feral

How different life was outside of Gilneas...Yet at the same time, familiar...

And I have a brother...

Grif had been surprised to find out that his older brother Cynric stilled lived when he'd arrived in Stormwind. He'd thought for years that Cyn, two years his senior, had perished in the fall of Stromgarde along with his uncle and namesake. It had been a happy occasion when the two were re-united. Cynric was kind, accepting of Angrif immediately despite having only known him for a short time. It had been a gift that meant more to him than his brother knew. Losing their mother, the only living family that had remained during the Gilnean Civil-War had been a blow that he'd only just started recovering from. Now, with an older brother to look out for him, perhaps he could become a responsible heir to Clan Fangglen after all.

The forests...

The rain soaked her fur as her kin ran into the town, the watchmen struggling to fight them back as alarm bells tolled. A low growl echoed from the Worgen's throat as she kicked down the heavy door, stepping inside the warm house. A well-dressed man in a dark coat and light grey riding pants drew his rapier. "Come beast! I have killed enough of your kind in my youth to think you no match for me!" His wife cowered behind the heavy table that was made into a barricade. "Humpert and Lillian Lais, do you not recognize me?" The growl seemed to fill the room as the Worgen gave a smirk. Screams reverbirated through the town as the town hall was breached. Cracks of rifles became frantic. "I know what you'll be, Worgen!" With his free hand Humpert drew his pistol, firing the old flintlock. The Worgen rolled to the side before throwing a chair at the older man, knocking him over. "Aelynn Hallowbane, my brother was Charles Hallowbane!

How far have I flown? More so…how far have I fallen?

Rueka couldn’t remember the last time she had left the forests. Time itself had started to lose its old meaning. It no longer seemed linear and constant, but moved like a current of watery events falling into a maelstrom torrent of past, present and future.

A bird flies in a wide circle, its wings beating furiously. Trying to fly higher only to be jerked back by the line attached to one leg. Sqawking nearly tumbling back down to the ground as the large brownish bird continued to try and escape. The darkness seeming to consume its surroundings entirely until their was nothing but the dark left.

...the grass was tall, shrouding her hunkered form as she slipped slowly through it. The tips of her ears twitched as she moved closer to her unsuspecting prey. Almost.....almost....one foot, two feet, three feet.

A hooting sound forced her to flatten against the ground as her Prey's head turned in the direction of the sound. An owl alighted on a branch above their heads, obviously also interested in the Hunt. Accursed nightflyer! This was HER kill and she would not share! It took all of her effort to force herself not to spring in that moment though. She wanted a decisive advantage, keeping herself flattened against the ground, she wriggled forward, her shining gaze fixed on her target once again. The image of a hungry child awaiting her in the barrow, the gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach and the knowledge that it had been 2 days since their last REAL meal drove her on - cautiously - to make this a certain victory.

With the stink of raw rat on my breath and the slimy f’lassil salve glistening on my naked and bloody body, I began making my way toward Tranquillien in the hopes of finding a healer.