Post by jiminiminy on Apr 2, 2011 14:40:20 GMT -5
It was cold.
No colder than usual, taking the past season into perspective, in fact it may have even been slightly warmer. However, looking back on the day, if he had reason to do so in the future, Siscarm would remember that it was cold.
He stood about midway up one mountain or another in the range, at this point the elder didn't particularily care which was which, looking out over the wind-swept lands that made up the Oriens. Here it was Spring in name only; the biting wind dropped the already low temperatures to furthur depths, and the snow that had accumulated over a long winter had given no inclination of letting up. If anything, there was to be further precipitation expected before it began to recede. As his gaze fell amongst the frozen earth, the naked trees, and the peaks of stone and ice, another draft rebounded off the cliff face, startling him for a moment and forcing a cautious step back. Of all the places upon the earth, this was likely one of the harshest that he had lived in. Yet, why was this his first choice? Why did he continually return here? Was it merely familiarity of a place that could no longer be returned to?
Siscarm coughed, trying his best to clear his throat in the cold air without too much of a hassle. He took a step forward, once more returning to the periphery. The wind once more buffeted his form, but he made the effort to weather the assualt. After a moment it subsided, and the peaceful view of the land was again easily visible. He had always noticed that the world in winter looked peaceful, but it wasn't the peace one would aspire for, but rather, the peace one might find in a burial site. Though the wind saught to sweep him off the mountain, the forests below remained motionless, frozen in time. It was almost unnerving from this omniscient view. Even the animals still slept in their burrows; the fish in their icy homes.
The world still moved though, and the wolves with it.
Siscarm cleared his throat again, taking refuge in his redundancies. His mind raced, wordings and rewordings becoming apparent and obselete almost simultaneously. Perhaps he was overthinking? Underthinking was just as likely. Maybe it would be best to not think at all in this situation. He raised his head to the wind and, hesitating for a moment, opened his mouth for a call.
"This is to the current residents of the Oriens..." Residents. Siscarm hesitated again. Was that the best word to use here? It didn't matter, he'd already started. "...I am Siscarm, that is who I have always been. I am a wanderer, not an Alpha, and though my title is lax when taking to account the aid of others, I am still Siscarm.
"I took you from a potentially violent situation. In future some may call my action drastic, or unjustified. It was not my plan to lead you to any destination, but to divert you from one. We stand now as we once did, calm, if nothing. It is only for now that this is possible, as time passes, people will become uncomfortable again. It is in this calmness that greatness can arise, but only to one who will lead towards that goal. It is for this reason that I speak; Aldgar is stagnant. This is her downfall, and there is no reason to drag her former glory along.
"Words brought me to power as words take it from me. The Oriens are a free land to whomever wishes to claim her: The Pack of Aldgar is formally dissolved, and her name shall no longer be used upon this earth. Let any who come after forge a new home, rather than take refuge in an old one."
Siscarm, after another second of hesitation, lowered his neck, once more overlooking the lands. The stillness had not been disturbed, no indication of what had occurred here was given. The silence of the grave stared back at him, unrelenting in its morbid gaze.
What else could be said?
The elder turned away and began to head west.