c l o u d s in the sky ; [perseus]

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[bg=32363a] L E G E N D never an honest word ; but that was when i ruled the world - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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The air had dampened considerably during the summer. It cast upon the plains a heavy blanket of humidity beneath gray skies that spoke of a coming rainstorm. The clouds were large and angry, and, though it was midday, the sky was dark. Soon the grass, yellow-turned from the summer’s lack of rain (though not nearly as drought-prone as the desert, the plains suffered from long dry spells followed by equally harsh bouts of storms and rain,) would soon transform into endless fields of green that would last through spring, at the end of which it would turn golden once again.

The rocks would be wet and slick, dripping from their tips and preparing for an onset of moss. Right now the wolves enjoyed free reign of the fields, their coats and paws dry, sleeping under the stars. But soon the rain and wind would pelt wet and icy bullets at them, forcing them underneath the larger stones. The Orion were lucky, he consented, for having a great canopy of trees acting like oversized umbrellas above them.

But the Andromeda did what they could; at least food was still plenty this time of year. On the plains, right around the rainy season was the best time of year to find prey. The rodents ventured out into the moist air, and the deer came aplenty. And it was smack dab between the lethargic heat and the snow, which signaled hibernation of prey and hard times as far as the prey stock was concerned… not that he ever hunted.

For Legend was a brute found of oligarchies. Power to himself and few others, not the people; if the people gained too much power, the people were dangerous. They could use that power and combine that power and corrupt the pack and engage a coup and overthrow him and anarchy and—was that not what happened to their ancestors, was that not how the modern packs were created? Mutiny and the fail of the original leaders (whoever they were, their name was not important enough for history, it seemed) had lead to this, but no such thing would be happening in the Andromeda—not on his watch. And when Legend’s watching you, you better take that seriously, because he’s watching all three hundred and sixty degrees of you. There isn’t any creeping up on him here.

Yes, the people were better suited to meager tasks that were necessary for the pack to run. Hunting, guarding, fighting. Those jobs were the peoples’ worries. His concerns were to keep order in the pack and make sure the Andromeda lived up to its name, all the while making sure he stayed on top to do this.

The gray brute rested upon a large rock, lifting his head to the heavens as, slowly, drop by drop, a light rain began to fall. Sometimes he loved being king, the ease it brought—he didn’t have to worry about being bullied or not getting enough food; he was at the top of it all. But if his fellow Andromedians thought he was a selfish, pampered old fool, well, they were wrong. It was also a very hard job, if you asked him, what with the stresses and whatnot of being the sole ruler (he didn’t have a mate, a partner in crime, and would he ever trust another wolf enough to let her share leadership with him? who knew?), and of course, he was keeping his life on the line for doing this; he could be attacked at any moment by someone who was unhappy with his rule or wanted to usurp it for himself.

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count 605
to anyone
notes gah, didn't realize I was so rusty at roleplaying! sorry this is a bit short Dx

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[KAL;]

[bg=9A7428] p e r s e u s -* before the possibilities came true, i took all possibility from you - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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The sky was darkening, showing the predictions of an oncoming storm. That would do the plains good, Percy thought somberly as he etched a path into the tall, dry grass. The ground was soaking up the sunlight, and not enough aqua to meet it's needs. Not enough to cause a drought, of course, but enough to make it known to the wolves of Andromeda that the time had come for spring, with lush soil and huge, green fields that swayed in the onslaught of more warm, humid breezes. He had not a clue when it would happen - Perseus did not predict the weather, nor did he try to. But the air tasted of a storm, and of oncoming rain, and it tickled him nearly to death. Rain. He found it a most formidable weather type, because of the way it was produced: from huge, billowing gray clouds that took up the sky so entirely, all a wolf could see was an endless sea of lead-colored air. He loved the slight tingle in the air when the clouds let the rain first fall upon the soil - the Great Wolf's gift to the plains, as it were.

Perseus did not grow tired of his wandering. Being a Wolf of Very Much Brawn, he kept his legs moving steadily and easily through the dry landscape, merely patrolling. He was not looking for others to join him in this little ritual he did when he was bored - in fact, any company would have irked him because he was thinking. He was halfway between Normal Percy, and Ares, his warrior-like other personality. He was calm enough to be Normal Percy, but Ares was slowly creeping into his mind like an inchworm, one step at a time. Ares was going to take over his mind soon, and then he would have to focus on a 'mission' he would just make up, and see if he could see it through. What would it be this time, Admiral? A dip in a frigid lake for a half hour, where it would be a constant struggle to stay afloat and keep the legs moving? Rock-climbing? The strike-and-flee game with a poisonous reptile?

All of them sounded like fun. Percy was immune to danger, immune to anything other than the joy of winning. It was a trait he had picked up early in Andromeda: win, or die trying. And he had taken it to heart, though no one had specifically said it to him. It was a sort of implied phrase, no? In a strict, warrior-like society such as this, he must have adopted this saying and lived by it, especially to become an ace. What an honor it was - to be the royal's top assassin, and when more would come, he would take pride in knowing he was the first. He had served his king well, and he had been promoted just recently. Ever since, he had been practicing a humility and humble attitude around his superiors, as to act surprised and shocked and incredibly honored by the recognition of his talents, when he had known all along that this was the path that was meant for him.

He prowled forward, his walk not intentional, but that's just how he did it. Low to the ground, constantly on the defensive. He was prepared to spring into action at any given moment, and his brain was hardwired to go a hundred miles a minute and to be thinking constantly ahead of the game. Perhaps that's what made him so deadly - and deadly he was. If he got a hold of an unwanted, you could be sure he would use his brain and brawn to extinguish it immediately.

Sure, Percy had not been smart the whole way through his years. In fact, he had been rather dumb at first in the ways of proper speech and strategy. But as he grew older, he often hung around the senior warriors, and learned from them how to speak and act and think. And now, coupled with his muscle, he could talk and fight his way out of any situation. What a smooth talker he was! It was amazing how he could wind words together and create an illusion he would shatter with his fangs and claws. Amazing.

But his illusion of privacy was about to be shattered, as well, when he caught wind of his superior. He froze in his prowling through the weeds randomly, being about 50 yards away from the king, who he knew, by his scent, was sitting atop one of the boulders. Just then, rain began to spill from the heavens, ready to light up the world in a sea of green. He grimaced slightly, not enjoying the fact that he would have to approach Legend now, because he surely would have been scented. A proper ace would never turn down an opportunity to revel at his master. But it was slightly annoying in the fact that he had wanted to be alone specifically to think, and now he was faced with the fact that he would have to be on guard, polite, and confident. Sure, these were easy feats for him, but his mind was elsewhere. It was one of those days he just wanted to be alone.

But, of course, he had to go to his king. So he made his way, stalking through the reeds that he could already feel tingling with life. Soon, he was a few feet away from the rocks which his king was perched on, and immediately he sank into a low bow as he came into view. He held the stance for several seconds before straightening, and, while dipping his head, greeted him: "Ah, the Great Wolf is smiling down on us, my liege, with this rainfall." His deep, baritone voice was confident and sure, but he stayed carefully in the range of obvious respect. He leveled his head, but kept his eyes a safe distance from Legend's, staring at a spot on his forehead; no need to provoke a fight by looking his leader straight in the eye, eh?

He felt, though, that his greeting had been insufficient, and so added on with a relaxed tone, "I hope the day has been treating you nicely, sir?"

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000
toLegend
bio click.
notestehe

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[&! R H E A]

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[bg=32363a] L E G E N D never an honest word ; but that was when i ruled the world - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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His ears twitched and his nostrils flared slightly. Through the pitter-patter of rain slapping against rock and the heavy aroma of moist grass, humidity, and general wetness, he detected another presence. Not that it was unusual here; the Sentinel Rocks stood out as the Andromeda’s headquarters. Pretty much entirely out in the open (just like the rest of the territory—good old plains,) it was nothing compared to the Cassiopeia’s rigid cliffs or the Orion’s suffocatingly dense forest, but, hell, it was something.

The boulders and stones, randomly jutting out of what would seem like an ordinary grassy field, lived up to their name. They were the only source of protection on land that would otherwise be a bare meadow, sentinels that watched over the pack’s wolves while they slept, just as they had for generations, ever patient, ever stolid, never moving an inch. But at the pack’s home, their headquarters, these inanimate marvels of Polaris were the main caretakers.

And so it was, a healthy hustle and bustle of Andromedeans was common here, though perhaps less than the other pack headquarters. The headquarters, the main piece of each pack’s land, the central gathering place for all the pack’s wolves and home to night accommodations, were a place to relax and talk with your fellow packmates when you had nothing better to do. But the Andromeda made sure there was always something to do. But, he averred, as long as good day’s duty was done, it was all right to catch up with oneself and rest. After all—if he himself had nothing to do than sit on a rock and ponder the weather, he supposed, then perhaps those subjects of his who had already completed their jobs for the day could do the same.

The king inhaled again. The scent was closer this time, he recognized it. It was not unfamiliar; in fact, he identified the wolf as one of those individuals he was supposed to trust his life with, an ace, whose job was to kill his enemies and act as his personal bodyguard on command. But did Legend actually trust him? Nah. Nothing personal, he just didn’t trust anybody.

None other than Perseus the ace materialized out of the gloomy drizzle. A fine specimen of a wolf by his looks, bulging muscle and all that. But Legend would never choose such a wolf to be his personal soldier unless he believed there was something to him—after all, what was stopping Perseus from using that strength against his king? If Perseus could overpower him and knew it, well, in Legend’s mind at least, it was all finished for him, his bloodline, his royal ancestry. He’d have failed them all.

But clearly that was not how Perseus thought, as the dark-furred wolf approached Legend in a stance that, very plainly, spoke respect. His stance was an admirable bow (not that it was Legend’s place to admire anybody but his own self), and he spoke to his king with a lowered head. Ah, such respect. Exactly what he liked to see in any good wolf who knew his place in the pack. Legend, paranoid as he was, saw any lack of respect, forgetting even once to bow before the king, as an outright sign of insubordination.

But this one here, he was satisfying, satisfying indeed. Yes, a fine specimen, in strength and in words. However, would he prove himself when times grew trying?—after all, war was on the horizon, everyone was saying it—well, he damned better. Aces didn’t become aces just to flaunt their muscle—well okay, maybe a little bit; if the king’s guards seemed intimidating, then the king would seem intimidating himself.

“Indeed.” He was in a good mood, and he agreed. “The grasses will be turning green soon.” He nodded ever so slightly. “My day went well—yes—thank you. It is calm, at least for now,” he said, noting the lightness, the calmness of the rain, while harsher storm clouds loomed in the distance. “A calm before the storm, perhaps. Can’t say what we’re to expect, exactly, but there remain all those mumblings of war, you know. I’m sure the Orion can’t wait to get their dirty little forest paws on our land—but we’d show them within a moment. Open warfare, it’s a completely different story here, Perseus, no place for those no-good cowards to hide here!” He lost himself in his hate for the forest-dwellers and caught himself again.

Though he was king, there was always the common courtesy that existed from proper wolf to proper wolf. “And you? How has your day been?”

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773
to perseus & anyone
bio click.
notes woah had to rush this in last night. sorry it's so disjointed and crappy Dx

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[KAL;]

[bg=9A7428] p e r s e u s -* before the possibilities came true, i took all possibility from you - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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He felt the king's eyes on him, like lasers, burning holes into his eyes, though those eyes were not actually cast on the others. It was funny how Percy could just sense he was being stared at, in the eyes, though Percy himself was actually looking at Legend's forehead. How queer. How quirky. How incredibly brilliant it was. In fact, sometimes, Perseus' brilliance surprised even him. The ace knew his place, and knew the struggle it had taken to get there. He knew he wanted to keep the position, and knew how to keep it. He wanted nothing more than to please his superior. But, of course, he was a man with a plan, and though that plan did not involve the usurpation of Legend, it involved Percy himself moving through the ranks. No, he did not fancy being king. In fact, he detested the thought. Having all the responsibility, all the respect, all the things to worry over. He rather liked doing the dirty work.

But an ace! Though it was higher than some, it was still a rather pathetic job, with Perseus' standards. He wanted more respect, more adoration - he wanted to be a hero. He would get his chance, sure, with the position he was at...but the higher he climbed in the ranks, and the more Legend trusted him, the more formidable he would look to outsiders - the more wonderful and tantalizingly perfect he would look to the ladies. Not that the tiger-striped, cobalt blue male had any problems with that. No, he was rather a ladies man, and he knew it. But women liked powerful men - Legend would be seen as untouchable because of his status. They would be afraid of him. But being a step or two below king would make Percy inviting, powerful yet approachable, and most of all, lust-worthy.

He stood at the base of the Sentinel Rocks, staring at that spot on Legend's forehead, and thought for a moment on how to respond to the statement about Orion. He needed to sound strategic, and be strategic, and though Percy had no problem with that, he needed to make whatever words he uttered of extreme and utmost importance and of much use, or else they would not be worthy of the king's ears. "The Orion are bred thieves, slimy, incompetent, and not nearly equipped to survive anywhere but in their holes in the bushes. However, if they do plan on attacking us - which would be a terribly bad decision, on their part - you are most correct, sir, in the statement about open-warfare. They would be like fumbling herbivores painted neon; easy to see, easy to catch, and most easy to annihilate." He paused, then let strong self-assurance and pack-assurance flood into his voice: "They would have no where to run."

His voice was overloading with confidence, but again, he kept it on the DL - he did not need Legend to think him disrespectful. He actually believed he was doing a pretty good job up until now, but if a conversation was brewing, he would have to be on his guard, and careful with his tongue. It was crucial to make this greeting with Legend a good one, and he intended to stay on the same, beautifully thought-out path he was now. But Legend asked him how he was doing, probably more of a token response then out of pure curiosity (just like Pecy's had been).

"It has been rather uneventful, sire, if I may say so," he said, his voice simple, yet refined and resigned. "I had just been doing my own little sweep of the territory - checking for anything out of the usual, I mean - when I happened to stumble into your most regal aura." He paused. "Of course, my day can be altered according to your needs, my king."

Was that an open invitation to tell Perseus to do something - to do anything - but wander around? Yes. It was up to Legend to decide what he would do, if anything, and just how dangerous, or not dangerous, it would be.

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000
toLegend
bio click.
notestehe

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[bg=32363a] L E G E N D never an honest word ; but that was when i ruled the world - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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For the day of the season’s first rain, it had been most uneventful indeed. As of late, there had been little activity in the Andromeda—and by activity he meant, nothing interesting for the spades to report, nothing out of the ordinary. It was calm as the prairie grasses swaying ever so gently in the wind. Each individual grass swayed with its own subtleness, but together they created a shiver in the meadow, a sort of wave of grasses bending over in the wind that swept across the field.

It was dull, yes… but that was a good thing. It was, wasn’t it? No uprisings or anything of the sort—no one dared to. That meant his provisions were working, the spades and aces and fine hierarchy that he had enabled. With these brilliant ways of his, he was sure the Andromeda would flourish. He, a wonderful leader, if he thought so himself, would establish a period of stability for the pack. With him at their head, they would win the war to come (War was inevitable, he knew, no matter what bullshit the Cassiopeia spewed about peace and love and whatnot. War was on the horizon, and he wasn’t complaining.) and he, Legend, would go down in history, just as his damned parents had intended when they gave him that name of his.

Why had they given him that name, of all names? It was a lot to live up to, a lot of pressure on just one wolf. But it had fueled him all these years, since he had taken his place on the throne, and even before that. He was the firstborn son, he was the rightful, deserving, and appropriate ruler, and he would go down in history—not some insubordinate brother of his, or any other damned wolf who wanted to get in his way! He was a legend! Save for his damned brother, now deceased, having brought his own death when he challenged his far superior older brother, there was not a single spot on his record to suggest otherwise.

As the rain flourished, he swelled on the rock, his temporary throne. The first rain of the season. From a light drizzle, it had taken a life of its own. The storm clouds gathered, rumbled, snarled. With it came the vengeance of being suppressed throughout the summer, a whiplash of angry water that threw itself upon them. A storm was the heavens’ rage, the Great Wolf wrinkling his maw as he looked upon the Andromeda. It meant something. It was time to do something.

He was tired, tired of idling. Subconsciously, he grinned, licking his jaws. Somewhere inside him ignited the often foolish, danger-seeking fire that is found often in adolescents, especially during times of boredom. Legend was no yearling, but he was a wolf maddened somewhat by his power with an opportunity: here was his chance.

"I had just been doing my own little sweep of the territory - checking for anything out of the usual, I mean - when I happened to stumble into your most regal aura…. Of course, my day can be altered according to your needs, my king."

Here was a brute of most respectful nature. At this moment, Legend (for however great and clever he thought he was, he often missed the big picture—but that’s what he had the spades for, to complete the full encompassment of his sight) was unaware of any ulterior motives this brute might have. For in front of him he saw nothing but a fine member of his pack, one who acted as an Andromedean should, doing his duties and then acting ever so respectfully to his king, not slacking and, instead, willing to complete any other task that might be required of him.

And the cogs and gears in Legend’s head were turning. He had a task, a task indeed, one that would be most interesting for the both of them.

“Ah, well, actually,” he grinned once again, and his eyes flashed with a knowing, mischievous look, “let us say, between the two of us, that those foolish Orinians have been breaking into our borders and stealing our prey, though I doubt it did much for those damned tree-climbers; there is nowhere to hide here, and our prey would run too fast for them.” In reality, except for the fact that the Orion would find a fine change in environment if they choose to hunt on the plains, there was little truth to what Legend said. But that was irrelevant. He must get his way.

“And let us say that during your exploits around the border, you found traces of their dirty presence on our land.” He stood from his perch and stepped into the moist grass, grinning, walking, circling Perseus. “But you poor, poor darling,” he crooned. “You were so disgusted by their scent that, in a fit of rage, you remarked it with an ode to your king, foolishly, but accidentally, with the good virtue of your pack in mind, erasing all evidence of Orion scent.”

“And let us also say…” He paused. There was something malignant dancing in his eyes. “You, being a good ace and the loyal Andromedean that you are, came to me with your concerns. Let us say that, then, I was very unsettled by this fact, that the Orion would even think of soiling our vibrant plains with their rancid forest breath, and I felt that perhaps I should do something about it.

“Let us say that I decided it was grounds for a confrontation.” Ah, maybe he’d lost it. But it didn’t matter. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Any excuse to pick a fight with wolves as disgusting as the Orion was a justified one, be it real or just a mad king’s fantasy.

“Come now, shake that rain off your fur. Best impressions now, chop, chop, ah, what was your name again? P… P… Parsley? Prometheus? Percival?” he said to Perseus. “…Eh, never mind that. It is time, ace, that we pay Mr. Necromancer of the Orion a visit, and you, sir, shall be my bodyguard.”

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1026
bio click.
to perseus
notes oh man I'm so sorry this took so long! hopefully the little excitement
here makes up for it ;)
LETTUCE SAY...

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[KAL;]

[bg=9A7428] p e r s e u s -* before the possibilities came true, i took all possibility from you - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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He saw what was coming before it was said. Percy was well aware of the malicious intentions of his master - or at least, an outline of them. Legend seemed the type to intentionally cause unnecessary battle and bloodshed, and it turns out, Percy was correct. As the male laid out an intricate plan of deception, it seemed as if Perseus was the one who would be viewed as the bad guy in the situation. Tsk tsk, Perseus, they would say. How dare you erase the markings of the Orinians! We are ashamed of you, very ashamed indeed.

His face was kept carefully neutral, blank, and unreadable as he processed the plan. It might work, actually, if Percy's pride did not get in the way. But of course it would not. He would take the fall for Legend's plan because in the end, he would get the glory, even if it was unknown to anyone else but the two of them. It was a stupid plan, really, and foolish from the perspective of an outsider - if the truth ever came out, they would be branded as not just a rigid society, but a needlessly violent one.

It was a beautiful thing, the possibilities. Just not the way they achieved them.

He wasn't the least bit uncomfortable as the male circled him and told him the rest of the plan, and it did not bother him that Legend seemed to have conveniently forgotten his name. It was all a show of power, you see, though Legend had the upper hand because he had the assumed power. Perseus had the true power, but he would continue to play the role of the brainwashed, compliant, and religiously faithful ace. It was a part that suited him well.

He cracked his neck, one crack two crack, and thought about the plan a little more, and his answer. "Of course, my liege," he said. "In my foolishness, I conveniently erased all evidence of the blasted tree-climbers visits to our territory. And when I came back humbly to you, you thought the act grounds of a challenge." He paused. "It is a truly brilliant idea." It was crap. "An idea worthy of yourself and the wolves of Andromeda." It was nothing but a pathetic attempt at superiority. "And it would be a great honor to accompany you to see Necromancer."

And Perseus completed a low bow.

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000
toLegend
bio click.
notestehe

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[bg=32363a] L E G E N D never an honest word ; but that was when i ruled the world - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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The whole idea of this, created by random whim, delighted him. Ah, paying a well deserved visit to his dear “friend,” Necromancer. …Necromancer, that damned bastard! He and his pack were a couple of unjust, lazy criminals, undeserving of this earth. They would feel the anger of the Great Wolf, yes they would!

Somehow, the supposedly great king had been possessed by some crazy bout of naivety. His excitement over such a futile matter seemed to be that of one who wasn’t exactly a hundred percent sane. And in this individual circumstance, his fully encompassing sight was ironic.

It was quite unclear what, exactly, had triggered this bout of crazies in the usually stolid king. Maybe it was the change of weather: rain after months of dryness could trigger a slight personality change in a person, you know, for Legend was one who liked the wet dreariness of the rainy season. Or maybe it was just the sudden boredom, the lack of havings-to-do. Usually, he was well occupied with his major priorities: first, looking out for himself, second, looking out for his pack, and third, making sure no one slacked off. But with the calmness of the present moment, he found himself doing nothing save for sitting on an old, mossy rock.

Or, perhaps, it was just because he was lonely. Him? Lonely? Nah, of course not….

He flicked his tail and nodded in the general direction of Orion. “Off we go then, Percival—that’s your name, right? How glad I am that you adore the idea as much as I do! Brilliant, is it not?” And without waiting for a reply, he trotted off towards a most foolish source of excitement.

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282
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notes To be continued at the thread in Rigel's Oak!
would you like to start Kal, or should I?

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[KAL;]

OOC; You may start, you are Legend, after all!