𝖂𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖍's Den

You stumble through the grasslands, struggling to find some hint of a water source. Squinting from the blazing sun overhead, you notice a dark mass in the distance, sitting on the horizon line. You decide to head towards it - it has a good as chance as anything out here to have water nearby. At least it's a decent landmark.

Small herds of prey scramble out of your way as you stagger through the grasses. Zebras yelp in surprise from your sudden arrival. Exhausted as you are, you fail to notice the scent markers on nearby Marula trees. If you had, you would have noticed that this was someone's territory.

You near the rock outcropping, and notice a faint squeaky mewling noise. You freeze - that can only mean one thing. Cubs. And where there are cubs, there are also angry lionesses.

Ah, there they are. Peeking through the grass, you spy three cubs of various ages play fighting and throwing old bones about. Lounging on the sun-warmed rocks nearby are their mothers. You shudder at the thought of conflict with these dames, they're obviously well-fed and healthy.

"Very beautiful aren't they?" a voice beside you suddenly rumbles. You scramble upright in shock. An impressive male lion is crouching next to you, a smirk on his face. "Why do you look so surprised, Stranger? As soon as you entered the boundary we've been following you." He swishes his tail and three lithe shadows emerge from the dry grasses. These shadows are adolescent lions, and they giggle at you, obviously pleased that they were able to tail you so easily.

You turn to glance nervously at the male. You are clearly outnumbered, and in your weakened state there's no way you would escape battle unscathed. He grins at you. "I am the King here", the male rumbles. "As you've noticed, you're in my territory now. We are a large pride, but you have nothing to fear here." You look visibly relieved and he lets out a hearty laugh. "Follow me stranger, you need rest and water. And something to eat of course!" He turns away from you and begins loping comfortably to the rocky outcropping, which you now know is the den for his pride. "Well, come on then, slowpoke! Was your mother a snail?", one of the young females calls to you. You tentatively follow them through the grasses, towards the rocky slope looming ahead.

Pride Lore