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Shadewood the night of long fangs - Printable Version

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the night of long fangs - Smokestep - December 27, 2017

The distance from the Teekon Wilds to their true homeland of Warsaw Island was an impressive hike. Smokestep had been young when his father had pulled him from the bay and carried him through the wilderness. The young boy had nearly died. Of course, Skellige had managed to keep both Kingfisher and his sister alive for the entire duration of their trek. He had found women to nurse them, travel with them, and sustain them during the coldest parts of winter. He had taken them back to the islands where he had been banished and had raised them for a year before sending them back to reclaim the depths. Both Smokestep and Sandpiper had been raised the way that all Cairn wolves were intended to be raised: with the hand of war.

Picking his way through the thick wood, the pallid brute craned his neck to see if his sister was still following or to see if she had wandered off to find them prey. A single crimson orb darted between the trees and the pirate inhaled deeply to capture her scent. She was there – somewhere – but not where the ghostly figure could see her brightly speckled coat. The Kingfisher waited beneath the thick canopy. His shoulders hunched against the chilling wind that whistled through the branches.



RE: the night of long fangs - OG Sandpiper - December 27, 2017

it was not of her own accord that she was in this ugly, cheerless hinterland. only her father could be possessed of such an idea.. and only her father commanded her. at first sandpiper had begged, cajoled, even thrown a dramatic near histrionic fit -- yet when she saw nothing would move the mountain that was skellige's iron resolve, she mulishly relented.

if she was going to have to go anywhere, she was going to do so miserably - and infect every wolf in her company so they were as miserable as she.

smokestep seemed particularly immune to his companion's irritable spirits, but perhaps it was because his resilient demeanor rivaled (or even bested) her own. she had stopped following him directly a way back, having paused a moment to drink in the bleakness of her surroundings. it wasn't water, so she wasn't fond of it -- and she loathed how the trees obscured her view. hate it, she thought dismissively before picking up a trot to rejoin her fierce brother.

his tracks led under a breadth of pine boughs and it was there she stopped, assessing her limber sibling with a quick glance. while she said nothing, her question was clear: where next?


RE: the night of long fangs - Smokestep - December 27, 2017

Leaving Warsaw had not been the ideal situation for the pale Cairn. He had built a warrior of himself in their homeland. He had proven himself to be a master of the sea. By his sister's side, the two had exceeded most any task that they had been presented with. When Skellige had bid them to travel back to the wilds to reclaim the black rock, Smokestep had been struck with a sour, toxic feeling. Of course, he did not dare disobey the inky brute. He had learned better not to challenge the orders that came from their father.

This was their chance; Kingfisher and Sandpiper could lead and this was the test of their capabilities. As cocksure as he was of himself, the pale Cairn was pleased that he had his sister at his side. The quest to reclaim their lands would have been far more difficult on his own. Not impossible, but he feared that he would have made more enemies than friends in his attempts.

The scent of the speckled female wafted through his nostrils. Smokestep craned his skull around to fixate his eyes on her. His leathery lips curled slightly and he heaved a snort as she closed the space between them. The Kingfisher did not need for her to speak to know her request. Turning to face front, he breathed deeply. The fur along his neck and shoulders pricked as he did this.

“I can smell the salt,” he drawled. The Cheshire smirk increased and his lengthy ears rose atop his skull. It seemed that they would be trapped in the trees forever, but the closer he came to the edge of the ocean, the more he could feel his heart thrum.



RE: the night of long fangs - OG Sandpiper - December 27, 2017

just then as her brother spoke the wind lifted through the copse, carrying with it the light scent of brine. it was scarcely there, but it was perceptible - sandpiper lifted her muzzle to the wind and inhaled deeply the smell of fir, wet earth, and ever so faintly water and salt.

she would be happy to leave the forest behind her. it was not her element, and what adept skills she had for hunting before seemed nontransferable when it came to land prey. birds were just as fast as fish, and deer much too big to bring down of her own accord.

she lowered her muzzle and watched the roiling fur along her brother's neck. it was good he was here; in more ways than one, their combined temperaments and skills worked well together. she had never considered for a moment that they would not be successful in their endeavor to reclaim the depths. what could stop a cairn?

"it'd be nice to see it again." she returned, a sweep of her eyelids briefly concealing the molten intensity of her gaze.


RE: the night of long fangs - Smokestep - December 27, 2017

Smokestep shared the same sentiments for the land as his sister; he always would. There was nothing that appealed to him about the thick trunks of the trees or the sharp pang of the thorns in the underbrush. He knew the ocean. He knew the ocean better than he knew himself. She was wild and careless, but she had given his family everything that they needed and more. Her temperament was all that he imagined it to be. Smokestep had fashioned himself after the brutal temptress.

The pale brute nodded in response to his sister's sentiment. He could not have agreed more. A short chuckle escaped from between his dark lips and he turned back to face her. “Do you think our siblings will be there still?” he inquired carefully. Their father had said that two had been left behind and they were instructed to find these two and bring them home. Smokestep certainly did not want to waste any more time scouring the woodland for Moorhen and Redshank. He did not understand how a Cairn could stand to be so far from the sea, after all.



RE: the night of long fangs - OG Sandpiper - December 27, 2017

sandpiper opened her thin eyelids, focusing on her brother. his question was mulled over carefully. while she had never once considered their trek would end in failure, she had her own reservations about finding any surviving kin. not all wolves were as hard as she and her brother - even if they shared their blood, it was no guarantee they'd find survival in the harsh and resolute wilderness.

"if they're a cairn, yes." she said simply, a flick of her tail given as she spoke again -- this time her voice rimed with disdain. "if they're not, they're dead, and not worth our name anyway."

harsh words for a wolf so young, but sandpiper had been shaped by a harsh hand.


RE: the night of long fangs - Smokestep - December 27, 2017

Dark lips curled in a grin that allowed yellow and pointed canines to poke from below. A rumbling chuckle echoed in his throat. Her response was nothing more than appropriate. He would have expected nothing less of the speckled seabird.

“Aye,” he agreed with dark humor painting the word. Smokestep agreed well with the companionship of Sandpiper. He had never found her company to by anything more than welcome, in spite of the salt that coursed through her veins. She took well after their father and her sharp tongue was a reminder of home and family – the only family that mattered.

With this, the ghost continued his trek forward. The less time that he had in those woods, the better. He was growing restless and was not eager to see if they should happen across any woodland wolves hunkered beneath the canopy.

“We must touch the black rock when we land near the depths,” he reminded her in a voice that sounded faintly like a half-grunt, half-growl. They had heard of the sacred and jagged landmark since they were old enough to understand it.



RE: the night of long fangs - OG Sandpiper - December 28, 2017

the rock. she nodded in acknowledgement of his words. sandpiper had not forgotten the challenge that awaited the completion of their trying journey. she imagined it as some distant spire, cloaked by black shadow and breached by high seas and white plumes of mist. however far it was, she would see to it that its' ancient trial did not remain unchallenged.




her brother resumed his pace and she set behind him, stepping wide around each patch of crumpled snow with distaste on her features. she remained quiet save for the crunch of snow between her paws, savoring the distant scent of brine that grew ever more strong.


RE: the night of long fangs - Smokestep - December 28, 2017

The seafarer knew that she would agree. The black rock was their own to claim, and the pale beast knew with each thrum of his heart that they drew close. The sea had blessed them with her might and they would be required to return to her. Already, the pale beast grew tiresome of the passing trees and the melodious cries of the birds overhead. His limbs longed to feel the crashing of the waves against them and the sharp caw of the seagull against the saline winds. Smokestep felt that if he had to trek much further, his good nature would whittle to a short fuse.

Up no more than fifty yards from the two travelers, the brush rustled with the activity of a young hare – eager to bound beneath the canopy of shelter. As the pirate closed the space between himself and the prey animal, he slowed his pace. His ears stood tall atop his skull and he lowered his muzzle toward the earth with an intent expression. The marauder lifted his head a few inches from the earth to warn his sibling of nearby food.

“There's game afoot,” he growled quietly.



RE: the night of long fangs - OG Sandpiper - December 29, 2017

sandpiper shared kingfisher's weariness -- even with company as fine as her brother, the road was long and trying. she was ready to embrace the touch of sand and the weightlessness of the water and was happy to never set foot in the taiga again.

she froze as she saw a slight shift in her brother's posture, knowing innately what he meant. her gaze followed his to the form of an almost entirely concealed hare -- one she surely would have missed. with a nod she swung wide, trailing close to the ground with her eyes intent and ears pulled back along her flattened body.

she was close; close enough she could spring from the brush and startle the hare directly into her brother's jaws. she awaited his command, hunkered down in the cold with her jaws quivering.


RE: the night of long fangs - Smokestep - December 29, 2017

The two moved almost as though they were one in the same body. She did not need to speak as she pulled herself toward the rear of the hare and waited on readied paws for Smokestep to find his place. He shrunk himself – an odd sight on such lengthy stilts. The marauder slunk forward like a fox through the wood. His tail was held low, waiting until he could close the space on their prey. Smokestep did not need to watch for Sandpiper; he knew that she would be ready to spring.

Fixing his eyes on the target, he tossed his tail upward in a signal for Sandpiper to start the chase. Surely, the hare would not have far to go. Smokestep waiting with ready jaws and sharpened fangs for the small animal to make his attempt. The Cairn children would eat well enough to continue their trek. It would not be long before they would be able to feast on prey of the sea.



RE: the night of long fangs - OG Sandpiper - December 30, 2017

feel free to PP sandpiper

as she hunkered down in the mottled snow, she kept her eyes trained on her brother and her breath baited. the hare loped across the soft blanket of white, its nose twitching and bright liquid-black eyes soft yet alert. she watched as it turned one slender ear and then the other, its mouth working in small gyrations as it nibbled the thicket.

out of the corner of her eye she saw smokestep's tail - the signal to begin the chase. wordlessly she bounded from the woods directly into the hare, which caught the shift of snow and noise and was already making a fleet-footed escape -- right into smokestep's waiting jaws.


RE: the night of long fangs - Smokestep - January 02, 2018

The marauder watched as Sandpiper moved so fluidly across the earth. He thought of what a shame it was that she appeared so sure in the wood, for she was far more capable under the water. Still, she moved quickly and well and he was not surprised as the rabbit darted directly for Smokestep without realizing that it had been startled into a very nasty trap. The ghost's head was low to the earth and his lips parted to reveal yellow and pointed fangs. By the time that the hare noticed, it was far too late. Sandpiper was still on the rear of the animal, preventing it from spinning around to flee the opposite direction.

The pale brute darted forward on limber legs and snapped with a sickening crunch, closing his jaws on the throat of the small creature. One squeak and the hare ceased to kick. Smokestep looked at his sister with a curling smirk before he dropped the prey animal into the snow and nodded at the speckled female. She had moved swiftly and quietly. She had chased the hare into the pirate's mouth. She would take the first blood.



RE: the night of long fangs - OG Sandpiper - January 04, 2018

aw such a kind gent

in a flash of uplifted snow, the hare's life was extinguished. amid the long scores that broke the snow's otherwise smooth surface, small bright crimson droplets appeared. sandpiper licked her lips excitedly, narrowing the gap between them in a few bounds.

with the hare dropped upon the ground, she set herself upon it -- placing a paw by its neck she tidily clipped its body in clean halves, sending a spray of viscera across the snow in angry red splattering. much obliged by her brother's chivalry, she left him the half he favored.

the wolf threw back her head and the hare disappeared from her mouth, sliding down her maw in a singular, sickening gulp - followed by an alligator snap of her jaws.


RE: the night of long fangs - Smokestep - January 18, 2018

Smokestep watched his sister as she plucked the hare from the earth and snapped it in half, swallowing her portion without pause. The other half was tossed toward him and he bent his neck to scoop it into his mouth, chewing against the tough sinew and victual with a sickening gulp. Their hunger had been sated for a short time and this would allow them to continue covering land for the ocean. The wayfarer was certain that they would not have too far to go before they would reach their home; he could feel it in his bones. It was a familiar ache and one that would not be satisfied until he had been washed clean by the salty waters.

Flicking his tail upward, Smokestep gestured with his muzzle for their next direction. With no need for words, the pallid brute began at a trot. The brazen gait set the tone for the remainder of their travels. Terrain passed them by until they were forced to come to a halt for rest. The next day would bring them closer to their goal and closer to claiming their home once more.