─ 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 ─ (15/12)

[Stargazer3000]

𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡
tagged none | mentioned daniel, mave| location Tree of Tales
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Narah regretted her shoes. They perhaps shouldn’t have been her biggest regret, especially in a life built on regrets, but Narah had never been one for ‘should’s. The shoes weren’t from a haggling vendor in the sprawling markets of Fang, but commissioned, sewn by hand, and lined with purple silks. They looked royal; not the faded, fallen royal than hung on the Sanhar family like a funeral shroud, but fresh royal, new royal, powerful royal. And yet…

It was incredible that a world teetering on the brink of destruction and a territory poised for political upheaval were to be saved with the aid of woman who hadn’t thought to break in her shoes.

Blisters were all that Narah remembered from the beginning week of their journey. Blisters, strange new companions, and a silence that was frankly impressive in the deep jungles of Feline territory.

She liked the blisters more.

Silence had been the marble foundation that her life was built upon - a saving grace among the sharp tongues of courtiers. A shameful reminder of her family’s faded glory. A promise of the reckoning to come. It was unsurprising that it had followed her even now. And so she had held her tongue about the blisters, slipping into her mask of cool indifference and accepting the silence for what it was - an old friend.

But the silence did not stop her from observing her companions constantly, cataloging them in her mind. She entertained herself by picking apart their movements, guessing their moods by the flashes of emotion that crossed their faces. Their clothes, their posture, even their silence were stories that Narah drank in greedily - raw and so deliciously different from the honeyed poison of the courts.

Narah had been raised by jeweled fang and claw, taught to recognize the threat of death even as it was wrapped in shimmering silks. She had all the skills for surviving the courts - but none for surviving the fresh horror was her new world.

So when the attack came sometime at the end of the first week - as inevitable as a flash of lighting in a storm, and just as sudden - it should not have been a surprise that she froze. That panic locked her joints and that she did nothing but watch her companions fight back, all the while pulled down by the sinking realization that she was just here to die.

Memory makes it worse than it was. Narah told herself this over, and over, and over after the beast was reduced to vermillion ribbons, after her shaking had stopped and the scream that had gotten lodged in her throat dissipated. Yet somehow that didn’t make it quite true. At least her time at the merciless hands of the courtiers was good for something - she could be certain that her horror wouldn’t show on her face. Still, the days of silence that had been broken by that horrific snapping maw, foaming with infection and crusted with blood lingered in her mind every step of the way out of the flooded basin.

She no longer felt her blisters.

When the jungle had at long last given way to steaming pools and sulphuric air sharp enough to burn away the scent of mud that lingered since the Flooded Valley, Narah felt nothing at all. Fear had hollowed her out, leaving a void in its place that lingered through her days and nights in the Neutral territory. Time bled into a blur, and even the exciting newness of her companions dissipated with the steam bellowing forth from the ground. As their destination drew into sight, and even as they picked their way through the massive roots she felt like she was in a dream, too tired and empty to marvel at the history of her people hanging above her head in the Tree of Tales.

And then, they were standing in front of three Ursine, and Narah was back. The shock of new faces was like waking from a nightmare, and she idly praised herself for earlier having the presence of mind to smooth her hand over her coiled braids and gleaming adornments, tucking loose ends into place. The second thought that registered out of her startled haze was the tension hanging between the two groups that regarded each other in silence. Her old friend had no place here.

“While I won’t give them any aesthetic merits, I don’t suppose your boots have ever given you blisters?”

[Ashton_99]

≺⊗𝕵𝖔𝖊𝖑 𝓚𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉⊗≻
≺⊗ Brown Bear Shifter ⊗ He/Him ⊗ Tags: Vas, Zoe, Felines⊗ Location: Tree of Tales⊗≻

If there was one thing that Kalland took away from this quest, it would be that he despised the heat. Far from his northernmost, snow-covered peak, he was sweltering. He was the sort of man made for the cruel and unforgiving tundra, not this sulfurous hell. At the very least, he had the commiseration of his fellow Ursine. Not that they really acknowledged one another. The conversation was sparse amongst them and Kalland was comforted to know that Ursine society hadn't changed much during his reclusive period. The whole lot was still just as surly and inhospitable as he had left them.

Despite the truly horrendous time Kalland had been having, once glorious memories had returned to him during the interim period between the start of the journey and their arrival at the neutral zone. Memories of himself as a younger man, full of vitriol and intoxicating power. He would be remiss not to admit at least in the privacy of his mind that he missed that version of himself somewhat. Perhaps if he were still that man he would have been bold enough to deny the orders given to him by the Ursine king. Though, if Kalland were being honest with himself, he knew that his old self would never have dreamed of missing this chance. The chance to be a savior. The chance to be salvation.

Kalland scoffed at the notion as he picked his way around the paths the polar bear led their party through. He only regretted it a little when the thinning steam nipped at his lungs. The large Ursine knew himself to be many things, a savior was not one of them. He was not so egotistical as to think himself salvation. No, this endeavor was entirely about saving himself and his sisters. He feared death in the way only someone intimately familiar with it could. The thick scent of the welp that had stumbled into the Ursine camp the second night of their journey was still fresh in his mind. That scent, that state, it would almost be worse than that final death. To be hobbeling and half-alive. To be hunger-mad and wasting away.

Still, as he was ordered, Kalland's boots crunched along at a steady rate- single file. The clay had long since stained his rarely worn boots, it had stained near all of him in fact. The residue of travel stuck with a vengeance. Too-red clay, sweat tinged with sulfur, and an acrid scent in the air that would cling to him for weeks to come.

Scrubbing a stray cloth over his face, he risked a glance up from the carefully plotted path in front of him.

Breaking the bleak horizon, no relief came when Kalland caught sight of their far-off destination. It was beautiful, in its own way. Great swaths of cloth dancing in the hot, dogs-breath wind. His younger self would have been thrilled. He would have once been determined to see his own grand story tied among the great, reaching branches. Now it only marked the ending of one leg of this journey and the start of the next. Now, Kalland did not care about being celebrated, he only cared about surviving. Their approach was slow going. Hours passed before they reached the base of the tree. And not once did Kalland look up, not after his initial glance. The fickle strands of fate and honor did not call to him as they once did. The only relief he received upon reaching the base of the tree was in finally allowing his legs to rest.

He dropped into a heap on the ground. Dry red clay already stained him, he didn't care if more did so as long as he could rest. Idly, he logged the reactions of his companions. Then there where others. Kalland's eyes slid to Vas. If he was insistent on leading them he could speak first.

[Ashton_99]

⤆◈𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝 ℂ𝕒𝕖𝕝𝕦𝕤-𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕝◈⤇
⤆◈ Ferruginous Hawk Shifter ◈ He/Him ◈ Tags: Everly/Erica(mentions other shifters)◈ Location: Tree of Tales◈⤇

Reverence was not a concept Will held with much meaning. He cared little for concepts higher than what he could attain. The freedom of soaring through the air was the only notion to ever come close. Not even the acrid smog could dampen the experience. 'As the crow flies' was an ancient saying and a bit of a misnomer as none of them were crows, but nonetheless, the Avians had been setting a decent pace. Cycling through their roster to change who was scouting allowed Will to settle into a routine. It allowed him to stretch his wings and keep him from going stir-crazy. Unfortunately, Will hated routines. The monotony of travel wore at him like nothing else. Will was a creature suited to fickle endeavors. Short bursts of complicated thought followed by periods of lethargy until the next idea enthralled him. It was a way of life not cohesive with the current endeavor. Flying and walking for ages. How awful. The only way that Will could trick himself into staying motivated was by remembering that there were still learning experiences waiting for him at the end of this.

Shifters from other territories would be at the meeting point. Oh, how he was looking forward to studying them. Felines, he was at least familiar with. He'd spent his first few years as a fledgling in their territory while his parents acted as messengers for the various prides and figureheads. At least until his first set of parents split. But that was all rather beside the point. The point was that he would get to observe other shifters in a high-stress environment. The first-hand data would be invaluable. Or perhaps he was just excited for the drama he knew would be coming. Will was admittedly a tad petty like that. So many high-strung personalities in one place- he truly couldn't wait.

If it were possible to do in his shifted form, Will would be laughing at the concept. As it were he made a short-pitched trill, looping with the tailwind. Back to his party he flew. He'd glided further from them than he had intended, deep in his own thoughts. In truth, he was rather fond of both of his companions. Both proved to be fascinating people at the very least and he wouldn't ever ask for more than that. Knowing what few things he did about the likes of the Ursine and Felines, he couldn't imagine either group being nearly as companionable. The Canines might have fostered something- but regardless Will wouldn't go trading his envoy for theirs.

Will dove close to his companions, calling again though this time with as close to a musical quality as a hawk was capable of. This noise was one of encouragement. Just ahead he could see the forming group. As fast as they were, others still appeared to have beaten them. In seeing the groups, a part of him knew that for diplomacy's sake it would be a good idea to change back before they reached the only land mark for miles. A larger part of him didn't care.

Instead, Will gilded around his party members, imitating the lazy circling of Vultures. He dipped with the currents of the wind but stayed nearer to Everly and Erica for the last moments of their trip. He slowed only long enough to be more or less sure that his companions weren't in danger of anything more than an awkward atmosphere with the other groups of shifters, then he was off. With a powerful beat of his wings Will soared over their heads and around the reaching branches above.

Acting as the scout he was intended to be, Will took his time in being thorough. In a few long winded laps around the perimeter of the tree, he watched for signs of life past those at the meeting place. For what felt like the last time he would have to truly enjoy it for a while, Will basked in the feeling of flight.

[Crazycookiemonster]

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ZOE matvey ▪ 26 ▪ sunbear ▪ located tree of tales ▪ tagged Vas & Kalland
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It came as a great surprise when the king had ordered Zoe to join to the expedition south to help with the cure, though she was quite unsure of how she was going to be able to help the two massive warriors she dare not refuse. Zoe had spent most of her life outside of the forge, due to her small size and the tendency of fights constantly breaking out in the city there was no way she would have survived. Spending most of her time with her father who taught her how to survive despite her disability in strength, she was able to find a way to contribute to their society by making strong alcohol. Which in the unforgiving cold and desolate place was very much needed.

Zoe was thankful that as they started their trek they continued on human foot, knowing she would have struggled to keep pace with the her two companions. Though both of them being a foot taller still left her trailing behind them like a lost cub. She followed behind them, not a hundred percent sure exactly where they were headed since she had failed to pay attention to the kings lecture, mostly because she didn't think any of the information pertained to her. How wrong she was and now she was quite intimidated by her companions to try and ask them where they were headed as each had a still solemn silence that cut threw the night. Figuring it would be easier to just follow and hope that the plans just unfolded in front of her, but as a the silence continued from hours to days, she just started to fill with dread. The scenery around them started to fade from a beautiful winter wonderland to a sulfur deserted plain, as well as the decent from the mountain had Zoe's feeling like she was trapped in a wooden harth under her thick leather cloths.

No matter they trekked on. Vas and Kalland still unspoken giants as the hours dragged on the monotonous feeling of just walking in silence was eating away at Zoe. They did the same thing everyday, walk all day, eat then sleep for a few hours only to do the same thing the next day. The repetitive motions had Zoe desperately wishing to either be home or to finally reach their destination, though on the journey their they did have a brief skirmish with an infected shifter, which only made Zoe feel even more inadequate on their journey. Vas had noticed the the decaying smell of rot and death before anyone else, his shift triggering Zoe to shift. Both Kalland and Vas stepped up and easily overpowered the infected shifter leaving Zoe with a pit in her stomach as she felt she was the dead weight in their trio. Though the next morning they continued on with the journey leaving Zoe to her silence, not wanting to burden any more then she felt she already had.

What felt like a month to Zoe in walking was only a week and some change, as they saw a massive tree on the horizon. Zoe knew where they were, they were at the heart of the country the place were it all began. It was hard not to feel inspired and over taken by emotion that felt like it was radiating out of the tree, it felt like a new beginning, like there was a chance to fix everything. The three bears made their way down to the bass of the tree, and Zoe ran her fingers along the bark, before turning back to her companions. "How long do you think it will take for the others to arrive?" she asked curious knowing they had to be meeting with the other shifters if they came all this way.

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[rigbees]

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐒
♡ arctic fox shift ♡ he/him ♡
♡ tagged . faolan, zander ♡ mentioned . faolan, zander ♡ location . tree of tales ♡

It had been an impulsive decision, really. Finn had barely adjusted to life beyond his family home, hadn’t really met anyone worth noting or done anything important. He had heard of the expedition and volunteered without giving it much thought at all. Maybe it was because he wanted a goal, something to work towards rather than exploring aimlessly. Perhaps it was the voice of his older siblings, calling him a coward for staying home. Most likely it was Finn's own need to be helpful pulling at him until he relented. No matter the case, Finn was now on a dangerous journey with a few other canine shifts he had never met before.

At first Finn was focused on trying to befriend the three others on their journey. He hadn’t been very successful on this side mission of his. Zander, the coyote shift, at least seemed to be amicable and having him along made Finn breath a little easier, allowing him to ignore the loneliness always on the back of his mind. The others he hadn’t had much luck with. Especially Faolan, who honestly scared Finn a little bit. His intimidating vibe and his refusal to allow friendship to foster between them threw Finn off his game. Yet, he was still determined to worm his way into Faolan's heart eventually.

Of course, that was before the first attack. Finn truly hadn’t known what he had signed up for really, and losing one of their own was a wake up call like no other he had ever experienced. Finn blamed himself mostly, his own inability to help. He froze. He had simply watched, paralized, as the fourth canine of their group died. It was so sudden, over in a second, but Finn could never erase the image or the guilt from his mind. He promised himself that if they were to run into an infected again he wouldn’t allow himself to freeze. He would help. He had experience hunting due to living on his own, and he was sure the skills could be transferred over to this new skill he had to learn. He refused to let another one of them die in front of his eyes.

Sleep came less easily after that, but Finn had always prided himself on his optimistic outlook, so rather than wallow in his guilt he was determined to remain positive. During the days Finn acted just as his typical self, talking aimlessly about nothing to an audience of two but a responder of one, and pretending that he didn’t stumble every few steps. When the group stopped for rest was the only time Finn allowed himself to think honestly about his own fear. He constantly scanned their surroundings, and often shifted to his fox form in order to feel more at ease. The few and far between hours of sleep he managed to get were filled with scenes of that first attack, the light and life draining from their companions eyes. Finn had trouble with making eye contact with the two others early in the mornings, always thinking back to his nightmares.

When they were attacked again, Finn stayed true to his resolution. He helped the others, noting that Faolan aided this time around as well when he hadn’t the first time. He wondered if Faolan felt similar thoughts to Finn or if he had his own reasons for doing so. Finn was determined that he would know some day, when they were close enough that Finn could ask. He didn’t want to think about whether that would even become the case, because Faolan and Zander were the closest things to friends he had ever known. It was interesting to interact with people outside of his family for extended periods of time rather than the random visits and one-off meetings in his past.

When Finn finally noticed the tree and the clusters of others signaling the end of their journey, he felt his heart jump into his throat. Unsure of what he was so nervous about, Finn willed his legs to keep moving, even if he did trip over absolutely nothing in the process.

[Cats&Cucumbers]

xxxxsnow leopard ♠ twenty-eight ♠ Tree of Tales ♠ tag: Narah, Daniel, Vas, Joel, Zoe
xxxxshe/her ♠ 5'7" ♠ mid-long brown hair ♠ pale green eyes ♠ faint scent of mahogany and amaretto

xxxx▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔


Mave had not yet settled on where to walk. At first, she had taken up the back of the group. It was instinctive, the same way she pressed her back to the nearest wall if she ever had the misfortune of being in a room with other people: "if a wall keeps your back safe, your claws can handle the rest". Taking up the back had also allowed her some time to observe the two creatures she was stuck with. If she hadn't heard them speak back in Fang, she'd think them mute. Luckily, they were just choosing not to speak, which suited her even better. Daniel, the broadest of the trio (though, that wasn't saying much, per say), moved with confidence and power. His footsteps fell the loudest— though, again, the bar wasn't high— and she tended to keep the most distance from him. She had little experience with men beyond trading relations, but she had picked up on their affinity for confrontation, and this one didn't seem to be an exception, shooting her looks over his shoulder like he spent every waking moment itching for a fight. Narah, meanwhile, was willowy and subtle. Mave didn't spent much time with other felines outside of the city— she'd exchange goods and be on her way. She had never, to her knowledge, encountered a quieter creature than herself. So it set her on edge that Narah's footsteps were almost indistinguishable from the general rustle of jungle foliage that constantly bombarded her ears, even softer than her own. But as long as she stayed behind the other leopard shifter, she found her far less threatening than the male— she walked like a queen, but held her tongue like a fugitive. So indeed, the back had suited her well to start, until they had reached the river.



Mave reached the opposite shore a few moments after Daniel, purposefully slowing her swimming to arrive at shore last. She wasn't sure if the other two picked up on her preference for the rear, but she tried to be subtle about it in case one of them might challenge it. Besides, she was trying to keep skills that they might not know about, like her shift's swimming affinity, to herself— she preferred to remain unpredictable. It was lucky they were both southerners— they likely didn't have much familiarity with the northern shifter types. She dropped her bag, which she had held in her teeth, to the ground as she shook out her pelt and turned to give herself a quick groom— a habit that more humanized shifters would definitely find... uncouth. Daniel's human footsteps began to recede, and Narah's— identifiable only now that she had grown so familiar with the sound of them— followed not too far behind. Mave was under no illusion that they might leave her behind, though— she knew Daniel, at least, but probably Narah as well, kept an ear on her at all times for any indication she may try to disappear. She knew, because she was doing the same. One less member meant one less body to put between yourself and the enemy, not to mention if anyone went MIA, the remaining group members would face the wrath of the king whether the deserter was caught or not. So Mave wasn't concerned about being left behind. She didn't want to hold up the group either, though, so she finished her bath quickly and was preparing to shift (the cat-to-human shift came much less naturally to her than its reverse), when the riverside brush to her right exploded into a thunder of crashing leaves and the chilling cry of a creature gone mad.
Mave, not missing a beat despite the flash of terror, darted out of the way of the snapping jaws, curling her lips back in a fierce snarl as she leapt easily 5 feet into the air, arching over the creature as it's jaws snapped shut where her neck had been seconds before and landing lightly behind it. Croka. She identified the creature with far more confidence than she would have before the team's debrief, being previously unfamiliar with southern wildlife. The giant scaled reptile's jaw was caked with dried blood and foam, and its head snapped back in a futile attempt to follow her movement— quick, but not quick enough. She'd never met anything that was. A tingle ran through her from snout to fluffy tail-tip as one of the creature's swampy eyes locked onto her, and she let herself be weightless, every muscle in her body supporting every bone so that anything and everything could move at any given moment. It was too close to turn and run. She was quick on her feet, but not a runner— it would be on her the second she ran out of sprint. So she held. As soon as it rushed her, she sprang into the air again, fainting to the right and twisting at the last moment to arch over its head once again, this time unsheathing her claws and scoring them down its left side as she landed. The attack slowed her movement, but not any more than she had anticipated, and it had moved its head too far left to correct itself in time. By the time it turned to snatch her, she had leapt over its body to its other side and struck a blow to its right. The scales were too thick to do any significant damage, though, and the creature would out last her endurance if she didn't find a weakness.
"Never face your enemy."
Now that she had a better idea of its range, this time, she positioned herself just outside of its jaws and sprang up into the air as it swung its head back around, this time landing nearly on top of its head to sink her claws into its eyes. The croka let out a hissing shriek of pain and threw its head back, sending her flying.
"Even if all else fails, and you must fight,"
She had anticipated the movement, but underestimated the strength, and righted herself in the air only to skid into the shallow edge of the water, a hiss escaping as the current pulled her off balance and she fell onto the rocks, her eyes flashing with fear as for the first time in a fight, she found herself somewhere she hadn't expected to be. The croka swung its head toward her with a furious growl. One eye was completely torn apart— the other mostly intact, but partially blinded by blood. But as its nostrils, glistening with disease, flared in her direction, she realized her folly.
"fight so they cannot see you."
He could still see her.

Her chest was heaving, now, both from the effort of the fight and the previous exhaustion from the swim, but she drew herself together, forcing tension back into her muscles and letting a harsh yowl rip from her throat that would have warned any sane recently-blinded creature that this wasn't a fight worth having. The plague had robbed the crok of its sanity, though, and it launched itself forward. Mave felt herself dropping into a crouch even as her heart fell to her stomach. The water would have made evasion difficult if she had all her strength— now, it made it impossible. Her only hope was the blinded creature would miss the important bits and she'd get a shot at its neck. She didn't normally leave things to luck, but she also didn't normally fight jungle reptiles. She tensed as the creature's shadow, backlit by the setting sun, darkened her head.
Simultaneously, a fiery red blur burst from the overgrowth and bowled the reptile over, rolling with it once and pinning its body down, flattening its jaws to the ground with a snarl.
Mave's eyes flew open, barely recognizing the caracal. Daniel. She realized, her brain struggling to process the fact that her organs were still intact even as her body darted forward, her lips curling back to reveal four long, pointed canines. She didn't know how she knew he was going to wrestle the massive scaled head just a little to the right, exposing its neck to her. Call it fate, luck, coincidence, camaraderie. All she knew was that even as she set her eyes on the jugular, he let out a growl of effort and pulled those powerful jaws just a few significant inches back and instead of gnashing through bone, her fangs cracked through the scales and sliced its skin like butter, and though the creature strained toward her own exposed neck, intent on taking someone out with it, another pair of paws held it back, and kept holding it until it was still.

Only then did she lift her bloodied face from its body, wide green eyes flying to her traveling companion with an inextricable mixture of disbelief, fear, suspicion, and gratitude. She stared at him, trying to understand what had just happened— unable to understand why she wasn't dead in the river, even as the reason stared her in the face— until the snap of a twig jerked her attention into the trees, where she caught a glimpse of Narah, still in human form, watching them with wide, terrified eyes, and suddenly Mave was back in reality. Her eyes narrowed at the figure in the forest, unsurprised by the lack of assistance but not taking kindly to the audience, and she shamelessly bared her red-soaked snarl in her direction before pushing herself away from the carcass and turning back toward the river, only allowing her gaze to linger suspiciously on the caracal for a moment longer before directing her attention entirely into ridding herself of the remains of her enemy.

After that, the back of the group had seemed less appealing. Coincidentally, she found herself significantly less opposed to being within ten feet of the caracal shifter. Perhaps the value of an ally had recently become apparent with her, but she also appeared to cast longing glances into the surrounding wilderness a tad less frequently. The idea of traversing the jungle solo had become similarly less appealing. So, Mave tried out the front of the group, finding that having the group— or at least, Daniel— at her back was marginally less threatening than the wide open jungle. That arrangement was short-lived, however, ending promptly when a geyser erupted from a seemingly-innocuous crater only a couple feet in front of her, leaving a smattering of minor burn marks on her forearm, which she had used to cover her face.

Since then, she had lingered in the middle of the group, until she felt smothered and drifted to the outskirts, until she felt too exposed and edged closer. It wasn't necessarily the numbers that gave her a feeling of security— she considered herself entirely self-sufficient, and knew groups only slowed individual progress. Rather, it was that in this barren landscape of ashes and stench, the silent, poised faces of her lithe companions were the only familiar features for miles around, and familiarity was something she preferred in abundance. Luckily, additional familiarity greeted her in the form of the first tree she had seen since they left the jungle, shadowing by its roots two hulking figures who were unmistakably Ursine. A third figure grew more visible as they grew closer, though, she wouldn't have recognized the small woman as Ursine if her companions weren't so obvious.

Mave felt relief wash over her as they entered the shade beneath the branches. She wasn't accustomed to the ceaseless heat, and she was fairly sure her shoulders— bare now that she had removed her shawl from her shoulders and tied it into a sling— were a blistering cinnamon shade by this point. She eyed the Ursines with a healthy dose of suspicion, but no more than she had afforded the felines upon first meeting them. She figured they could sit on one of the gnarled roots, take a sip of water, and sit in silence until it grew dark and cool enough for introductions to seem a bit less like torture, but Narah had other ideas. Mave couldn't help the curl that raised her lip in a manner that was unmistakably cat-like at her companion's words. Suck-up. Miss-jungle-queen didn't say a word the whole journey and nearly watched them turn into croka-chow, but now she wants to make jokes? The snow leopard shifter wasn't buying it, but she also didn't particularly care about her motives at the moment. Nearly entirely ignoring her companions' introduction, save for the brief snarl she half-heartedly hoped no one had noticed, the dark-haired huntress trudged past her and seated herself on one of the roots of the tree, not bothering to inspect the engravings on it as she took out her water canister and allowed herself small, slow sips.

[borahae.]

xx.█████
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𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋 ! ! ───────────


caracal ✩ twenty-eight ✩ cismale ✩ pansexual ✩ tag: narah, mave, etc ✩ location: tree of tales

Somewhere along his solitary life in the jungles of the feline kingdom, unbeknownst to the predatorial hunter who preferred the company of game birds to other felines of the territory, he'd been scouted and deemed worthy of sacrificing his peaceful life for the sake of a world he could care less about. When he'd received the notice from Fang in the form of a statement from an avian shifter, he'd been anything but welcoming; the messenger was the victim of many tirades from the small jungle cat, all-but baring his fangs at the poor soul before ultimately chasing them off from his home, shifting without hesitation to make sure the small bird flew far from his jungle hut. He was able to block the sentence off for nearly a week after that, certain then that his response had been received by the pride and that they'd changed their minds on sending someone as feral as him to represent their kingdom, but the thought was quickly wiped from his mind when he once again felt the presence of an avian messenger in his territory. This time, not alone.

He'd given up fighting at this point, aware that his protesting was pointless yet feeling somewhat smug that the pride couldn't find anyone better to replace him in the meantime, and Daniel followed the shifters (two he could recognize as fellow felines without the need for shifting ─ one jaguar and one bobcat, presumably) with little fuss. With the advanced knowledge that the shifters were heading his way, the caracal had grabbed everything he deemed necessary for what he knew was to be a long journey; with little personal belongings, the male grabbed only his leather crossbody bag and made sure his necklace was attached before heading out the door to the dumbfounded shifters who'd clearly been expecting retaliation. It was admittedly entertaining to be able to keep these royal minions on their toes.

Despite his rather peaceful turning over to the cause, Daniel was anything but pleased to have to lend himself to weeks of travel for a cause he couldn't care less about, and was quick to show his distrust and displeasure as soon as he laid eyes on the other two felines he was stuck with for company. It seemed they weren't all too eager, either, and as they set off, he found himself outwardly relieved at the silence he was met with; He'd much rather endure weeks (or months) of tense silence than travel with cats who didn't know when to shut their mouth ─ they were his biggest pet peeve. Extroverts.

Aware of the dangers of turning your back to those around you, his solitary life only leaving Daniel more and more obviously distrusting of others, the male decided the safest place for him to be would be the back of the group; from there, he would keep his eyes on his companions at all times, and could easily slink away if he sensed anything from either of them that went against his morals. He'd have happily settled into that position if it weren't for the similar thought processes of his traveling companions, and after spotting the two females already forming a line behind him, he was quick to roll his eyes and assume the role of line-leader. It certainly wasn't the most advantageous of positions among them, but after assessing their behaviors and sniffing out their shifts, he knew well enough that it wouldn't matter either way ─ he had enough strength to overpower the both of them combined if they dared to try anything on him, and he very clearly had the upper hand in terms of courage, leaving him the obvious choice for the leader of the team.

He'd very contentedly led the small group through the feline territory in deafening silence, the only sounds between the trio being the occasional sound made when drinking water or eating their meal, and they made haste across the varying lands and landscapes. Still anything but trustful of the companions who'd been with him for nearly a week now, keeping his ears on the pair at all times when his eyes couldn't reach them, he'd been able to gather a few indications of their characters by this point in the journey. Narah, the guessed-to-be panther-shifter who'd been the meekest and quickest to become a follower, was the least threatening out of the duo; after keeping his attention on her, Daniel was able to determine that (although physically domineering) she held little to no strength or fight to her. Mave, on the other hand, had taken much more careful observation to even begin to unwind.
Traveling mostly in shift, the snow leopard was the most secretive among them, outwardly careful not to reveal too much of herself to the wandering eye. Daniel had spent a large portion of their journey keeping tabs on the leopard, certain that he'd be attacked from behind if he wasn't careful enough around the other, her behaviors entirely unpredictable. It wasn't until the shifter was suddenly threatened and pounced on by the foaming and identifiably rabid Croka that Daniel was able to see more of her true nature. With the threat of death, he could see an honest fear in the other's eyes, the first hint at emotion from the leopard that he'd been witness too.

He wouldn't ever be able to explain his motive as he leapt into action, where leaving the other to die would have been the most favorable and safest option, but as the leopard was blindsided by the jungle-dwelling Croka, Daniel felt a sudden impulse and quicky shifted to come to the rescue of the other. With a team effort, the rabid creature was quickly finished off, and their travels continued in the same silence from before. Something had admittedly shifted between the trio, however, and Daniel found his doubtful eyes landing more on the meek panther than the snow leopard who'd fought most vigorously out of the group.

It wasn't long before they'd passed the flooded valley and entered neutral territory, walking over active geysers and unhabitable lands in their efforts to reach their meeting place, the Tree of Tales. And, after two weeks and several bouts of exhaustion, the damned thing was finally in their line of sight.

A frown forming on the feline's features as he caught sight of the large and domineering ursine shifters, easily able to smell the distinctly north scent rolling off the other trio, Daniel was the last of their group to near the others and settle in by the tree. Watching with skepticism as the panther spoke up, the sudden activity from the quietist of the felines leaving him feeling even more detached (internally agreeing with Mave as the leopard let out a scoff), the caracal slunk over to a root that was a good few feet from the rest of the shifters and sat down with a huff. In human form, preferring the domineering aura he was able to pull off outside of his remarkably small caracal shift, the male stretched out his long legs and shifted the silk fabric around his neck, the feathers and beads adding weight to the already exhausted male; and, quick to keep his fatigue to himself, the shifter took a sip of water from the flask in his bag as he moved his intense stare across the ever growing group around him.

[JDDracula]

ᒍ O E Y
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dire wolf • twenty-two • heterosexual • Finn, Zander, Faolon • Tree of Tales
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Small droplets of sweat rolled off of Joey's forehead before he quickly brushed them away using his jacket sleeve. They had been traveling for days escaping the monsters who had attacked them. He didn't know much about the destination they were going to. Faolan had mentioned "Tree of Tales" before they had set off on their journey. Joey heard a few stories about it before his fathers passing, but never really cared much as an adolescent child who only cared about his first kill.

He could feel the weakness in his legs as they continued on, huffing with every step. He didn't talk much to the others, and if he did, he was mostly arguing with them. Why were they going to this stupid tree anyways? Why did they need to meet up with others to save the world? In Joey's arrogant mind, he felt like he could save the world on his own, but settled to travel with the others, because deep down, he was too afraid to be alone, but he acted as if they needed him.

The entire journey there, Joey acted like a child on a road trip, asking "Are we almost there?" every few hours, even on the occassions where he knew they still had a few days left. He got a kick out of riling up the group, especially Faolan. I guess this was his way pushing back the memory of their previous traveling campanion who had been attacked. Slaughtered in front of his face, and he did nothing. He froze with fear, as he did before when his father was attacked. Although he didn't get along much with some of the others, he was determined to never let that happen again, always making sure he had an ear open to sense danger.

As they drew closer to their destination, Joey grew restless, and felt as though he may collapse right where he stood. He wasn't the athletic type, and never cared much for exercise or running for sport. The only time he ran was when he was hunting, and he only hunted when necessary. As Joey grew more tired, he started getting separated from the others. "Hey guys! Wait up! he managed to yell from his exhausted mouth, knowing the others wouldn't have waited because they were more determined than him. He started off with a small jog to catch up, but shifted into full sprint as the others stopped at the edge of the horizon, staring at something that he could not see yet.

As he caught up to them, he placed his hand on Faolan's shoulder and grinned. "Hey man, what are we looking-" he managed to get out before catching a glimpse of the tree. A glimmer flashed across his dark brown eyes as he stared in amazement. "Wooooah.." he said in amazement. As you could tell, he had never seen anything like this. The view was all new to him. As he took a closer look, he noticed the small figures that were already standing around the tree. Were these the others?

"What are we waiting for? We walked all the way here just to stare at the horizon? We could have did this at home," he poked, before patting Faolan on the back and heading down to the tree to group up with the others. These faces were unfamiliar, and their scents were off. Clearly other shifters. Although Joey didn't get along with others, he wanted to be the first of the group to make contact, as the others were a bit weary of the situation. As he approached the group, he let a wide toothy grin form on his face as he rose his hand into a wave to get the others attention. "Hi" was the only thing that he could get out from this point, as he was too tired to say anything else.

[Stargazer3000]

𝐯𝐚𝐬
tagged zoe, narah| mentioned kalland, daniel, mave | location tree of tales
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Vas could feel his damp hair sticking to the back of his neck as his gaze remained fixed upward, the majestic sight of the Tree of Tales only slightly diminished by the realization that he might have some mild form of heat-sickness. It would explain why his vision swam slightly as his attention slid back to his companions, miniscule next to the roots of the tree.

Kalland had dropped to the rust red ground when they’d first arrived and Vas ached to join him, but knew he’d not be able to rise again once he allowed himself that pause. So Vas stood, swayed, and observed the man who’d once been legend.

Growing up in the clenched fist of the crown had little merit, but Vas had heard whispers, had seen the most legendary warriors of their time battle in the fighting pits of the Forge. He’d heard of them all, had drunk in their glory like it could fill in the gaps where his own promised glory had been stolen from him. Kalland. It had been whispered in equal parts reverence and fear around the fires of the Forge, an Ursine built of the iron that defined their people, the warrior of the north, more feared than the winter winds. And a whisper that vanished just as quickly as it had risen.

Yet, when legend was replaced by flesh, Vas felt he truly understood the word warrior.

“How long do you think it will take for the others to arrive?” The soft voice pulled Vas from the past to the smaller of his companions where she lingered at the base of the tree, fingers brushed up against the gnarled bark. It was a good question, and he made a low noise of acknowledgment in his throat as he considered the answer, eyes idly scanning the horizon. If they were in the Forge, or anywhere in Ursine territory, the answer would have been as solid as a snowbank - where bears were concerned, planning often fell to the wayside. They could be waiting for hours, or even days. But this meeting had been set by the Avians, and though he heard little about them, Vas knew they were a people who would not leave an event of such importance up to chance.

As if on cue, the steaming horizon to the west was broken by figures so distant it was impossible to tell their exact number, though they moved steadily enough that the ice bear was assured that they weren’t a band of infected wanderers. Vas jerked his head in the direction of the figures in the event that the small Ursine had not yet seen them. “From the looks of it, an hour. Two at most.”


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Felines. Vas might have guessed sooner, had his nose still not stung from the days of sulphuric intake. Leaning against one of the massive sprawling roots, he’d watched them approach, unwilling to turn his back lest his earlier guess about them not carrying the disease turned out to be untrue. As they grew steadily closer it struck him how deeply silent they were and he was immediately thankful that he hadn't encountered an infected Feline - he likely wouldn't even know that death was there until it had him in its jaws. The second thing that struck him was how truly unfamiliar everything about them seemed. During all his time with the crown there had been only once when a Feline delegation had entered the Forge and they’d been so bundled in furs that they were all but unrecognizable. That, and the time that he’d been forced to accompany the crown prince to the north on a trading delegation, but he’d been so busy holding the extravagant silks for the prince that he’d had little time for looking at anything other than the ground in front of his overburdened arms. Now as his gaze drifted over the new arrivals he drank in every detail, committing them to memory, the intrigue of their appearance not enough to overrule years of careful, brutal training.

For three members of the same territory, they were each distinctly unique - one was dressed in silks and adorned with jewels that likely cost more than he could ever make in ten lifetimes, her head tilted at an angle that made him think of the crown, and his lip instinctively curled. One of her companions, the only male of the group, moved with graceful strides despite his obvious exhaustion, and Vas tracked his movement as he sank to the ground a short distance away, idly wondering what his shift might be - perhaps a cheetah? His legs certainly seemed built for a runner. The last moved with the same grace that Vas was quickly associating with all Felines, though she had an air that was oddly…familiar. Familiar not like a friend or a well loved home, but familiar like the scent before a storm, like the crest of an oncoming wave - not known but felt. As he had with the male, Vas tracked her movements trying to place that familiarity, but he was shortly broken from his thoughts - and his staring - by the low, silken voice of the jeweled Feline.

“While I won’t give them any aesthetic merits, I don’t suppose your boots have ever given you blisters?” He’d give her credit - later - that if she had struggled through the journey, she did not show it. He’d spent his life around royals, and though the land had changed, his training had not, so as the words fell from his lips before he could catch them, he could not find it in himself to be surprised.

“They have not.”

No one ever called him a conversationalist.

The Feline, unbothered by his curt response, continued in her silken voice, “A credit to your people then. One of -” he felt her gaze travel over him and his companions and he forced himself to not move away from her wide, verdant eyes, “ - many, I am certain.” The cat paused as a slight breeze blew through the shaded patch of earth, stirring the gems that dangled from her hair and carrying with it the scent of others approaching from the east. Canines..

[Stargazer3000]

𝐟𝐚𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧
tagged none | mentioned Ursine, Feline, Canine| location tree of tales
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In the unrelenting heat, black might have seemed the worst possible color, but it held no evidence of the journey its wearer had endured. Even now, it swallowed any of the red dirt that threatened to mark it as Faolan and the rest of the canines continued their march forward. It seemed that the group had barely stopped moving since their departure, not even slowing the pace when one of their beleaguered pack had begun to fall behind.

But Joey had caught up quickly, his return heralded by the deepening of the perpetual scowl that marked Faolan’s face. Against all reason, those already pitch black eyes darkened as the energetic shifter made contact with the skulking Faolan - if the younger wolf felt the holes that the black eyes were attempting to drill into his head, he paid them no mind. As Joey bound off, the pack’s destination now in sight, Faolan slipped back into motion behind him, though his gaze lingered on the bubbling sulphuric pools as though calculating how long they would take to dissolve a body.

They steadily closed the distance to the Tree of Tales, figures beginning to come into focus - six to be exact, lingering among the roots of the massive tree. The wind carried the mingling scents of Ursine and Feline shifters, an odd combination to be sure, but one thoroughly preferable to the days of sulfur that had preceded it. The shade of the Tree was a balm, and despite the palpable tension in the air, the weight of history lingered in every nook of the meeting place.

But Faolan paid no mind to the tree, or the shifters at its roots, passing by both without a whisper of sound, his only reaction a slight twitch of his eye at Joey’s eloquent introduction. The base of the tree provided more than enough room for him to wander off and get a brief reprieve while remaining at their destination, but surprisingly Faolan stayed close - just within earshot. With his back firmly pressed against the gnarled trunk, the shadow at long last slunk to the ground, settling into statuesque stillness.

Only his eyes remained in motion, though these Faolan cast skyward. As bits of conversation - strained and tired - filtered through the air, his eyes locked onto a bird that seemed to idly circle the tree. His gaze gleamed with the look of a hunter having found its prey - hungry.