Noctisardor Bypass is the rise of an eastern sun going to be good for everyone?
those whom life does not cure, death will.
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#1
All Welcome 
aw but targeted to pr much all of BFW bc iliksis wants to know what the heckle is going on @Vaati @Kove @Relmyna @Astrid @Potema @Cicero @Miraak @Aries @Rouge @Moonshadow @Koume @Ithrik @Shivali @Euron @Maegi @Ramsay - keeping some things vague bc they aren't finished yet but HEY w/e

his tail lashed against his hips as he scouted ahead, nursing an ugly gash on his leg with tender steps. the agoutis had contested his arrival fiercely -- and he had been forced back out of fear of death. they had not been ready for the assault, and like lambs, had been beaten back and forced to flee with their legs between their tail.

this was not the war iliksis had envisioned and he had half a mind then and there to seek out ithrik and leave: he was not a military man, but he understood the significance of a sound defeat in battle. he sent out a howl as he followed those that had fled -- he had not been told to come here, but had followed in the footsteps of the blackfeather wolves before him. it had been folly to remain in the woods, their troops splintered and forces but a fractal remnant of their true power -- iliksis mourned their loss if only because it deeply stung his pride.

in some ways iliksis felt cheated; and an ugly sense of irritability rose from around his head like a malign serpent -- he paced too and from with a scowl settled deeply into his face, and his eyes glowered with some semblance of accusatory ire.
warning: PG-18+ explicit content.
the boogeyman
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Ooc — Bo
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So, they had lost their great war. Truth be told, Ithrik could not have cared any less. He had no attachment to the wolves of the wild wood, nor their ideals. He had entered the territory in search of a hunt, and he had not yet been disappointed. The wolves of the Teekon Wilds were nothing in comparison to those of the home land. They were comfortable, fearless in their efforts to lead a contented lifestyle. There had never been a better place for the vile hound to reap. The devil found himself enthralled with the wilds and the possibilities that she had opened for him.

A familiar voice trailed against the wind and twisted through the hound's stiff ears. His leathery lips curled in a grotesque smile at the thought of being reunited with his nephew. Seeing how the Blackfeather pack had lost their war, Ithrik wondered how Iliksis had fared in his own battle. With the reminder of where they had hailed from, the devil was most positive that there would be no signs of failure.

Setting his course to intercept the dark youth, Ithrik slunk like a fox. His frame swayed with each step of his limber legs until he had settled his gaze on the shape of a damaged Iliksis. Surprise! The hound's eyes widened with a flash of shock before he found himself swelling with a dangerous pride. Perhaps the young wolf had not done as well as Ithrik had anticipated. It would be fun to share his success with the defeated boy. The patchwork brute lingered in his place for a moment before he closed the space between them and released a raspy breath in greeting.

“Tsk, tsk,” he chirped coldly. “What have you gotten yourself into, sweet boy?” As he inquired this, the older male's eyes roamed over his nephew's battered figure and settled on the gash in his shoulder. While Ithrik had been victorious in his own small battle, he bore the wounds and flesh tearing marks of a stranger's teeth against his own soft skin – but nothing like Iliksis.
warning: PG-18+ & graphic/violent - this character does not reflect my OOC/person. Please only join Ithrik's threads if you are comfortable with explicit content.
those whom life does not cure, death will.
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#3
soo i can't control iliksis >__> feel free to run him out

to and fro he paced, his paws quick against the cold ground. he needn't have waited long -- an oily, slinking figure approached -- one he immediately recognized as his kin. his agitated steps abaited, and he lifted his muzzle slightly to appraise the male of his injuries.

ithrik had faired better than his nephew -- while coarse marks dotted his muzzle, there was little of significance. iliksis for a moment envied his uncle's tenacity, but dared not let that vulnerability show. in violence, there was no better perpetrator than ithrik -- iliksis would surely have to learn later of how he had managed to turn the invasion into his own personal victory.

he was distinctly aware of ithrik's wandering eyes: iliksis was not used to being on the receiving end of such invasive inspection, but kept his tongue pressed tight against the roof of his sharp mouth. "i'm about to get myself into much more." he answered cryptically n a "hold-my-beer" fashion, giving the patchwork wolf a sly look before he threw his head back in a howl for @Vaati.

only, it was not an ordinary call to summons -- instead, it was a call to arms. a direct and unrestrained challenge for vaati's position, for his leadership -- for his alphaship. iliksis would strip every last sliver of prestige from the young boy -- as he saw it, their loss reflected on their unfit and ill-suited leader, and he would stand for it no longer. it had been an insult to have no guidance from the white-haired boy during their time of peril - it had been an insult that he had not been informed of their rendezvous, and that their split troops had been easily dispatched by the enemy wolves. as iliksis saw it, he and those of his accord had been failed. and where there was failure, there was a governing body unfit to rule and needing swift and merciless depositon.
warning: PG-18+ explicit content.
in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold, blood and flame
390 Posts
Ooc — jal
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#4
i wrote too much sorry and idk where im going w this lol ;_;

They had lost, yet the outcome had not be the least unexpected. The boy king had known well in advance that their best bet had been to flee prior to the war, but there would have been no fun in running, No blood would have been split by packing their bags and departing the dark woods in favour of security.

 No, Blackfeather Woods had been given something to fight for, something they had not had in a long time. They had experienced something that would shake them to reality, something that they had been shielded from behind their curtains of shadows and secrecy. It is something that he would utilize in the aftermath of their defeat to further gain control of the population he would now be ruling by totalitarianism force: fear. Fear of the knowledge that they no longer held dominion over the Teekon Wilds; that they were reduced to nothing in seconds and it could happen again, if Vaati so wished it. They would see in time that their only hope for survival is he, and only by his will would he allow them to live as freely as he has. Blackfeather Woods will bend to his will, and in his image will they grow to the expectations he has set before them. They just don’t know it yet. Iliksis’s challenging call is met with a crooked grin, malevolent and cunning as he waltzes forth towards the beckoning sound. It had begun.

He takes a deep breath, the inward motion producing a sharp hiss as the glints of pearly-white canines flash from a short way away. It had been expected, the inevitable internal turmoil despite their loss or win; the fact that it is the man he categorized as a wildcard to do is is only comical. Iliksis, accompanied by his uncle, await him in the near distance and Vaati pauses only briefly to summon his Listener, Kove, as well as the rest of Blackfeather Woods that is scattered about the general vicinity. They are due for a marvellous spectacle; a show they do not want to miss.

Vaati is silent as the bulk of his frame churns beneath his slautnering form, tense as his hackles instinctively raise and he confronts the duo head on, unwavering in his footsteps. "Do you feel you can do better after so little time among those you know nothing off? I thought you were smarter than that." He shakes his head sardonically, a low chuckle released from his belly that he does not reek of anything remotely humorous.

“You want to kill me because you think we have lost.”

“This means nothing, but bids us time to grow stronger and without suspicion. We will return to Blackfeather Woods only when Redhawk and Drageda are wholly blinded by their victory and suspect nothing of us. That is when we snatch their children from their beds and kill the rest." From the moment Caiaphas produced her knowledge of the tunnels that wove beneath their feet, it has been his plan all along. Perhaps the offer had expired upon their refusal, but inevitably Drageda would be run from their home on the coast, and the two-toned female would accept the graciousness of their actions.

A lethal snarl develops on his tongue, audible in his clear agitation that the insinuation he will do nothing about it presents. "We will do this however many times it takes us to see them dead." It is a promise, bound and blood and fury, pledged to whom they had lost to enemy forces. His command should be audible enough to those who linger about the premise. They will know that this is not over, that no matter how many attempts it takes them, Redhawk Caldera and Drageda will burn for what they have done. The war is not lost, not while Blackfeather still lives. Perhaps that had been their mistake, to not see the job through. It might have been their best bet to simply kill every last scavenger that reeked of Blackfeather scent, but foolishly for them, they had not. Perhaps in that same interest, those of Blackfeather had been given a second chance, a chance at order unlike they had accepted before.

However, that did not account for all within its former walls. With accusative eyes does he snap to the deviant, pacing yet another step forward. “But you….”

"Do not be so certain of yourself. I will kill you. I will hunt you down and watch you bleed beneath my feet. I will rip your head off your shoulders and mount it upon my borders, and then do the same to him, if this is what you choose.” Vaati will have loyalty, or he will have nobody at all. The other may choose to fight him, but he will lose, and he will be killed. A pity it would be, for there is yet promise within his eyes, but Vaati would not hesitate to sic the entirety of Blackfeather Woods upon them up and down the Teekon, if need be. However on some level, perhaps he sympathizes with the other -- the hurt and anger at the presumed loss is undoubtedly the cause of this opposition and Vaati cannot help but to agree. They should be angry -- angry at themselves for not doing better. Of course he does not say so, that would only set him off even further, But to get through to the other on a mutual understanding would not only save Vaati the trouble of crushing the other’s skull, but benefit the pack in the long run. By offering something that would satisfy Iliksis’s need for vengeance and ensure that him and his uncle would work solely for Vaati and not on their own merit.

“But I am a generous leader. You and your uncle, there are things I will need you to do. Things I feel will serve as a reward to you rather than a punishment for stupidly believing you could ever rule my land, my family, those who would never follow you. I will give you the blood you want, the victims you will want to draw it from, but it won’t be me.”

He pauses, his glance flickering between the man and his uncle, searching for any indication they will either deliver their death sentence or save themselves and find satisfaction in what Vaati can offer them; either way suits him. “Does my mercy suit you, or does it not?" The yearling draws his head back, eyes cast downwards upon the duo with a desolate glare. Oh, he will happily run him off --  to allow the blood to be spilt he knows Blackfeather Woods yearns for in the aftermath of their defeat. Vaati himself is hungry, hardened by the haunt of death the liberation of his worries. The Dark Master leans in, desolate optics unwavering from his point of focus, boring into the defiant pair of the tyro's. “Choose wisely, for as you may not know it yet, Blackfeather Woods is not so forgiving.” In the event he should succeed and rip the crown from Vaati’s head, there will be others to oppose him, those who will not stand for an outsider acting as the matriarch of a crime family spanning generations. In such a situation, Vaati’s present confidence would be characterized as foolish, however, not this time. This time, he would have is way regardless who stood to oppose him as others had before.
for the sins of the unworthy
must be baptized in blood & fear
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#5
Their flight to Noctisardor Bypass was marked by nightmares and flashbacks. The snarling sounds of battle filled Ramsay's ears in his dreams, and the sight of every wound on his pack mates brought memories to the fore of his mind. He had felt no tooth or blow upon his young hide, but the mental and emotional trauma was enough to keep him up most nights. Two weeks later, in the relative safety of Noctisardor Bypass, Ramsay was dead tired on his paws and unmotivated to do anything, though by then the nightmares were fewer in frequency and their severity was diminished.

With bags under his deep eyes, the young mercenary heeded the call of his pack leader. Vaati had done well in bringing them away from Blackfeather Woods in mostly one piece, though Cicero's absence and a seeming lack of concern weren't missed. Ramsay felt more forlorn than usual without his father present. There was nothing much to be done about it. Cicero could be dead, or gone away somewhere else, and they were far away now. Still, he wished there was an effort to find him.

He arrived as Vaati began speaking, and settled in to listen to what he thought was a declaration on what would happen next. In the time since the start of the war, Ramsay's poor attitude toward authority had begun to improve. Though he still looked to Cicero as his true leader, he began to obey the occasional command from the pack's actual leaders. That was perhaps the only reason he was in Noctisardor Bypass and not dead in the jaws of their enemies. He had even found respect in him for Vaati as a leader that hadn't been there before, and sat with high expectations and hope as his brother addressed the pack.

Expectations that crashed to earth just as quickly.

You see, Ramsay was a thinker. Though much of what he did seemed spur-of-the-moment, the young boy was beginning to calculate before taking actions. What seemed to be growing up and learning his place was simply a side effect. His freedom was still paramount to him, and he had come to recognize a lot of things that Blackfeather Woods did that had led them to this point, to losing as they had. They were a secret guild of assassins and spies, but broadcasted themselves loudly to the world with their border displays. Their lack of subtlety was the reason war came to them, their gaudy displays were how their enemies found them. Ramsay had come to learn how dangerous flaunting was by witnessing firsthand the effects of it, and he saw now the horrific effect that same thing could have on someone's person.

Vaati had ever been arrogant, but it wasn't something his younger brother had ever witnessed. Vaati had seemed perfectly reasonable, concerned with the pack's safety and with his family. This wolf was someone else entirely, proclaiming that they would smash themselves again and again against their victorious enemies until, Ramsay thought, Blackfeather Woods was inevitably shattered. They had lost once already. What would prevent that from simply happening again? Their enemies were stronger than they were. Ramsay felt something black and oily curl into his belly, and his ears drifted back against his shoulders as a frown crossed his face.

Arrogance had gone and made his brother mad.

The boy's eyes drifted to Iliksis to watch the reaction. He knew he had no reason to trust this man; he was an outsider who had come in and was a volatile wild card. Ordinarily he would stand by Vaati's side without a second thought against such a creature. But as Vaati began to threaten the wolf in more violent terms than Ramsay thought should ever come against a pack mate, the black oil in his stomach curled tighter and expanded, and he was left wondering who he really wanted to win: the bold outsider or his brother, so insanely mad with power and ego that he would let it destroy them all. He knew the answer, and it warped his gums into a sickened expression as he watched.
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Ooc — mercury
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#6
Like a sea calming after the storm, the torrent of emotions that had racked Maegi's mind for the last two weeks had smoothed into quiet, empty nothingness. She was tired. Simply tired. And she knew she ought to feel guilty, for letting her body decide what was worth thinking about--in this case, nothing at all--but she couldn't control it. Couldn't control her eyelids constantly drooping, the ache in her young muscles.

Blackfeather had lost the war, and they had fled. Those two things were of the utmost significance, at this point. The details had been lost in their swift flight, and the exhaustion that ensued. Lethargy had wiped from the forefront of her mind the terrible images the budding priestess had lain eyes to in the war. But the respite they now found at the Bypass had not erased the fact that beloved wolves had died, or were missing. The dark forest was spattered in blood. And now, the once-mighty pack retreated north, licking their wounds, homeless for the first time in seasons.

She stayed close to her brothers, for the most part. The three youngsters each looked haunted by what they had seen. And she knew that the adults, too, were chased by their own demons, whether they had won or lost their individual spars; they all knew Blackfeather would be indelibly marked by this conflict for many moons to come.

And when Maegi wasn't with Ramsay or Euron, she stayed close to Kove, and was drawn to his side now as the howl went up. Cicero was likely dead, and her older brother quite distant. The others were not near enough to her heart to merit her company. She felt as if Kove was the only adult wolf who truly understood her.

She had been practicing, too. Kove would be pleased. She had mouthed prayers as they had traveled, the words tumbling through her brain the only distraction to the horrors they had witnessed. The gods, who were so high, were, interestingly enough, the only things rooting young Maegi to earth. Sithis, Mephala, the minor Daedra. . .they were more real to her than the corpse she had seen--her first of many, in her life--or her battered, bloodied packmates around her.

Being so tired, Maegi resisted slumping against the northerner's side, instead trying her best to listen to the angry rhetoric pouring out of her brother's mouth. She was proud of him. . .but scared, at the same time. She saw Ramsay's face pull into an expression she couldn't quite place, and her own mouth twitched, unsure.

Not being conflict-minded, she missed a lot of the finer points of the discussion, but she understood that the creepy man and his creepy uncle--their names escaped her, for now--were vying for leadership of the pack, and that Vaati absolutely would not back down. Blood was important to her, and she sided with the head Melonii, naturally--but she did worry, for a moment. What if others were so shaken by the war that they chose this ghoul as their commander, rather than Vaati, who had led them to defeat? Could Blackfeather be on the verge of a civil war?

Vaati spoke of blood and death, mercy and punishment. Blood and death, she finally had been subjected to. . .but the latter two things, she knew only on a spiritual level. Perhaps the girl would grow cold, heartless, when she saw them in living, breathing action.

The numbness finally overcame her, and she suddenly felt nothing, simply nothing, as she stared at the debate, bicolored eyes fixed flatly on her older brother.

Would grow cold and heartless? Perhaps she already had.
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Ooc — Kris
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#7
The war had excited him. It was terrifyingly thrilling. The cacophony of snarling rage and the smell of blood had his fur standing on end like the build up of electricity that preceded an imminent lightning strike. Seeing his packmates battle had even encouraged him out from the shadows to try his own teeth when an opportunity, with the odds stacked in his favor, presented itself. But the storm had not ended in their favor and Euron found himself lost in the aftermath and nursing a savage headache.

Sickened by the throb in his temple and sleep deprived, the boy was not stealthy at all in his approach. He was despondent and weary, his steps heavy and clumsy as he forced himself forward, dropping his rear into the snow near to his siblings. Euron felt as though he was floating, and all that was said seemed to come from somewhere far away like a distant echo. He squinted and strained to listen. Though he heard it through a peculiar haze, he was able to hear enough.

"Fight!" He wanted to holler, but his distant expression was unchanging and he could move neither his lips nor his tongue. "Rip his tail off!" He tried again, addressing the black wolf for whom he had a strange affinity, and not his older brother for whom he had no particular care. But still, nothing came out. Euron felt as though he could do nothing at all. Like he was frozen in time. Forced to watch but unable to participate as he stared rigidly ahead.
Moonspear
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#8
The ebony pelted wolfess hears the call of one of her pack mates and silently debated on whether she should go. Her curiosity, however, gets the better of her and she swiftly makes her way to his location. When she arrives there is a slight conversation between Vaati and an unknown male whom she did not recognize. Not wanting to interrupt, she keeps to herself and watches just like everyone else seemed to be doing.
Eternal Black She Brings
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Ooc — Meebee
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#9
Astrid was not wounded badly, but mentally she was drained. The only loss she had ever suffered was Damien, and even that had not been so humiliating as losing with your entire pack. Perhaps, if she had remained their Dark Mistress, a war could have been avoided. Or better yet, won. But her "what if's" did not help her regain her cool. Her speckled form turned when she heard the call, slowly as to not strain herself, and she made her way to the tense scene.

She watched but did not step in to defend any party in this. They could fight among themselves all they wanted, but she would have no part in it.
Nyx carries with her a raven named Tulugak - feel free to reference him (Bio for more info)
the boogeyman
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Ooc — Bo
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#10
The devil's ears swiveled atop his crown to meet his nephew's words. It was an apt forewarning for the action that followed. There was a dangerous glint in his gaze as a smirk curled the leathery corners of his lips. For all that Iliksis was, Ithrik appreciated his brazen honesty. The boy was younger than he, but not all that different in his methods. Of course, they had their own tastes, but the vile hound would always support the decisions of his nephew, and would offer his own aid if it meant that he would be provided with a chance to taste the blood of another. It seemed, this was where their paths would lead them. Iliksis called to Vaati without pause, and Ithrik swung his head in search of the pallid and incompetent brute.

Already, the devil's fur rose along his neck and shoulders at the sight of their leader. The pale-furred wolf wandered through with a cocky swagger. Ithrik did not believe that he would eat this wolf; Vaati would be tough and would taste like wasted potential. Still, the patchwork devil wanted to kill him – he was certain of this much. He knew that Iliksis had wanted the very same, and to show the wolves of Blackfeather Woods what real leadership was capable of. The political play did very little to enchant him, but Ithrik was more interested in the dramatic play that had begun to unfold before them. Vaati not only approached with a cocksure swagger, but he began to spill words from his dark lips like a playwright with a heated desire to share.

“You want to kill me because you think we have lost.”

Ithrik chuckled; a sinister sound that rasped from the back of his throat. His eyes rolled upward and into his skull for a brief moment before sliding back down and locking on the face of the pale youth. What a foolish statement to make against two who seemed to care very little about wins and losses. One so young could only be capable of speaking, because the young did not know what it meant to show true action. Ithrik shook his head and allowed his lip to curl over rotten fangs in a ghastly smile that stretched his features. “We don't want to kill you because we have lost,” he told Vaati with another raspy chuckle. The fur along his neck and shoulders danced with the catch of a breeze.

“We want to kill you because you are weak.”

The truth of the matter was that Ithrik had very little respect for anyone, no matter his supposed rank within their pack. He did not believe that a single soul deserved the bow from his head or the cowing of his tail as it pulled between his hocks. No, he was capable of so much more than those wolves could ever provide for him. But, Iliksis was a good boy and would have made a very suitable leader to the Blackfeather wolves. His nephew was nothing like the sad specimen before them. Vaati was not a suitable leader, no matter the garbled mess that spilled from his desperate lips. Ithrik would not wish to follow such a sad creature into the heat of any war, ever again. Funnier still, the pallid 'Dark Master' believed that he was the rightful leader of those lands. He had never been so wrong.

While Vaati babbled about his needs and wants, Ithrik watched the audience begin to trickle in to their conundrum. The words from the white youth were trickling through the hairs of his ears, but the devil had spotted something far more appealing. Three young pups had opted to see what was happening with their pack – with the home that they had come to know. A pang erupted inside of Ithrik's gut as he looked at their tender little frames. Their flesh would be soft and malleable still, and though they were old enough to speak and wander on their own free accord, it did not mean that they were old enough yet to fight off the snap of his fangs and the desire that thrust him forward. He could not help but to feel himself swaying in place as he peered at their shorter limbs and sweet faces. Surely, the meat at their hocks would be the most delicious – surely.

Vaati's voice had grown quiet, and Ithrik snapped his attention back to the pale wolf. The orange of his gaze danced like a raging fire against a dark backdrop. His previous statement could not have been any more false; Ithrik did not care if they lost their sad little war. The devil had no alliance with the wolves of the wild wood. If all of them had perished in their battle, he would have eaten their corpses and stolen their tails to add to his collection, but nothing more. The vile hound was apathetic and no amount of chit-chat would be enough to sway his mindset.

“You talk too much,” he snickered with a turn of his ears. “Iliksis will challenge you and I will find one of your pups over there to rape until their rectum bleeds. When I am done, I will eat every tender piece of their sweet little body.”

Ithrik turned away from Vaati and drew his snout toward the air, drinking in the scent of the young and the others who were falling in as witnesses. None of them had moved, and so Ithrik wondered if these wolves really did care what happened to their pale commander. His entitled and pretentious speech about mercy and generosity had been wasted, for it had fallen on deaf ears. Ithrik did not care for his mercy – he cared only for the taste of young blood against his writhing tongue and the feel of an adolescent frame wrapped in his limbs. Ithrik had gone far too long without it to care where it came from, and so his attention had fallen on the young and their curiously intense stares.
warning: PG-18+ & graphic/violent - this character does not reflect my OOC/person. Please only join Ithrik's threads if you are comfortable with explicit content.
those whom life does not cure, death will.
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#11
iliksis believed his call would go unanswered.  a palpable thrill fluttered in his chest like a beating moth trapped in hand as he saw the boy's sauntering figure approach -- while his sharp muzzle remained free of perceptible emotion, in the corners of his dull yellow eyes there sat a delighted and glittering malice.

he remained still as the boy spoke. he spoke of things iliksis cared little for, and he spoke far more than iliksis believed the situation warranted. when the threat of killing them (a threat the malevolent coywolf had yet to utter himself) broke over the pair he looked back at ithrik with a sneer -- as if to convey the hilarity of the idea that an adolescent would overpower them. before he had simply wished to dethrone the arrogant youth -- but something about being threatened in such a manner caused iliksis to abandon his previous plan of usurping for a far more violent and fascinating ending. iliksis did not know vaati's experience when it came to forcibly extinguishing life, but found the threat idle in its weight. it was not a threat he was intimidated by for he had demonstrated he was perfectly adept at killing. above all else iliksis found a comfort in it, a stylistic thrill that captivated him in calamitous ways he simply could not articulate. he was not a talker like vaati -- he prefered to exercise the sharper, keener weapons of his teeth.

he stepped forward confidently as ithrik's own words, darker and far more sweetly succint, broke the canopy.  brutal words, words of a true killer -- iliksis smiled to himself as he digested the gravitas of their utterance. he did not feel pity for the children, or for vaati - vaati had earned his contempt through threatening to kill him and for that iliksis would see the snow dashed in the vibrant crimson of the arrogant juvenile's blood. he began to prowl around vaati in a wide circle, his muzzle lowered and his gait not unlike the careful tread of a stalking cat. he walked in defensive posture with his throat protected and his soulless gaze on vaati. he uttered one single word. "fight."
warning: PG-18+ explicit content.
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Ooc — Kris
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#12
Sorry to skip but it's been over two weeks and I am just going to pull my character out. It would kink his timeline too much to engage with Ithrik here unfortunately, and I just want to clear outdated threads from my radar. :)

"But I want to see what happens..." Euron protested in his mind as he drifted away from the scene. His legs were moving seemingly on their own, carrying him away from a threat he did not grasp. "I don't understand..." In a matter of moments he was gone entirely, and he would wake later not knowing how he had gotten from the edge of the conflict to some quieter corner of the bypass.
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Ooc — mercury
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#13
maegi is blinking man gif rn

Okay, those guys were creepier than anything she had seen in Blackfeather Woods, and the dark forest held a lot of very creepy things.

She blinked, stupefied, at Ithrik as he lifted his muzzle, inhaling their scent, and while she didn't understand half of what he said, she was smart enough to understand a very present threat. Maegi cowered closer to Kove, but a flash of gray and white caught the corner of her eye. Euron, looking dazed, traveling away from the scene.

Perhaps it was time to make her exit, too.

Looking warily over her shoulder at Ithrik, Maegi trotted over to Euron and walked alongside him, resting her tail along his haunches so as to give him some semblance of support, if only emotional and not physical. She hoped Ramsay would follow. She found herself not caring much anymore about what happened in the fight, only that her brother was all right.

"Euron," she whispered, ears flattened in concern. "Are you all right?"

She didn't leave his side for many more hours. In this land so alien, so perverse, to her, her brothers were the only things that mattered.
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#14
l8r mates, can't wait any longer!

He wasn't listening when Ithrik issued his threats and eyed them hungrily; Ramsay's tired eyes were on the conflict, on his mad hatter of a brother and the wolf that sought to depose him. He didn't know Iliksis. He knew Vaati, or had before, but this wasn't Vaati anymore. This was some beast wrought of arrogance and entitlement, two concepts that were only recently acknowledged as problems, so Iliksis being a stranger was made less important, and the challenge intrigued him.

But when Euron suddenly turned and left on wooden legs, followed by a concerned Maegi, Ramsay left as well. He wanted to stay and watch the challenge, heedless as he was to Ithrik's threats, but in the end, he only cared about two wolves here: Euron and Maegi. He didn't care who won the challenge. He didn't care if Iliksis was defeated and ousted from the pack, or if Vaati was defeated for his egotism. He cared only for his litter mates and the missing Cicero, and knew that no matter what the outcome of this was, they would always ensure his happiness.
in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold, blood and flame
390 Posts
Ooc — jal
Away
#15
Foolish -- perhaps he is -- but weak... weak is something he has never been. In the moments when he has faltered in strength, he had paid for it and learned to never do so again. Weak does not survive being hunted for months, nor evade death time after time. Yet, the duo's colourful and one-worded responses do not come as a surprise. There had been little hope that they would accept, and there would be very little lost at the refusal. The yearling shakes his head almost condescendingly. "Pity," He had thought them smarter. Ithrik had dug his own grave at the threat of Blackfeather's young. Even if they were to kill Vaati, Blackfeather Woods would never follow them. Vaati has learned the wolves of the dark woods are fickle creatures. Nothing will impress them nor sate their desires; they exist happily only on the verge of extinction when there is no one to turn to and blame, existing in a state of content only out of necessity. Blackfeather Woods as a single entity could not give a shit about Vaati himself -- and he knows this -- but they would rather see his head attached only by a cord and sitting the throne than two outsiders making threats to their young. Instead, the yearling throws his head back and laughs sardonically in the following of the uncle's barbaric plans, seemingly meant to shake some fear into him... as if Vaati could still yet fear empty threats when he has feared much more and survived.

The triplets would not be harmed -- they are much more crafty than himself to ensure their own survival. However, it takes only a summoning howl for those who had not yet arrived to ensure not one hair on all three of them would be touched by the man, and in the same breath, an order to make sure the other does not leave the territory alive. Iliksis, Vaati will kill himself. He would enjoy fulfilling the dire warning he provided, for it is a mistake to confuse his honesty for pure arrogance. Perhaps he is arrogant in the same way all commanders are, only because they reserve the right to impose their gravitas... but because they have earned it. What arrogance he has stems not from youth but the factual assurance that this rebellion will be not even a blip on the history of Blackfeather Woods, in the end. However the problem prowling threateningly before him will not go away merely by words, and in very little time later does he launch himself fully at the challenger before him, claws extended and canines bared in a target for the throat.
for the sins of the unworthy
must be baptized in blood & fear
those whom life does not cure, death will.
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#16
I am making some liberal PP here, just to wrap this up - Vaati is inactive, and I was given PP permission from Ithrik

he tired of the male's arrogant ramblings. he simply stared -- until vaati finally swung his jaws shut and approached him.

iliksis had been in several scraps in his life where he was at a disadvantage -- vaati towered over him, and as he pulled closer and his shadow fell on the male iliksis felt keenly the difference.

it did not waver his ambition, nor his disdain for the male. vaati was young, and therefore, easily exploitable in iliksis' eyes.

the two clashed in a flurry of fangs and claws, snarls erupting from their wrinkled muzzles. they jawsparred and thrust and parried, a flash of limbs here, a snap of teeth there -- and tufts of fur and far-flung snow riddled the air with their antics.

iliksis believed his success would happen -- until he made the mistake of overstepping a counter, and vaati's teeth suddenly sunk deep within the thick of his neck. unmistakable pain rose and he bucked against his assailant, striving to rid him of his purchase. both were wounded and heavily battered, and blood seeped both of their muzzles and matted their wintry coats in a thick and effulgent crimson hue.

he was flung to the ground by the power of vaati's next blow, defeated -- but ithrik was hot on the male's flank with his rotten teeth scything.

iliksis watched his uncle expertly dominate the juvenile alpha -- a series of quick maneuvers that had the yearling pinned under the dark male's teeth and hopelessly bested. he felt a smugness balm the sting of his own defeat as he looked upon the crushed alpha, and then to his triumphant uncle.

yet the victory they shared was marginal, for a casual sweep of the vicinity showed that none had come to their alpha's aide during his peril. neither iliksis nor ithrik were stupid -- a pack that did not rally to their alpha's side was not a pack worth governing. with a disdainful sneer wrought across his countenance he lifted to his feet and padded sullenly after his uncle.

the two had no place her any longer -- not among weak wolves, nor cowardly ones. they had no succor here, no anchor -- like vagrants they quit the spectral forest, drifting out into the wild unknown in tandem.
warning: PG-18+ explicit content.