ardent

Hunting Pains



Sirius

"Warlord"

The Hallows
High Councilor

Master Fighter (240)

Master Hunter (275)

An icon representing the specialty Bloodletter Bloodletter

age
11 Years
gender
Male
gems
51
size
Dire wolf
build
Balanced
posts
3,227

LegendaryWealthySamhain 2022Statue 1 WorshipThe Ooze ParticipantThe Ooze - Variation 1
WordySilver Medal 2020Critical Hit!Critical Fail!Trick 2019Promptober 2019
10-07-2020, 09:45 PM



The howl from his golden warrior told him that his little girl was injured. The moment he heard the very first traces of that call in the air, he was gone. Dropping the knives and bits he was crafting in a shamble at his feet. Punting one part into the grasses as he threw himself forward. Marshal was already falling from the tree a short distance above him, wings snapping in the air as he soared off in the direction of Io’s den. He knew well what Sirius would want and need.

The Warlord was running out of the territory, the slightly smaller form of the brown wolf that called himself Asla’s guard falling in beside him. A part of him wanted to snarl at the man for not being at Asla’s side, and protecting her from whatever befall her. He saved his breath.

He arrived as quickly as his paws could carry him. Kicking dirt and grass in the air as the steam engine of a wolf dragged himself to a stop beside her. He lowered his head, sniffing at the wound, pressing his body close to his girl. “I’m here little Star.” he said. Then Basilisk was pushing him away from his girl's wound, he almost snapped at the man, but the words “Healer” stopped him. It was true that he had caught the man's scent at Io’s den more than once. He let the man see to her wound, curling his body about her, inadvertently pushing Naiche out of the way to do so. “Report.” he told the man. He needed words, something to concentrate on besides the terrible rage building in his chest.


"Speech"