<div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_u"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 24pt;">&gt;*&lt; Machamoti-Chi &gt;*&lt;</span></span></strong><br/><em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">The Sunhome Sentinel</span></em><br/><em><span class="bbc_u">Location:</span></em> The Main Densite, Kiowa Pack Territory.<br/><em><span class="bbc_u">Company:</span></em> Juno and Relic<br/><em><span class="bbc_u">Perimeter Sense:</span></em> N/A<br/><em><span class="bbc_u">Rank:</span></em> Warrior<br/><em><span class="bbc_u">OOC:</span></em> Ha! Actually, the NPC tracker was a concept BEFORE an ACTUAL tracker decided to join the hunt. So, in a sense, the tracker is Relic now. X3</div><br/><br/><br/><strong> "No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it...</strong><br/><br/><br/><div align="center">(https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YLMe_JonTu0/TPfvLxcx02I/AAAAAAAAAJA/SyghujC7AIU/s1600/white-wolf-big%255B1%255D.jpg)</div><br/>The moon mother's blanket of evening descended on the trio like a gardener's eves. The petals laid no pressure upon the skin. No ruffle upon the pelt. Night was a friend to the nocturnal predator. The woods were alive with noisy neighbors. Crickets were thawing, night swifts were chirping, and the trees themselves were groaning against the occasional gales. It was all they could do to strain buds for Spring. And as deep as they had descended into the hunting thickets of the forest, the babbling brooks still teased the auditory gloom. All was as peaceful as this children's bedtime story could be in some far off dream. Serene as serendipity.<br/>However, Machamoti was certain to remain a respectful distance at the back just the same. The night...had adorned his coat less gently...<br/><br/><em><span class="bbc_u">Theme:</span></em>Embellishment of Illumination (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrSnBKAGI1A)<br/><br/>The lunar rays of the onyx skies seemed to cling to The Sentinel's fluffy pelt like fireflies to their own. The sterling silver accents to his coat dimmed, save the occasional glint of metallic brilliance. Yet, it most certainly clashed with the nigh moonlight reflection of emboldened white that broadcasted from his figure. It was a phenomenon he was all too familiar with; and his greatest detriment to a hunt. He was practically a lunar-lightbulb. And it contributed to explain why he always remained at the very back of a hunting party. If anything, visually, he distracted prey from the true threat. His lumbering goliath-figure made for excellent spectacle. Too bad it made for convenient real estate, no sooner had they rounded a bend had a cricket landed on his nose. The daring blighter. The surprised brute would flex his snoot before attempting to blow it off with a huff.<br/>Failure.<br/>Machamoti tried again.<br/>Another failure; it held firm.<br/>He'd give his sniffer a good shake.<br/>No good.<br/>Therefore, given a moment of clarity, he'd slowly raise an enormous paw to swipe off the unwelcomed invader.<br/>SUCCESS...short lived. Macha's eyes would watch the hapless insect sail through the gloom...only to smack against<strong>Relic's</strong>hind quarters with a<em>ping~</em>!<br/><br/>The brute's eyes widened for a moment before he tip-toed sideways like a crab behind the nearest tree trunk before pretending he was about to relieve himself; a desperate attempt to feign innocence.<br/><br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><div style="text-align: right;"><strong> ...so too must my heroism prevail, that I can disprove the evil in others.</strong></div>