Wolf RPG

Since Sitri had been aware that Ira had been trailing him for a couple of days, eventually, Ira had grown bored of trailing the oddball that was Sitri and turned his eye to the other, preferably newer members of Silvertip, always listening and watching from the shadows and ledges that the pallid Prince favored. Gradually, Ira was getting more experienced at navigating the uneven, and at times, treacherous land that Silvertip had claimed. It had it’s advantages, Ira realized. They could see stretches of lands beyond their own and they knew the mountain well. If an attack was ever to be mounted they would have the clear advantage and mountain on their side. It was defensible. It was learning a shortcut to one of Ira’s favorite ledges that overlooked the stretch of flatland on Silvertip — much lower to the ground and henceforth not quite such a horrendous plummet if he should ever slip — though the outcropping was wide enough to accommodate two wolves at most that Ira had caught sight of his next target.

The male, like Sitri was earthen colored, though if Ira had known what chocolate was he would have compared the unknown male’s fur color to that. New meat, Ira thought with an impish tug of his lips. Majesty had been with the pack for a small amount of time, but not long enough to have been at the mandatory rally so, henceforth, he was new meat to Ira; and seeing as how Ira fancied himself Silvertip’s dashing assassin Prince it was apart of his duties to introduce himself to Silvertip’s newest. And to stalk the newest. Quietly he descended from his previous perch, careful not to disturb the rocks that littered his path. Ira’s steps were slow and made with a sharp, predator precision, silver irises flecked with icy crystalline blue around the pupils zeroed in on his victim, observing in utter stillness and silence for a few moments, wondering if the other male had fallen asleep. It certainly looked like that way.

“Get up,” The Prince snapped, barking through the silence hoping to snap the other ‘awake’. “Does it look like you can fucking nap? Go make yourself useful.” Ira demanded, voice dripping with the acid of disdain. Ira pulled himself to his full height, eyes cold and mischievous as they locked on the other male, waiting for a reaction. In a mimicry of dominance and haughtiness the Princeling was mostly just looking to cause a bit of mischief though if the other man had been sleeping while he could have been patrolling or hunting was just pathetic in Ira’s opinion.

Ira watched as the earthen kissed male’s shoulders rose and fall in what Ira thought was a sigh though the Prince was too far away to be able to tell by sound alone. Icy silver eyes watched as the male made a show — at least that was how Ira took the stretch and yawn to be — theatrics. Ira scoffed at the use of the title of ‘young one’. It was true and the Juvenile knew it but that did not mean he had to accept or even like it (which he didn’t). “I didn’t ask for excuses,” Ira responded harshly. “Or corrections.” Meditation. What in the hell was that? It certainly looked like napping to Ira. “Well you aren’t a regular helpful Harry,” The insolent Princeling drew with cold judgment and cutting sarcasm in his tone, giving the other man a mocking, toothy, cruel smile. New meat was new meat whether they resided higher in the hierarchy than Ira did — of which this male seemed overeager to point out daring to call Ira subordinate. No. That was wrong, very, very wrong. So wrong it was nearly laughable. Technicalities had never mattered to Ira. Technically, yes, everyone was “in charge” of Ira but the Prince of Silvertip had never saw it that way. Jinx was the only one who was allowed to tell him what to do. Jinx, alone, held the respect required to command Ira around. No one else (except for maybe Lecter whom Ira was…not warming up too but liking a little bit better than he had since they had abolished their enmity between them).

It was then that the Prince laughed. Not a mirthful sound but one intended to mock. “You could try,” The pre-teen hissed sneering at Majesty, tail lashing behind his hind legs. “You’re damn right you won’t,” Ira conceded, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The subtle hint in the other Silvertip man’s voice was noticed but largely ignored by Ira who did not give respect except to those whom he deemed worthy of it. As far as Ira was concerned, he was one of Jinx’s most loyal considering he had been with her since before Silvertip’s founding. Admittedly, when she had found him he had needed her and gradually that need had morphed into affection until he stuck with her because she was his adoptive mother, and in that respect, the only mother he had ever known. Of course Ira did not expect the other male to know who he was talking too, but that was the fun of the game. There was always a chance that even if he had known who Ira was it might have not made a difference. Regardless, Ira didn’t care; and since he didn’t have other pre-teens his age to run around asserting his dominance over he had to make due with the members of Silvertip. Of course Ira expected retaliation and this gave Ira a chance to sharpen up on battling with wits instead of physical battles alone (not that he really fancied the idea of a fight he was too worried about self perseverance for that). “What about patrols? There are always patrols to be ran. Wolves to recruit.” Ira, himself, was a recruiter and when he wasn’t in Silvertip he was out scouring the lands for potentials — when he wasn’t with his girlfriend …back when his girlfriend used to come around that was.

Ira suspected that this male, Majesty — as it was Ira did not yet know his name though if he did would have had a smart comment to say about it, surely — favored theatrics. It was kind of off-putting, despite that Ira had a whole list of off-putting qualities that he acknowledged. He did not think they were too bad because he had a girlfriend (or had, he wasn’t really sure what was going on in that department currently) and Jinx had never bothered to correct him on them when he had been younger. The earthen colored male smiled and Ira snorted, rolling his eyes when the other male went on to claim that he did patrol. Even if Majesty was telling the truth, Ira didn’t believe him if only because he felt certain that if he had gone on patrol as he claimed that Ira would have scented him (it was possible that Ira had been out earlier than Majesty, he went out at odd times to patrol never having a strict schedule on it as he had once suggested to Jinx), and because he only boasted of it after Ira had brought it up not before. Surely it would have been on his unimpressive list beforehand, Ira thought maliciously. “Ironic that I did not sent you on the borders when I made my rounds,” Ira spoke in a condescending tone and then yawned making a show of it. “I smell something on you but I wouldn’t say it’s a forest.” Besides, as far as Ira was aware Neverwinter Forest had ceased being a pack for a long time and though something of a piney scent hung to the male’s coat — along with a faint whiff of lone wolf — it wasn’t enough for Ira to ascertain that that it was specifically Neverwinter Forest. For all Ira knew he could have rubbed against a pine tree in Silvertip and then made wild accusations.

“Of course you didn’t,” Ira hissed, sneering at Majesty then. Ira suspected the man of lying and there was something in his gut that solidified that Ira didn‘t like him. He was too suspicious and cocky as if he, newish meat, had any reason to be. Rank alone didn’t trump seniority, and as far as Ira cared, Juvenile or not he had been the most loyal to Jinx; he had been with Silvertip since before it’s conception. For a moment the Prince contemplated if he wanted to call the man out on it, or not but instead favored a snide comment — those were Ira’s specialty. “That would imply a skill I suspect you don’t have.” It was offered with a grin that might have been charming if it wasn’t so filled with wickedness. “Harassing is a useful tool. It gives me information that eavesdropping and stalking cannot,” It was useful for telling Ira what kind of wolves they were, but beyond that, it was just plain fun. Ira was nothing if not mischievous. Daring. Fearless, and he found a sick kind of joy in writhing inside someone’s head and under their skin until he learned what he desired to know. He was crafty. He was clever. Reckless, sometimes, but he was intelligent enough to know when he had pushed too far. Though, it was useful that Jinx would probably skin anyone who hurt him alive. If they did not learn to fear Ira at least they feared Jinx and, or Lecter (though Ira doubted Lecter would care either way if someone hurt him they weren’t real chummy, the Shaman and him despite that they were step-father/son).

A soft chuckle let the Prince’s lips. “I’m not the one who has to prove his worth here, and I don’t answer to you, anyway. I’ve only ever answered to my mother.” Because as far as Ira was concerned she was the only one whose approval he needed and craved in his life.

At Majesty’s apparent boredom at what Ira had to say about him, bashing and subtly letting him know that he more or less thought he was a liar and therefore didn’t trust him because he faintly scented lone wolf on him but this lone wolf was suspiciously absent (it was possibly that it might have refused, refusals were not uncommon Ira knew but why lie about it?). A leveled stare was given before a bizarre bubble of laughter burst from the Prince’s lips, mirthless and cold. How childish was this “supposed elder” to yawn blatantly in Ira’s face, and then pretend to sleep while Ira was mid sentence. Black, leathery nostrils flared as the Princeling snorted, baring his teeth, wondering if Jinx would punish Ira if he lunged at the man’s exposed spine. Head cocked as he surveyed the exposure wondering how much damage he could inflict before he was met with resistance. Turning one’s back on Ira was a fatal mistake. A low growl rumbled in the boy’s chest, and his muscles pulled taunt as he surveyed again, looking for the most exposed portion of the man child’s back.

“And here I thought I was supposed to be the immature one,” The Juvenile spat knowing that likely, the other male would simply continue ignoring him. That was ok. That was exactly what Ira wanted. Slowly, as if to muffle any sounds he made, Ira stalked forward, teeth shining from salivating as he thought about what it would be to tear and rip the thin flesh until he exposed the bone. Clearly, this supposed man needed to be taught a lesson in turning your back to adversaries. Ira might have lacked experience but he was younger and quite good at being stealthy. Was it worth it? Yes, it was a desperate hiss in his mind, encouraging him to make the lunge, to teach the lesson of what happened when you turned your back thinking you were some kind of big man.

Ira had always intended to use poisons to do his dirty work. It was a stealthy way of initiating an attack, taking the physical damaged gained in retaliation almost entirely out of the question. He favored the assassin’s means of killing, slow, painful and entirely from the inside than he had of physically attacking if only because Ira was a shallow being and wanted to preserve his good looks. “The next time you ever turn your back on me, I promise you will live to regret it. You are nothing to me.” The Princeling hissed, snapping his teeth in a snarl to the other man before he turned and pushed away. Not because he was a coward, or because he wouldn’t make good on his promise, but because if he didn’t leave right then and there he would not be able to refrain himself and he didn’t want to be in trouble with Jinx.

As it was, Ira didn't care for Majesty's life, he was just another cog in the machine. Easily replaced and not a part that Ira would ever realistically miss.