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I should have seen this coming. Argon was alpha of The Borderlanders. They were a pack. A pack of hundreds. You see, Argon was not content of being alpha of one pack. He took over the pack next to him, and then the pack beyond that. He spread like a disease and soon no pack was free of his grasp. So I fled south, desperately trying to escape his grasp. He griped his claws around the northernlands. I resided in the south. Until he tried to extend his grasp there. What else was I to do? I turned against him. I united the packs of the south to fight against this new evil of the north, this pack of fighting wolves born of deceit. There was an encounter, a battle. A clash of two closely matched masses. I killed Argon that night. But not everyone lived. No, barely anyone lived. What, four on each side? I lived and turned my few remaining members to the woods. The remaining Borderlanders - maybe five - fought for leadership for those who remained. A high-ranking Borderlander dubbed Tondoro won, and they went to rebuild their pack in the mountains Now there is a tension. The mountain pack, they see me as a rebel, the murderer of their beloved leader. I see myself as justice. But to you I am Sylver. link opens in new window |
A Note From The Owner: Ever find yourself missing wolf RPGs in the huge masses of realistic horse games out there? Come to Brummagen. We are new, but ambitious - that can’t be a bad combination, can it? We are the rebirth of lupine RPGs. Come run with us. link opens in new window |
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