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Meeting scourge.
Posted 06-18-2017, 02:58 PM | This post was last modified: 9 hours ago by Anaxagoras
Ice Alpha
Male, 3 years
41 in, 110 lbs
416 ep
© rae.


takes place shortly after this thread.

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Posted 7 hours ago | This post was last modified: 7 hours ago by Anaxagoras
Ice Alpha
Male, 3 years
41 in, 110 lbs
416 ep
© rae.
the basilisk king

in my bones there's dignity, He awakens, bleary-eyed and blinking against the sierra's bitter chill. Consciousness, like the utter frigidity of roaring winds, sweeps in to pull him from the snow. As he stands, twin smoldering embers drift out to feast upon the grey-white of a furious winter's night, and he is immediately relieved to have been delivered unto his kingdom. Anaxagoras eagerly devours this fresh, polar world, while his soul murmurs of avarice and prestige. Inexorable veneration strikes his heart through, leaving it to bleed through and further darken his swarthy countenance. Triumph. It roughens the corrugations of his face, where battle-scars arc like lightning from maw to brow. For the breadth of a moment he is carnage personified, the truth of his nature flagrantly exposed -- and then, his knees begin to quiver and quake until he buckles in a cloud of glittering snow. It is then that his eyes lift to find the shadow of his father in the distance, poised regally amidst the whorl of an icy storm. " Father, " groans the King, beseeching the Commander for aid, " the challenge . . . what of the former King? " Against his better judgment, he struggles to rise again -- yet there's no lifting his cumbersome shoulder, still mangled on the surface. Frustrated, he slumps back into the snow with an air of sullen resentment; he is loathe to succumb to weakness, but by the maddening ache in his muscles, it is clear that he will be useless without time to recuperate. He settles for information, instead, even as he resists the enticement of sleep. " Enlighten me? " And o, fatigue seeps in, still, to reap what little energy remains of him. The light recedes from his eyes as they flutter, futilely fighting sleep as it slips back in on the back of numbing darkness. " Tend to the gates while I rest? " It is his last, for no longer can he fend off the encroaching lull of rest and falls, then, into the abyssal clutches of a coma which spans for three days and three nights.

On the fourth morning, Anaxagoras awakens to the vista lit aflame by a brilliant dawn. Warmth spills from the sky like liquid gold, drenching the peaks in gilded light and splendor. The legionnaire rolls sluggishly to his stomach, wasting no time in hoisting himself up on weary paws. Unaware of how much time has passed, he braves a few, shaky strides to peer out over the edge and into the frozen gully below. Memories come back to him, albeit fragmented, and it takes a moment for him to fully recollect what transpired. Remembering his request of Bhaltair, he glances over his shoulder and breathes a sigh of relief as his gaze settles upon the hulking form of his father, in all his bearish glory. He whirls, then, to trod through the snow and take up the man's right side. " It is time, " he decides. There's no heartfelt exchange -- only the promise and solemnity of a new era resounds. Anaxagoras parts from Bhaltair to raise his crown high, while the sun beats down upon his back. Without dawdling, he approaches the makeshift pedestal of ice and stone and leaps upon it to release a profound bellow into the sky. It calls to those whose hearts still belong to Kiyoshi and to the Gelid Sierra; it demands recognition of his right to the crown, and beckons those who fancy themselves allies. So too does it praise Kiyoshi, and honor he who served before him. The legionnaire shifts his stance, turning an eye to the magical barrier of ice shielding his injured shoulder. A dark grin briefly flickers across his countenance, born of ascendancy and prominence. Let them come.

* This is for all members of the Legion, friends of Anaxagoras, Ice members or those who wish to join, and allies. You must post by June 30th, or your character will be removed from the pack. No post comings, please! I will post again on or after the 30th. <3

** Permission by Sabrina for Bhaltair's presence.

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Posted 6 hours ago | This post was last modified: 6 hours ago by Bhaltair
Divine ( Staff )
Divine Alpha
Male, 5
38 in, 140 lbs
567 ep
© Sabrina
the divine right of kings means the divine right of anyone who can get uppermost

Ever the silent sentinel, Bhaltair remained nearby his son, his hawk-like gaze surveying the infinite white of the Legionnaire's new domain; the wind howled here, buffeting the two relentlessly, and yet he seemed utterly at home ... for the Legion had been born of such endless winter. A slow and cunning smile twisted at his lips, the rampant glory of Kiyoshi having ignited in him something of a fire for this new era that Anaxagoras had ushered in. At a hint of stirring, the king's attention settled firmly on the newly crowned alpha, boundless warmth and pride present in his fierce expression. Bhaltair shifted nearer, a single shoulder offered to Anaxagoras' uninjured side to assist him - but the light in those burning eyes was yet dim, evident of the rest he still required. "Your god is merciful - the man lives," the commander assured him gruffly, managing to stem his disappointment on the matter; the gods would act as the gods would act - far be it from him to instruct them from the mortal plane. When his son faltered, Bhaltair attempted to aid in easing him to the frigid floor. Unto his question, he nodded fiercely and replied, "As if they were my own. Rest easy, my son, for you are Kiyoshi's chosen." Without hesitation, he returned to his watch, lips writhing. Anaxagoras drifted beneath the waves of exhaustion and fatigue - and Bhaltair thrust his maw skyward to loose a heralding cry of victory and triumph, of the Legion's new domination over the Sierras, of pride, of joy, of absolution.

Whilst he slept, the commander remained ever vigilant, parting from his side only to briefly survey the borders and hunt; he would be famished by the time he came to - and he would assuredly need his strength in order to greet the new era. Arranged crudely nearby were the freezing carcasses of several snowshoe hares, a collection of voles, and a single reindeer calf - not a feast, by any means, but perhaps enough to sate his heir and greet the guests-to-come. Bhaltair lay prostrated in silent prayer several feet away from both man and meat when Anaxagoras awoke; for several moments, he went unaware of his son's presence, but his ears twisted at the sound of paws crunching through snow. With one final beseeching request for continued prosperity, the Dalmascan commander arose from the floor and set his sights on the other, a swarthy grin to mirror his son's twitching to life as he spoke (it is time). "Summon your wolves, Ice King, and let us usher in this new dawn," he growled in affirmation, his dark ruby eyes following Anaxagoras as he moved, renewed and unafraid; the sound of his rallying cry incited a chill, gooseflesh prickling along his limbs and hackles springing to life. Bhaltair stole away from the pedestal, snatched one of the fresher hares, and tossed it high - it landed unceremoniously before the new king. "Welcome to your throne, my son," he offered, eyes alight with pride that paired neatly with promise, for this was barely the beginning.

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Posted 4 hours ago |
Divine ( Admin )
Divine Heir
Female, 3
34 in, 125 lbs
89 ep
© Penn
Orestes had not left the Sierra since the legion had brought him here. Despite her outer shell, she cared deeply for her littermate. The only one who had stuck around—the one who had been victorious for the legion! While Bhaltair kept to his side, Orestes refused. She didn't like to see her beloved broken, though she knew they would rise up even stronger! She took it upon herself to do the work he couldn't while he was weakened. There would not be a soul who made it on these mountains without her say so. Without belonging here in the first place. The only time she ever got near to the others was if she was dropping off food for them. She wouldn't linger, drop and off she went.

At first, she swore and snarled her way through the mountains. They were intense and she both loved and hated them. She had adapted fully by the third day, her legs strong and her coat thickening immensely. Winter would have no effect on her anymore! The Sierras were silent and Orestes liked it like that, however the chill of the air is broken on the fourth morning and instantly her lips curl. She can feel the excitement bubble inside her and she can stand it no longer! Her muzzle raises to the skies to answer Kiyoshi' crowned victor. It is powerful, it is ecstatic. Easily it carries up the mountains and he would know Orestes had not left him. She would never. Like a bullet she propels herself through the snow towards him, carving a path that would be erased in the days to come. She cannot help herself as she whines and grunts, stifling only when she is place before the both of them.

She aims to nip them—firmly on their cheeks, pushing and prodded only because there was no one else. She settles again, forcing herself to put some distance between them, her eyes lingering on Kiyoshi' ice and in an instant she was the same skulking creature she always was. Proud and arrogant as her face morphs into nonchalance.

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Posted 1 hour ago |
Divine Sub-Alpha
Female, five
35 in, 110 lbs
162 ep
© TIG-er

slaughter house sighs.

she dwells often within the caldera; the lake is a familiar companion, her own countenance more so -- as if gazing long enough could discern some inner secret. it did not hurt that warm-blooded things dwelled within the sparse copses, hidden in the low-slung growths; the delicacy of fish glide through the waters, dark and slippery beneath a winter-cold surface. it is one of these fine prizes that she clasps, as jealous as a sheikh, when the intonations of his voice would reach her. well. it would be a shorter journey home, at least.

the nebulous outermosts of kiyoshi's kingdom pass beneath her without hesitence, and soon enough she is within the white-frosted heart of the mountain. the meat between her teeth was never warm, but she feels the fading life in comparison to these thule surroundings. that body makes a settle at her feet as she regards those who have already attended to the anaxagoras' summons -- she cannot help but paint herself with a gargoyle grin. 'more of hotaru's flock here than your own.' for a moment, she acts beyond the aloof front that sheilds her from the iron and steel of the dalmascan occupants of the cove. 'you could store a ransom of food among the ice and live through a famine, you know.' she allocates herself a perch leftwards of bhaltair, somewhat before the kingly pair so she may observe both them and those that gather and retreats there with her catch. orestes is accorded no mind-- though the gentle scope of those pale ears moves readily in a universal alertness that experience has fostered within her.

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