Hoshor Plains clown incoming

@Arktos , joining/trespassing ?

a scraggly man wanders far from home, whistling a tune as sweet as birdsong. 
each prance, each trot he makes desecrates a home yet to be formed. but he cares not, for his song must be heard!

the smell of wolf, wolves, gets stronger, but the man does not mind it. he doesn't understand that he is an intruder; like icarus, he is flying too close to the sun.

while arktos had excused it the first time trespassing had happened, because it had been a kid, because the borders hadn't all been marked yet; this time was not the same circumstance. the borders fully marked the perimeter of the plains like lines etched into an old coffee stained map; patrolled and refreshed regularly. and there was more of them. than just him. than just nephele.

there is no mercy in the cold gleam of mossgreen gaze as arktos takes after the scent like a relentless blood hound; barreling towards the noisy stranger on his land with lips curled back and a snarl rumbling deep in his chest.

a train, a bulldozer, a bear came hurdling toward the man. and his eyes could've just popped out of his skull right then and there as he saw the massive (wolf?) ripping through the land just to get with him. he breaks his song with a blood-curdling shriek and bursts into a mad dash away from danger.

elk must soil themselves when they see this charging at them.

the trespasser lets out a shriek and takes off; and while the wrangler rapidly takes in the situation and how he intended to react. it is a second of thought; a choice made, despite that he was running off little more than pure instinct at the moment.

arktos does not break stride, but does not push harder. at the moment, he has no children to protect and does not see the need as the trespasser is fleeing, to resort to violence.

he keeps pace behind the other man, only slowing when they are both past the borders. is your nose fuckin' broken? growls the wrangler as he slows to a stop, flanks lathered and breath heavy. for a moment, there was but a small flashback of another encounter paying to the forefront of his mind. this, at least, had a slightly better chance of going in a different direction.

as soon as the bear's thundering steps halt, the man stops too. he barely even seemed out of breath, and he turns to face his persuer.
yeah. he snickers. probably. what's the problem, big guy? his mangy tail lashes between his hindlegs, smacking into the little stilts as if the man in front of him couldn't snap all four like a twig.

that's a mighty big snicker from a man who just shrieked and bolted like a frightened fawn. the wrangler scowls darkly at the other male, a slow snort leaving his flared nostrils. the willingness to bolt is what kept arktos' teeth from his flesh: it was a good instinct, arktos thinks. knowing when to choose flight over fight.

for better or worse, he couldn't say he knew how to choose. the scars that litter his body tell a story of a man who knew only how to fight.

this is yellowstone's land and you were trespassin'.

was i? his goofy grin doesn't fade even as he's insulted. you'd squeal like a pig too if you had bear chasing ya.

the man before him snorts like a boar, and the bard mimics it now from the safety of the invisible boundary that divides the men.

making a pack with a.. wifey? or hubby. now less tense, the mangy fool drops his butt on the ground and scratches behind his ear. what you do? make babies and piss and shit?

a frown darkens arktos' expression; already stormy. the thunder brewing in his chest creeps closer. just because there was a line of scent between them did not mean that the trespasser was safe from the brunt of the warbear's wrath. and arktos suspects that the stranger does not realize that situation he is in still full of gravitas.

for trespassing, arktos should claim flesh, should leave his mark.

hold your tongue, and watch how you speak to me. warns the wrangler; a candy coated way of telling him to 'shut the fuck up' without using all those brash words festering behind his teeth. you are not out of dark waters yet. yellowstone demands punishment for your transgression. because he doesn't appreciate the questions, because he's tired of trespasser ... just because. because he can.

hmm? theres a council watching us now?  yet bard stands, ready to bolt again like a hare. though he knew, like most rabbits, eventually they'll get caught. one bite from the man in front of him might just kill him.

i can do a little dance for you as an apology if you'd like! bard dips into a play bow. or is it a blood price you want — im littered in fleas, so you'll have to fight them first!

the mangy beast speaks in riddles that weave 'round arktos like a sickly fog; he immediately comes to the realization that he hates it. speak plain, straggler. growls the wrangler. perhaps he's too simple to understand the words that feel cleverly barbed..

or so, that is how arktos chooses to see it.

no, arktos snaps; to both. you got any useful skills 'sides pissin' me off?

the thick-skulled bear doesn't understand him, so the bard lowers himself

i can sing! i can dance, and i can run really fast! i can bite hard too, but i don't wanna lose a tooth.
he slouches back onto his seat, and watches to see if that satisfies the bear-man

nothing, aside from perhaps running fast, necessarily appeal to arktos as usable skills. he is stonefaced, assessing. deciding, despite that he is not done attempting to wring answers from the jester before him. but desperation for numbers to bolster the ranks, with the threat of the woman attempting to claim the lake beside it forces arktos to surprise himself.

if you can hunt and pull your weight, yellowstone will welcome you. the offer slid across the table, his poker hand shown. what the jester chose to do with it was up to him.

yea, i can hunt. mostly. he's better at stealing than catching anything but surely that'd be fine.

when do i start boss? he gives a clumsy salute with a toothy grin.

arktos harbors his reservations, especially as he witnesses the clumsy salute and toothy grin the other male offers him. a low snort leaves the wrangler. you start now, drawls arktos; scowling.

get yourself a den to rest your head and make the rounds introducing yourself. i'd start with my wife, nephele. get the lay of the land and then help fill the food caches.

with his orders issued, arktos returns to his patrol.