Wolf RPG

Skirting the swamp that shrouded the nook of his willowy home, Warbone kept pace with a herd of deer he had followed unto the plains. His intention was to round them, and drive them towards the Ridge, where hopefully they would settle and house as a reliable source of food, but the task was proving irritating, as the deer reacted unpredictably to his presence, and scattered. This left him with a task infinitely more difficult than when it had been conceived, and the wolf was not prepared to go through the motions he had found so easy as a lone wolf. There was a tether behind him, pulling him back in the direction of the willows. He did not want to stray too far... lest his stake was taken from under him.

But his mind drifted ahead of him too. Initially on the deer, and then eventually, when he realized where he had come, he thought of @Tavi. The Grotto lay miles away still, a quick journey, but he would not let himself be distracted too deeply— neither by food, or the misplaced sentiment he felt towards a claimed female— so he turned with a tense and unhappy set to the line of his jaw, and he moved in the direction of the Marsh.

The path he took around the Taiga was long, snaking in and around the claimed territories, avoiding the ire of the local populations by virtue of being nothing but a ghost. He left little trace behind him; any kill he felled was left for scavengers, or devoured entirely. The life he lived demanded much of his body and soul, but he gave little thought to the impact it had on his psyche aside from the need to feed, and the desire to discover the strength of the packs surrounding his small hovel. A heavily-trodden trail of deer tracks caught his attention earlier that night, and only today did his feet land on the snow-kissed loam of the Dawnlark Plains. 

Ears twisted forward, then flattened as he drifted across the fields. Old snow from early in the season, only now uncovered by the warming season, crunched loudly underfoot as he wandered. But if he expected an uneventful day ruminating, he was soon proven wrong. A new scent dragged his mind away from the trail, and he paused with his tail at half mast. Milky brown eyes scanned his surroundings, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of movement. His nose flared and his heart hammered in his ears; was he trespassing?

No, but the figure warranted a follow. So he wordlessly altered his course and set off after the stranger with his tail hanging between his hocks in a clearly neutral manner.

At some point Warbone became aware that he was being followed. The wiles of a solitary wolf still breathes within him, so on instinct he forgets the task of building his home that he carries with him, and his spine ripples defensively. The wolf turned sharply, his face severe despite the absence of teeth. His face settled as he noted the other's posture and distinctly separatist scent. A wolf unbound to another pack; dark and narrow and capable-looking. Warbone lifted his tail, not in dominance, but in a level wag of interest. He moved forward in reserved confidence, and expertly  hung back several feet once he had come near enough to gauge a physical reception from the stranger. He acted differently around males than he did females. She-wolves, the bearers of their very race, were (on initial contact) to be given some semblance of respect. But the fathers, they were to be tested and kept fit at all times. To him, males were there to either take from him or uplift him; form either familial bonds, and excel in that manner, or bonds of dissonance and blood that often led to destruction. Warbone knew no in between with his own sex.

So he met this male in a forward fashion— there was time to tiptoe— and he was cautious, but quietly eager in the extension of his nose, wanting to sniff as close as he was allowed. There was no ruffle to his fur or immediate threat of violence, only understandable readiness. He would test the younger male's mettle, and seek to earn his respect as he thought men should.

The blood in his veins boiled as the other came into focus but he didn't succumb to the whims of his volatile heart and lash out. He kept it on a short leash for now. He could not afford a conflict so early into his tenure within the Wilds, especially with such an intimidating individual. Clearly the other male was capable; he possessed a tangible wealth of brute strength. The svelte male was, queerly, suspect that this male might even belong to the shadow figures that roamed the distant peaks of the northwest reaches. A whisper of smoke that ghosted through the pines. Tartok

A breath caught in his chest as the stranger extended his nose in subtle invitation to initiate the greeting process. His skin tingled, and he shifted his weight to his hind-legs in case he had to move, quickly. The tension was palatable, but after a second of consideration and a nervous crick to his tail, Sitiyok stretched his own nose out to meet the other with a cautious whiff. Warbone was everything Sitiyok wasn't; everything the boy of three summers ago wanted to be. 

Sitiyok huffed and twisted his ears back uncertainly.

The Okamiinu had followed her companion through the mountains as they'd begun to mark their new territory. While wandering, she found herself here now, with a stranger male. She gave a very soft chuff to her superior and stared, mismatched eyes flashing, at the stranger. She studied Warbone and how he approached the male in silence, learning quietly. He approached in an aggressive way, as if testing the waters, while the male ahead seemed uneasy or unsure, she couldn't tell. Her poker-face kept still as she watched, sleek form casting a shadow. Hmph, this was interesting.

Deep in the creases of tension there is something more. An uncertain pyre yet lit between them, and Warbone thought he might seek to ignite it. No violence spawned between them in the critical moment of silent introduction, and the lift of his tail changed marginally: speeding up, and discernibly lifting. Satisfied, he snorted and jerked his head in a stiff shake, tucking his chin as he pranced backwards several steps, chest swelling in a proud display. It was in that moment he realized he had a tail, and he looked over his shoulder at Flora. He did not invite her forward, yet unsure of how the male feels about him, let alone a compatriot of his. He rigidly motioned for her to remain back, and turned his face back to the wanderer.

Not yet comfortable with the idea of horseplay with a stranger, he chose instead to offer his favorite pasttime and participate in what he knows to be a constant necessity for the life of a lone wolf. It would show them both, what the other was capable of. "Hunt with me," a question without questioning, and his pale eyes keenly search the sable male's sound expression.

Though his lips were set in a terse line, Sitiyok gave a stiff wag of his tail tip when Warbone backed away. There was no flash of teeth nor any demands for his immediate submission in this neutral ground, but it was not yet over. The sooty ranger was nearly relaxed enough to respond when another strange canine joined the former in the wordless conversation. She didn't charge him, and stayed just off the brutish wolf's flank. But what bothered him was that she was so... different. Her ears were scarred, pointed, and her entire body lacked the thick coat that protected against the elements; it was smooth. She was so entirely queer that it elicited a nervous rumble from his throat, and a stiffening of his limbs. Sitiyok held his tongue from further protest.

His gaze shot to the other's shrewd bottle-green eyes, "lead the way." He replied.

Flora's eyes narrowed as the male looked at her strangely. Yes, she knew she was so frigging different, but that did not mean he had the right to look at her like a piece of tainted wolf-meat. Her ears laid back and she gave a glance at Warbone, raising an eyebrow. When he rumbled, she sprung to her feet, fed up. Her back bristled and her gaze was as Icy as the climates she had been exposed to. She was silent, but gave a fatal glare and a quizzical glance at Warbone. Nobody, nobody, would be growling at Flora for a bloodline she could not control. She raised her head high, glowering down at him with fierce intensity. she as not challenging him, as she was deathly silent, and not warning him either. She was promising him, that he would not be known as anything but foe if he judged her breed. The beautifully dangerous woman then backed away far behind warbone, still glaring.

The melanoid creature, mistrustful of Warbone's strange companion, agreed to the sport of a hunt, and the bronze male lifted his tail assertively, automatically prepared to take point on the event. He turned, ready to advance the small troupe unto the Plains in search of the deer he had been earlier pursuing, but the look on Flora's face stopped him in his tracks. She was glaring at the nameless male, offput by his uncertainty at her presence. Warbone's back rippled in threat. He could be judgemental, but he could not fault the male behind him for being uncertain about her strange breed, and he was minutely miffed that he had thought Flora to be more level-headed that this. She was a representative of himself now, and he would never tolerate a hair-trigger reaction towards those not fond of her looks.

Sensitivity was something he did not covet, and had she reacted with anything other than this look she was giving now, she would have been met with a violent response from her supposed superior. He would not tolerate his wolves reacting riotously to superficial problems; and as the male had not pledged himself as she had, he only felt the need or ability to control one wolf in this scene. "If you cannot put your feelings aside at this moment, then you will not join us," he told her plainly, darkly, and then turned in a half-circle without waiting for a response. She could decide for herself if she could rein in her distasteful emotions or not, and the male too, would decide on his own whether or not he could tolerate her atypical looks.

Warbone beckoned with his tail, delving back into the plains without the assumption that either would follow him.

Sitiyok continued to stare at the woman, and absorbed her reaction with as much grace as he could. She didn't take kindly to his growl, reflected in the flinty glint in her eyes, and the prideful cant of her head. His lips quivered as he fought the urge to bare teeth at the hybrid, but the bronze male quickly took his subordinate in hand and gave her a curt ultimatum on the manner of her actions. The fire brewing at the back of his throat was quelled a bit by the notion that this strange leader had no intention of demanding his submission, or allowing his own to do the same. As if they met as tenuous equals. 

Calmed by the idea, the sooty male turned away from Flora and took the cue to follow as Warbone took point. One ear remained trained back on the strange woman in the event she betrayed Warbone's patience; he would not be caught unawares so soon into this discussion.

Flora quickly realized her mistakes and took three deep breaths, returning to her normal state and giving an apologetic nod to Warbone. She then flicked her tail(a wolfish thing about her) and trotted behind Warbone. Her long legs stretched out as she walked, occasionally giving a tiny glance at the male beside her. 

The transition from sharp-edged first encounter to operational hunting machine was almost seamless. The two fell into step behind him, and the trio moved in a rhythmic tandem, descending unto the plains with the intent of tracing the swiftly aging deer trail in hopes that it would lead to a promising dinner. Warbone kept his lips sealed and his nose low, motioning for his team to fan so that their chances of picking up the herd's scent would broaden. It was Flora who found the most recent trail, and as they convened on the spot, Warbone made the plan clear through body language and encouraging nips to his companions that Flora was to pitch, and the two males were to catch.

Locating the peacefully grazing herd, the bronze wolf motioned for his wolves to commence with caution as they took their positions. Flora disappeared, hopefully to take a spot on the opposite end of the herd, where she would chase the unwitting ungulates towards the waiting trap of the males lurking beyond. To the nameless male at his side, Warbone motioned, picking out an older doe that tried to remain obscure in the middle of the much younger crowd. She had a light limp, that surely wouldn't make her slow, but it would make her weak— A target.

They crouched in ready, two sets of eyes trained forward and ready for the wolfdog to begin the event.

He wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea of hunting beside a wolfdog, but the idea of a full belly was too tempting to muck up with petty arguments. Sitiyok followed the duo until they fanned out and began searching for the trail that would lead them to the herd. Flora found it first, much to his chagrin, but he turned heel and followed until they reached the area where the deer were grazing. Staying low, he watched Warbone as he silently passed out orders, only to nod and creep forward into an obscuring patch of honeysuckle. He'd not participated in a proper hunt for some time now, so every sense was keyed in; honed, primed, and ready.

Flora burst from the bushes, snarling and scattering the elk. The only remaining one was lame-legged, and heading straight for the trap. Her dog blood gave her the intense want to herd them, and so that is what she did. When the thing strayed from the path, she turned and growled, scaring it the other way. Ears pinned forwards and tail raised, she waited on the others to make a move.

The wolfdog was inherently superb at her task. She was fast and fierce, and the three of them were wildly successful in trapping the elder deer. The two males were well placed, and ascended like living gargoyles much to the despair of their prey. She put forth a valiant effort for her age, but was no match for the whipspeed of the dog and the stalwart blockade of earth and rock on either side of her, and each with a set of snarling teeth. As she tossed her neck to defend herself against the soot brute clinging to her side, Warbone went in for the killing blow— stealing her breath away with his jaws.

As the doe died, an overzealous Flora dove in for the belly, still wild with unspent energy from the efficient bout and not yet out of a loner mentality. She had herself a nice mouthful before the alpha descended on her with the rage of a solar flare. She darted away— a hyena from a lion— and he roared after her, sending the hybrid skittering back to the Willows where she would consider the lesson learned here.

Warbone turned, his violence roused now, and he plunged into the area she had broken; the way he gorged himself on the kill would be slightly dissuading to the other male from joining until the angered wolf had had his fill. (Feel free to PP him eventually moving away from the kill, if Sitiyok does wait.)

The kill was made easy with the combined efforts of the trio. When the doe fell, and emptied her last breath, a streak of brown and tan blew past the two males for the belly. Sitiyok's hackles flared instinctually, but Warbone was on her in a flash; he presented a wall of muscle and violence, which bowled over the lithe female. She skittered away to the woods, leaving Sitiyok relieved. 

He seated himself on the fringe of the kill, and watched patiently as Warbone tore into meat and gristle, consuming the richest pieces for his own. Sitiyok had no desire or energy to quarrel with the larger male, and so he waited for his turn. There was more than enough to feed them for a week.