Bear Butts [Fighting Skill Points]

The woods had been his once, for however short of a time that was. Now they had fallen to anarchy and had become cursed by the memory of his failure. His failure to hold the lands, and his failure to control the apathetic wolves that had used his pack for their own needs. They had abused his young age and naiveté to break his laws and do as they pleased, but none had undermined his laws more than Aranea; the female he had been so taken with and who had bore him two disgraceful whelps before she set him aside entirely. He snorted at the memory.

Tyranis raised his head as he peered through the snowfall, watching a vague shadow shuffle in the distance. An odd chill ran through him, and a sense of dread filled him. A part of him he hadn’t known existed knew the shape and its movements but when he ventured for an answer the only retuning thought was “RUN!”

His eyes darted to the side where he found two forms; both distinctly wolf with their focus directed at the amorphous form in the distance. Without hesitation he ran to them, his attention darting to the shape as his paws carried him to the company of three strangers. Whatever it was he had no intention of facing it alone and apparently neither did they.

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