She knew where she tread, now. The wraith paused in her solitary wanderings, muzzle scenting the air and detecting the familiarity that came with this place. She had but passed the woods once, perhaps twice, but as her wandering gaze settled on the west, she realised that this place was but a couple days travel from what had once been Arthendal. She remembered well the thick canopy of Shadewood, the rivers that had once encircled her home. The mountains, the territories.
Her gaze settled back on the path before her. She would not return, had no cause to. She was hardly nostalgic, and Arthendal had her remember a time that had seemed good, but had ultimately led to her downfall. The thought of past failings and the faces that came with it had a hiss escape from betwixt her fangs, unbidden. No, she would not return, to that place or what she had been becoming.
Her mind turned to the hunt, and to dulling the ever-sharpening razor that was hunger. She strode amongst the trees with a kind of arrogant confidence, casting about for some foolish prey that would ultimately make some mistake and end up her dinner.
rTaking to a break, useful as he had plans, The Nightmare King left his abode of Phantom Hollows. There were things he needed to do, such as establishing not only a safe, but quick way to the western lands with as little danger posed to his ammasing group, as possible. It was quick how he gained new wolves, and after the ruthless hinds of Sithis kicked, they saw how fate was not there to spare them unless they trekked safetly. He would have had Makaro accompany him, but the Acolyte was sent off to handle the quarry search, mapping out what foods will be available to him in the near areas if a single days trek. He had also had no desire for the company of his heir, but the solace that solitude provided. It was welcome sound to the King, no needing to worry of how he might need to keep an eye on his Bloodborn, but to focus on himself and reflect upon this moment. There was a glory coming, and it was going to be the reign of his new kingdom, if he could establish it's bases properly.
Through the sight and path of another, the Shadow Sire kept on the move, his crown held high as he continued his scouting. While taking steps with his massive footfalls, a startled rabbit was spooked, and sent jumping high into the air, away from its den entrance. A lunge of extended forlimbs pinned the airborn rodent to the ground, while the forward motion pummled the thing, and needless to say, smashed over half of the frail bones in its minute frame.
Rabbit. The scent prevailed here, leading the woman to think she must be near a burrow, something of the sort. She shifted her path quickly and silently, approaching the scent with the eagerness of a hunter. But there came too the sound of another, heavy, careless footfalls, that had the woman's tail lash tightly in blossoming anger as she moved faster towards the scent. Whichever buffoon trod carelessly here was going to scare her meal away.
There came a burst of movement, and the woman moved with the grace and speed of an adder to where the glimpse of prey had been caught by roving optics. Yet not fast enough, for as the wraith made her presence known and her lunge faltered, for it became quickly obvious that the other she had sensed had her dinner.
Immediately regretting halting her attack, she was quick to leap back into motion, the object of her adder-like lunge the male who held her catch. Fangs searched for a grip on a throat, or chest, the warrior throwing herself into motion and seeking revenge for the male's intrusion as fast as possible.
Despite him not being hungry, meals would only elude him if he allowed them to. This rabbit was not so lucky, meeting its demise in the barbaric smash of his bear-like paws. He knelt to puck up the heated corpse, but his aud, a trianglular radar, snatched up the scant sound that was...
on its way. And quickly.
Out from the gloom of Neverwinter flew a ghost, starch and pristine in both form and intent, though he had already taken her meal with full seconds to spare. She was too slow, and the draining rabbit was proof of it. However, rather than acknowledging her loss, the wench attempted shoveling her wounded pride into an attack, one the brute was well enough ready for. With his skull still facing down at the meal, he braced himself and took an angle with firm and muscle-stocked hinds, offering the slim muzzle of the hellion a massive shoulder in which her fangs would lodge. However, with her attack would come a cost, as once the trigger of pain was pulled, Slade would thrust his mountainous body forward, the momentum remarkable enough to either shove her away cleanly if she dislodged, or shatter numerous teeth if she insisted on taking a chunck of him, instead.
The Nightmare King was merciless when it came to battles, only resulting to something as crude as fighting when it came to settling an uncivil dispute with another, which usually reigned him victorious, size and might of the behemoth forcing the opposer to submit before he even need lay a fang on them. However, scorn was what fueled the woman, sand Slade knew fully how scornful a woman could be. Lest she wind up more injured than what such a pretty frame should, Slade would brutalize her until she learned her place.
a shoulder was offered, and in a shoulder did her fangs catch. but the hold was temporary, for he shoved his weight forward, and the woman was not stupid enough to hold on. instead, she twisted away, moving towards his flank as he moved forward, attempting to crash into her. she was agile, and quick, and her fangs sought a grip on his rear limb, thinking the beast would be slower to react because of the way he had a second before crashed forward.
should her fangs find hold on the limb she would proceed to tear into it as much as she could, should she gain no grip, to dart back and search for another opening. she was no fool to engage a male larger than herself in close combat, where she might easily be crushed.
This woman was deceitful, as his shoulder lunge not only was denied of breaking her teeth, but she flew far enough to his rear that he only just barely missed her lithe form. He was agile yet, but she lightweight made her more flexible than he, and only because of that earlier shove was his leg not shredded. A tear however was felt, the sting of a clean slice from sharp bone to flesh on his flank was a notification to him that he had to keep eye on his own six.
Perhaps he should have had his heir with him, after all. He didn't need him, but it would be useful to have his assassin take down this girl, as his strength was in his ability to be a tank, take as much damage while powerhousing it back. Agility was lost to him as his build was refined into that of a noble Mackenzie, buff, huge, and made for dealing savage amounts of power.
Volcanic gems of hellfire lit, boring into the frosty frame of the hellion before him. A thunder was summoned from within the deep caverns of his chest, rolls of tempered and searing words laced with dangerous promise. "Submit, or the Hells of unchained wrath will befall you."
If she refused, he would call upon the closet wolf he knew was closest to the vicinity, Cry, his first trainee. The wolf with a coat as dark as his own, and more youth to his bones, limber in form, and even more cunning than he when it came to battle. He knew well enough that Leila would be beside her newfound brother, and seeing him battle alongside the Shadow Sire, would only spurn the Nordic girl forth to join. Would this woman risk 3 wolves against herself, all of for a measly rabbit?
he turns on her, and it is then she realises his true size and the eerily familiar eyes. how is it that the woman keeps encountering that most monstrous wolves in Teekon? but she is hardly shrunk before him, if anything, her gaze becomes harder. "A lofty statement for someone who stumbles through the woods like a buffoon." she says, clipped and emotionless, recovering swiftly from her attack yet still on edge.
her gaze bores into the man, ice against fire, and she does little to submit, but neither does she challenge him again.
Slade listened to her response, his laugh following after it with a cascade of barks. Buffoon? Him? How quaint of the ivory. Molten irises clashed willfully with the frosty steels of the femme, his claws only shoveling themselve more in the dirt. "You call a wolf who needs not scuttle through the woods, a 'stumbling buffoon', yet this buffoon has a meal that you are too busy scuttling to achieve? Mayhap you stumble more, and a banquet will present itself to you, woman."
He scooped up the rabbit in an abyssmal claw, the tender meat being pricked and attached to his massive paw. Without looking at it, he called to her, his silken baritones an invite for nothing but hatred from her. He would welcome her loathe of him, as it partially fueled his desire to break her.
"I have no need to sneak, girl. It is daytime, and I have already eaten. It is wise to submit, as it will earn you this rabbit. And a place by my side in a greater hunt than peasant food. Or do you enjoy being half full, if not starving? Dine as a queen would."
The coax was a card he was fond of, as conflict either became within the party, or inside of the wolf he spoke to. It wasn't necessarily a wild card, but it was a card he felt was more of a delicacy to administer, as he did so, sparingly. The sole fact that she hadn't been culled by his might was interesting enough...but how far would she go to satisfy that void of hunger hat nipped at a single loners belly? She was one, but he was many. He and the rest of the wolves he had collected could join together in a hunt, not only making enough food for them all, but enough to last them a bit. They weren't specifically in a rush to the West; it was just he liked getting things done sooner. Food breaks weren't illegal.
"And why would I desire a place beside a wolf arrogant enough to think he can expect submission from me?" She was far too tired of submitting. For a year she had done it, and gained nothing. Her discussion with Vengeance had had her put that thought of seeking out company from her head for good. Besides, she was hardly starving; her full frame spoke of that. It was through scorn, rather than need, that she had attacked the male, their brief clash dissolving quickly into this but liable to begin again.
Her stance did not pose foolish aggression, but a cool stillness, a dominance, that could not be taken from her by words. As the male met her gaze willingly so did she his, optics cold and reminiscent of the Arctic, barren of emotion. How curious was it that he desired not supremacy, but that and for others to run at his side. His words were not the ones of the regular loner, who sought not others but simply to dominate or submit and be on their way. A breath of the air had her know that his scent was not the only one that resided on his coat, there were others. A band, then. And by his words, he sought others. She was silent, storing the possible information for future use, perhaps. Her gaze did not fall once on the limp prey between them, no longer interested in it, nor the hunger that she had sought to sate moments ago.
"
Because I am he who can prevent you from coming to repeat history's different ends. What happened if it was not me, but a bear who took your kill? Would you still charge? Or if a babe took it, how would you feed you and them? Food will grow scant, and I have already massed plans for sucessful and easy life. The place I have scouted is an Eden, and if you consider my offer, a place will be set aside for you in it. It is not foolish to submit, only wise when it is time for it. The weak serve the strong, and with my entourage outing your singularity, it is clear who holds superiority. However, if in that lovely spiff of ours that I did catch a piece of you...it would not be light what I would have done."
Slade could only compare this to the other battles he had. He had fought bears, for Sithis sake. If he got hold of her, it was her life on the line. The thick ruff that protected his nape, a cape of onyx defense, was full and at utmost use to him. Now his front shoulder was scarred from the first tussle he had from the bear, a sign he had let one get too close, but other than that and a facial scar, he was unmarred. It wasn't a threat he delivered to her, though it was up to her to take it as such or not. It was a fact: he was a force to be reckoned with, and it was better to be on his side, than not.
"
I am fair, however. Prove your leadership skills to me, and you will not rule beside me as a submissive, but as a Queen, once the time comes for our kingdom to rise in Eden."
It wasn't like Slade to show softness to another, and the only one he currently held a soft spot for would be his adopted daughter Leila. He was however, offering an extension of himself in this deal, a secret, something he didn't breathe to others. Secrets kept deep in him were shared with the Family he had composed. The five, Makaro, Redmoon, Leila, Cry, and Loki. He was the head of the serpent.
Would she be his backbone?
Or the next target he struck as useless?
I feel so special~
her gaze narrowed at his supposed "help". she was no fool to charge a bear, nor was the woman stupid enough or soft-hearted enough to prioritise a babe over herself. his words continued, promises that held no depth, save for the item that entailed that he had the superior strength; she was not arrogant enough to think she could outwit and dominate an entire band. " Any wolf may promise things, speak of strength and greatness and power. Few, very few make due on their promises. Desire for ease, for companionship, may very well lead a wanting loner to the wrong wolves."
she too had fought bears. she had fought wolves, and wildcats, defended others and attacked outright. scars marked her body, her muzzle, and his too, they were similar in that if nothing else. but the desire for more information was what held her there, and not to leave this man and his lofty dreams. but she could not settle for words, not now, when still the blood rang in her ears and she was hardly certain this wasn't another stupid decision to follow.
"Prove your strength, your promises. I can not follow one who has nothing but words to offer." unspoken, was that if he should not prove the superiority he claimed she would leave him and his Eden with nought but scorn. likely, she would either way; her thoughts turned to Vengeance, and the wisdom he had shared and the potential he offered. her gaze was ice, but in the blankness sparked interest and the slightest thawing of her frosty disposition, fight for the rabbit over and seemingly nothing but words to come, for a time.
As true as her words were, she had managed to reveal something to him; she was considering the offer. That was all he needed. He wasn't sure however, whether he was still manipulating this hellion before him, this strong and unbowed sculpture of a iceberged woman, or whether he was indeed being truthful.
The lines became blurry each second he jousted vocally with her.
"You speak as true as I, but I am not one for basic companionship. In truth, companionship is subjective, as a loner can suffice with the life around them, and label it as 'companionship'. But I lust for something more substantial. What the other five and I crave is what glory a loyal and magnific family is capable of producing. Only the best are with me. And everyone will play their role, or they will be cast aside to rot in the Wilds of Teekon, or even worse, link with a pack that will be second hand to our own."
Slade stilled his tongue, as he had felt he had said enough to the wintery woman. He had given her everything she could ever want in a single paragraph; did she desire another spar for strength reasons? Or was she wanting for him to prove he was a worthy Alpha? Because as much experience as he's had with the reign within the Nightmares, there was nothing else he could have amassed to be. He was unsatisfied within his time at Blackfeather, even as he was gifted enough to be one of the original Dark Brothers. He couldn't surmise whether it was due to him being pulled away from leadership, or whether it was Meldresi's mateship with that runt of waste, Burke.
"For something as delicate as balance, I know nothing but words as wrath from your own end. I do not even know your name. Who are you?"
" If nothing else, most surely you are arrogant. To claim you are the best while wandering the Wilds with a group of vagabonds?" his sheer arrogance amazed her. Vengeance did not speak of grandeur, of being the best, the most fearsome. No, he simply was. The man she had chosen to follow was strength and was primal power, requiring not the words to explain so, or prove so, or gloat, quite unlike this male. her tail flicked in the manner of a cat, and she watched the male with the same feline boredom. there was a glimmer of ice, of ire, behind her frosted optics, but she hid it well.
At his words, a glimmer of amusement flickered in her gaze, at what, was not apparent. " I am Aeronwyn. Warlord, Tyro, once, Captain...I have played many roles." she offered, canting her head a fraction as she regarded him still. The second she had held for not much more than a month before taking her leave. The first had been hers for many months, and the latter one that was hers now, or was too be soon, if the man led true.
"And who are you, then? I expect something ominous," she asked, the faintest sarcasm tinting her last words, something she rarely employed. but she had come to learn the value of information, and of names, and would stay a time longer, wondering just how far the male would go to prove his strength and the glory he claimed to harbour.