Beguiled by Brotherhood

[Relairah]

Shanto looked away as the young warrior seemed to struggle with his emotions for a moment. While Shanto felt inwardly cold, he still remembered days long past when the memory as he'd returned home played over and over again in his mind, tormenting him at the sight of his beloved on the floor of the cave. Yet eventually, it had only hardened him to the point of fury and determination. It had served to strengthen him, he felt. And thus he left the other alone. Each must deal in their own way.

His green gaze turned toward the other once more as he began to speak. He didn't even know the word Druin? Indeed.. his father had failed to teach him about his very self and nature. How old had he been at his father's passing, he wondered? Shanto couldn't help noticing that Deathblood seemed to have put all his focus in teaching his son to be a warrior while forsaking other important things. In one sense, Shanto wasn't surprised. To some extent, it matched the Deathblood he had known. And yet to another extent, he was baffled. Still, there was no use questioning the dead. There was no way to know what Deathblood had been thinking nor would there ever. So instead, Shanto focused on the questions he was being asked and the explanation the other gave.

"Yes. That is what you are. You see, the Druins have a very long history with the lands of our first encounter. Druins were bred for destruction and bloodshed in the beginning. But they desired a life of their own. They escaped their homeland and came to these, only to be banished to the outlying territories. After ages spent in that wasteland, they were able to enlist the help of an earth-wolf that helped their land flourish. They had made an empire for themselves - one where Druins and anyone with a dark past were welcome. The Druins weren't welcome within the neighboring territories because the wolves believed they were evil at their core for their demonic heritage in their blood. They never thought a Druin could possibly possess the ability to care for others outside their own.

You're a good example of just such an exception, aren't you? How Druins can indeed be like any other on their inside. But aside from that. Deathblood was actually kin to some of those that once resided in that empire, and therefore so are you. Tartarus was the name of their leader. He was a very powerful Druin. You might even say he was part of the reason so many others hated and feared the Druins. But of course not all the Druins were like him. I couldn't tell you exactly what happened... but I know Deathblood once encountered him and that that encounter was what altered his life."

Shanto rose to his paws, moving toward the other. If the young Druin allowed, he would place a paw on the other. "I'm sorry you couldn't learn more from your father."

[Mokobo]

With wide orange eyes full of wonder, Oren listened intently as Shanto explained his heritage to him. His father had never taken the time to speak of such things, or perhaps he never had the chance to. All the youth had ever known was that he was different, and others both feared and hated him for it. His ears would droop slightly as Shanto explained how his kind had been created to destroy. Was the fear that had been directed toward him not entirely misplaced? Would he wreak nothing but destruction that was dictated by nothing but his genes? The dismal thought buried itself within the folds of the druin pup's interest in the subject, constantly running through the back of his mind as he continued to listen to the tale.
To hear that others of his kind had fought against their original purpose gave him hope. Oren felt that he would have been one of those to rebel. He found himself empathizing more with his ancestors at the mention of their exodus, wandering off in search of a new home much as he had. They too had arrived at these lands to receive a not so warm welcome, turned away with scorn. The youth felt a swell of pride at hearing that his people managed to flourish, while the tick of his earlier dark thought fed on the following statement. With a rapt sort of attention Oren followed Shanto's every word intently.
Until one word that was not entirely unfamiliar.
Tartarus..
Outside the entrance to the stream-side den a summer monsoon unleashed its full fury upon the desert sands and brush. Thick sheets of rain fell heavily enough to blur the terrain after a short distance as wind whipped the large raindrops in sharp, sudden bursts. Just visible through the entrance was a small tree, its frame contorted and wiry due to it's harsh life. Despite the tenacity of the tree and its roots, the wind flung the plant from side to side violently. Valiantly the tree held against the storm, before at last it could take no more and snapped along its base. With a resounding crash the twisted trunk fell across the small stream.
Tartarus..
A younger, smaller Oren sat near the entrance to the den watching the torrent with wide, fearful eyes. He had seen storms before, but none such as this. It seemed as if the very world was being torn apart outside, while his life was crashing down within. It was a week since his father had collapsed one day while hunting, several days since he had stopped eating, and almost a whole day since he was last awake. The young pup was trembling with fright as he watched the storm continue to whip at the carcass of the tree, as if not merely satisfied with its death. Was that what was going to happen to him if, if the unthinkable happened?
Tartarus!
The sudden exclamation from his father only added to Oren's fright, causing him to jump slightly before turning around. He had not heard the earlier mumbling of his patron, but the last iteration had been shouted loudly. As the young Oren turned to face Deathblood, the blood would drain from his face. His father was standing at last, and yet his blood-red eyes had a deranged, distant sort of gaze to them. A hint of pink froth was at the corner of his mouth, a glob having fell to the floor when he yelled. Currently Oren's father was facing the wall, glaring at it fiercely as he swayed in the spot where he stood.
Oren would quickly rush over to his father, attempting to put himself between his elder and the wall. The task was difficult, as he was barely higher than Deathblood's knee. After a few minutes of wiggling Oren would at last be before his father, reaching up with his paws to lightly hold his patron's snout. "Pa, it's me, Oren. You're sick, you need to lie down." It seemed like sound advice, at least it was what his father had always told him when he himself had been sick. For a moment the look Deathblood gave him made Oren whimper in fear, before the hated slowly ebbed out his gaze. It was replaced with a dazed, confused expression.
"Oren? I thought....I...I need water." The last statement was accompanied by a thump as Deathblood once more laid down upon the ground. His eyelids drooped heavily as he fought to maintain consciousness. For a brief moment Oren looked to the entrance to the den and the torrent pouring itself upon the earth. He felt a fear grip him in the deepest part of his gut, before looking at his father and feeling it grow. With an uncertain nod, Oren would quickly turn before heading outside into the destruction of the world.
Though it had taken mere moments to relive, the memory had been as vivid as the day it had happened. Oren still felt the fear of the storm and seeing his father in that state. The whole world even seemed blurry as it had when he went to fetch water. Suddenly he felt a touch upon him, causing the young druin to jump slightly. When he turned his orange gaze to try and see the source, all he could make out was the watery figure of Shanto. Realizing that his eyes were full of tears, the youth would direct his gaze to ground at his paws whilst his body shook with heavy, suppressed sobs.

[Relairah]

Shanto removed his paw from the other. He was so terrible at this sort of thing. Battle and rallying and the use of words for his purposes and hunting and making plans... those were all things he could handle with ease. Hell, he could handle his own emotions. But this whelp...? He mentally sighed. He was at a loss. He'd barely had time to even be a father himself, let alone deal with this Druin pup. Shanto pushed away his emotional struggle. Somehow, he felt sorry for the other. And wanted to help. He couldn't help feeling similarities and stirred memories of his own past. This young one before him even brought back feelings toward his own children, even if they were lost to him. Even after learning he was alive and well and what had truly happened to their family, his daughters had chosen to ally themselves with the very wolves he hunted. Furry was the only thing he felt after he had learned Vellina... the one who had understood his vengeance and walked that path with him for a time had turned her back on him and actually joined their group. There really wasn't anyone he could trust. Not even familial ties.

And yet here was this son of Deathblood before him almost as a test from fate. Yes, no matter what, he must make this Druin before him ally with him. He knew that despite the other accompanying him, he was still a ways from such a bond.

"You never told me your name," Shanto said after a few moments. This whole time, he had failed to address the other properly and for once, he actually wanted to. Most times, he had a snarky nickname to address others with. But in this case, there were several reasons why addressing him appropriately was important.

[Mokobo]

As Shanto would remove his comforting paw, Oren would feel a wave of embarrassment wash through him. Since their arrival on the Moore he had experienced a weak stomach, ruined their hunt, and was now blubbering away at old memories. With much sniffling, the young druin would wipe the tears from his eyes upon his soft, chocolate pelt. He could not help but feel that his father would be ashamed at all the weakness he had shown in such a short time. Even if he had been travelling for so long with hardly any rest, there was no excuse for him to exhibit so little control.
Don't think like that. It's perfectly fine to feel pain, healthy even. Would you just shut up? Listen, I'm just saying you shouldn't feel bad that you're sad about things you have a right to be sad about. Besides, I'm sure your father- Don't you talk about my father! Thankfully the voice in Oren's head grew silent as his retort. He was not sure how Shanto would react if he began to yell at a voice that only he could hear. The quick surge of anger had served to push away the last remnants of his grief however. After he finished drying his bright, orange eyes, Oren would look toward Shanto. The elder wolf had been waiting silently for the pup to collect himself, apparent content to allow Oren some privacy in the matter by not prying. All though, it is certainly remarkable how well you can recall memories... Would you please. Just. Stop.
Luckily Shanto finally spoke once more before the disembodied voice continue annoying an already vexed Oren. At the question posed Oren would cock his head slightly, amazed to realize he had indeed not introduced himself yet. It seemed so odd that this creature before him knew so much about him and his past, and yet didn't even know his name. Yet the more he thought about it, the more the druin pup realized it was due to his forgetting to offer it. His voice still bearing some of the weight of his sorrow, the youth would seek to repair his lapse in proper manners. "My name is Oren. Thank you for your help..and telling me about my father, and myself."

[Relairah]

Shanto nodded briefly. "It's no trouble. For me the past will not be satiated unless it eternally encircles my mind." He paused. "No matter. Oren, is it safe to assume you know my name?"

Shanto rose to all fours once more and moved toward the entrance. "Perhaps you should rest for a while. A warrior cannot do anything well when his mind is muddled and his thoughts unclear. Take what time you need. There is still much to discuss, I feel. While you rest, I'll gather more prey. If there's one other thing I know, it's that those coypu are nothing to a Druin, let alone one still growing."

His green eyes shifted from Oren's face to the world outside which was still dark, waiting for the young Druin's response. He hoped the other wouldn't fight it. It was harldy difficult to read the other's exhaustion on his face.

[Mokobo]

In response to Shanto's inquiry about his name, and the following suggestion of resting,  Oren would offer a simple nod as he struggled to stifle a yawn. "I do feel pretty tired." The elder canine had spoken truly of the exhaustion the druin pup suffered. Days of endless travel had drained him of energy, and the events of the evening had sent his mind into a whirl. Old memories clashed with his curiosity of his lost heritage. Both were tied to strong emotional desires and filled him with a vague anxiety to know more. Then there was the blood-lust which had taken control of his body, a more concerning subject that he didn't dare spend the energy pondering upon. To top it all off there was the disembodied voice in his head. He wasn't even sure if the voice had a-
Phoebus. What? You were just wondering if I even have a name, and I do. My name is Phoebus. Yea, yea, that's lovely. I used to have a body too, with a sharp beak and a lovely set of wings. Oh how I miss preening my feathers- Would you just leave me alone? Not until you realize the danger you- Enough already! I don't know or care why you are here! You keep saying I'm in danger, that Shanto is not who I think he is. Well he's helped me more than you have with your annoying, vague interruptions! He's helped me find shelter, food, and a bit of my history! He's not dangerous, he's my-
"-Friend. That's all I wanted pa, was a friend." Large tears rolled down a much younger Oren's maw as he sobbed uncontrollably. His head was hung low over the smoldering embers of his father's funeral pyre. His breathing was labored from the hours of venting his grief, each raspy intake of air causing his entire body to shake and shiver. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Don't leave me pa, don't leave me all alone!" Oren shouted the final declaration to the sky before collapsing to the ashy sands below. For several moments he laid with his face buried beneath his paws while his entire frame trembled with his sorrow. A soft breeze would soon travel up the nearby stream, lifting ashes and dust into the air. The movement caused the young druin to dejectedly lift his head, as if he dared to hope the breeze may be his father fulfilling his wish. However all he saw was the surrounding dunes and scrub brush, and the circle of coals and ash that was once his patron. Within the pile of debris a glint of yellow caught the pup's eye. It was the mark he had grown up seeing upon his father's foreleg. It seemed so odd to see that this disk of gold and jewels had emerged unscathed from the fire which had erased everything dear to Oren. Odder still, the young pup felt a curious urge, as if the eyes of the golden serpent were beckoning him to grab it-
The memory had come so suddenly and intensely that Oren would have remained rigid for the brief moment he experienced it. After coming back to the present moment, the youth would feel as if all the energy the meal had afforded him had been drained. For a brief moment Oren would sway in the spot upon which he was seated, nearly toppling over at one point. Once his balance had been regained, Oren would murmur soft words about needing to sleep before stumbling deeper into the den. Thankfully the voice, Phoebus, had grown quiet for the time being, and would hopefully remain so long enough for Oren to sleep. It would not take him long to find a suitable spot to sleep off the stressful evening, and a soft sigh would escape the pup as he lounged upon the earthen floor. Almost as an after thought, Oren would mumble softly as he struggled to keep his bright orange eyes open. "Thanks again....for all your help."

[Relairah]

The dark wolf only nodded once more toward the Druin pup and left, making his way once more through the marsh. He took on his dark mist form and before long, was no longer in the moore but in the terrain just past it where much larger prey could be found with somewhat more reliability. Before long, he came across a herd of elk grazing in the open planes. Immediately, his instincts and long-developed skills came into play. He returned to his wolf form, creeping across the landscape as though a mere shadow. The elk were not even aware of his presence until it was too late.

Bursting forth from the tall grasses, he barrelled into one doe at the edge of the herd. Perhaps it was the wild-flowers that had lead her astray. She stumbled and he wasted no time, sinking his claws into her side and his fangs into her throat. Before long, her life was fading away and the rest of the herd had scattered to safety.

Shanto smirked to himself, and his powerful jaws dragged his kill with him back to the moore and the den where Oren was staying. He left it there for when he awoke, and then ventured outside again, his mind in a torrent and time beginning to slip by as he lost himself in his thoughts.