Wolf RPG

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rusalka's medicinal wares had been threadbare before their raid in the night, and now their stores laid bare, their stony shelves empty. there was little to be done except gather more, and after being carefully instructed by erzulie, caiaphas made for the barrows. loathe as she was to expose herself to the drageda cur that had not once, but three times now attacked or harmed her kith, caiaphas knew the excursion to be necessary.

she limped along the raised mounds, having found a patch of carpeted moss that matched the description the rusalkan healer had given her. snipping the plush plant from its rocky surface, caiaphas sorely lifted her neck and shuffled down to the next barrow to see if it yielded the same grey harvest.
Need any assistance?” The prince of deceit asked, purposefully pulling himself from the shadows of the barrows, having trailed her since her departure. He knew this to be the woman he sought- as she was the leader of their wounded band. Through the heart of the packlands he had come across a hospital for the broken and bruised. The severity of the wounds had ranged from moderate to miraculous, and he was impressed with their will to continue. But peons were used to that, were they not?

Whether he liked it or not, he would have to play nice in this battered band and groom himself up across the ladders and make nice. That meant seeking favor and being useful. So on he draped the appearance of a regular but charming ‘peon’.

He greeted the limping coy wolf, a regally dipped crown and a slightly cupped tail. While the chimera loathed such behavior from himself, Loki continued to remind himself how short this mess would last, should he prevail in his goal. 
the old crone had not taken notice of the shadow hidden by the mounds, and when he pulled from behind one she froze painfully, half expecting drageda upon her. when she whirled around, she did so with teeth bared between frills of moth, and hackles outright like quills -- only to mollify when the scent that hit her was that of a wolf on his own.

her posture softened, but her gaze remained hard as it roved over the male's most curious display. it was a strange tapestry; black illuminated by ornate gold -- more finely seen on a dark elm in a sunset autumn's splendor, than worn proudly by a wolf.

"oh, yes." she answered, the last of her hackles settling neatly into place. she almost looked like a disarming granny now, a far cry from the berserk batsheba she had been seconds before. "who are you?"
Loki has to admit - her whirling so suddenly around had in fact geared him up for battle. His muscles snaked into a rigid mass under his conniving coat, protesting at their lack of release. But adrenaline hadn’t been released as this encounter had been too swiftly ended, defense woman molting into something much less...horrific. And here he though he had two faces. 

As her body relaxed, so did his. He however chose to continue his plans, regardless of his heart beating an extra mile. 

One of your’s, should you allow it,” he swept a slight bow of a regal crown to the haggish woman. Dear gods, the woman reminded him of the gatekeeper they had patrolling around the Gardens years ago. She had the aura of someone who once was unbelievable and exquisite, only to be made forced to abide by a job that had nothing to do with them. It only dragged them down, and ruined their potential with each passing day. 

Many moons must have passed, in her day.

I joined in your claim song. Mine might not been too disguishable- quite a few had joined in.

Finally choosing to answer her question, the trickster gave a ‘humble’ bow, ears flaying to his rear while the front half dipped in a modest degree downwards. “Loki, at your beck and call.

caiaphas had to admit -- the sable man had an air to him that was peculiar, yet intriguing. it was not just the fractured splatter of gold that clashed with rich black that drew her eye in -- it was the male's deportment, which seemed both humble and quite self-assured at once.

she settled, though her yellow gaze never lost its sharpness as it roved over his figure, probing for any lie or dishonesty.

she found little; either he was honest, or he hid his deceit quite well -- that, or the flashiness of his pelt distracted the eye enough that it flew under the radar. she nodded at mention of the howl, finding she had heard many voices -- not all of them voices she had been able to place.

"caiaphas." she glanced him over again, and seemingly found him satisfactory, for she huffed: "and we are rusalka. you a fighter, loki?"
The olden banshee had scoured him hard enough with those acidic golds long enough and hard enough to force the trickster to feel it in his marrow. She was a wine most aged, and clearly several had caused her to be as speculative as she was. As keen and wryly as her sophistication marinated her into being. 

Rising from the grotesque bow he had been repulsively made to do, the Chimeric Prince met her gaze with moderate verdes gently fixed on the top of her snout. Last thing he needed was that damned demon to come back.

Much more a politician, an Ambassador to speak on your behalf should you need something in particular conveyed in your absence.

Another dip of his crown, this time to illustrate some measure of ‘appreciation’, with a curt “[font]I am grateful for the solace, Lady Caiaphas.[/font]“

Straightening, he thought curiously of her name, wondering which God her name had come from, but he did not vocalize his questions just yet on that trivial matter. Instead, he offered behind his usual gilded intent, 

What do you require of me, Caiaphas?”
it seemed he was not a fighter; caiaphas hid any disappointment she had, her body already turned away, back to the beach. he could follow, or dally -- but the sylph would not pause to see which he chose.

an ambassador was not a useless pursuit; caiaphas appreciated a clever wolf - she had not met many of them, and most wolves seemed driven by basal, selfish interests over cunning ones. she would welcome a wolf such as loki to their fold readily, for a sharp wolf was often a crueler weapon to have than a physical one, if you played your cards right.

and the sylph believed she was quite adept at playing cards -- or wolves -- if it so suited her.

"you could start by gathering intel - we live in a hotly contested area; the wolves of the cliff are not to be trusted." she glanced to their borders, which were scarcely visible beyond the impossibly tall sequoias. "but first, you should meet your packmates."
A nod signifies he was taking in all the words she had offered him. She seemed to be pretty aware of the growing swell of beings coming to and from these lands - he had passed several on his way to seek a home to wreck.
This would be rather easy.

that was until she suggested he socialize with the scum of this new home of theirs. 

A gag near surfaced as his vivid imagination courted grossly intertwining with the happenings of these lesser beings. He had already socialized with the leader of this band- the underlings were the dirt between his webbed pads. But all that he portrayed at the advice was a curtly canted head and the confirmation. “With haste.” He had followed her, remaining as her left flank by a few hands of distance. Just out of reach enough for the banshee to require more effort to snatch him should she transform again. But with his growing ease, he felt the demon had been subsided for now. 

Turning to follow where her acidic gaze had drifted, he saw what she considered their borders to be. Plenty needed to be done, it seemed. 

Returning his inquisitive stare to her, he asked with curiousity growing in his own plans. “I assume those cliff dogs are who rose savagery against our own? I’ve seen quite of our own with fresh wounds.“. He needed to know as much as possible as far as both their own band and the ones they were against before he trekked off in any debauchery.
"the very same." the siren returned with a guttural growl, her gaze reproachfully examining the distant cliffs. this male seemed like a quick study -- she preferred that in most, though it often caused her more trouble in the end. most intelligent wolves either wished to lead, or see her beheaded -- and it was only a matter of time before loki too was indoctrinated to such ambitions.

she had missed the near-gag, so consumed was she in hatefully staring at the cliffs in the hopes it would shatter under the full-bore gouging of her acidic eyes-- had she known loki was at least passingly familiar with the wolves she might have pressed for more details. "i do not believe they cant hurt us much more than they already have. we were disadvantaged, and this is all they could leave us with for our troubles. all the same, it helps to verify."
Loki could understand the battle tactics that the woman posed. She was a wryly one, and it seemed she was much more than a witch of horror. Loki knew he would only meet a few of the whelps harboring in this pack, and on a very swift basis so he could return himself to earning the favor of this woman. He had no time to listen to the woes of their lives nor why they had joined this band of deterrents. 

So a slight bow punctuated his leave as he as he chose to embark on this cascade of missions as swiftly as possible. “I will return with much to offer,”he ‘promised’.

And the chimera departed the siren with a suave trot away.