So The Wind Howled

[Gryhm]

And so the wind howled, something about the chilling air grasped him. Took him back as he stoicly sat perched upon a large rock as the kelvic took that majestic pose as the air billowed across his face. The dire polar bear was an admired adamant defender of its realm, at the forfront of expeditions and held in great esteem. This bear in particular had reached great heights, so far as if to touch the heavens and the sun itself only to plummet back into the harsh bitter cold of the tundra. He had been very proud of his achievement, to become a true member of the ice watch only to watch it be stripped from his grasp by the maws of heckling wolves.

It was something in the wind, the howling that brought him back to that moment. Something stirred within him, there was fear and resentment towards himself. That he had been played a fool, and that blood was on his paws. Something about it seemed to stir the pit of his stomach, make him sick but this sickness and fear was followed by a numbing anger. There was rage, and it burned like wildfire in his stomach like a shot of whiskey.

A billowing roar that quaked the ground like thunder, escaped the dire polar bears lips. As if to try and openly challenge the unjustice, but unfortunately nothing came of it. The wolves did not just appear out of thin air, they were gone long gone and it was something that he may never be able to settle. But the thought loomed like a curse that ate away at his sanity like the wolves gnawing on the bones of his since departed friends and bondmate.

He still carried some level of respect in the principal of what he had been and in that degree alone. Whispers loomed around the corners as if hushly spoken by the walls themselves, the vani loved there stories. Many stories flourished and hung above him like a little storm cloud, the kind of stories that ruined a good time had by all by just walking into a room. There was nothing to support hersay and gossip, so he had only been demoted to an apprentice but that did stop loose lips from floundering theories as to why he was the sole survivor.

He was coming to terms with his situation until his nose twitched to a familiar scent that drifted capriciously in the wind. A very particular odor that lofted adrift, that of wet dog. And so the dire polar bear heaved itself to all fours in a flourishing moment of excitment, like it was his time to finish what had been started. Only to then hear the shouts and jangles of sledders, and this thrill of vengeance simmered to luke warm nothingness.

Plopping back down, his gaze fell upon the tundra once more. His mind danced around a second chance to redeem himself, his mind focused like a razor on the survival trial and cutting back to where it all happened when he was to be re-initiated. To go back to where his life was ruined, and wreak havoc and lay waste to those that had done him the unjustice.

It was hard on him, to be so strong and to be skilled but at the very same time to be so very helpless and vulnerable. All that amounted to nothing when it came to shaping his own destiny and carve it out with tooth and nail, his meaty paws could crush bones and flay flesh like swords while his jaws alone could rip limbs asunder.

And yet it did him no good.

He wavered on right and wrong, justice and injustice he was lost in concepts of chivalry and moral ethics. These things seemed almost too perfect, and fit neatly in place in a picture perfect world. But somehow what transpired changed him, he was left to question and challenge such things. Were ideas dangerous? Was he wrong? Or was the world around him disillusioned about the reality of the real world. Did that make him a bad guy to question what was presented infront of him? Perhaps what he sought was a castle in the sky, sitting aloft a tapestry of glowing saphires and shimmering diamonds. He could reach out and try to grasp such a concept, but his hands would only swash air.

[Gryhm]

Of course just sitting around got him nowhere, and he knew this. Lately he hadn't felt like a bear but rather a walrus lazily lumbering around. Things had to change, and they weren't going to change on there own. If he ever wished to stand upon that pedestal above the clouds he had to do something.

The bear heaved itself up from the rock once again, turning his back to the sun that bathed him in warm radiant light

He swatted the air a little stretching out his colossal arms. Felt the woosh of the air between his claws as they dragged against the nothingness of the wind.

Gryhm felt a little better, confident as his gaze fell upon what lay beyond the walls. He knew what he wanted, he knew what to do.

It was time to take back what was his as he began to rumble through the snow.

His direction was north as he left behind disheveled mounds of snow that trailed beneath his wake. As time progressed he traveled farther out, the further he went the more the sun itself dialed back. From a mid afternoon, to a darkening as it began to set as if tucked behind the mountainside. There was something there that tugged at him to keep going on, something that needed to be done to prove his worth if not to others than to himself.

The tundra grew colder the more the light dimmed.

Each paw infront of the other, he could feel the swift dizzying kick of adrenaline surging turbulently through his veins . Whether it was intelligence or instinct, he knew he was close. He was ready for a walk down memory lane, his feral claws clentched upon the ice and dirt beneath his paws.

Gryhms mind was made up he was going to tear something up.