֍ The Wraithwood Pack ⟨ read-only ⟩

 ( Please do not post here, this thread is for me to write out clan lore. Any comment/question can be directed to me via message! )

֍ The Wraithwood Pack ֎

These trees whisper. Most brush it off as the wind, but the wolves that weave among these trees know what magics really reside here. They are the Wraithwood Wolves; a pack destined to inherit this woodland from the spirits who haunt it - or at least so their alpha, Anavo, claims. The She-Wolf and her pack wage war upon the forest spirits; driving them away in the name of claiming this forest's magic as their own. Haunted howls resonate here, crooning to the Mother of Night for the courage to fight, strong pups, and for luck in finding precious herbs. 

֍ Pack Rankings ֎

Skulker || First mate, beta male, hunter (10.06.20)

Almalla || Herbalist/Shaman (10.11.20)

Johona || Hunter, best stats (10.06.20)

Kestral || Hunter (10.08.20)

Brusco || Pup-sitter; first claimed wolf (10.06.20)

Bubo || Scout (10.11.20)

Sova || adolescent, yet to rank 

Sionna || pup; firstborn to Anavo & Skulker (10.06.20)

Spade || pup, secondborn to Anavo & Skulker (10.06.20)

֍ Territory ֎

Wraithwood, despite being lush with thick ferns and mosses growing unmolested upon gargantuan gnarled trees, is desolate. Fauna are far and few in between. Those creatures that choose to call Wraithwood home are lucky to call competition scarce, though they are at risk once the sun falls and the shadows grow to swallow the land..

Spring: The previously-bare gnarled deciduous trees sport small blood-red buds, hinting at new life. In well-lit areas (there are few) bright little shoots push their way from the soil, reaching for the warming sun. Winter-chased creatures such as frogs and songbirds are heard calling to one another once more. The days are plagued by a cold, slow rain that seems to seep through bone. On rain-less spring days, a thick mist shrouds the Wraithwood, pushing visibility to near-zero. Temperatures range from 40F to 60F, though in this season extremes are possible.

Summer: Budding plants explode in early summer, soaking in the few weeks of bright sun and fair weather. In some places, the ferns and mosses grow in clumps larger than the biggest full-grown wolf. After the first two weeks of summer, the heat turns its coat, proving to be an enemy rather than a friend. The sun scorches, leaving once-lush foliage writhing and dying. Grass crunches under paws, and dust billows up into choking clouds. The Wraithwood Pack find sanctuary deep within the Forest's embrace, sheltering among the canopy of leaves. Temperatures range from 75F to 95F, though extremes of 100F are possible.

Autumn: The autumnal season is revered by the Wraithwood Pack; the wolves believe its mellow traits are brought on by the desperate burning of herbs in the summer in an attempt to chase away the summer spirits. The leaves of the ancient gnarled trees of Wraithwood fade slowly from green to gold to blood-red, before ultimately falling to the ground at the mark of winter. The sun's potency is diluted by rolling cold-fronts that bring wind, fog and rain back to Wraithwood. Temperatures fall to a range of 50F to 85F, though these tend to be cooler toward the end of the season. Storms are common at the start of the autumn season, with hailstorms sending the Wraithwood Wolves scrambling for shelter.

Winter: The Wraithwood Forest becomes a boneyard in the winter season, with the blood-red leaves of fall tumbling to the ground to fade away. The thick ferns and mosses shrivel and seem to die, bleached of color and giving the Forest a lonely grey hue. Many smaller creatures of the Forest disappear; the nights, once full of frogsong, are quiet as death. Breath clouds in the air, and frost gathers on the whiskers and lashes of late sleepers. Temperatures can sink to a range of 5F to a mere 45F. Snows are common, though the days are typically filled with freezing rain.

֍ Anavo ֎

                     lead wolf || starter || created 10/06/2020

Theme Song: Paranoia || A Day to Remember

Named for her incendiary eyes, Anavo is a wolf on edge; always smoldering as if ready to erupt into flame. She is an impulsive leader, acting without rhyme or reason. It is her companion Skulker who whispers meanings and thoughts into her ears, prodding her in a direction that better suits the pack's needs.. yet who could know how righteous or wicked they may be?

Anavo remembers nothing of her origins. No memory of parents, of birthplace, of puphood. She claims this must be some sort of mental irregularity, though truly she fears that she may have more supernatural origins. This trepidation could explain her determination to wage war upon the ghosts of Wraithwood.. or perhaps she simply suffers from paranoia.

֍ Skulker ֍

first mate || starter || created 10/06/2020

Theme Song: Into the Void || Celldweller

To most, Skulker is a creep. He stalks among shadows; observing, always absorbing every moment around him, analyzing every little tic of another wolf or movement of the wind. He stares without apology, and boasts a cackling laugh that makes the fur of decent wolves stand on end. Skulker doesn't seem to mind his less-than-appealing reputation, however. In fact, he loves that goody-goody wolves tend to steer clear of him - this gives him all the space he needs to creep about and spy on them. 

Deep down, however, Skulker may have a kind heart.. at least for those he shares a bond with. He seems to have made it his own personal agenda to share his every found secret with Anavo - the two are inseparable. Together since Wraithwood's beginning, Skulker and Anavo are paired for life. One could not function without the other, though Skulker has more than a fair share of secrets...

It's About to Get Heavy

"Well, Anavo, here we are. This wood has swallowed us - I told you that it would - but did you pause to think that I may be right? No. You insisted we continue on and on and on, and now we - "

The shaggy rust-colored female turned violently on her companion with a snarl, teeth bared in frustration. 
"I KNOW, Skulker. I know." Allowing her tail to lower, she pinned her ears back, still glaring at Skulker. "Don't you feel it, though? The energy? It.. it.." She paused, stammering for the right words to describe the way this woodland felt. "It's haunting. Every living thing, from that gnarled oak tree behind you to the rabbit we ate this morn, feels... ancient. Sacred, in some way." She didn't seem to notice the roll of Skulker's eyes as her demeanor relaxed to one of wonder rather than rage. "Mayhaps we're in the right place after all." 

Skulker shrugged, rolling his shoulders as if to roll away his companion's blistering outburst. She was full of those. "Anavo - you know I was born here, right? - this is a spirit wood. Of course it's haunted." Anavo paused at this, twisting her head back to look at her new mate with a renewed curiosity. He grinned, knowing he had her attention now. "If you'd just listen, I can tell you the fable of this forest, as my mother told me, and her father told her..."

✦✦✦

" When the Wolves approached the Ursai and asked these beings to teach them in the ways of their Magics, the Ursai were naturally curious about the inquiry. The Wolf was smart, cunning, adaptable - but dangerous. The Ursai were familiar with the Wolf's warring ways with other clans, and reported these beings as 'savage', 'relentless', and 'hungry' - not to be trusted. After much speculation, the Ursai denied the Wolves' request, and banished the Wolf from the Forest for fear of retaliation, to live in the Mountains. "

" The Wolves were furious. They felt they had been wrongly judged, and were enraged that the Ursai felt they had the power to exile the Wolf. Once-warring Clans now came together in truce, allying themselves in preparation to take back their home - and the Magics of the Ursai, as punishment for judging them so harshly. "

" When the night of the war came, it was said that one could not walk within ten miles of the Wood without catching scent of the fight. It was slaughter. the Ursai - powerful as they may be - were vastly outnumbered, and cut down without remorse. The Wolves were victorious and reclaimed their homeland... though they knew not how to take the Magics from the vanquished Ursai. Many attempts were made to coax this energy from the bodies of the Ursai; from blood rituals to making teas from their bones. Nothing came of these heinous acts, and the Wolves were ashamed."

" Placing their roots down once more in their homeland, the Wolves quickly noticed that their Forest was becoming a vastly different place than the one they knew. Shadows began to move and speak in tongues the Wolves did not understand, yet raised their hackles and made their skin crawl. Heavy mists settled upon the Woodland, and many of the Wolves swore they heard whispers and growls when these mists descended. Towering shadow figures lurked just out of sight, disappearing just as the Wolf would try to focus their eyes. Sicknesses ran rampant, entire litters were stillborn, and a blanket of paranoia weighed heavy upon each Wolf's shoulders. The energy of the Wood had turned dark - the Magics must still be here, but the Wolves had made it their enemy."

" The Wolves of what they now called Wraithwood slowly began to dwindle, from several families, to a handful, to just one. This is our family. We are all that remains of the Challengers of the Ursai, and we will continue to fight against this dark Magics, and find a way to harness it back to our favor. Skogen Var, Magien Var! "

֍ Brusco ֍



pupsitter || 1st NBW || claimed 10/06/2020

Brusco's personality is absolutely an acquired taste - he's old, crotchety, and full of sarcastic remarks; so much so that many find it difficult to tell if he is lying or not. As his family has lived within Wraithwood for generations, Anavo keeps him around... but has given him the role of pup-sitter, to keep interactions with him to a minimum. 

Despite being rather disliked by his adult packmates, the pups of Wraithwood love Brusco. He seems to enjoy their company as well - spending long days lazing about with the little ones, telling tall tales of his previous lives and other nonsense. 

Shadow enveloped the dirty-furred wolf as he slunk along the forest floor. The moon - The Mother of Night - sat high upon her perch tonight, casting an eerie light down upon Wraithwood. Occasionally, the low hoot of an owl would break the silence, but otherwise there was no indication of life here. Good, thought Brusco, as he scuffled along. He didn't want to be bothered.

The pack pup-sitter was exhausted. Sick of the tiny prying paws; sick of the constant yapping and yipping. Tonight, all of the mothers were home. Tonight, Brusco would do what Brusco wanted to do. The gruff old wolf found himself creeping along the outskirts of Wraithwood now, far from the cozy interior where his packmates slept this time of year. Here, a thick fog settled along the ground to hide the young oak trees of the Forest's outer line, and the grassy meadows that ringed it. Brusco slowed his pace and lifted his head to sniff for company. Nada. Nodding, he broke away from the wood and made for the mist-shrouded meadow. Anavo would have it in for him, if she knew where he was. The Wraithwood Wolves were exactly that - meant to stay within the haunted wood; unless, of course, they were permitted to Scout. Brusco had no such permission - a wide grin broke across his face at the thought. He was born and raised here, long before Anavo had even been a thought. He would do whatever the hell he wanted.

WIP