🌱 pantheon's message (lore, read only) 🌱

sweetmoss' beginnings
In the very beginning, when the land was young and wolves were new, an ethereal wolf wandered the forests and plains. He was known to strangers as Pantheon. For a short time, as wolves began to populate the territory, the long days were warm and peaceful. Some say it was the harsh winter followed by the burning spring and summer drought that pushed wolves into  hysteria; other creatures claim it was the lack of stability in their lives. Wolves of this era had no foundation of faith, which led to morals sliding in times of crisis.

Pantheon often wandered alone. In times of hardship, he looked to the heavens and trusted in the spirits to watch over him. His unshakable faith in a greater power both inspired wolves and filled them with wonder. There was little hope during the summer drought. Wolves fell into bloody battles over territory, food, and water. Many lives were lost. Pantheon, looking on, couldn’t help but feel an aching sadness deep within him. He wandered the shadowy forests for days on end – seeking answers from the spirit wolves who guided his paws. His mind was constantly searching for a sign to point him in the right direction. The strong, steadfast wolf was torn between rage and depression for the first time in his life. Dark, metallic liquid seemed to stain the very land itself. Would the echoes of the land always be tragedy and bloodshed? How could such a dark legacy befall his homeland?

After a long day of gathering plants and helping lost wolves who came to him for assistance, he headed out towards the plains. His paws dragged through the debris that littered the forest floor. A night spent beneath the stars would help to ease his turbulent soul. As he walked out into the open plains, he felt exhaustion tugging at him. His eyelids were droopy and a yawn slipped through his defenses. Finding a tall, rolling hill, he circled in the grass at the top before collapsing. His eye closed quickly and sleep found him without much effort.

There was no telling what woke Pantheon. Perhaps it was the whisper of wind through the tall, dried out grass. Perhaps it was the damp mist that had fallen over the land. Whatever it was, his eyes shot open and he lifted his head. Glancing up at the sky, he searched the heavens for any sign of stars. The fog was so thick that he could barely make out his nose in front of his face. His sixth sense urged him to his paws. With twitching ears, he glanced around. Pantheon’s eyes widened ever so slightly as he saw a pale, ghostly figure at the base of the hill. The creature was sitting with its back turned to him. Though he felt an inkling of fear and hesitation, Pantheon boldly made his way down the hill towards the being. Though the aura surrounding the being was a cold white hue, he found that the creature’s main body was black, inky, and whirling. Another bolt of fear raced through the male, but he continued forward.

Upon reaching the creature, he paused. He stood right behind the figure. Before he could speak, the otherworldly canine commented in a clacking manner, “You are brave, Pantheon. Most wolves run at the mere sight of me. Perhaps they were right about you.” The beast shifted. A long, translucent black tail swished to the side. The inky substance that made up the creature seemed to pulse and contort like the color itself was living. “Come… Sit with me.”

Pantheon swallowed his fear once more. Without any reluctance, he moved up next to the canine and sat next to it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a magnificently terrifying sight. Where the creature’s face should be, a bone white skull sat in its place. A soft gasp left his mouth before he could stop it. “Ah… Forgive me… I didn’t mean to be rude,” Pantheon murmured. He was a bit embarrassed by his outburst. He hoped the strange being wouldn’t take offense to his surprise.

“You have so much respect, good wolf.” The skull’s jaw moved as words fell from deep within the canine’s body. “You fear for good reason, yet you remain content to reserve judgement.” The skull faced being turned to face the male. Empty, dark sockets were the only thing Pantheon could see as he met what he could only guess was the gaze of the strange canine. “I am quite impressed.”

“You are unlike any wolf I’ve ever seen,” Pantheon admitted, “but that does not mean you a cruel or unworthy of kindness and respect.”

The skull parted once more as the creature let out a bold, echoing laugh. “Some wolves call me a monster, but that is okay. They do not know how much I care for every one of them.” The being turned away from Pantheon and sighed. Fog rolled from between its teeth as it fell silent. “In time, they will know me. They will be grateful for my presence.” Silence stretched between the two once more. Both seemed to sit in contemplative quiet.

“Pantheon… I am so tired of walking this stretch of land. So many wolves are coming to me before their time...”

Pantheon’s ears folded back. “I can smell the stains of blood. I know it is bad here… The very land can feel the toxicity of its inhabitants.”

“You are quite correct.” The being glanced at Pantheon once more. “They need a leader.”

“But who?”

“You.”

Pantheon paused. He shifted rather uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I could lead them. They are unwilling to listen.” His gaze fell to the ground. “They come to me if they are in need, but they neglect to heed any of my advice.”

The skulled canine clacked its teeth for a moment. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Pantheon. The spirits have recognized your contributions to them, the land you walk upon, and the creatures who live beside you.” Pausing to let its words sink in, the beast finally added, “Even if creatures are unworthy, you still offer your support to them. The spirits notice, and they have decided that you are to lead your fellow wolves to salvation. Your attitude is one that needs to be instilled to keep the land peaceful and healthy.”

“How… how would I ever begin?” Pantheon inquired in a strained voice. The fog was swirling. Pantheon could feel the pull of something else. Glancing over at the skulled figure, he saw it stand and begin to walk off. “Wait! I need your help!”

“My time in this place is fading, Pantheon… It is up to you…"

The echoes of the creature filled the male’s ears. He felt resolve flood through him. The next thing Pantheon knew, his eyes were fluttering open. Warm rays of sun were hitting his back and caressing him with a feeling of comfort. Lifting his head groggily, he noticed that he was still lying on top of the hill – right where he had the night prior. Shoving himself to his paws, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a dream.

Suddenly, the land beneath his limbs began to tremble. Distant snarling crackled through the air like ominous thunder. Lifting his head, his eyes widened and he raced towards the terrible sound. He had to stop this nonsense. Flying across the open plains, he quickly spotted two large groups of wolves in the midst of a bloody battle. Pressing himself onward with grim determination on his maw, he raced straight into the midst of the chaos. He found himself standing in the middle of the battle. His lips curled into a snarl and he let out a loud, commanding bark. “Stop this!” His cry was unheard by the bloodthirsty wolves around him. Worry crept into his mind. Would he be able to do this? Reminding himself of the strange being from the night before, he set his paws firmly on the soil and let out an eerie howl.

The noise echoed throughout the entirety of the land. Soft, droning tones reverberated off of each and every tree, rock, and blade of grass. The very soil beneath his paws seemed to shift and a ray of sun poked through the clouds to envelop him in a beam of light. Pantheon stood tall. When his eyes opened, all of the wolves were staring at him. Some stared with fear in their eyes, and some stared with awe. In a commanding tone, he spoke out to every wolf that would hear him. “The spirits have commanded me to fix your wrongs.” His eyes narrowed and he felt a surge of life flooding through him. “Enough blood has been spilled on these lands. How many of you have lost friends and loved ones to senseless fighting?” Pantheon noticed that some wolves were turning their gazes away in shame. “All of this fighting because none of you can come together and care for one another.” He paused. “I am here to help all of you. This land must be divided. Not for malicious reasons – only so the land can care for us while we care for it.” Pantheon couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. “We are to split into groups… Each with their own place in these lands. I need leaders – wolves who wish only for peace to step forward and demand the best out of each and every one of the wolves who will reside in your respective territory.” After a moment of silence, a few wolves stepped forward.

Over the next few days, Pantheon helped the new leader split the territory into even sections. Each area had enough resources to cater to the packs’ needs. Within a month’s time, the wolves were adjusting to their new, peaceful lives. Rain came to the lands and quenched the thirst of many. The torrents washed the blood from the dirt. In the end, Pantheon overlooked the land with pride and love. 

For the next few years, Pantheon wandered as he always did. Pack wolves, leaders, and loners all came to him for guidance, assistance, and friendship. His skill with herbs allowed him to travel to the packs and teach upcoming herbalists about caring for the ill. One day, his body gave in to age. It was night when he fell. His arthritic limbs would no longer cater to him. His once luxurious coat was flecked with grey hairs and dulled with age. Pantheon let out a content sigh as his eyes closed. He was ready to go. He was happy with the work he had done.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing above his body – nose to nose with a familiar, skulled figure. Pantheon smiled at the being and dipped his head.

“It is good to see you again.”

Over the years, wolves mourned the loss of Pantheon. For quite some time, his teachings remained prominent and the packs thrived. However, as most teachings do, Pantheon’s words and lessons slowly faded from the earth. Only small remains of his work lingered. As the land soured to match the toxicity of the wolves, the canines chose to leave – thinking that the land itself was cursed. Nature quickly took over in the absence of wolves. The territories were shroud in a deep mist. Frigid cold temperatures and a harsh environment drove most well-meaning wolves away from the land. Rumors slowly spread of angry spirits and a vengeful ancestor haunting the land.

The new/current lore for the sweetmoss pack can be found here.

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Lore written by Running Wind @3993