Mind Your Elders [Abraxas]

*Amon* · (This post was last modified: 10-28-2017, 11:48 AM by Amon.)

Amon was no fool. He was hardly caught unawares by the dalliances of his kin, nor was he surprised by his families far-ranging tendencies. This was not unheard of, nor was he disgruntled by it. Those at home in the canyon that day were those he expected to find. These wolves he considered the core members of his family, if only because these were the wolves he most often associated himself with. Pyralis, his steadfast sister and her children. Skia, the cousin he had not asked for but found himself grudgingly accepting of all the same. His nephew, his own son, and his sister Razi made themselves known as well.

Amon was comforted by this gesture of pack, although they weren't quite such by official terms. The grouping of wolves could often be found nearby, but he was not fool enough to attempt to bind them to one land or another. It was neither his place not his implication. Still, that did not mean he would not attempt to use them for his own purposes. In the crowd surrounding him he felt strength and power and drive. He knew these were the wolves the Fallen God had chosen as his emissaries. "Hello, hello," he graveled as they fell in. "Didn't expect so many of you to be lingering about on a day like today," he mused to himself in that low, rumbling voice.

He oversaw each of them, individually. Each looked like they were in good health. He wondered after the Abraxas wolves who had ranged too far to hear his call, and wondered what pursuits they might be chasing. He hoped, for their sake, that it was something worthwhile. "It's been a long year since our arrival here," he began in muted tones. "A long year, and much has changed. We have left our mark on this land, adapted to it." He gave a grave nod towards the youth of their grouping. Ashiel and Asharya, two bright youths of his sister's creation. Gaios and Asharya, his own ilk, had been born not long after. Four strong, promising young youths to further the goals of their not-quite-pack. Good.

He began again. "We have waited long enough. I believe the time is upon us to begin pressing our visions upon the landscape. You have all had a year to contemplate how we would best serve this land. I'd be interested to hear your opinions," he hedged in a lighthearted, informal tone. He did not want to give this grouping a title of officiallity, as if it might further the view that he was their defacto leader. His interactions with family members over the last few moons had led him to assume that they had elected him as such, though her personally felt it a bit of a hinderance. In times of lesser obligation, when he did not have pups to rear, he might not have minded as much. Instead, he had found his family members rather stagnant when he was less available. Well, the time for that had certainly passed.

"You are each powerful warriors, blessed by the favor of the Fallen God," he began. "It is time we began leaving our scar on this land. I wonder, why do the loners say to me, 'Abraxas who?' It's sickening." In their homeland the Abraxas had been a feared name, one wrought with power and understanding. There was none of that here. "In the next moon I'll be mounting my first advance against one of the packs here. I hope to see many of you fighting alongside me." The comment was made lightly, though now without weight. His implication was clear. They were not truly Abraxas, if they were unwilling to fight for their family name. The time of meek obsequiousness had come to an end. He scanned the grouping, searching for the light in their eyes that would tell them they too had been blessed by their God's domineering spirit. The time of rest was at an end. Let their domination of this land begin.

"Talk" "You" Think

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