Newol

The wolf sat still, his nose down, his eyes close, his tail situated on top of his paws. He was focusing on his breathing. His nerves ran rampant through his body with his blood set to boil. Something was wrong and he knew it. When he'd joined Valhalla he'd been prepared to die for it. He didn't want to, but he was prepared to. It had been this way for as long as he could remember. Newol believed in his morals. He believed in his character. He believed in his ideals. And he was willing to fight until there was no breath left in his body before being told they where wrong. He had been for some time. It was something that had been set in him early in his life when his parents had taught him a simple yet major lesson about being a wolf. If you have to take a life, don't just kill. Give Death. Make the act a statement. Make the world dare to question again what you believed. So the news of how Valhalla had been thrown for a loop had brought up an important concern for him. Newol know how to fight for what he believed. He knew how to fight with his heart and soul for something that mattered. He didn't give a damn about honor. His personal honor didn't matter so long as what he believed in still stood at the end of it all. That he knew. What he didn't know how to do was to just simply, Fight. When it didn't matter, he wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't sure how to handle himself. He didn't know how to just get angry and brawl. And as a member of a pack, if someone just got disorderly and needed a good ass kickin, he needed to know how to do that. And so, with all the improvements he'd made to himself sense joining a pack, he had decided that he would add that to the list. The fact that he didn't really know how to just brawl didn't sit well with him in this place. He'd never started a fight in his life, so he'd never fought unless it mattered. This was new. And because it was new, his nerves where on a rampage. So he sat there, focusing on his breathing. He had to calm himself before he went through with this. Finally, he moved on from his breathing to the rest of him, splaying out his front paws and scratching the ground, feeling the earth under his feet, making sure it was solid. This, he flexed his limbs, feeling the muscle that was there. He'd actually gained some sense joining the pack. All the extra work providing for more then just himself had put a little extra strength in his body. He didn't looked like a rebellious boy anymore, he was a young man now. Finally, deciding he was ready, he rose his snout slowly to the sky, a long howl raising up from his chest. It was a level and neutral note, calling for an opponent with which to spar. Finally, when he was done, he opened his eyes and began to scan his surroundings for where an opponent might appear. There was still a voice in the back of his head telling him this was a redundant exercise and that he needed to go back to minding his own business, but finally, he came to peace with the fact that this was going to be a bloody mess no matter how he sliced it and pushed the voice aside. The sitting was the worst part. There was nothing to do while you sat and waited but think about how bad you wanted this all to be done with.

Hermes strode confidently onto the battlefield. The young male was looking for an opponent to test his skills on and to keep himself in shape and battle ready. His pack Olympus was still small. It needed skilled and ferocious warriors to make sure it was kept safe and Hermes had every intention of doing his part. He knew it was dangerous to walk the lands of the battlefield but he'd been trained in the art of warfare since he was very young. He was certain he could at least hold his own. Of course there was always so much left to learn. And fate was a fickle mistress indeed.


The wind rustled his fur and he closed his ruby eyes for a moment to gather himself. It had been awhile since he'd sparred a foreigner and the young male was not seeking a friendly match. While he wished to avoid a death match or maiming he wanted a brutal fight. Something that would lighten the instinct of battle within him and prepare him further for the pain and brutality of war as well as awaken that knowledge within himself. He could not hesitate if his pack was in danger. He could not hesitate if the lives of the ones he loved were threatened. Morality had little to do with it. Hermes did not dwell on the greater concepts of right and wrong there was only what was precious to him and the need to defend it. After all he would turn two years old in one months time. He would become an adult and take greater responsibility upon his shoulders.


Breathing steadied, mind clear, Hermes continued on his way and soon caught the scent of another wolf, another male. A potential opponent? He followed the scent to come across a dark-colored male with bright green eyes. He was a well built male, close in size and not too far in age. It would be a fair match if the other male wanted to take him up on it. He dipped his head in greeting. "You up for a spar? I come to sharpen my skills in the art of war and I have no desire for fisticuffs but none for permanent maiming or death either. What say you?"



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