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Clover · IC Date: 09/25/2026

"You don't have a wagon? Jakar, now's the perfect time! It's the Wainrite, after all." Clover's stout tail furled a pleased little question mark. "But for now, mine will do." Rain started to spatter in spits and bursts around them, and the Caravan Master set off at the briskest trot his short legs could manage. He made it as far as dropping the ramp to his wagon before the heavens opened in earnest

notes: notes notes notes <3

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Artaith · IC Date: 09/30/2026

"No- No!" Art waved a folded wing in a gesture of pardon as the large wolf she'd collided with bent to try and be of assistance, her sea-roughened voice kind and apologetic. That the stranger stopped to help came not as a relief, but an added anxiety as Art took inventory of her limbs and body, determining if she could get to her feet quickly enough not to make this more awkward than it already was. "It is a market. Chaos is simply part and parcel." Unconvinced of her vertical readiness, she grit her teeth in a wan grin, pale eyes glinting from within the shadow of the hood. She would try anyway, buying time by arranging her legs and shifting to press a wing between her and the street, a claw digging into the gaps between the stones for leverage. "I ought to have been paying better attention to my surroundings," she admitted, eyes darting away as she felt the heat of embarrassment and shame creep into her tufted ears which tilted back against her skull. That the stranger called it a dream went unnoticed as she was far more preoccupied with wrestling her body into cooperation. It was a thankless task - her ribs hurt, her legs were uncooperative, and there was nothing about her that did not feel ungainly and cumbersome in this moment. How ridiculous she must look, Artaith thought bitterly, jaw clenching as she bowed her head and fought back the sting of hot tears. Of course, she had not come here without expecting some manner of accident to befall her. It was not that she was clumsy, but rather that she was delicate. Prone to damage in the way that fine, breakable things the sort of wolves like Eirian collected often were, and kept in much the same way. Under lock and key. Something to be owned. A bit of decoration. Meant to be enjoyed not for what it was, but rather the aesthetic. Pretty, maybe, but ultimately useless. "It is a lane, not a lounge," Art joked helplessly, self-directed spite sharpening her grin. "It is I who ought to apologize to you and your feathered friend. I was in the way." Accepting the burden of blame was easy. She did not begrudge the stranger for her exuberance, nor for her recklessness, but that patient concern was starting to grate on her. "I still am," she laughed, grimacing as she shifted her weight and pressed into the ground, fighting her way to her feet. It was arduous, but she managed, preening idly and arranging the cloak with careful nips as if she could cleanse herself physically of the embarrassment, or cast a spell to undo everyone's memory of it like a knotted chain if she smoothed her fur and cloak in just the right way. The physical discomfort was still there, an electric sear in every nerve that prickled across her skin, her muscles, even her bones, but it was familiar company, and Artaith knew it would pass soon enough, as would the the heaviness, though it was quite possible she would need to find accommodations for the night and rest before it was much resolved. Unable to do much more to help herself than shuffle closer to lean against the stall of swords perched on the edge of the market lane to get out of the way, and wait, really, Art was left trapped in an awkward situation. While she waited for her body accept that it wasn't quite nap time and she expected more of it still before she'd give in to its demands, she could not simply walk away. Not with any certainty that she would not just spill herself across the ground again, anyway. Which meant that if this dread-maned stranger did not elect to leave of her own volition, most folk took literally bumping into one another and proximity as an invitation for social interaction and she was already asking after her well-being. Boo. "... Your concern was - is - appreciated, however misplaced. I assure you, I am fine!" Again, Art waved the tucked wing - no need - shaking her head as she tried to allay the stranger's very valid worries. "The space you take up is neither the issue nor a hazard. I was not keeping pace - I ought to have moved to the side before indulging my distractions. Gawking 101. Seems the worst of it might have befallen your tiny friend, there - a parakeet, yes?" Her attention shifted from Reed to Pip, her voice soft, soothing, and oh so sorry as she spoke to the bird directly, wings tucked close, the clawed thumbs curled loose and respectfully tucked into the feathers, head bowing. "What a beautiful creature you are. I do so apologize for startling you, little friend. I humbly beg your forgiveness."

Rolling Charisma to see how convincing Art is at pretending she's fine. I guess besides the pass/fail, the higher the numbers the better the acting. The lower, the more obvious she's sort of falling apart.

Illuna · IC Date: 09/26/2026

Illuna sat upon the hill, gazing at the few stars she could still see despite the light of the bonfire. Those stars shined the brightest, so those were the most important. Yet, she worried more for those she could not see. She did not seem to notice Knut calling for her. Neither of her black ears even folded his direction, nor did her body flinch at his playful threat. The grayish fox was entranced in her stargazing, facing up and away from Knut and the others. When Knut approached her,¹ Illuna finally glanced back at him. His large presence was evidently impossible for her to ignore. Knuuu~t, sang the fox, her voice quieter than before, as if this song were just for him. I am to join the feast when I am done, she promised, the pleasant lingering taste of akutaq in her mouth all but guaranteeing her return. Or, do you wish to join me? As if anticipating him to ask what she was doing — something one would expect from anyone but Illuna — she explained herself. I am remembering the stories of our ancestors, she told him as her eyes returned to the skies. They twinkle and shine when they are remembered. They shall shine forever, as long as there is someone to tell of their life. She didn’t look back down when she asked, Have you ever told the stories of your predecessors?

¹ As discussed OOC.

Illuna · IC Date: 08/16/2026

The black fox gazed back into the wolf’s eyes with matched stillness. Her head did not even bob as she breathed. She was asked to listen, and she promised to listen, so by Her paw, she was going to listen. Nothing would tempt her otherwise until Luciana was done speaking. She even kept quiet during the wolf’s nearly inconceivable claim to not know who Mother was. Luciana spoke of another place, where the evil art of necromancy ran rampant. Indeed, it sounded wicked and depraved: it was true coldness. The wolf sang that song Illuna had struggled to comprehend from the vision; she recited it like she had just heard it as well. Evidently, the song told of a desirable life, though how, Illuna could not tell. Did she, perhaps as the hound, wish for Illuna, the fox, to hunt her? Perhaps it was metaphorical; she sought Mother to find her. Yes, that made sense. Illuna’s body eased and her face grew soft. She understood the wolf’s plight and loneliness. It was the exact kind of thing Illuna was sent to fix. Luciana had even tried spreading warmth herself, yet she had failed to see the results. She paused for a moment after Luciana concluded incorrectly that they should part. She waited, making sure the wolf was done. Finally, she dipped her head and closed her eyes. Luciaaa~na, she sang at last with a lower than usual voice. I understand now. She looked back up at the wolf, the two’s vivid cyan eyes meeting once again. To call you a liar is to call the sea shallow, for I knew not of its depths. Your sister... she betrayed you, didn’t she? The fox took a deep breath. Luciana... you do not have to be alone, she promised, approaching a tiny bit closer with only a single step. You do not have to carry your weight yourself. You do not need to be lost or cold. The warmth inside you is not to be smothered. The fate you desire, the life you’re supposed to live... it is achievable. That fate is not beneath the permafrost, she reiterated. It is with friends. With love. With people who care about you. Illuna was unsure how much to truly believe about Luciana’s story, but now, she knew that it did not matter. This wolf needed her help.

Knut · IC Date: 09/11/2026

Knut tilted his head toward the sledge as means of encouraging the small critter to climb aboard. "Uh, no?" he puffed, looking absolutely bewildered by the very notion that he might have some use for the cat's head. Kings, misunderstandings, wrongful incrimination, flight from consequence. That was a story in and of itself, albeit incomplete. Admittedly, Knut wanted to hear more about that tale, not because he imagined the youth dangerous, but rather because Knut didn't know what to think. While his mother had well taught him to be kind and hospitable, and Knut believed the act of helping those down on their luck, particularly in Aralon where sometimes luck was all that separated you from certain death, so too he'd learned from her, and experience, that sometimes it wasn't Aralon that was the real threat. Charity and a generous heart were fine and dandy, but discernment was important. Especially if he was bringing the boy home to Illuna. It wasn't that he felt the prophet was naive, but he worried. He worried because she never seemed to. Everything that she seemed to believe was a given, an expectation that her Moon Mother would assuredly fulfill one way or another, Knut saw as a great many calculations. Statistics, probabilities, the raw weight of calories it took to sustain one body for a winter, the fuel that kept a home hardly large enough for him now that he was fully grown warm during the worst of the season. Illuna's faith was not yet something Knut could count on, something he could not, himself embody. It wasn't that he was incapable of trust, he had simply been taught by his parents that questions were more valuable than assumptions. Tilting his head, Knut studied Sorrowful for a beat before snorting, laughing, and nodding once more toward the sledge. "Ain't no use fer another head, y'ain't gotta worry. Now getchu'self comfy and situated. Got a few hours of travel ahead of us before we reach the longhouse. Think ya' got stories enough for that?" Turning forward, Knut tilted his head just enough to watch the cat climb in among the furs and hides and goods before leaning into the harness, the leather and the construction of the sledge creaking before moving forward an inch. Knut was very large, but the sledge was very heavy. He did not complain about the additional weight of the serval, but instead merely drew a breath, huffed, and bowed his head against the snow and wind. "Why don'tcha tell me 'bout where yer from? Yer family an' the like? Got any siblings? Yer folks know yer out here?"

Rolling Strength to see how well Knut does with hauling the sledge. Success: Knut's a big strong boy - the first few feet are rough, but as he gets back into the groove of things, the sledge moves easily. Smooth sailing. Failure: Sorrow, please stop using the innate cat magic of being able to weight a billion tons on command, don't you want to go somewhere warm? It's very slow going. They might have to stop and see if the sledge is caught up on something.

Urna · IC Date: 09/09/2026

Privately, Urna was pleased that Enya recognized what she'd seen in this location, and her trust in sharing it. The spotted hyena set into her trout with crunching and wrenching, keeping it pinned between her paws as she worried free pieces with quick, twisting jerks of her neck. "Hrnnh." Urna made a thoughtful noise around a mouthful of fish. Why was Enya asking about the day she was born? It was...a strange turn of topic. She considered it from multiple angles, but decided there wasn't much harm in sharing. She sheared off her bite and swallowed. "I was born just before the start of the dry season." The exact date meant little to her past that first-year mark; she'd thrived despite the inauspicious timing (and very much because of her mother's rank), and that was what mattered. "Here, I suppose that would be...late autumn?" A blink. "Probably sometime in the next moon or two, come to think of it." The hyena worked her tongue between her teeth to prise free a little sliver of bone. "D'you know yours?"

Enya · IC Date: 09/09/2026

Enya tried not to stare, but stare she did, as she watched Urna's tentacle-neck-mane-thing reach forward and delicately grasp the fish from her mouth. That was a neat little trick. She found herself wondering what else she could do with her unique mane. When Urna asked her to follow, Enya shoved the tail of her own fish back into her bag, pulled the string that would cinch it tight, and picked it up to follow behind the hyena. The roars of the waterfall faded into the distance, and soon they were stepping into a pleasant clearing atop a hill. When Urna indicated that they had arrived at their destination, Enya nodded her head yes, then placed the bag down once more and turned to enjoy the view. Their position allowed them to see far around, and the area was soft, with moss growing where the stone pocketed and allowed. Enya, herself, found a spot of stone, warmed by the sun's morning rays, and settled atop it with her own fish, having removed it from her bag. She opted to lay instead of sit, so her scaled belly could absorb the warmth the stone offered her. She held the fish between her front paws as she began to nibble at it head first while she chatted, "This is quite the spot you've found. Thanks for sharing your secret with me," She pulled a bit of head meat from the trout, nibbling on it, rather than making an effort to actively eat it. "I have a question for you," the topic suddenly shifted, as did Enya's weight as she shifted to lay partially on her hip, turning to better see Urna. "When were you born?" An odd question for Enya to ask Urna, yet she had anyways, and it had been done with a curious smile between her nibbles, "Not like, how long ago" she clarified, "But uh, what season?"

Enya · IC Date: 10/23/2026

With the events of the previous night two days ago, Enya was finally feeling up to exploring the ruins a bit more. She had kept to sleeping on the outskirts of the ruins, instead exploring the dense jungles surrounding it. She found many strange plants and mushrooms as she nosed her way around, but dared not to touch them, for she did not know what each plant was. She also found long-rotten trees that had been hollowed out or dug beneath. Some she sniffed at, going so far as to even poke her nose into, as she investigated the various nooks and crannies. She ceased these investigations when a particularly ornery tortoise had snapped her nose after she'd pestered it for too long. Her nose had bled from the nip it had given her, driving Enya into an instant fury, but she did not often hunt tortoises, and her attempts to get at it in its shelter proved futile. She could have killed it with her magic, but there was no challenge, no sport, no satisfaction in that. So, she'd left it to it's ruined tunnel entrance and continued her explorations, pressing further into the crumbled structures of some time long past. Something strange had caught her attention, something off in the broken structures. Enya had woven through the debris, past a decaying roof, and had caught the glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. She paused mid-step, turning her head to see fully what she had spotted. It was a flower, she realized, but it glowed. There was no way that this was a trick of the sun, for a fog blanketed the terrain, dense and hard to see through. It was only because the flower glowed that it had even caught her attention, giving off a beautiful pink tint in stark contrast of the greens and browns of the jungle. "What the hell?" A glowing flower was not normal. It stood beside a boulder, a bed of moss surrounding its base, and around that, a circle of pebbles. It was the star of the show, now that she'd found its presence. Enya wanted to get a closer look, but she was nervous. This... it almost felt like a trap.

Enya · IC Date: 10/30/2026

The weather that came with the next day was cloudy - to Enya's dismay. She preferred it to either be sunny, so she might admire her reflection in the waterways as she crossed by them, or raining. Cloudy was just disappointment in her book. It was enough to block the sun from shining it's rays proper, but not enough to bring moisture to her lands. It was boring and made everything dull, where even her own scales struggled to catch light to glint with. So, when she had cracked open her eyes during the early morning to see the low, dark clouds looming in the sky, yet showing how greedy they could be, she'd closed her eye once more and allowed herself to drift back off to sleep. When Enya awoke again, it was mid-morning. She stretched and grumbled when she looked out her cave and saw that, yet still, the clouds darkened, but did not open up. "God damnit" she cursed, deciding that she wouldn't let the weather ruin the promise of the day. After stretching, leaping down the rockface of her cave, pausing at the lake to drink and catching herself a fish for breakfast, she'd decided that she'd go and patrol for the day. Midday brought a pleasant warmth to Enya's muscles. Patrolling, for her, did not simply mean keeping one's senses open to those who might try and trespass onto their territory. To her, it was also an opportunity to practice her agility and strength by leaping over fallen logs or shoving the logs with either her physical or magical strength. Any boulders that seemed fun to push and topple over were shoved to her amusement. Of course, Enya did also keep senses aware, should she find a stranger. Find a stranger she did. She'd been traveling along one of her guard trails, weaving through the thick underbrush that allowed her to see without being seen, when the creature happened to pass by. She heard it first, clumsy steps that crunched fallen leaves. She, herself, had paused mid-step, her head and ears pointed in the sound's direction. After a moment, she saw the creature, some child or youth blatantly clomping their way through her territory. Of course it had to be a fucking child. But, was it with others? Just because the youth was clumsy and loud didn't mean its parents were, if Angror was anything to go by, being of feline build as well.

Dice Roll: Agility - Enya is attempting to be heckin' stealthy by freezing in place Success: Enya goes unnoticed as she watches for others beneath the bramble Fail: Despite the clouds, Enya's scales catch the youth's eyes. He spots her.

Enya · IC Date: 10/20/2026

Enya, despite her alertness to the strange feeling of the ruins on this clear night, had apparently walked right past the presence of another, which startled her as they suddenly exploded into splayed wings and sharp words at the smallest hint of eye contact. Between the surprise and sudden display of the other wolf, Enya felt herself recoiling backwards, not out of fear, but out of preservation. Who the hell was this wolf who suddenly shoved a paw at her?? Instead of falling into a retort of snarls and pointed accusations, Enya remained standing as she grinned at the other wolf. The lights were neat, and she appreciated the glow they offered, but the rest of the other wolf's threat display did not impress her. Wings were too easy to showboat with. She would have been much more impressed if the wolfess had stood up to her without the wings, but none of that really mattered. "Temper temper" she responded, her tone amused as she erased the rest of the surprise from her body posture, pulling her own figure up to her full, limber height. Her tail flagged behind her proudly, and her head was held high as she tilted her chin with amusement. "You are like a bird startled out of its nest. Not all who poke their nose in your direction are here to eat your eggs." Enya swung her muzzle towards the crumbled ruins, "Unless you are guarding these ruins as your clutch, in which case, I intend to help myself to a few." Enya, then, made to move past Artaith, stepping forward once, twice, three steps, before she paused, "Or, perhaps, you are not normally this easily flushed, and, like I, you sense something is amiss tonight." She turned her gaze back towards the strange wolf, putting on a show of nonchalance, but making sure to keep the female in the corner of her gaze. Just because she hadn't attacked, didn't mean the other wouldn't, and she refused to be caught off guard.

Dice Roll: Agility - Enya is preparing for a physical attack from Artaith Success: Enya is prepared for a physical attack. -1 to a physical attack roll Fail: Enya is prepared, but Art is quicker than she expects. +1 to a physical attack roll

diceroll



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