The burn scar on his right cheek was still red, swollen, and painful. For once, Atoll was rendered speechless on the trudge back towards Raider lands. They carried their wounded between them and others were far worse off, but he still felt quite a bit like sulking. His face! That fire worm ruined his face! Even when the tissue healed it was unlikely that fur would grow back, forever leaving an ugly pink scar. When he spotted the entrance of the cavern out of the corner of his eye he peeled off of the main contingent headed home and decided to explore by himself for a while.

He entered the eerie cave, squinting still with the hot pain of his new wound. Cool air brushed across the inflamed tissue and made him shiver. At least it was quiet in here... and dark. Kind of peaceful. Atoll stalked deeper into the cave, happening upon some soft carpets of glowing moss. His eyes lit up at the sight. This kind of thing would look incredible inside of his (well, his and Kaira's) hideout. Gathering the moss gave him something to focus on that wasn't the dull throb in his face. Maybe he could make something soft to lie his head on?



"speech"

coding by xarae

Leaving the North was a rare occurrence for Zagan. He often spent his days training in his Father’s kingdom- honing his skills to perfection, to meet the Sultan’s expectations. His goal was to rise to the Imperial rank, and someday, become The Syndicate’s next Sultan. But of course, he was not the only one striving for such power. He was competing against his Saxe siblings, and the Absinth and Aresenn brood. A bloodthirsty lot, the group of them. He and his siblings didn’t just thirst for power- it was a compulsion. An internal drive they could not comprehend- a game that wasn’t just about winning. But who was controlling the board.

Zagan needed new ways to push himself- so he left the Northern region, and traveled into unknown territories in search of something more. He’d ended up in the West, at the entrance of a cave he’d never seen before.

Slipping into its depths, he’s overtaken by the humidity of the labyrinth- the air is hot, thick, and oppressive- especially to a wolf that is accustomed to the frigid temperatures of the North.

All around him, the cave is bathed in an ethereal glow, dozens of phosphorescent mushrooms rising from a moss-covered floor. Their caps were a blend of blues and purples- similar to his pelt coloring. He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

Coming around a bend, Zagan enters a large chamber with another inhabitant in it. A wolf- no, a pup younger than himself, bathed in the same scent as Mercy the Raider girl- materializes before him. A palpable shift occurs in the atmosphere between them- Zagan, like his Father, boasts a natural aura of authority and control.

For now, he doesn’t say anything. Just watches the boy shuffle around the chamber- his oppressive demeanor commanding attention, as he waits for the boy to realize he’s not alone.

"Zagan Saxe"

Atoll continued to scuffle around and occasionally stop to nurse his wounded face. He was just about to extend a claw and cut off a long rectangle of glowing moss when he felt the air in the cavern change slightly. He lifted his head, squinting through the dim glow, and saw the outline of a big, scary monster. He jumped up, hackles rising instinctively. Everything looked a little alarming now after fighting that giant fiery worm. Once he squinted a little further and finally made out the shape a strange looking wolf, he somewhat relaxed. "Why're you standing there all suspicious? Not going to come say hello?" he wheedled, sidling around so that he could keep one eye on Zagan and one eye on the carpet of moss as he began to trim off a substantial piece of it.


"speech"

coding by xarae

Zagan’s eyes narrowed at the boy, his sharp features contorting into a look of contemplation.

The way his gaze rolled across the Raider pup’s frame was calculated and deliberate. He was assessing him. Searching for signs of weakness. Anything exploitable. There was an angry, festering wound across his face- but other than that, he was simply, a child. A child all alone, in the confines of an eternal abyss. A child alone with a monstrosity.

“Suspicious?” Zagan croons, echoing the boy’s words. His voice is deep and commanding- yet it is soothing in equal measure. A compelling tune that commands obedience.

He’s moving towards the boy now, teetering into his personal space. An abrupt invasion. As he draws closer, a spark of curiosity flashes in his eyes. Atoll was trimming off a piece of the bioluminescent moss. And Zagan wanted to know why.

“Your actions are suspicious, Raider child.” He hums, stopping once he is looming uncomfortably close to the boy. “You are collecting the moss." A short pause. "Why.” Blunt and incredibly forward, Zagan wants Atoll to satiate his curiosity.

"Zagan Saxe"

Atoll could tell that he wasn't quite an adult, but he sure was big enough to be one. Zagan still had the gangly limbs that Atoll had come to associate with wolves who were just about or already yearlings, by the sheer size of the stranger was throwing him for a loop. Not to mention all of his extra extremities... He shifted away slightly when Zagan padded closer, letting out a dignified little huff. Hot damn, this guy was a weirdo! He was used to his siblings crawling all over him, but not a stranger, even if it didn't feel so bad to be overshadowed by someone bigger than him. Atoll had never and would never be a fighter, but this guy had muscles on muscles. It was good to have big, bad friends, wasn't it? Especially if you didn't particularly like fighting your own battles.

"Uhh, my actions are not suspicious, and my name is Atoll," he said, peering up at Zagan. The wound beneath his eye was weeping a clear liquid. "What's yours, anyway?" Turning his attention back to the moss, he examined it from a few different angles and then flipped it on the soft, mossy side down. Losing the glow from the phosphorescence of the top patch darkened the area they stood in even more. "I'm trying to fold it into something bulkier to rest my head on when I get home, since this stings like a mean old bitch," Atoll grumbled, gesturing with a small paw to his aching wound. "I fought a fire worm and won. I guess a lot of other wolves were around too," he added nonchalantly, peeking up at Zagan for his reaction.


"speech"

coding by xarae

As the boy slunk back, Zagan crept forward- each step precise and measured- a predator's grace that moved with ease. The quiet confidence of a wolf who satiated his depravities. His curiosity.

“Atoll.” He hums, rolling the boy’s name inside of his maw- tasting it. Feeding off it. But there is an unsatisfied gleam in Zagan’s eyes- a crack in his polished exterior- a thirst for lacking knowledge. What was the boy’s surname?

In his contemplation, there is a subtle tilt of his head- as if he’s measuring the boy’s worth. It’s a smooth, and effortless motion- an assessment that came naturally to Zagan- a manifestation of his arrogance. "Is your grandmother the Raid Queen?" He recalls his encounter with Mercy, who claimed to be related to the alpha of the Raiders. And this boy didn't seem so far off in age. Perhaps a sibling?

His tail flicks behind him, and there is a subtle shift in his pelt- the rows of razor-sharp quills standing partially erect around his nape- a silent form of entitlement. “Zagan Saxe.” He boasts his surname with pride. “Heir to The Syndicate throne.” Truly, it was useless information to the boy- but to Zagan it was everything. His motivator. His purpose. He would become the next Imperial, and rise to the role of Sultan. He was certain of it.

He didn’t care for Atoll’s reasoning for collecting the moss. But his mention of a fire worm. Now that was intriguing. “Where was this fire worm?” His mind is reeling, recalling information gathered from his packmates. Rhazien, Ezekiel, Dracun, and Ravana encountered a vile, worm-like creature in the North. But it was shrouded in ice, emerging from the depths of the S.S. Antiox. Could there be a connection between the two monstrosities?

"Zagan Saxe"

"My... my grandmother?" he sputtered, wrinkling his nose. "Yuck, no! My mom is Sparrow, the greatest Pirate King that ever lived and my other mom is dead," he said, with all of the confidence of youth. "I'm not really related to anyone except my siblings, thank you very much!" HE set about matching the edges of the moss up together until it created a nice, soft mat for him to lay his head on. If he hauled it back to Raider lands, maybe he could fill it with straw and having someone help him stitch the pieces together to make a soft cushion. When the purple guy finally produced his name, Atoll just nodded like he understood exactly what he meant. "Very cool."

Finally, though, with the worm thing he had his attention. Atoll folded up the moss he'd collected and puffed out his chest a little. "Well, just a little north of here is a big, hot pit of burning fire. It's exactly as cool as you're thinking, and outta this pit exploded a gigantic worm-thing that spat fire and it was really, really mad about something! Me and a bunch of other Raiders and some other guys took it out, that's how I got this scar," he angled his face again to catch the light on the ugly wound, which he was coming to realize would maybe be kind of cool one day. At least it would make a good story. "I was there from the start all the way until the end!"


"speech"

coding by xarae

A flash of recognition shot across Zagan’s gaze. Sparrow, the Pirate King. The name rang a bell- Aresenn had taught The Syndicate pups of his upbringing- of the pirate ship he grew up on when he was a child.

The rest of the information wasn’t very useful- but it did form connections in the inner webs of Zagan’s mind. “Then you and I aren’t so different.” It was a statement that held a depth of meaning- one meant to spark curiosity.

He knew the turmoils of visiting his mother in his dreams, and the scars it creates. A pain that never fully dissipates. But for Zagan, there is a small reprieve- when his Father is not wearing his Mother’s pelt, he leaves her sprawled out on the floor of his den. The Sultan’s trophy for all to see. And in those moments, Zagan can indulge in the familiarity of her scent- the physicality of her fur against his skin. To dance in the gruesome ballet of grief.

His thoughts are fleeting, his attention shifting back to the fire worm. As Atoll described it, Zagan was creating the scene in his mind.

A massive worm emerging from volcanic depths, spitting fire, incinerating wolves left and right. The smell of burning flesh, heavy and thick in the air. Wisps of black smoke choking the atmosphere, mixed with glowing embers rising from cracks in the earth's surface. Death. So much death.

Zagan’s features twisted in morbid delight, revealing a flash of sharp teeth. “And you got away with just a scar?” He croons, cocking his head to the side. “How lucky.” Leaning forward, Zagan studies Atoll’s weeping wound- but there is a coldness in his gaze- a calculated cruelty that revels in the suffering of others. “There were ice worms in the North.” He says, revealing information the boy may find interesting. “Perhaps there is a connection between your fire worm and our ice worm.” A simple observation. One worth investigating.

"Zagan Saxe"

He mulled over what Zagan said. From where Atoll was sitting, they seemed about as different as could be: two sides of a rusted up coin, one dark and one light. He'd never see quills like that, or ears like, or really anything that remotely had looked like Zagan ever in his short life. Perhaps he meant alike in their heritage. His mother was dead, too? Or did he have two moms? Atoll tried to come up with something to say but found nothing. At the very best of times he wasn't good at being in tune with his emotions, much less when a bat-eared stranger was looming over him. Instead, he tilted his head in recognition of Zagan's words and rolled up his piece of moss all the way. Maybe if he focused on everything else around him, that vice grip of cold fear around his heart would loosen.

Atoll glanced over Zagan's shoulder, eyes trailing up the cavernous walls of the deep underground place they'd found themselves in. That eerie blue glow suffused everything, the contrasting color to that sickly red which painted everything else outside. Mushrooms dotted the walls, their caps curling gently. If he stopped to stare at them long enough, he swore it looked like they were breathing. At Zagan's words, how lucky, Atoll refocused his gaze back on the older boy. It struck him that Zagan looked quite at home in this cave, as if he'd crawled out of some dark hole between the stones and moss. An involuntary shiver raced up his spine. From the mouth of a cave he could faintly hear the wind whistling outside, beckoning him home. "Pretty lucky, yeah," he said nonchalantly, eyes darting between Zagan and the exit. "I always land on my paws. I'm a quick thinker," Atoll rambled, always fond of talking himself up when he could.

It was gratifying that he had the Syndicate heir's full attention, and so Atoll returned the gesture, finally pulling his eyes away from the door and gazing up at Zagan in earnest. "An ice worm? Hmm, a fire worm definitely sounds scarier to me... but I don't really like being cold much, so," he muttered, shivering again. "Where did that one crawl up? You're right, I think they have to be connected. Lightning doesn't strike twice in one place and all that..." he said, giving a thoughtful hmmm. "If they traveled over land there would at least be rumors about them by now. Someone would have had to seen one, even if it was a long time ago. But I don't know," he paused to look around, the whites of his eyes gleaming for a moment in the dark, "I mean, regular worms dig through the dirt..." Dirt and rocky scree that they were currently surrounded by.


"speech"

coding by xarae