P A N [D E M O N] I U M
There the Old Wolf sat. There were so many more who came before him, those he knew, many more he never met. Yet for all their glory, the once glorified line of the Van-Derveld sat in ruin.
Ruin.
Their very blood was ruined. Their reputation was ruined. Everything they were...now in ruins.
Such was their lot in life. Or... Was it?
There, the patriarch of the line sat, in an old and time-worn throne. It was not that of his father, nor of his grandfather. It was his own. One He crafted with his own two hands. A throne of flesh and bone, though flesh was now so old it was dried and cracked. Yellowing upon the bone, for such was time and failed upkeep. He sat there upon a throne of death and lies, wondering. The Grand Hall was no longer grand, but more a dusty, cobweb filled hall of lost glory. Such was life, He mused. Ancient leathers creaked as joints snapped, the elder Lupine standing up slowly. Sapphire eyes blinked, looking from one side to the other. He sighed lightly, and made his way to the balcony.
The Schwartzweld. The ancestral home to all Lupines, but the seat of power once upon a time for the Van-Derveld.
Overgrowth ran rampant below Him. The land had indeed reclaimed everything and anything that once existed below. Yet, He did not seem to be upset. There He stood, light winds causing that floor-length black leather coat to flap gently. He closed his eyes, and thought of the animal within.
The curse of the Lupine. The blessing of the Van-Derveld...
Bones cracked and snapped, and jet black hair began to spread, nose to snout, and limbs to legs. The sound of the change was not something many of his family spoke of. But it was not something done in passing. The change was a sacred thing, to be connected to something more than yourself. To understand family, heritage...to know the blood. They say the Lupines are cursed with madness in infinite combinations, and this was true. But, even so, every last one felt the calling of the blood. It was far too powerful. Diego, his father. Vega, his elder brother. Even His beloved mate, [member="Curupira Hawk"], they all felt the pull.
And now, as the Wolf sat there, looking up to the sky, the clouds moved just far enough that the light of the moon could be seen. And He howled out, reaching out through the dark conduits of the Force.
The Blood.
Ruin.
Their very blood was ruined. Their reputation was ruined. Everything they were...now in ruins.
Such was their lot in life. Or... Was it?
There, the patriarch of the line sat, in an old and time-worn throne. It was not that of his father, nor of his grandfather. It was his own. One He crafted with his own two hands. A throne of flesh and bone, though flesh was now so old it was dried and cracked. Yellowing upon the bone, for such was time and failed upkeep. He sat there upon a throne of death and lies, wondering. The Grand Hall was no longer grand, but more a dusty, cobweb filled hall of lost glory. Such was life, He mused. Ancient leathers creaked as joints snapped, the elder Lupine standing up slowly. Sapphire eyes blinked, looking from one side to the other. He sighed lightly, and made his way to the balcony.
The Schwartzweld. The ancestral home to all Lupines, but the seat of power once upon a time for the Van-Derveld.
Overgrowth ran rampant below Him. The land had indeed reclaimed everything and anything that once existed below. Yet, He did not seem to be upset. There He stood, light winds causing that floor-length black leather coat to flap gently. He closed his eyes, and thought of the animal within.
The curse of the Lupine. The blessing of the Van-Derveld...
Bones cracked and snapped, and jet black hair began to spread, nose to snout, and limbs to legs. The sound of the change was not something many of his family spoke of. But it was not something done in passing. The change was a sacred thing, to be connected to something more than yourself. To understand family, heritage...to know the blood. They say the Lupines are cursed with madness in infinite combinations, and this was true. But, even so, every last one felt the calling of the blood. It was far too powerful. Diego, his father. Vega, his elder brother. Even His beloved mate, [member="Curupira Hawk"], they all felt the pull.
And now, as the Wolf sat there, looking up to the sky, the clouds moved just far enough that the light of the moon could be seen. And He howled out, reaching out through the dark conduits of the Force.
The Blood.
[member="Kastis Van-Derveld"] [member="Damien Van-Derveld"] [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] [member="Wolfram Van-Derveld"] [member="Cat Van-Derveld"] [member="Firenne Van-Derveld"]