c68a15 No.4187
Mama used to say the small touches, the personal ones, were the ones that made a home. Now smoke rises over the ashes of the house and the bodies are buried out back where a flower bed was planted a little over five years ago. The sun rises white and gleaming over blackened mountains, and Sweep has a growing litter of empty bottles as he drinks one beer after another.
He was born Christopher Parks, but that was before. Thirty-five years and a mess of blood later, and he was Sweep, one of the oldest of the Washingtonian chapter of the Lodge of '66. Not that any of that mattered now: Jarl Harry, the twins, auntie, mama, and sis, all of them, slain by the claw of the Pure at the will of their Ivory Judges. All but one of the Lacey original Kingslayers.
Sweep had another drink.
The Predator Kings had an army: thirty, forty warriors at arms plus an uncounted number of wolf-blood slaves; no telling which of them were civilians and which were combatants. Even if he did somehow beat the odds and defeat or kill their pack, the Ivory Claws and Fire Touched would descend on him in retaliation for the talionis.
The smart money was to move on, find a new territory, carve it out and try again. He was too old to be foolish, and wisdom would have been to honor the pack that had been to pass on his knowledge to the pack that could be. But the hunter inside him longed for the purity of glorious battle. If only he were a little more cunning.
What is an omega Blood Talon Crescent Moon to do when his pack is good and dead. Go out in a blaze of glory or build for the future?
846929 No.4273
A friendly suggestion:
If you want to get this quest running, try to work a bit on your writing. For me, and possibly other anons, it's pretty incomprehensible.
Try to give us some directions and more detailed information about the setting as well.