Wolf RPG - damn birds.

@Lotte

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Why on earth Brunhilde had continued walking in this direction, even after obsvering the strange myraid of birds from afar and hearing their insesent screeching, was lost to her, but it was too late now. She had, in fact, kept walking, convinced this tiny mountain of rock might provide her with a vantage point, but now that she'd finally arrived and began to scale the landscape, it became very clear that she would not be high enough for such an endeavor. So now, instead of looking out over the unfamilair land so as to make a path of travel, she just found herself staring at thirty million freaking falcons, all screeching at eachother, her, the world, and bascially anything else with the ability to hear, quickly wearing away at her temper.

A low growl rumbled in her throat as she moved along, head hung low and murky brown eyes glaring at each feathered nuisance that crossed her line of sight. What a waste, to spot this uprising from so far away and go so far out of her way to get here, only to find it less than useful. As she moved along, one of the spiteful creatures suddenly dove at her from no where, it's talons outstretched and aiming for her back, causing the bulky female to drop to her stomach and roll out of the way. Once upright again, her face contorted into an enraged snarl and she aggresively barked at the creature, snapping her jaws in the air as if it were the bird's throat.

Maybe she could eat one of them? No. Those talons were too dangerous. It was a good rule of thumb to not go after anything that could gouge your eyes out and fly just out of reach.

Huffing, she pushed herself back up again and started forward once more, just wanting to escape this aggitating place.
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I am sorry for the delay, Floof! I loved your post. It made me smile.

Hunger is what drove Banríon from her husband’s side and out into the territories beyond Teaghlaigh’s borders. She told herself it was because she did not want to take meat from the caches while Olive and Dakarai were still recovering, especially now that the misted druid was nursing three fat, healthy cubs — a fact that still rankled no matter how positively Lotte tried to spin it. The truth of the matter was simpler: she wanted fresh gyrfalcon eggs, and if she managed to kill a bird or two, so much the better. Saliva dripped from her jowls as she navigated the ridge, ducking and weaving as the fussy little feather dusters bombarded her with a cacophony of piercing shrieks. Her lips quivered into a defensive snarl as she flattened her ears against her skull; she didn’t mind the noise, but she wasn’t so sure that the eggs were worth the effort given how much guff she was getting just for walking. A rumbling growl churned within her breast — discontentment at being denied something she wanted and the irritation that went hand in hand with hunger — but stilled as she regarded the bear of a woman whose disgruntled expression mirrored her own.

Lotte issued a guttural chuff pitched to slip below the high pitched screeching that surrounded them. The creature before her rivaled Lærke in size. The soot-stockinged rogue was no slouch when it came to height and breadth, but she couldn’t match the sallow-fanged bruiser. If Teaghlaigh had a few more of this female, they need not fear retribution from Blackfeather Woods — Lotte observed the stranger’s scars and shorn tail with respect that bade her to cant her broad muzzle. “Rakeet, comrade,” she called to the barrel-chested soturi, feeling a thrill dance through her blood. Here was something familiar. No weak-willed waif was this.

It's fine! And thank you! <3

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After several more irritation-filled paces, the brutish woman became vaguely aware of another's presense, causing her to slow to a stop and turn to face the creature's direction. The hell spawn birds didn't seem all too happy about her stopping to linger, their squaks and screeches having considerably heightened nearby to signal their distaste, but she paid them no heed aside from a sneer. The stranger before her was much more interesting. Or maybe just less annoying. Either way, a welcome distraction from the flying pests, if not a curious one.

The approacher had undoubtfully feminine features, complete with the sweet, wafting scent that all woman (even a burly one such as Brunhilde) carried. Yet her body was larger than the traditional females of Brun's homeland, berring a height similar to her own, and the charcoal woman's fluffy pelage made it impossible to dictact just how much musculature she carried. An interesting specimen, and she certainly held the beast's attention for daring to break the mold of her childhood society, not appearing like the small, dainty flower her people said women were supposed to be. For that reason, and partially out of natural apathy, Brun did not glower or growl when the woman drew nearer, instead fixing the other with her casual look of laid-back neutrality

Then, however, the woman spoke, and the intrigue surrounding her appearance seemed to evaporate.

"Huh?" Gruffed the bear in a monotonous and slightly confused voice, her brows just faintly pinching together. What the hell did those words even mean? Rakeet? Kinda sounded like a sneeze. Comrade...? That one sounded a little, tiny bit familiar, but its meaning was still lost to the burly woman, especially when paired with the first term. Ugh. Confusing foreign language.

Before she could make heads or tails of what the woman was trying to say, a nearby falcon had seemingly lost its patience, the crazed bird having decided to swoop upon the females again, blindly aiming for the area between their faces with its talons outstretched. Now involved in a conversation (sort of) and quite frankly too lazy to pull another duck-and-roll maneuver, the brute mearly threw her front half to the ground in a crouch and willed the bird to pass. Her good eye burned intesnely into the creature's form, and once she was out of talon range, she quickly lunged back up to all fours and attempted to snap at the bird, alllmost catching its tailfeaters, but not quite. With that incidental moment of terror over, her gaze found the stranger again and all anger/annoyance was gone from her features, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. For this place, it hadn't.

"Who're you," came her husky bark, figuring there was no use in deciphering what the other had said, so she'd just use her own words, words she understood.
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I am very sorry for being so lame, Floof ♥

Lotte flattened her small, bearlike ears tightly against her crown, lips peeling back as her snout wrinkled and her jaws snapped at a particularly bold falcon with a penchant for eye gouging. “Lotte,” the rogue said simply, shaking out her fur to free it of the feathers that wafted through the air in the raptor’s wake. “Rakeet, in my tongue, is a way of saying hello,” she added, recalling the behemoth’s earlier confusion.

Argent eyes settled with frank curiosity upon the burly female. “You are not like the women here,” she said frankly, her poor choice of words belied by a second bow of respect. “They are so weak — there are none in my pack with agility and strength such as yours.” She referred to the stranger’s quick evasion of the passing bird and then swift retaliation. “Well — maybe me,” she amended with a mischievous grin, never one to discount her own skills. Lotte was proud of the things she’d worked for and achieved, and modesty here would detract from what was purely fact: she was a soturi.

Mindful of the stranger’s previous confusion, “Are you a warrior?” Lotte asked, employing the common tongue. She followed up with what she probably should have started with: “Who are you?”

The two females exchanged pleasantries, but Lotte returned home soon thereafter, answering a summoning howl from Arturo.