Regulus

He was still reeling with amazement at the little forms of his new siblings two days after their entrance into the world. Thank the Darkness his stupor hadn’t ruined the hunt he had gone on after his mother had sent him out. A smallish elk calf that had been born late, and with a crooked leg. It was natural selection at work, and they had eaten well. Now he padded on the trail of a deer that smelled like it had a festering wound. He’d remembered that smell from a lesson his mother had taken himself and Zuriel on before she’d swollen up like… He wasn’t sure what to describe it with. His mother had helped with that hunt, and shown them the wound the buck had gotten from a fight with another of its kind. She had bade them both to remember the smell, and to take down the animals that carried that smell. He was beginning to flesh out, muscles rippling under his pelt, and with the weak autumn sunlight hitting the guard hairs of his fur, his pelt nearly seemed alive with red flame. He was, unbeknownst to himself, becoming an attractive male specimen, broad shouldered and moving with a lions grace. He nosed a stick, noting the drops of white, nasty smelling gunk with a grimace. His target had definitely passed this way. Ew. He continued on, taking his time. He was close enough to keep his prey moving, but not close enough to panic the animal and send it running, which would tire it, but would also waste his own energy. He wanted to be fresh. He’d been trailing this animal since yesterday evening. Their progress had slowed, and he was considering pressing the animal a little. He nodded and sped his pace a bit, and ahead, heard the deer start and break into a broken trot. Must have been a leg wound. That meant the deer would be tiring fast. So he broke into a lope, one that would conserve energy, while pressing his target into a run that would damage the leg further, and wear it down. Sure enough, while the pace of the deer ahead picked up, it slowed down only half a mile later, and soon, the deer staggered to a walk, no longer attempting to outrun the young wolf. Regulus approached, breaking into a sprint at the last few feet. He hit the deer squarely in the side, and onto the injured leg, and the deer crumpled under his weight. He finished its life swiftly, using the sharp twisting yank his mother had taught him; one that would break its neck and keep the blood within. As the gleam faded from the does eyes, he dropped her neck and looked around. Hey, he knew where he was. The valley stretched below, the river winding through. Emerald Valley. He loved the Plains. How wide and sprawling they were, and the patches of woodland that dotted them. But it felt nice to see the Valley again. It also meant he didn’t have too far to carry the kill. He took up the carcass and began walking, dragging the dead animal beside himself. He supposed he was lucky; this deer had been very easy. Easier than most. Her badly injured leg, and the deep infection that had festered in it, sapping her strength, and effectively hobbling her, had been the advantage that had made his success possible. He had left behind his puppish manner of being great and powerful at anything, just because he'd done well. He was humble.

The bright red of the young wolf's coat stood out sharply against the verdant green of the valley. The brute was impossible to miss and for several moments the King watched him as he stood over his kill. Valentine couldn't help but wonder how he managed to pull off such a feat while standing out so glaringly. The young brute had one hell of a disadvantage to overcome. Curiosity pushed him forward. He'd met one other red wolf before, a fae by the name of Fiamette. Perhaps they were related? "Greetings," he called as he approached, "That was a fine kill." "Talk" "You" Think

Regulus Anatolii Adravendi

A call brought Regulus’ head around, fathomless deep sapphires landing on a male who matched him for size, if not in coloring. This fellow was a slate color, with light blue eyes and interesting dots under his eyes. He carried himself in a manner that reminded Regulus of his mother. An Alpha. The stranger complimented his kill, and Regulus nodded, dropping the does neck to speak. “Thanks. It should last a little while.” A paw lightly rested on the deer, a silent claim to the kill. Though if the guy asked nicely enough, Regulus would possibly share a leg with him. Still, he wanted to ensure that his mother and new siblings particularly ate well. He regarded the male curiously. It wasn’t very often he found other wolves his size; usually they were smaller than him. A rustle in the grass signaled the arrival of Cinder, the Somali cat coming to a sharp halt as she spotted the slate stranger, large sapphire eyes flicking between Regulus and the male before she stepped behind the large red paws of her buddy. Regulus smiled at the male. “I’m Regulus Anatolii Adravendi. This is Cinder, my best friend.” He offered the introductions easily, tail slowly swaying behind him. The slate male in front of him carried scars that said he’d been in plenty of fights, which meant, maybe he could teach Regulus something.

The young male thanked him for his compliment and Valentine took his friendly reaction as a signal for him to shorten the space between them to make speaking easier. He sought to close the distance to a generous ten feet which would hopefully make conversation a bit more comfortable but allow enough space so that the red guy didn't feel threatened by his presence. The King had no interest in his kill; the yearling's own peculiarities were what had drawn him in. Movement drew Valentine's gaze away from the yearling. A small cat slunk forward, pausing once to eye him, and then darted towards the red guy where it took up residence behind his paws. The King's brow rose in a question, but before he could comment on it the stranger introduced himself and the cat, and in doing so answered the question he'd been ready to voice. Friends, eh? How odd. The peculiarities just kept coming. "It's nice to meet you Regulus, Cinder." Each name was said with a polite dip of his head and a search for eye contact. "My name is Valentine Imperialis." "Talk" "You" Think

Regulus Anatolii Adravendi

The slate blue male drew a little closer, stopping a respectful distance away from Regulus and his feline friend. The questioning look wasn’t lost on Regulus. He’d long since guessed that not many had a cat for a friend. Of course, his grandmother, Erani, had made a sort of alliance with a mountain lion once; a home on one of the four terriories that Valhalla had once held claim to, in return for assistance in sieges, and protection of those in need of it. And Regulus himself had encountered a tiger and survived to tell about it, even with the four slash scars over the crescent shaped scar on his left shoulder. The slate male greeted each of them with a dip of his head to both Regulus and Cinder. Then he introduced himself as Valentine Imperialis. Regulus met the males lighter blue gaze easily, tail wagging slowly, a red banner of friendship. The surname rang a bell, somehow. He’d been learning the packs names from his mother and father, with help from his mothers Ferruginous Hawk, Battlesong, who often scouted Alacritia and picked up information. Finally, the memory clicked into place, lighting a spark in the fathomless sapphire eyes. ”Now I remember. You must be from Imperium, right? And the way you hold yourself means you’re the Alpha.” His tail waved a bit harder, though he looked to Valentine to ask confirmation. It was part of the training his mother was putting him through, preparing him for leadership someday. Pack politics were part of the lessons. He was well aware that not all packs were going to be as goodly aligned as Celestial would be, meaning they were likely harsher, or preferred to stay off to themselves, or were warhappy. He guessed Threar was a nice pack, from how friendly Aslan, Luck, and their parents were. Battlesong was really only able to get names of the packs, and maybe their leaders.

For a moment the yearling stare deepened, his gaze silently searching Valen's for something. After a couple of moments Regulus' expression brightened as he seemed to find what he was looking for. ”Now I remember. You must be from Imperium, right? And the way you hold yourself means you’re the Alpha.” The King dipped his head slightly in confirmation. A slight smile on his lips, he said, "Indeed I am." Running a curious gaze across the young brute, Valentine noted the pendant on his chest. That, combined with the rest of Regulus' peculiarities, goaded the King into prying the yearling for more information. "And who might you be, Regulus? From where do you come?" "Talk" "You" Think

Regulus Anatolii Adravendi

Valentine confirmed Regulus’ vocal assumption with a dip of his head and an agreement. The slate king surveyed Regulus’ frame, and the younger male noted the pause at his chest; Valentine had noticed the necklace. Finally, the older male inquired about where Regulus had come from. Regulus cocked his head slightly in thought. Then spoke with finality, and a hint of pride. ”I am the son of Surreal Ellen Adravendi and Falk Armada Adravendi, and the grandson of Erani Adravendi, Queen of Valhalla before it was taken in a challenge.” There was reverence in his tone as he spoke the last name; his grandmother. He wished he’d had more time to know her before she had needed to say the final goodbye. Cinder peered out from behind his leg at the slate colored king, triangular, fluff filled ears pricked, whiskers twitching. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of the male. He carried the marks of experience in battle. Regulus, meanwhile, settled his haunches against the ground, though not completely allowing his haunch muscles to go slack. The Imperium King was still a stranger, and the customs of his pack were still a bit of a mystery. Regulus was no stranger to stories of kidnappings and force claimings; his own father was a victim of such things. “I was born in Whistling Willows, here in the west.” It was an honest answer that didn’t give away where his family was, but wasn’t a provocatively obvious attempt at hiding anything. His mother was still working on plans, and he had two newborn baby siblings. Thus, Surreal was wary about giving away their current location freely. Valentine would have to gain a bit more trust with Regulus if he wanted to find out a bit more. Regulus’ own eyes trailed over Valentines frame now, taking in the very marks of battle Cinder had noted. ”You must be a pretty good fighter, huh?” There was a question beneath the question, one that asked if he could teach the giant red yearling something at all. Regulus had won his first real spar, which shocked him, to be honest. It had been against an older wolf who he would have thought more experienced than he. But he couldn’t leave it all to sheer luck anymore. He needed more training.

Valentine's thoughts snagged on the name Falk. It rung a bell. Why did it ring a bell? Quickly the brute sifted through memories in the hopes of pinpointing where exactly he knew that name from. Neither of the other names sounded familiar, so he didn't have much to go on. Of course he knew the name Armada, but there were scores of those. Suddenly it clicked. There was only a fistful of Armadas that mattered. Sibelle. She'd mentioned a brother named Falk, right? So that meant this boy was probably his cousin. "Hm," he grunted in response. The world was a small one, eh? Not that it really mattered, he had no intention of sharing his discovery. Valentine noted the boy's gaze seconds before he voiced his question. "You must be a pretty good fighter, huh?" The King shrugged, his gaze briefly darting away as he considered it. Well, he was decent. Better than average, he supposed, but to brag and call himself 'good' was just asking for his ass to get handed to him in his next go-round. "I've won a fair amount." One corner of his mouth quirked up in a self-deprecating smile. "Lost a few too." More than a few, actually, but who was counting? "Talk" "You" Think