The cold of winter wasn't as bad as the hot, humid summer months, but Merrick still didn't like it. Give him eternal autumn and he'd be happy. Well, happy about the weather at least. It was doubtful that the plum and shadow man would ever be truly happy. He found too much wrong with the world. He wouldn't be satisfied until he was an Emperor with women fawning all over him nonstop. That was what he deserved, truly. For now he had Keelin and that was surprisingly enough. The woman had grown on him considerably. Freedom from the ship had done wonders for her personality. She was still obedient and compliant to his wishes, but she had blossomed somehow. As such, Merrick had been in a much better mood lately. At least as far as he went. He was still brusque and disagreeable, but he'd been in a decent enough mood to offer taking two of the younger pack wolves, one his nephew, out for a bit of a winter hunt.

The trio of dire brutes made their way out of Elysium territory and up into the northern reaches of the continent. Merrick was intent on taking the boys on a bit of an adventure, so hunting close to home wouldn't quite cut it. They'd be out in the elements for a few days and the hulking brute carted a decent sized sledge along behind him. How else would they be able to drag all of the meat back home? If things went according to plan, they'd be dragging either a fat elk or a bison back to fill the stores. With the three of them, it should have been a piece of cake. Though the other two were younger, their size and determination should make up for lack of experience.

Merrick had led the boys to a long stretch of tundra spattered with pines. The minuscule trees provided a little bit of protection against the blowing elements, but they did little else. Still, herbivores frequented this place and already Merrick could smell the acrid stench of plant eaters on the chill wind. The scarred man shrugged out of the sleighs harness and shook out his thick, winter coat. With a pull of his shoulder, he motioned for the boys to follow.

Together, the trio made their way up a natural game path that stretched through the pines. The further they moved into the wood, the thicker the scent of prey. After casting the boys a look of caution, Merrick crouched and used the low hanging branches of a snow covered pine for camouflage.  Gingerly, he peered out of his hiding place, mismatched eyes looking over a smallish clearing at a herd of bison. It was a small cell. Five adults and a few adolescents. A decent enough group for an attack. There was a fatter cow towards the back of the group with healing gouge marks across her haunches. She'd escaped death once, but she wouldn't escape it again. The wounds would make her slower than the rest, which would work out in their favor. Silently, Merrick indicated their target to the boys, then back out from beneath the pine.

Backtracking a bit, Merrick led them out behind the herd. It would be easy. They would all give chase and run the injured cow into the ground. The kill would be made by whoever managed to get in there. He only hoped that the boys were smart enough to not get kicked by the flailing hooves of the beast. Merrick knew the damage that a bison could render and he wouldn't like to deliver the news to the mother of either boy that their child was brained while hunting with him.

With a nod to the pair, Merrick indicated that the time had come. Powerful muscles bunched and a moment later the purple and black behemoth was flying through the air. Wide, taloned paws crunched into the snow upon landing, digging in to give purchase so that he could rocket after their prey. Already the herd was scattering. They knew the dangers of wolves all too well. Here and there a bison would splinter off from the group, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the injured cow. Their intended target. She was slow, but she was still large and powerful. As she tried to follow a group of other bison, Merrick snapped at her to keep her in line. The cow kicked out at him with a hind hoof, narrowly missing the wolf's face. The brute's eyes went wide and he chuckled, lips pulling back in a grin. Who didn't like a little danger when hunting?

As the wolves ran their prey, the cow began to slow. She stumbled in some deeper snow and that was their chance. With a push of speed, Merrick launched himself from the ground. Talons latched into the fatty hump of the bison and his teeth soon followed. The brute used his weight to pull the stumbling cow to the side and she crashed hard into the snow on one shoulder, hooves flailing. The momentum of the fall sent the purple giant sailing, but he landed mostly upon his paws. Unhurt, the brute rushed back into the fray, biting into the side of the bison's neck just below the jaw. It took ever ounce of strength to hold onto the cow as she struggled for life, but it wasn't to be. Eventually the might of the three brutes became too much and the life ebbed away. Blood puddled in the white snow and Merrick soon released his prey. The man stepped back, sinking to his haunches, tongue lolling. Steam rolled out of the cavern of his maw with every breath. "Well done, lads." He complimented the young wolves. They'd each done their part to bring down and kill the bison. Their mothers would be proud.

They would have to retrieve the sledge so that they could drag the processed meat back to the pack. The skin would prove quite useful for the cold winter nights to come. He wouldn't be the one processing it since he hated that sort of thing, but he'd leave it there for someone else to deal with. Or he'd make Keelin figure it out. Either way, he was claiming the skin for himself this time. As the trio caught their breath, a breeze brought the scent of bear with it. In the distance, the low moaning of a grizzly could be heard. It seemed to be coming their way. That was just great... Merrick loved bears. Not.

WC-1100/3500

"Merrick Mendacium"

Now that he was half way through his first year he really thought he would have been done growing by now, but just when he thought he had finally maxed out those growing pains just kept coming and he kept creeping upward. Finally it seemed like he had maxed out what he figured was possible, leaving him matching his uncle in height. It was funny to him since he remembered being a pup and feeling like there was absolutely no way he could ever be as tall as Indigo, and yet here he was, matching him and the other huge dire wolves that populated this north eastern pack. His mane also continued to grow in more thick and plush as he got older as well, his golden fur making him look more and more lion-like by the day. The sudden growth spurts were causing him to have to relearn and practice some things when it came to his hunting and fighting considering most of the things he learned were really only applicable to his smaller frame that he had for the first half of his life. That drew him to spending more time with his uncle and some of the other massive males in Elysium to try and pick up some tips and tricks from them as he readapted how he did things to this new challenge.

When the opportunity came up to go on a hunt with Merrick and Saracyn he couldn't say no. Manea's brother and son both matched him in height and he couldn't imagine them not being pretty knowledgeable and skilled in hunting and fighting. He had at least seen Saracyn's fighting in action during the Elysium festival melee fight and saw him "hunting" during the fishing tournament that they had both participated in as well. Besides, he was trying to make an active effort out of being a part of this pack while he was here and finding opportunities to put himself out of his comfort zone to be around other wolves more often. He had spent so much of his life so far isolating himself from others and now he felt like he was catching up for lost time, forcing himself to move on and put the past behind him. He knew it would make his mother and sister happy to see him not moping around the den all day and the more he thought about his father and what he would have wanted for him he knew it would have made his father proud to see him focusing on his skills and bettering himself too.

Arcturus followed behind Merrick and the sled he was pulling, a couple of small bags of basic supplies and tools slung across his back. He didn't know how much they would be doing as far as field dressing whatever it was they ended up bringing down, but he didn't think it would hurt to have things like a couple of knives, some strips of leather for tying things off, and some rags for cleaning blood off of the pelts. Plus he carried some easy to carry food stuffs like jerky just to hold them over either until they found something to hunt or till they got back in case they didn't want to tear into their kill just yet and decided to bring it back home whole. It was probably a bit of over kill on his part, but they barely weighed anything so it wasn't like they were hindering him or weighing him down at all and he didn't mind carrying them. He'd rather have the supplies and not need them than not have them and end up wishing he had brought them.

This was most definitely the farthest north he had ever been and the barren, snowy tundra wasn't exactly his preferred kind of terrain. He could at least be happy that his mane kept his neck and chest very warm, but the rest of him wasn't as pleased. It would make sense that a open area like this with just some sporadic pine trees to breakup the landscape would be a good place for the prey they were looking for though. This would be far more hospitable than the mountainous areas he had hunted in before for something like elk or bison which he was pretty sure was their target. for the trip. Once Merrick stopped and slid off the sleigh he was towing, Arcturus slipped out of the bags he was carrying and dropped them on the sled as well, leaving them behind so they wouldn't accidentally cause any issues during the hunt. Once the older male motioned for them to follow, he cast a glance toward Saracyn to give the fellow yearling a quick grin before turning to follow after Merrick dutifully.

Arcturus walked quietly through the pines with his hunting partners of the moment, keeping his eyes peeled for any tracks or signs of potential targets. The scent of them was getting thicker as they went though so he at least knew they were moving in the right direction. They made their way through the pine forest that got slightly more dense as they went, but not by much, until Merrick had them stop and he slipped up silently beside him to take a look at the herd of bison they had found. It wasn't a huge herd, but the animals themselves were massive so even one felt like an impressive kill in his book. He had already started to pick out potential targets when Merrick pointed one out to them—a large cow that obviously had encountered some find of predator before already. He nodded in agreement and once Merrick began to back out he did the same, making extra sure to move quietly and carefully so that they wouldn't disturb the herd before they even began.

Once they had moved around to the back of the herd and were all in position he waited for Merrick to give the signal and then they were off. He bounded forward with long strides, kicking up crunching snow as he went. He headed straight for the cow that was their target, but he also kept an eye out for the other stampeding animals just in case one of them in their wild race to get away from the attacking wolves accidentally cut into their path or kicked out at them as well. He didn't want to get too tunnel visioned on one particular bison and miss something dangerous going on around them. They kept up with the slow cow pretty easily, especially as they continued to run it and its old wounds took their toil in slowing her down more. He had to dodge those strong, kicking legs a couple of times, but luckily he was able to dodge them each time as he kept a bit of distance between him and their prey. Merrick ended up making the first blow once they got it separated a bit from the others and the moment he saw his violet and black form lunge forward to bite into the bison's hindquarters Arc drove hard to get up along side the bison and leapt up to sink his saber fangs into the thick curve over the top of the bison's neck. He bit down hard and used his weight to drag the bison off of its feet as well, only letting go and skittering out of the way as it began to fall so that he wouldn't get crushed under its weight.

The moment it was down he was on top of it, keeping it held down with his weight along with the others. He got a quick bite in at its throat, letting his long fangs puncture its wind pipe to speed up the process of killing it before he got out of the way to let Saracyn and Merrick finish the kill while he focused his energy on keeping the cow from getting up or throwing them off. Eventually he finally felt the bison fall still and he was able to climb off of it, staggering back a step before falling back onto his haunches with a grin, giving Merrick a nod as a bit of thanks to the compliment he was given like he panted to catch his breath. This would definitely be an impressive kill to bring back to the pack!

Just as he was about to get up and offer to go back for the sled while the other two stayed to guard their kill, the scent of a bear caught his attention and his sapphire gaze turned toward the scent just as a low, rumbling sounds of a grizzly reached them. His gray ear flicked as a frown pulled at his lips. Well, it seemed like they'd need to defend their kill sooner rather than later. He got to his paws, giving himself a shake. "I guess the commotion attracted some company..." he muttered, moving around the bison's corpse to stand between where it was laying and where he heard the sounds coming from. A few moments later the massive, shaggy bear came lumbering out from the surrounding trees, crunching and shuffling through the lower hanging branches as it went. Once it was in the clearing across from them it slowed, eyeing each of them with a huff that made a cloud of steam form around the end of its muzzle.

He hoped that maybe seeing three wolves as big as they were might deter the poacher, but it must have been really hungry or really stupid or perhaps some of both because after a moment of consideration it kept coming toward them and eventually reared up on its back legs. He glanced to Saracyn and quickly told him, "I'll keep it's attention, you get around the back." He charged forward then, growling and snarling as he made himself as big as possible with his scruff and mane puffed out. That made the bear hesitate slightly and that was all the opening Arc needed. He leapt up, biting into he bear's front leg near its ankle and used the momentum of that leap and his own weight to pull the bear back down onto the ground, his fangs stabbing through the limb to cause more damage at the same time. He let go as soon as the bear hit the ground, landing on its shoulder with a roar of pain, and Arc jumped back before it could swing its other foreleg at him with those long, deadly claws. He hoped that had bought Saracyn enough time to get behind the attacking bear to get his own blows in so they could get this over with quickly.

WC: 1785
Total: 2885/3500

"Arcturus Indarra"

Jäger. Cazador. Vânător. Hunter. Whatever you called it, Saracyn called it himself. There was nothing the red-furred adolescent wolf loved more than a good hunt, save for maybe a bloody fight, but really what was a hunt but a fight to the death between you and your prey? You couldn't rightly kill your opponent in a spar—at least not without some consequences—so in many ways, a physically demanding hunt scratched more itches the young brute had than even a battle did. Following Elysium's festival, their food stores had dwindled some to levels less than comfortable to support the growing pack through the harshness of winter, so when his Uncle Merrick came around to recruit him for a hunt, Sara just grinned a smile that showed off rows of his jagged teeth before gathering up his bracers and whistling for his raptors. The day he turned down a hunt was the day they put him down for senility and feebleness.

Together, Saracyn, Merrick, and the other yearling that had come with the group of vagabonds to act as mercenaries for his family began their trek to the far northern reaches of the Boreal continent. Saracyn didn't know much about the other adolescent, just that his name was Arcturus, as had been announced during the fishing competition, and that he'd been a decent fisher. Plus he was a large dire wolf with a good amount of muscle on him too; that made him useful. But probably the most redeeming feature of the plebeian wolf was the fact that he knew his place. Unlike the wretched blue urchin his parents coddled, Arcturus didn't assume anything of himself and didn't try to press his station. He knew exactly where he belonged and what his purpose to the pack was, and he accepted his lot without any sneer or rebuke. The Mendacium prince respected that, and in turn, he treated him fairly and showed the same consideration back for him. He would be happy to hunt with the golden wolf in his team. The trio ventured farther north away from the pack, moving through lands Sara hadn't been to for an age. The last time he'd come up this way was when his mother had fought the pirate bitch for a pack. This time hopefully, the Mendaciums' efforts would not be as fruitless as that endeavor had been.

With the scent of bison on the wind, the wolves prowled through the forest of sparse pine trees, following the smell until they spotted the herd. No words were spoken, but none needed to be. Saracyn's icy cobalt eyes scoured the herd, locking in on the wounded cow just as Merrick indicated wordlessly to it. She would be their victim. Overhead, Veior and Vindr circled silently, looking to anyone else like simple black birds searching for small game. Merrick took the lead and Saracyn followed close behind, moving nearly silently through the thick snow that covered the desolate land. The cold winds of winter whistled through the pines, rippling in his ears and coat, stinging his skin where it was the thinnest. It was bracing, exhilarating, and make the yearling feel alive! The closer they crept up the game trail towards their prey, the thicker their scent became, clinging heavy in his nostrils and making him salivate at the anticipation of the kill. Once they were close enough, his uncle gave the signal, and every tensed muscle in Saracyn's body exploded with raw youthful energy, propelling himself like a crimson bolt of lightning toward the herd. The young brute snarled and snapped, driving away the bison they didn't desire to help single out the hobbling cow while Merrick and Arcturus ran it down. When she was finally isolated, he rejoined the group, running up alongside the bison with fangs bared.

It took some time and effort, and a good bit of agility as Saracyn had to avoid the occasional kick from shattering his skull like a dinner plate, but eventually their plan came to fruition. Between Merrick pouncing on the cow's back and the blood loss she suffered from the deep bite wounds he and Arcturus inflicted once she was toppled, the bison swiftly succumbed to the wolves, her strength and life sapping away from her with the rich sea of red that poured out from her body across the pristine white snow. When it was all said and done, they had bagged one hell of a kill. This would be enough meat to feed the pack for a week, maybe more! A proud grin painted the bloodstained muzzle of the prince, his tail wagging so fast it was almost spinning when Merrick commended their efforts. Although he hadn't spent a lot of time with his uncle since he'd come to Elysium, Saracyn did admire Merrick's domineering mannerisms, violent brutality, and the way he controlled his woman. He was a monolith of power to be respected or feared—perhaps both.

"Thanks, Uncle," Saracyn replied, swiping his pink tongue over his lips to clean off some of the saccharine sweet blood. One trait he had adopted from his father was his sanguiphilia, the taste making electric shudders he couldn't identify or explain run through his nervous system. But before they could celebrate, a gust of wind brought about another scent with it—one he recognized all too well, and it stole the smile right off the lad's features. Ursine. Grizzly bear. A low grunting bellow echoed through the pines coming straight for them. The bear must have woken up from its hibernation and smelled the blood, thinking it could get an easy meal. Well, Saracyn would be damned if he just turned their kill over to some overgrown scavenger. Once the lumbering mass of fur and fat came into view, Sara bared his teeth in a vicious growl to try and threaten it away, but the bear remained undeterred, lumbering at the wolves like a massive furry tank. Arcturus volunteered to keep their foe distracted and ran forward to engage the bear head on, giving Saracyn the distraction he needed to move freely about the bear's side and out of its peripheral. He circled the battlefield slowly so as not to attract attention, large white paws vanishing almost silently in the snow while he stalked around the bear. Those cobalt eyes were cold and steeled with lethal intent, watching and studying the bear for signs of weakness. It was still covered in excess fat from its hibernation, but it seemed dazed and groggy, like it shouldn't have been awake yet. That would be the key to its undoing.

While Arcturus bit and snapped at the ursine's paws and legs, Saracyn gave a whistle to his avians, gesturing to the bear and watching with a macabre smirk as Veior and Vindr dive-bombed down to begin clawing and pecking at the bear's face. The confused grizzly bear bellowed in pain and anger, swatting aimlessly at the birds while trying to keep its attention on Arc as well. Now with it fully distracted, Saracyn seized his opportunity and charged the bear. His paws pounded the ground, kicking up snow as he ran full-tilt at his enemy, powerful hind legs launching him up in a graceful arc to land on the bear's back. The sudden weight of the dire wolf slamming into him send the bear falling back onto all fours, also permitting Saracyn to finish his leap up the length of the bear's back to sink his fangs into the back of the grizzly's neck. Sure enough, the predator's protective layer of fat and fur was too thick for him to bite through—but he hadn't been intending to. Instead, Sara used his bite as a grapple to hold himself to the bear while he extended his smooth-edged blade from his bracer with a flick of his wrist to activate the mechanism, then drove the dagger into the bear's exposed throat once, twice, three times. The Mendacium prince landed a fourth stab just as the roaring and bellowing bear managed to shake him loose and reach a paw around, grabbing Saracyn by his foreleg and pulling him off to throw to the ground.

Saracyn collapsed to the snow with a grunt, watching with a wicked grin as blood poured from the grizzly's throat at an alarming rate, each pump of its strong heart gushing a fresh river of red from the four clean puncture wounds severing its carotid and jugular. But as quickly as the bear was dying, it wasn't quick enough. With strength still in reserve, the bear rounded on Saracyn, powerful jaws baring sharp teeth as it roared and stumbled closer to him. Sara shuffled backwards, putting a bit more space between him and the stumbling, bleeding bear. Gradually its movements became woozier and more imbalanced as it poured a trail of steaming red blood across the snow like a gruesome Jackson Pollock painting, and by the time it was within striking distance of the adolescent wolf, it barely had the strength to stand. Saracyn's lips peeled back from his teeth in a cruel smile, watching the bear stumble as it clung to life with the desperation of a creature unwilling to accept its own mortality. The red-furred lad would help it along that process. Raising his paw, Saracyn extended his smooth dagger once more then leveled the blade to the grizzly's glassy eye. The bear huffed and nearly collapsed, giving a weak and pleading bellow to the wolves. Saracyn responded by slowly pressing the blade forward until it pierced and sunk through the bear's eye socket. The bear tried to recoil and fight, but Saracyn placed a paw on its head and pushed it down to the snow with ease, a demented smile on his face while he continued to press the dagger deeper and deeper until with one final strong push, he drove the blade into something with density and his paw pressed to the bear's skull.

Immediately, the bear's sounds and struggling stopped as it was forcibly lobotomized by the wolf. With several inches of sharp steel penetrating its brain, the bear died in the blink of an eye, its body immediately shutting down and flopping limp to the bloodstained snow. Saracyn withdrew the blade from his foe, watching a mess of fluid, blood, and gray matter seep from the gaping wound where the bear's eye used to be. Thanks to the precision of his weapon, the pelt of the grizzly was still nicely intact. They wouldn't be able to take both the bear and bison back, but he sure as hell would be taking the time to skin it and take this pelt back as his own trophy. Maybe he'd line his bed with it for some extra warmth through the rest of the winter. With the fight over and the threat neutralized, a blood-soaked Saracyn set to skinning the bear while Merrick and Arcturus could fetch the sledge to load up the bison and bear pelt, grinning like a sociopath to himself all the while he worked. His fluffy tail wagged like a happy puppy playing with a new toy. Today had been a very good day.

WC: 1860
Total: 4745 / 3500

"Saracyn Mendacium"