Tungulria Kinuyakki

Forum	Topics	Replies	Last Post Info
Itqaqtuq Qôroq (Eet-kak-too-k Ko-rok) Like most of the territory of the spirit wolves, a mist hangs over the land here. Forms taking shape in the mists, fights reenacted, running an activity continued forever. Here, they howl with the living, celebrate with those yet to be captured by the spell of the valley. Bordered by bright mountains, it is the final resting place of all Afatkubnaq. Their memories sealed in the mists, their story never forgotten. This tells the story of what was, what will never be again, until the spirits here, flow up into the Kinuyakki, to live an eternal life, watching over their pack.	0	0	-- In: ---- By:
Piifixaq Tikibag (Pee-fee-lee-ak tee-kee-bag) The coniferous trees in this area stretch to beyond the reach of sight. A mist covers the ground, leaving an eerie impression. The mist flows, circling around foot paw, sending chills up the spine. The cries of past wars and the howls of another presence can be heard, echoing, forever. The final cries of a wolf as its spirit leaves its body are heard, leaving the heart of strangers, scarred. The residents of this Forest are numb to the ghostly cries, they are a way of life, a song of the wild, a forever reminder, of what was, and what will never be again.	0	0	-- In: ---- By:
Uyummiqsuq Kûgssuaq (Oo-yoo-mee-k-soo-k koo-g-soo-ak) A river, flows steadily, water so cold, ice dare not conceal its swift waters. The water can be used to heal, or it could bring death, no one knows what the waters choose. The spirits of those who’s life was taken by the river, make the waters a frozen wasteland. It is they, who chose the fate of those who set a foot or tongue in their forever grave, their prison. The spirits are fond of the residents, weary of strangers, they warm up to one’s they like, and capture the souls of those they dislike. Freezing their enemies, they add another spirit to the water, another layer of mist that hangs above the rushing liquefied souls.	0	0	-- In: ---- By:
Qiquyaliqsuq Qâqaq (Kee-koo-ya-lee-ks-ook ka-k-ak) Every night, unto the living, and unto the spirits, those who have separated themselves from the earth, who have forgiven the acts of others, fly and run through the sky. Illuminating the mountains with an aura of pleasance and happiness, no mist covers these mountains, no memories attack here. It is here were a wolf can come, be nothing but herself, live in peace an harmony. The lights touch down here, they take form of one who has passed on from earth, and meet with their loved ones. They are not a form of mist, but colored brightly, the kinguyakki spinning in their form. They remain this way, until dawn, were they leave the living, and disappear, in a ribbon, on the horizon.	0	0	-- In: ---- By: