing in the infinite vastness of the void. She wasn't as tall as Owlis, but still taller than most foxes, and her eyes carried an untraceable emotion. She didn't poise to strike but reclined to her haunches as if deigning to listen. Cyras begged, "Why are you doing this? Why are you flooding Glacialane!?" "I'm not flooding the kingdom," Raynfall said, shaking her head. "Rain comes, rain goes." Cyras narrowed her eyes. "Owlis says you're the one who is flooding Glacialane, and I don't have any

"A Lady's Favor". Cyras sat in the center of the courtroom—in actuality, a repurposed library. Smelled of old books. Queen Jazmyn and Queen Raynfall stood at podiums, while Lilu, Ahmond, and Rosod gathered behind overturned bookshelves. A couple of guards watched, along with the gryphon who Raynfall addressed as "Advisor Ramatos". Queen Jazmyn spoke first. "Cyras Sumhyr, you have attacked Queen Raynfall, and I will prove beyond a doubt you were behind the attack of General Bloodstone." "I did attack General Bloodstone," Cyras admitted. "However, that was self-defence. After I . . . fought one of the leaders of the Fangs, General Bloodstone attacked me. I didn't do anything to him." "He still wakes up in the middle of the night," Queen Jazmyn said, baring her fangs. "He's in the hospital in a comatose state, because of what you did, and only wakes up to blabber about the horrors of the abyss?" "Really? Awesome," Cyras blurted out. This did not please the court, who leered at the

Part 4: One Eye Open Spree Riva was told to get to Wolfsburg by the Ethereal King. They arrived at Count Sylva's, only for the blabbermouth to nearly oust them at dinner. "I'm sure she'll let you in, Lady Cyras," Count Sylva said. "The Wilders, I would doubt." Spree Riva perked up in his seat. Why did she reveal she knew they were Wilders? "Wait, you knew?" he asked, trying to steer the Count into explaining how she could tell. "Oh yes," Count Sylva said with a nod. Spree's Pack remained tense. What if Cyras caught on that they knew Count Sylva? "I'm friendly, of course . . . ." Luckily, Count Sylva didn't bring up anything else. After lunch, Spree privately informed her, "Be more careful", and he sent a letter to the Ethereal King as to what frequency they’d announce for arrival. So far, Count Sylva, Her Stupidness, was bouncing up and down to be part of the Fangs of Liberty. Spree Riva found Eulyale under a marble arch, out of earshot. She scanned the nearby area, her

James Mac'tire had grown somewhat accustomed to his new life fighting in the Trenches near Ypres, though he was far from content with his situation. he was a Canadian who had been conscripted to fight in September 1917. before then he had not wanted to get involved in the war, now he had no choice in the matter. Unbeknownst to anyone, Mac'tire had an unusual and dark secret, he was not wholly human - he was a Werewolf. One of the main reasons he had so desperately wanted to avoid getting involved in this war was to keep his lupine identity hidden. He did his best to balance his animal instincts with his human sensibilities, always fighting the urge to transform and never fully succumbing to his inner beast. This put great stress and psychological pain onto him, as he even had to resist transforming at al times, even under the almost overwhelming pull of the moon during the days of the month when it was full. All the while, the constant bombardment of German Artillery also