03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
Ostensibly, Tristan was shoveling snow off the little cabin's porch and steps, laying down salt and making a safe barrier of snow near the gravel drive should the human wish to venture outside. But he had finished this task as a while ago and promptly shed his clothes under the porch and shifted to roll around in a nearby snow drift and then bolt through the tree line, enjoying the warm rays of sunlight on his fur and the shimmers of fiery color that glinted off the snow.
Snow blanketed the forest. Large drifts of it secreted away the forest floor and the rises and falls of the land. The large ruddy colored wolf itched to bound through them, to explore. He could scent a nearby creek to the east, bear to the north, a cave complex to the south, deer somewhere in between and more beyond. All of it calling to be thoroughly examined and cataloged and hunted. But there was also a vast array of other scent markings. The work of the other nearby packs. Gemma's pack was the most prominent and better maintained marks, but he didn't desire to push either pack's territory. Still, being as he was living in Elrond's small country cabin and had been for a couple weeks, Tristan felt it well within his right to stake a claim to the land around it. Just a handful of acres for his personal use. And most of it in line with his roommate's actual property lines. He wasn't sure how particular either pack was about New World land ownership laws.
He was halfway through a casual patrol of his patch of land, plowing through large drifts and leaving large pawprints through the shallower sections. The werewolf paused here and there to mark his land and investigate the smell of a rabbit burrow or squirrel nut burial grounds, and other locations of note. The woods were quiet, but in that natural soft way that winter had of lulling animals to rest. A new scent, that of another wolf, reached him as he paused to mark a fallen log.
The colder weather and snow paired with the holidays left stress at an all time high for most people. Because of work commute times lengthening, the societal push for people to spend all their time and money on family and friends. To an extent it wasn’t so bad, but damn did people seem to lose their cool over the smallest things. Like earlier today; Darcy found herself on the other end of a phone call where a woman wanted to know why she couldn’t bring her little house pets on the cave tour. Not service animals; four Pomeranian house pets. For the life of her, she couldn’t seem to understand why it wasn’t acceptable to bring her pets… in a cave, for a three hour tour.
It resulted in a forgive minute conversation where the woman spent the majority of her time yelling and Darcy just offering what responses she could, until finally placating the woman with discounted tour prices and a complimentary two nights in one of the fire lookout towers. Most of the calls around the holidays were ridiculous like that, and somehow Darcy ended up being the one left to deal with the majority of those calls. Lucky her.
By the end of her workday, she was ready to just take some time to just enjoy some time in the snow blanketed woods. Darcy left work, taking a ride down to a closed hiking path. She’d park and grab her pack to start her trek into the woods. After she felt she was deep enough to not be noticed, she shed her clothes, tucked them into her pack, surprisingly enjoying the frigid air against her bare skin for just a moment, before stashing the pack and shifting.
Once in wolf form, she began to immediately run along the boundaries of the marked territory for her pack. Jumping through the snowy banks and enjoying the automatic stress relieve that always washed over her as she took time to run. The snow wetting her grey fur if she stayed in one spot too long. But that wasn’t an issue, because the closer she got to the edge of the woods; she noticed a new scent. She’d briefly caught it a few places in town, but never this strong. The scent was a wolf new to town, but definitely older than her. That gave her pause, not knowing what his intentions were could make things tense, but as Alpha she still had to ascertain if he was a threat or not to her pack. So, with caution, she followed the direction the scent led her, though stopping when moving forward would have her stepping into area he had marked.
If she remembered much from turf issues with other packs, it was to respect the boundaries for marker territories… even if it happened to be in her home. She was curious to know if he had already detected her scent on not. Time would tell. Golden eyes scanned the area carefully, a certain stiffness to her movements as she continued walking the line.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 24, 2023 22:52:43 GMT
The red wolf turned in the direction of the scent, picking up on the other wolf's markers. A young female, her scent strong and calm. The Alpha of the younger pack. He'd smelled her before, not just around town but as one of the main wolves who marked their pack territory. Which made sense given what Gemma had told him.
Tristan continued on his way, but slower. He wasn't interested in approaching her, not desiring for any of his action to be taken as a direct challenge to her rank. He could tell she had smelled him. Nor did he link to her even if he could. She might be used her packmates rolling over and coming crawling to her, but Tristan did not answer to her law.
She caught up to him shortly. The red wolf paused in the snow and turned to look behind him at her dark form walking parallel to the border he had carved out. Tristan stood to his full height, ears pricked in her direction head tilted just a bit, tail raised. It wasn't aggressive, but it was a position of power. He waited.
Without picking up her pace, Darcy casually followed beside the path, curious to meet this newcomer. Even if only just to make him aware of who she was. Not that she cared to really play into pack politics, but she knew there were certain expectations she had to follow as a pack Alpha. And while she didn’t care for the politics, she wasn’t about to put her pack at risk; so onwards she went.
As his scent grew stronger, she looked up and spotted the red wolf. He stood tall, ears directed to her. Darcy observed the tilt of his head and slowed her pace. Darcy, silver-gray fur riddled with snow, approached Tristan’s established boundary with measured grace. Her golden eyes met his, acknowledging his presence without conceding any ground. A subtle, confident growl rumbled in her throat, a reminder of her own authority. Without breaking eye contact, she trudged through the snow parallel to his path, marking her territory with a scent that subtly challenged his intrusion. In the silence, the message echoed; she recognized him, but her territory was not one he could easily navigate without respecting her pack's boundaries.
She stopped, tail whipping to the side to expel some loose snow from her coat as she stood and eyed him curiously, though nothing in her demeanor suggesting any interest in challenge, or submission.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 25, 2023 2:35:16 GMT
Seeing her much closer, she was such a young thing. A pup by his own standards, but old enough to have a pack. She had confidence about her in approaching an adult werewolf, which suggested she hadn't simply fallen into her position but had earned it.
Her eye contact and the growl were more than enough of a challenge for the red wolf. His ears laid back and he growled back at her, fur standing up on the back of his neck and his shoulders. But he stayed where he was for the moment, paws planted firmly in the snow, more collecting softly on his coat. Tristan continued not to bother making a mind link with the Alpha. This was his home and while he would admit he was taking it from her, he wasn't going to back down. She wasn't his Alpha. If she took offense to that, she could open dialog first.
The idea of a fight was rather appealing. Not for any particular challenge to authority. Had he wanted that, he would have sought out one or both Alphas right away rather than make himself known first.
Darcy maintained her unwavering gaze, unyielding in the face of his defiant growl. Her response was calculated, a blend of authority and restraint. She stood tall, the silver fur along her spine bristling subtly, matching the tension in the air. A low, commanding howl resonated, she circled again, scarred left thigh visible as she paced; ears lowered and movements stiffened. In that charged moment, she communicated dominance without succumbing to immediate aggression, leaving the door open for dialogue should he choose to acknowledge her.
Darcy wasn’t opposed to just leaving him be and going on her way, but there was a level of defiance his setting up claim to territory that was previously Bloodrose territory, and if she didn’t at least make herself known she knew it wouldn’t bode well with her pack.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 25, 2023 5:29:17 GMT
Tristan continued to growl, a low rumble in his throat that only stopped when she howled. Calling for back up? Or announcing his location to not just her pack but the other. He narrowed his gaze at her, finding the action an indication of opposition either way. It didn't make them enemies but it didn’t endear her to him.
The red wolf still met her gaze. Until she indicated otherwise, he saw no reason to acknowledge her further. The pup could pace and howl all she wanted, but it wasn't going to faze him. He'd raised plenty of pups of his own.
He did huff softly though and sit down to watch her, displaying an air of casual ease considering how much she respected his boundary. Would she let him be? An intruder on her territory? But then, her pack had intruded on the other one here. His head tilted to the side again. He noted her scars. The one on her hind leg recent. His own were old, all buried under fur besides the scars across his muzzle and the right side of his face.
Darcy, undeterred by his growls, and met his challenging gaze with a steadfast demeanor. The howl wasn’t a call for backup but a proclamation of her presence, a reminder of the established order. She observed his huff and casual demeanor, recognizing the balance between asserting dominance and avoiding immediate confrontation. With a subtle nod, she acknowledged his space for now, a silent agreement that the situation warranted observation rather than immediate conflict. His scars told tales of battles fought, and clearly ones he survived.
Darcy flicked her tail almost impatiently at this point, while she didn’t typically push to initiate contact, it was clear he wasn’t going to be the first to speak. And while the rebellious pup in her wanted to wait, as a pack Alpha with the desire to keep peace; she caved.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 25, 2023 6:24:12 GMT
Her impatience in demeanor did not go unnoticed by the older werewolf(had she been in human form, he wouldn't have noticed), but he was mildly surprised she reached out at all. Their telepathic silence did not bother him.
He shook himself as she connected her mind with his. Even as just a way to communicate, the connection sent a shiver down his spine. It always had. There was just something about it that, personally, didn't sit right with him. His past mate and pups had never seemed bothered by the telepathic connection. Just him. But he was used to having strange habits and preferences.
Tristan dipped his head to her. Greetings, pup. While he used the moniker in reference to her age, it was devoid of any meaning beyond face value. I expected you or the other one sooner.
Typically Darcy tried her best to refrain from the telepathic connection with wolves outside of her pack, but she supposed the situation warranted it. Darcy took a seat in the snow, still facing the red wolf; eyes watching him curiously. The way he seemed to shake himself off as a result of their mental link made her feel a sort of guilty over reaching out, but only a little. She didn’t find offense with him calling her pup, as his scent was older than hers, older even than her pack’s Beta. There was a reason Bloodrose was referred to as the ‘younger’ pack, even the pack elders were just barely pushing one-hundred forty. She merely dipped her head and tilted it to the side.
I’m almost surprised you haven’t already been visited by the Shadowridge Alpha, they don’t seem to found of allowing new wolves to take up residency around town… She trailed off momentarily as she looked along the boundary trail, than back again to him. But then again, you didn’t carve out territory that belonged to them… Not that you’ll catch much from me over that, we did the same thing when we moved into town. The large grey wolf relaxed a bit of the stiffness from her shoulders, tail shifting to her other side, golden eyes still more curious than anything else.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 26, 2023 1:47:59 GMT
Tristan wasn't surprised. His passive attempts to get in contact with either Alpha hadn't gotten anywhere. At least not directly and not until now. He wasn't sure if the Bloodrose Alpha had sought him out or simply stumbled upon his scent. He didn't bother guessing at agendas.
Yet you and yours are still here. Fond of outsiders or not, no actions had yet been taken, against her pack or him. Tristan was less of a threat, but he was also an easier target than a pack. He knew he had to be careful in that regard. Though, from the sound of it, the territory he had marked had belonged to the land her pack had claimed. So perhaps, at least for the moment, Shadowridge would have less issue with him and would be more open to communication. Gemma and Seung had both seemed...amicable enough.
The older werewolf watched Darcy look over the boundary, wondering if she would have a problem with it. But she did not. Which meant he would very much like to get back to Elrond unless she needed something. He momentarily considered asking if there was something she needed, but as she hadn't done anything for him and was simply staring. He stood with a big stretch and continued on his way.
Darcy truly had nothing against this lone wolf settling in the area and even taking some territory for himself. She knew what it was like to travel alone and to just want to find a place to stop for a while. Her joining a pack was largely in part to her youth at the time, not that she was so much older now. She’d been a part of the Bloodrose pack for eleven years now, four of which as the Alpha, three of those years in Sweetwater.
For the time being, sometimes I wonder which straw will break the camels back. She admitted carefully, flicking her tail once more as she stood and let a slight huff out. Her grey fur shifting slightly as the breeze picked up. As much as she knew she was expected to handle things more politically; Darcy preferred the pragmatic approach. I have no quarrel with you, stranger. And if you encounter issues with anyone in my pack; I simply ask that you give me the courtesy of handling things.
last edited Dec 26, 2023 5:08:47 GMT by Darcy Vance
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 26, 2023 3:40:14 GMT
The red wolf merely looked at her. He knew an idiom when he heard one by this point in his life, but that didn't mean he understood them. Not inherently. He got caught up on a person's literal words too often for them to make sense. Tristan was quite terrible at reading between the lines and even worse at trying to be subtle.
Something he also struggled to remember was that the nature of a telepathic link such that werewolves could share meant that simply getting up and walking away did not end a conversation. It made his skin crawl. Literally. To that end, he paused, sniffing a snowbank and flopping over to roll on his back in the snow. The shock of cold eased some of his mental discomfort, though he understood there was no real affect. It was just a distraction at worse, a placebo at best.
Morrigan. My name is Morrigan, pup. He picked himself up, shaking snow from himself and looking over his shoulder in Darcy's direction. An interesting ask. If any of your pack gives me issue, I have no quarrel with you but with them. Tristan understood what she wanted but he had no concept of why. In his experience, while many Alpha's were of course protective of their extended families, they also preferred their members to be able to hold their own. To prove themselves, be that through cunning or a fight.
As the red wolf seemed to find a need to roll around in the snow, Darcy circled and shook herself lightly, almost antsy to get back to running through the woods. And then he gave his name. She tilted her head curiously for a moment. It sounded vaguely familiar, though more likely from a time when she was much younger. She’d have to ask her great-grandfather the next time they spoke. Well Morrigan, I hope you find Sweetwater to your liking. Vance is my family name, though I mostly just prefer being called Darcy. Had she been speaking verbally, there would have been a sound of distaste in saying her last name. Though not near the level of disgust as her mother’s family name; Bleuler. Now they were some bold pieces of work.
She sat down in the snow as she watched him for a moment more. Understandably so. And you can handle yourself and the situation as it unfolds however you deem best. I merely mean afterwards, if you could do me the courtesy of telling me so I can address the issue of insubordination in my pack. We have a tentative arrangement for peace, but acts of aggression outside of the pack are strictly forbidden.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 26, 2023 20:34:51 GMT
Her expression at the mention of his name read as though she had heard it before. Tristan wouldn't be surprised. While he had never known his parents, he had gathered from many others that they had been respectable werewolves in Europe. His bloodline was an old one, if not very well known elsewhere. Thought there were conflicting views. While the name carried respect, both of his parents and himself were known to be sympathetic to both humans and other supernaturals, not just their own kind. Often, that annoyed some of the more...'high class' circles of their society. It didn't help he had been betrayed by his own pack for his open ideals. It was still a moment in his past the werewolf didn't quite understand.
I am familiar with your family name, Darcy. Of course, Gemma had already told him that much about the young pup. Tristan put a good deal of stock in history and experience, but he was also practical. Just as he was not his parents and his children were not him, the she-wolf before him could do little to change her blood relations. A werewolf's desire for familial bonds was a double-edged sword. Creating a family was done easily. But parting with an old one almost impossible.
At the realization he had misunderstood he snorted softly, doing his best to decipher what it was she actually meant as she explained again. Afterwards. That made more sense. Tristan was curious how 'tentative' her control was. But she was young, and likely still seeking to earn the respect she was due. Do you expect this should happen? If she was cautioning him about it, she clearly worried it might. Which meant she had certain wolves in mind. He wondered which in passing. Are there other rules? For your pack or Sweetwater?