Moonspear new car smell

Tagging @Floki but open!

He slept not in the open, but hidden among a pile of boulders; his body matched the size of some stones, though not the color. It did not matter so much that he be found by the others of the pack, as he would need to learn of them eventually — but Lazarus cared little for them. His intent in the first few days bounced between resting and gathering information. He slept long hours and then toiled away for chunks of time, scouring the mountains many paths and studying the scents he found along the way. Occasionally he would find the scent of the dark woman, and instinct directed that he roll in it. When he found indication of others - males specifically - he would pass them by or, obnoxiously, raise his leg and replace the mark with his own. Lazarus was not vindictive as he did this. He left much of the more obvious indicators in place, making it seem as if he was simply relieving himself — and by the time night fell, he carried the perfume of the dark woman and her mountain home.

It was a bit overwhelming to have such an influx of members in such a short time; but such was the way of life, Floki had found. Aside from Charon, Amekaze, and Thistle Cloud, he hardly expected any of these new additions to stick with them for long. Other wolves might have called Moonspear home, but it truly belonged to the four of them, and he held it close to his heart.

He prowled the borders, gaze roving the rolling landscape beyond. He was distracted, wishing to do some scouting, but the pungent odor of urine suddenly caught his attention. He paused, inhaling sharply; the smell was strong, indicating that it was fresh, and as he ranged ahead he found that it became more prominent. Someone had been recently marking their borders, and while he did not feel threatened, he was curious.

As the sun sank below the horizon, a pale figure became apparent in Floki's peripheral vision. He watched the male from a distance for a short while before moving towards him, announcing his presence with a chuff. Another newcomer -- and he found that he smelled strongly of Amekaze, which drew his brows upward in a silent question.

Night upon the mountain was settling in slowly. It wasn't like the winter, which seemed to always hold a doom and gloom; and the summer was always bright, at least where he had ventured. Lazarus wondered what the summers would be like in this place — if they would be endless days of light like in the north. He did not wonder long. It was more important to continue his work, to map the terrain and find himself a proper place to rest.

He did not get far along his latest route before a figure popped up before him. It was some ways away and heading closer, and the pale beast paused to watch. When the two of them were close enough Lazarus heard his soft call, but the wolf was not interested. He was much more likely to start a fight with any male he encountered - smelling Amekaze on him made Lazarus thoroughly jealous, and he let out a low rumble as he passed the boy by.

Expecting a response from the other wolf, Floki continued moving towards him. But when he received no greeting and was not even spared a passing glance, his brow furrowed. Even more concerning was the soft but distinct sound of a growl as he the male paralleled him; it was enough to draw the young Beta to a halt. He threw an incredulous look over his shoulder at the stranger's backside before issuing a warning rumble of his own.

He turned, his tail arching up and over his haunches and his head rising to demonstrate his position in the pack. Inexperienced though he was, Floki was inwardly aware of the instinctual rules of the wild -- and there was something unsettling about this wolf's behavior, coupled with the excessive marking he had done and the degree to which Amekaze's scent was mixed into his coat. He stood stiff-legged, ears pressed forward as he waited for a reaction from the subordinate.

The boy was young, as could be discerned from his size alone. He looked as if he had outgrown his childhood only recently, and had not strapped on the muscle and fat indicative of a proper adult. Yet it was Lazarus who was meant to kneel before him - beset by the boy's returned warning, and then the flagging of his tail. Lazarus was surprised by the display and not at all pleased — no child should have this much power, he thought. The beast was hardly impressed. He had to buckle, though - he had to obey the natural order, for it was all he had.

Lazarus turned his gaze away from the boy as he assumed his stance, his gaze deferential, as it had been with the dark woman. The rumbling came to a halt — but that was the best he could do. Short of being shown this boy's legitimacy, he would not submit further. The burly man intended to resume his exploration of the territory and so he said nothing as he passed on by, intent on separating himself from the boy who he perceives as little threat.

The wolf still did not speak, but at least adjusted his posture, if only slightly. Floki had never felt the need to display his rank -- he had been well-acquainted with most of Moonspear's members, up until recently -- but there was something about this nameless subordinate that rubbed him the wrong way. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, although he was at least relieved that he hadn't been physically challenged. Although he had sparred with Charon and proudly bore the mercenary trade, he wasn't yet a skilled fighter.

He watched as his silent companion continued along his way, seemingly content to pay him no mind beyond his brief assertion of dominance. The yearling's tail tip drooped briefly, and then he righted it and began to follow the pale wolf, leaving ample space between them. He paused to hike his leg and urinate on a small, scrubby bush, allowing the other wolf to increase the distance, but then trundled along behind him like a suspicious shadow.

He manages to move a few feet before noticing that the boy has not left him. As much as he wishes to be left to his own devices, Lazarus is also intent on proving his worth to the pack and to the dark leader of it; challenging this child might have done that, or it might have led to consequences, and Lazarus does not wish to upset things just yet. He is new here, and it would take some adjustment. But the boy follows him and he does not take kindly to this. He turns to regard the boy in time to witness the hiking of his leg, and it takes true concentration for Lazarus not to bare his fangs, grab that leg, and pull it off as one might pull apart a moth.

The sound of the urine catches in his ears, and the smell of it — but Lazarus has already turned away from the scene and is striding away from the boy, hardly interested in a pissing contest. His tail lashes behind him, darkening his hocks with a fleeting shadow, while he continues to patrol and investigate the various other marks upon the mountain. When he comes upon yet another mark made by Amekaze, he does not hesitate — he is on his belly, then rolling across a shoulder, gathering that scent to himself while the arrogant boy lingers near.

It was with thinly veiled interest that Floki trailed the wolf. His intentions were not to offend or get under his skin; rather, he was curious and perhaps a little wary. He paused here and there along the way, keeping the mountain's familiar slope at his shoulder as they moved around its circumference. Aside from the first stop, he did not empty his bladder any further. He sniffed at the markings previously left by Charon and Amekaze, pleased with the thickness of the scents that marked their borders.

But his attention was immediately drawn when the male suddenly threw himself to the ground, rubbing himself vigorously against the spring grass. Floki frowned, circling closer without invading his reluctant companion's space. With a flare of his nostrils, he inhaled Amekaze's distinct odor. For now, he kept his expression carefully blank, turning one ear towards the older wolf as he moved a few paces ahead.

There were other scents mingling with that of the dark leader, but he ignored them as best he could. Soon his coat was stained with green from the grass, and though there were small notes of masculine scent upon him from the others which left their marks, Lazarus had almost completely annihilated any indication that he was fresh off the road. All that was left now was the true perusal of the borders; he would find them and maintain them.

Having a monitor such as the boy was irritating, of course. They kept their distance from one another, but nothing Lazarus did could dissuade the boy from lingering, evidently. He did not wish to fight him - confident though he was in the winner - and aside from a proper throw-down, Lazarus could not fathom a method for removing this child from his periphery. So he carried on, meandering along the mountain paths until he came to the border's odorous edge.

There, he was far bolder: he paced up and down the mountainside with his eyes on the surrounding area, his nose on the soil for any marks made by males, and his ears pivoting for signs of where the boy had gone. As soon as he found a mark that was obviously masculine, Lazarus kicked his leg out and let loose a short stream — covering the mark left by Charon, though he did not know it, with one of his own.

From the corner of his eye, Floki saw the subordinate take to his feet, apparently satisfied with what he had just done. The boy carefully stored the knowledge in the back of his mind, building a file about this wolf that was as of yet untitled. The Alpha female had seen fit to allow him into their ranks and he wouldn't question his leader's judgment, but he would share his concerns with both Amekaze and Charon if he felt it necessary.

For now, he strayed a short distance from the territory's edge, gazing out over the rolling landscape. In that time, the nameless male strode on ahead, his steps purposeful. Eventually, Floki pointed his paws back towards the wolf -- just as his partner released a trickle of urine in a very particular spot. Even the smell of fresh pee couldn't mask Charon's lingering scent, and the youth began to question the new member's motives.

Without preamble, he closed the gap, then made a marking of his own only a few feet away. Apparently, this was his very first -- literal -- pissing match.

He ignored what the boy did as much as he could, though it did instill within him a sense of great ire. Once the mark was in place, he dragged his paws across the soil, tossing dirt, pine needles, and whatever else littered the ground as detritus; his wide paws made deep swathes upon the ground. As he progressed to do this with his hind feet, Lazarus turned his head and regarded the boy — and he, the child, was marking the border as well.

Lazarus grunted softly, the sound wheezing out of him. If the boy was going to contest him in all things, he would lose - the new recruit would make sure of that. With a stiff-legged swagger Lazarus approached where the boy stood, and dipped his head as if to sniff at the reeking patch of wetness that Floki had left behind. Then, with a drag of a forepaw, he pulled the mountain soil across it, scattering the moist dirt before it had a chance to settle. 

With this, he defied the child, and waited with a scowl for the Beta's reaction.

With each passing second, Floki's uncertainty grew. He was very much still wet behind the ears -- never before had he been contested in any way. Like his older brother, he had been vaulted into leadership before reaching adulthood, and it had been an easy ride so far. He had Amekaze and Charon to guide him, and there was little in the hierarchy that ruffled his feathers.

But now, he found himself face to face with an older, more experienced male, who seemed intent on driving those points home. The only wolf that had challenged him before was Tevinter, and that had been nothing but name-calling and word-slinging. This -- this was different. He watched with a tense jaw as the male stepped confidently towards him and reached out with a broad forepaw. He raked it through the soil, unearthing blades of tender grass and attempting to smother Floki's scent.

Again, Floki curled his tail over his hindquarters, his hackles bristling. He inched forward, cocking his leg once more to sprinkle the upturned dirt, his lips pressed in a taught line. He wouldn't be able to draw the comparison himself -- and would have been horrified if he had -- but he emanated Ragnar in that moment, refusing to let go of his claim.

Another recruit may not have been comfortable with this. It was not rare for beasts to slink in to new packs and usurp their way to power — but power was not what Lazarus wanted. He wasn't sure what he wanted, or why he played this game with the boy. All he knew was that instinct dictate he react, and so he did. When the boy reinforced his position by lifting his leg again, Lazarus did not move. He did not care that the boy's urine splattered across his outreached limb; the smell made his nose twitch and his lip curl (or perhaps it was the child who brought this out of him). As soon as Floki's tail raised again, Lazarus was taking another step towards him.

It did not matter that Lazarus was new to this place — he knew how this worked. He had danced this dance before, and knew he was stronger in spirit, his will insurmountable. Perhaps the boy had only just received his promotion? Perhaps it was all he knew, and he was too foolish to see that the shift in power was inevitable. Lazarus did not care. 

He stepped towards the boy with an abrupt thrust of his bulk, his body twisting a pale crescent, and he snapped his teeth inches from the boy's face with the intent to shock him back. With one leg up he had a weaker stance and Lazarus would exploit that as best he could. If not for rank, then for the sake of his pride — though he was convinced, maniacally so, that he was more fit than this child.

Floki's opponent was not pleased. While his foot was still off the ground, the male suddenly lunged towards him with snapping teeth. It did, indeed, throw Floki off balance -- but only briefly. He stumbled back, paws shifting to keep himself from falling. He was quick to recover, however, as fury rose within him. What had begun as an innocent interaction -- after all, Floki would have been happy to patrol alongside a new comrade -- had now spiraled into something entirely different.

He knew that if he sounded the alarm, Amekaze and Charon would both come to his aid. He was not willing to engage in a fight with this stranger -- he was nothing more than a subordinate, a newcomer to their ranks who was apparently too big for his own britches. Once Floki's stance was more solid, all four paws planted firmly, he drew himself up, hackles now standing in a broad ridge down his spine. He raised his head and pressed his ears forward, peeling his lips back from his teeth as he snarled; the sound was much different from the low rumble both males had issued earlier.

Stand down, his posture commanded, though inwardly his mind was racing and his heart thrummed wildly against his ribcage.

Rolling to see if it hit, then editing! --> 1 <-- (13+ is hit). WOW lol.

This was the dance of old, and he would not lose out to a boy who had never before been challenged. He bore witness to the shifting of the boy's body, his posturing, but it did little to dissuade the older, larger man. The fact that he was so new to this soil did not perturb him either; Lazarus wanted what he wanted, and his desires would be answered. The boy's snarl was met with a grimace of his own, a deep-chested rumble, and then he did the unthinkable: he attacked.

Maybe it was because of his time wandering — he had been away from civilization for more than a year, and had desensitized to the sensation of time passing — or maybe it was just bad luck; Lazarus shoved his face towards Floki's in an attempt to snap at the boy's snout or perhaps to grab him, to pull him down and bulldoze across him, and he missed. His teeth snapped fiercely still, but they grabbed nothing but air despite the proximity of the boy. It was clear in the way that Lazarus acted that he meant to do the boy harm. To stop him, Floki would have to fight — whether he liked it or not.

Rolling! Even is hit, odd is miss! 7

Edit: LOL damn they both suck!

Floki's attempt at intimidation wasn't enough to dissuade his antagonist. All of a sudden, he found himself faced with the wolf's gleaming teeth as he lunged at the yearling. He moved away, sidestepping quickly and ducking his head, though he fully anticipated the feel of his skin being punctured. When it didn't come, however, he turned back to face the Zeta.

His only experience was in sparring with Charon, and despite his reluctance, he knew now that he wouldn't be allowed to walk away without fighting. He gathered his haunches beneath him and then sprung forward, aiming at the other male's snout just as he had only second before. If he could at least land a hit, he hoped that it would show the subordinate that he wasn't willing to relinquish his position despite his youth.

However, he misjudged his distance and was disappointed when his teeth came together sharply, just a whisker from his opponent's face. Frustration welled within him and he snarled fiercely, his tail lashing. He wasn't going to give up just yet.

I love this thread so much. Gonna roll again -- 13+ is hit for Lazarus --> 2 <-- om f g 

They snapped at one another to no avail. Lazarus missed his chance, and then the boy - perhaps emboldened by this mistake - came after the white beast's face with his teeth. He was lucky. The boy did not bite down upon his snout but came close, snapping air in the manner of a hungry crocodile. Lazarus would take his chance here — he thrust his body forward upon the boy with the intent to push him over, the full weight of his body as well as that of his experience sat behind the maneuver. To supplement this sudden upheaval, Lazarus dove forward with his teeth and grabbed for Floki's lower jaw, trying to grab his cheek or part of the fur of his throat. His goal was not to tear out the boy's throat — though he deeply desired to on some level — but to cut off his air or make him stumble with further reaction. The more disoriented he could make this half-trained beast the better.

None of what he planned came to fruition, though. It might have been a good thing, for each failed attempt brought rage to Lazarus' movements. He snapped at Floki's throat as he bludgeoned with his body, but the younger boy was fleet of foot, and back-tracked hastily enough to avoid him. Perhaps Lazarus had underestimated this child. He did not entertain this thought for long, for as soon as it passed in to his mind it enlivened some sort of ferality within him. This match was swiftly becoming more serious by  the moment.

Rolling evens vs. odds again! 3

HAHA WTF

Although both males had missed their first strikes, Floki was emboldened by his opponent's second mistake. The other wolf was larger and surely more experienced, but perhaps his youthful vigilance was what kept luck on his side. He moved quickly, his paws threading over the ground to carry him just out of the Zeta's reach, and he was rewarded once more with the sound of teeth crashing together without any fur or skin between them.

His confidence skyrocketed and he lunged without thinking, this time hoping to ram his assailant with his shoulder and at least knock him off of his feet. But the failed opportunities on both sides had at least encouraged them to up their defenses; he was disappointed when he skimmed past the male, foiled by his footwork as he dodged the potential blow. Floki whirled, planting his feet and lowering his head as he glowered at the subordinate. This battle was getting them nowhere, and yet neither one wanted to give up.

LOL wow this is like a tango and both of them want to lead. Maybe I should do this differently. Rolling 1d20 and anything 10+ hits. --> 6 <--

They struggled with one another but did not cause harm, as was the way of things. This was the ideal match whether Lazarus wished it or not; they fought without injury, each wolf coming close to overturning the other or swiping at them with fangs, yet there was no bloodshed. Eventually one of them would have to give in — be it the virile boy with all his speed and energy, or Lazarus, with his determination and steadfastness. For each failure on Floki's part, Lazarus dove in and snapped or grabbed or threw his weight; and for every mistake he took, the boy did the same. It was an endless cycle, but one Lazarus was determined to outlast.

Let's see how it goes this time... 2

Weee, finally! Leaving it kind of open so as not to PP too much! ;)

Had there been any spectators, they likely would have dissolved into laughter by now. Over and over again, the two wolves tried and failed to make contact. On Floki's third attempt, he was finally successful. It was a sloppy maneuver, but somehow he finally did it. As the male regrouped, he launched himself at his neck, just above his shoulder. He felt the impact of his teeth sinking into fur and while he wasn't sure how strong of a hold he would have, he held on as long as he could.

A growl accompanied the bite and he hoped that this would lead to the end of the struggle.

D20 (10+ hits): >> 12 <<

It seemed as if when luck changed for one, luck changed for the other. Floki grabbed him with a direct hit to the throat — the nearness to his jaw being a blessing — and the pinch made Lazarus respond in kind. He throws his weight in to the boy despite the pain in his neck, and with a combination of footwork and leverage through his bulk, Lazarus manages to pull free long enough to snap his own teeth. He sinks his fangs in to the boy with a snap, and bull-rushes afterwards, intent on pulling him down. Even as he begins, Lazarus' tail lifts and he assumes the posture of a Beta - no, an Alpha - as if he has already won.

Roll: 5

Miss for Floki. :( PMing you!

As quickly as he had struck the other wolf, Floki was forced to relinquish his grasp. His opponent moved quickly, wrenching himself away and then lunging for the young Beta without giving him any time to react. When he felt the sting of the male's teeth, Floki gasped sharply as the flesh on his shoulder was torn. His paws skidded in the dirt as he struggled to remain standing against the larger wolf's weight and he gritted his teeth, giving his best effort to push back.

He slipped, then, feeling the ground rush up to meet him. Panic rose in his throat as the male's shadow loomed over him, and he rolled onto his shoulder and struck out with his forepaws. He felt nothing but the whoosh of air as he failed to make contact with his adversary, but hopefully it would buy him enough time to get to his feet.

Fade here maybe?

The singular hit seemed to spell the end of the quarrel. With his effort to pull the boy down proving successful, and the boy's own agility in question, Lazarus is left looming over him. With a defiant little grin on his face - which was more menacing than anything else - the pale beast let loose a great bellow. He opened his mouth before the boy and let his teeth span the length of his vision, with spittle flying every which way. His tail arched triumphantly from his rear, and Lazarus let it drift slightly to and fro while he withdrew. His fur remained bristled and his posture was stiff, ready to react if the boy moved to do anything else, but he assumed that the spar was over — that he had come out the victor when the boy couldn't right himself. He chuffed softly to himself (or as softly as a bass drum could sound) and began to stalk away from the boy.

Thanks for the thread. >D

Though Floki scrambled back to his feet, the beast assumed that his fall meant victory. As the Beta righted himself, he glowered at the crowing male, but did not move towards him. He watched with stiff hackles and an arched tail as the male made his display and then began to depart. He might have won that fight, but he did not make any further move to show his dominance over Floki. Rather, he seemed content to simply gloat.

At the end of the day, Floki would still hold his position in the hierarchy. He knew that Charon would have contested it had the wolf taken it further; there was no way that this feral creature was cut out to be his brother's second-in-command. But deep inside, he was aware that he was lucky -- this could have ended much worse than it had. He stood tall, head held high as he glared after the subordinate. Next time, he would not be bested.