~*~The Pack of TrueBlood: A Werewolf RP~*~ (Now open!)

Omri's eyes lit up with an internal flame when he heard the caw. He ran to the border between the two packs.

"Jashta! You will pay!!!!!!!" Omri screamed at him.
The barren slopes of BlackFire's territory were empty, and a hot, sticky wind swept across the wind blown rocks. With the breeze came the scent of death, and suffering.
 
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Jashta stood on top of a rocky cliff, looking down on his army as they milled about below, preparing. On his shoulder sat the raven, its sleek black feathers preened to perfection.
 
(A pic of Omri's pet eagle,
images
.)
 

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