The wolf really had no idea where she was going to go now, that she had found herself out of the dark and back into the light that was Alteron. But Alteron was not really a light, no was it? It was still a dark, shadow place that others often feared to tread. Kokipa did not find anything familiar to her, besides the den she had left when she had disappeared. She did not sense Ackid or Kiakime, or any of the wolves that she had known when she had been a lonely serf then Sentry of the woods. In a way, Kokipa just wanted to find the two wolves who had influenced her the most. But she had yet to find them and she did not hold out hope that they would remember the black wraith with the rose eyes. If anything, the lack of finding them had hurt her more than the possibility of finding them did. But she did not hold any hope to not finding them either. There was always a chance she could stumble upon them. 

But the wolf had taken up her old ways, wondering around the lands with some aimless intent. She was a ghost, something of the past that had no real say in the future pack of Alteron. It had changed so much, gone were the tyrants of old and in where the tyrants of new, though different in the political manner in which they shifted. Like snakes. The black wraith could speak in their tounges but she really had no heart for doing such a thing. She was just a old creature of habit, one who wondered and watched and didn't speak. Even now her voice was raspy as ever, like a crone who hadn't spoken in centuries. She was  a skinny rail who slipped beneath the trees and bushes. She watched with bright eyes that countered her dark pelt. She was a wanderer now, a wolf who had no real thing to do. 

And maybe there were others who wondered too.

hello all! hopefully you're all moved in to the new forum and ready to get going, because it's time to start plotting! with the earthquake over, the Nardiri must begin to pick up the pieces and search for our missing friends and family. you're free to start new threads in Nardir searching for other Nardiri or surveying the damage.

first order of business is finding volunteers for search parties to comb through Nardir and see if anyone needs assistance. if you'd like to have your Nardiri involved in this, either as a victim in need of saving or as part of the search party, just post below and let us know which character & what you're interested in doing! once we have a list, we'll form teams and the chosen team leaders can set up threads. 

the search party plot will lead into discovering the Tendrils of Elune, which will eventually be a playable area for some of our Nardiri! for now, we'll focus on getting the search parties together, so post below if you're interested!

search party volunteers:
- Puffin
- Becrux
- Aylie
- Anika
- Deidra
- Akutan
- Hakan
- Arik
- Raka
- Julek

needs rescuing:
- Tallulah
- Aeneas
- Kyra
- Sansa
- Shimmah

He looked upon the sagging green overgrowth high above his head. Scented the humid air, relishing as though in nostalgia the way the breath made his lungs feel filthy on the way out, the thin steam it left behind. With it came the distinct and ammoniacal reek of wolf piss where in another universe they might otherwise have had gates. Imagine the signs they'd hang, like kitschy welcome-home mats from hell: fuck off, trespassers. dragons live here. if you check in, you can never check back out.

Unless you were Crow, of course. Maybe he was more oil than beast after all, for how he slides beneath the very worst of all the karma he deserves so badly.

Like dying in the isle of glass, said the wounds, treated but raw, dashed upon his body like strikes from a barbed bullwhip, an angry red, a mosaic of split-open meat. Like being left for the hungry fire. You remember what it was like to be tasted by flame, don't you? Oh, he'd never forget. Nor had he ever crawled from that fire with all parts of him uneaten. Maybe he'd died a long time ago, and this was just the dream sputtered out by the failing neurons as the blinked out like stars and brought everything that once had been Crow down with them. But here he stood, and here he walked, a feral stray on the weathered steps of

(whatever the hell made you)

old Alteron, the kingdom that devoured itself and lived on forever. There was poetry in that, really. He still donned the name of a dead man, and it had taken him some time after the fire to figure out... what to do next. He was pretty sure he knew now.

Behind him and beside him lurked more wolves, dark shapes in the shade of the canopy. They were his, and he was theirs, because sometimes mad dogs had dogs of their own, because they liked to run in packs, and when he'd moved as though to break it, they'd followed him here, loyal beasts, vicious beasts, maybe just frightened beasts in the end.

"Alteron," mused Crow, his voice (it always sounded vaguely aristocratic, or tried to anyway, like a wolf, pun unintended, in a shitty see-through sheepskin) more aloof than usual, more tired, though he tried to mask even this minor weakness, as though he wasn't riddled with healing wounds. Details, details. "Pretty, isn't it?" In its own... special way.

Even as a small, stupid boy, he'd thought as much. That remained unchanged. What, then, had not?

What had his Red Dragon done here in all the years he'd spent in the holy valley?