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First three posts are reserved for @Hydra and @Yakwahe

He had flown above the frozen grounds to trail the monster who desturbed the peace. The path was easy — a scarlet ribbon stained the white frost of winter. All the while, the wind blew hard and fast. After the massacre of the son of the mountain queen and his loyal crew, there was little he could do. The queen had found the child king, dead and broken. Fury rose in her, and she called to him. For his part, the eagle answered.

He flew down to her. She was the pillar upon which the mountain stayed in place, even among the evil that had risen against her kind. For a moment, the eagle landed upon her backside, ginglerly placing his talons around the thick fur of her neck and shoulders. He clicked his beak, eying her strangely, deciding whether she was still indeed worthy of his efforts.

Wobbling a bit, his sharp feet can't have felt kind to her. He quickly decided that riding upon her was not an ideal means of travel, and pushed off from her to fly once more. He let out a knowing cry to tell her that yes, he knew where the beast had gone. Follow, he willed of her.
Reason and logic both fled the matriarch as she ran, following the bloodtrail and the shadow of the Eagle. Her son and the rest had done their work on him, and somehow this monstrosity still lived and breathed. Not for much longer. Not once her teeth set upon him, however many times it would take to rip him to shreds. Until the bastard could bleed no more. See no more. Breathe no more. Be no more. 

The pressure of the bird upon her caused Hydra's thoughts to return to her, and with it some measure of pragmatism. The heavy weight of the massive bird caused her gait to falter, and as it looked to her Hydra looked to him, no amusement present upon her features as her gaze seemed to ask, who the hell do you think I am? Just as he answered to no wolf, herself included, unless his whim allowed it she was no handler of birds—and the weight of him was unwelcome. 

But she was not thankless. The bear will be for you and yours to eat, she drawled, when we kill him. Not if. When

He took wing again, taking tufts of her fur with him; the sharpness of his talon smarted, but he had not opened any skin upon where he had elected to sit upon her. He was much too large for that, and she wondered what he was thinking—Hydra now knew for certain birds were not dumb things, but sentient and quite clever. Likely he was seeing if there was any use to it; she hoped the brief moment of reprieve rested his wings so he could be of use in this fight. 

The trail grew stronger, and Hydra slowed; it was near, now, and Hydra set her own defenses as she prepared for this strange battle. Were it not so injured as it was, she would not engage at all... but she needed to see for herself his status, and determine if it was worth waitin for more or if she could do it herself. Quietly, and downwind, the matriarch stalked.
Heaving. Breathing. Keep going.
The defender of the garden had pushed himself to his limit, but there was still time. All Mother knew best, and she knew just where to allow him rest before he found a way to finish them all off.

The bear moved toward the rocky walls of the mountain, looking for somewhere beyond their wretched borders. He knew that time was short, for the red-eyed one was hunting him. They would all die. He knew it. Yet his body begged him to give in, to let go of their foulness and leave that place. He would not.

Instinct drove him to look for somewhere dark and warm. The wind struck him, ice throwing painfully into the open wounds on his face and neck. Some of the wounds had clotted and frozen shut. Others, like that on his shoulder and throat, still bled without remorse for their victim.

The bear began to run toward the borders close to the mountain. He could hear an eagle cry. He limped along, knowing that the fight was coming. They were tracking.

After many paces, he stopped. A wall was in front of him. A dead end.

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There he was. 

Grotesque, horrific, revolting thing. Her muzzle wrinkled to reveal a row of sharp, yellowed teeth—soon, bathed in his particular shade of red. She could see even from afar how much blood he had lost, and it was this that caused her to bridge the gap between them while his back was turned. Hydra, muzzle bent and ears flattened, dove to go for a meaty hindquarter to rip a hefty chunk of skin from him. 

Hydra would run him ragged. Bleed him dry. See him fall.

Best yet—watch him die. 

She craved this violence, and continued to bound out of reach when she thought he might turn toward her. But she would be ceaseless until she earned every inch of his attention; waited for his eyes to set upon her so that the Eagle might at last take whichever one pleased him (she did not yet see that one was already missing)—she would


Her mantra, repeated, over and over. 

Only when she got his attention fully, when he turned to face her, would Hydra give him the room to do so and turn away herself to run and give him berth, and another chase to tire him further.
Thread is AW!!!

The eagle imagined the taste of bear. He had never bothered with their corpses. The meat of predators was always sinewy and richly foul with the blood of those they had killed. For carrion, he preferred the freshly culled hooved beasts from the wolves themselves. The eye of the warrior he had taken as a mere badge of honour.

The great feathered creature rode the wind onward. It did not take them long to track down the bear. The mountain queen was full of vigour, having been absent from battle to bury the one whose eye the eagle had taken as tribute.

Yet as they found the monster there in the shadows of a wall, the familiar of the queen did not do her bidding. Instead, he found himself a perch, as before, and settled himself for the raw show of force she unleashed. His wings flapped, and he began to preen.
For a moment, the bear reared onto his hind legs and scratched at the wall, trying to find an outcrop large enough he could climb. There was nothing. The face was almost sheer, with the areas that might have been big enough to hold a foot crumbling as he scraped away the dirt. He was took big, it was too steep, and he would have to fight.

She bit him. Her teeth sank into him, and he roared angrily. His great claws swept for her, but he was slow and the blood draining into his working eye destroyed his accuracy. She bit and snapped and ripped and found each target expertly. All the while, the bear flung his claws and snapped his teeth, hoping that if only he could kill this one, everything would be okay.

He turned at last, and there she was. A tall and fierce she-devil. The bird thankfully did not go for his face this time, though Yakwahe winced for a moment at the memory. He was all blood. Half blind. He looked as the stuff of nightmares.

She ran. He pursued, frantic, furious, exhausted. Blood from the sealed wounds opened. He charged.
couldn't resist ;w; will back out if wanted though! Just pm me and I'll delete if that's the case <3 

Nyra screamed inwardly to herself as she sprinted from the inward edges of the fields next to Neverwinter.
The mammoth woman had heard the roar of bear. An all too familiar thing nowadays. She saw the vaguely familiar form of Hydra as she continued running, and she seemed to be being chased by the ursine.
But, Nyra wouldn't know better, especially not being close to the mountain queen. 
The massive brute of a bear looked half dead already, bleeding out all sorts of ways. 
She might kill me afterward but- ohsonofabitch- FUCK IT! 

At the point she said "fuck it" in her head, Nyra turned course for the bear at full speed, giving no intentional warning to her presence as she opened her jaws in a full effort to bite down HARD on Yakwahe's hind leg as she risked a full-on collision. Or, teeth seeking any part of his back end that would do some absolutely horrid damage. 

She wanted to help, but perhaps she wanted to prove herself to Hydra even more.
Mira had heard about the bears. She wasn't sure who all had died and hadn't- was curious. But knowing some had died, she was sickened, even for the ones she did not know. She hadn't heard about her brother yet. She came to the glen of her own choice that day, not following her mother's trail, and moreso intent on checking in on the pack- but instead she stumbled across the scene. Blood, blood on the air, she licked her lips and took a deep breath, and soon found MOTHER in her vision, and a bear. A bear! Mother here, a stranger there- Mira's focus was the bear. She raced forward and seeked to sink her teeth into whatever flesh of the beast she could manage, in spite of her much smaller size.
Antares had never felt a hurt so terrible.

His brother had been the final piece, the last one to send him over that precarious edge. His brother, Osiris, lifeless in the bloodied, gruesome snow--where then, a light went out, and darkness spanned infinitely around Antares' depths.

He would've thought he would be numb to the sight by then. His firsts, his comrades.. and so damn many of them suddenly. Everywhere he looked, it seemed like more bad news only chose to rain down.. though perhaps more appropriately, it chose to slash through them, leaving them to reel in the wake of it.

The dark son followed his mother, curiously eyeing the eagle when it winged off and away, but otherwise remained dead set on their goal. They had returned some of their dead to the mountain already, but the job kept getting bigger, and he was hesitating to see the end of it until they did what needed to be done. Beyond that, there was a lot to take care of suddenly, and far more than he could even begin to account for right now. All that mattered once he saw the beast was simple, angry, destruction.

Following Hydra's lead, as ever, he joined in the fray teeth-first without any hesitation. He caught glimpse of Mira, dark as himself, as their mother, lending her viciousness to the cause. There was someone else, too. Pale, contrasting--reeking of something else, even over this horrible din of carnage the monster wore. Antares was already livid, and desperate to finish what his family had started, so the bear's bloodied flesh was his target.
Keyni was already running when the call to arms went up. The metallic stench of blood hung thick in the air. Too much...it was too much. She had heard the commotion from earlier, but had been far off. By the time it had ceased, she had dared to think that the worst of it was over. She had been on her way to check in on the damage when all hell broke loose for a second time.

Like a bullet streaking through the snow, un-hindered by any obstacle in her path, she pushed through the wall of wolf and ursine blood that clogged her nostrils. She ignored the sting of the wind against her eyes, muscles burning with adrenaline. When she emerged onto the warzone, the sight laid before her eyes was horrifying. Bodies...beaten and bloodied. Tossed like rag dolls into the snow. Among them was Osiris, the Alpha who had so kindly welcomed her into his home. And with him in death, Leta, a woman she had glimpsed a few times before.

Her throat tightened. She would never get to forge a true relationship with any of them now. They were taken from their home. From their family. From their loved ones. These were wolves she had hardly knew but had so much hope for. The rage of the Ostrega's extended towards her, bubbling inside as she set her eyes on the hellion, littered with oozing wounds. Not bothering to acknowledge Hyrda, Mira, Antares and the pale stranger via eye contact, she let her actions speak for themselves. Usually calm and composed, Keyni transformed into something savage as she released her war cry. Zipping in, she aimed for an existing wound on the beast's thigh. This bear would pay, and pay dearly if she got her jaws on it.
Lane probably should have realized something was up, when she was ushered into the Glen's ranks so swiftly after disclosing her medical training. She had been working nonstop since she walked in the door, patching wounds and mixing medicines from the stores Holland had gathered. At least, she assumed they were Holland's herbs... he had yet to show his face in the medicine den. He was probably busy with the wounded somewhere. 

There was loss and grief hanging in the air here, so thick even a newcomer could taste it. But there was something else there too-- a lingering anxiety. Unfinished business. The monster responsible for the death and suffering still lived, and it still lurked among them. There would be a final reckoning, and soon. Lane had gathered her supplies, and she now slept with one ear perked, listening, steeling herself for the showdown. 

A pained roar echoed across the Glen, signaling that the bear had been discovered. Lane pulled herself to her feet, swiftly located her bundle of medical supplies, and exited the medicine den. 
Lane has not arrived yet. She is currently approaching the scene with medical supplies.
It was difficult to know anything but for rage. If not for the heady rush of adrenaline in hearing the bear clambor after her on what sounded to be unsteady legs, it would likely be this that caused the burn of her tired limbs to be numbed. Hydra forced herself to not think in the way that would only be the death of her (as it had been the death of so many before her), but it was no easy task. An emotionally exhausting one, but perhaps the singular thing outweighing that was the fact that in this moment, Hydra had no time to feel. No time for even her rage as logic sounded off and caused her to simply do

She knew where she could bring him. Knew where that tired gait would grow unsteadier until the thing lost its footing in a place Hydra knew well enough to know that sooner or later, he would. If she did not know the place as well as she did, surely she might as well—but here, in the Glen, Hydra had every advantage. And she would exercise it. 

An ear backturned as she no longer heard its heavy footfalls that she imagined (and liked to think) grew clumsier by the minute, and as she slowed in her own stride to accomodate the sudden change of plan, the bear seemed to see his own opportunity. As she slowed adjusted both her pace and her course, the bear had enough room to swipe and claw at her hind. It was not deep, but it was an open wound and bled all the same. 

Incensed, took stock of things as she bounded out of its reach—her pack had joined her, and Hydra had not yet caught wind of the one who was not among her ranks amidst the chaos. The bear was distracted too, now—and as it turned its own head to take stock of things, and the others occupied its limbs—

Mira and Antares she saw with them, now. And with the great swell of pride in her heart also came a mothers wrath renewed as she saw her youngest enter the fray—

It was then Hydra moved as swiftly and silently as death oft managed to as she sought to make a bid for its throat. Hydra would either rip the things throat out if she had enough power to, or hold on until it was asphyxiated. You will not touch another hair upon my families head, she willed, jaws parted—and once they closed upon him, if they managed to, there would be no force upon this earth but for this things end that could remove them. 
permission to powerplay provided <3
His footsteps pounded the ground as blood leaked from his neck, his face, his legs, his shoulder, his belly. He ran for her, to deconstruct this universe she had tainted with her spawn and her flesh. Unsteady. Pounding. Rocking on his own weight.

He slowed, unable to continue at the pace of the she-devil. And, when she did as well, he seized the opportunity to thrust his great weapon of a paw at her backside. The result was not what he wanted, and he roared aggressively as he could hear footsteps closing in all around him. Yakwahe glared at her with a single, intense eye, wrought with pain and wrath and the holy light of the All Mother.

But it was not the she-devil he saw that injured him further.
It was the disgusting fleas that he had failed to account for. He had wiped so many of their ranks, the surprise on his face was as clear as the hatred when a small one clamped onto the open wound of his shoulder. A white one too found her mark at the back of his leg, and it was at her, enraged, that Yakwahe swiped half-blindly.

More and more it seemed. They came from the woodwork. Dark and light and plain. He felt teeth on him, and knew that All Mother would be disappointed in his failure. They were too many. The locusts had become a plague, and it was no lone warrior to contain their insolence and greed. He felt biting and tearing but could not know the sources.

As one of his legs buckled, then the other, the dark self-proclaimed queen latched onto his neck. Despite the turn of his head, weakness overtook him. The sun flashed white. Blood leaked onto his throat. Then his lungs. She held him.

The bear, suffocating, fell to his side with her attached. It was a great weight that plundered the snow and ice beneath. His limbs flailed wildly, claws dangerously swiping, though there was no more strength to pull her from him as she had her son, and those whom had tried so hard before.


Stillness as the flailing stopped and the bloodied creature became still under the strength of the pack.
Only when the end result was clear did the eagle launch once more from his comfortable place in the trees. Circling a single time, he flew overhead, watching the pack bite and tear at the beast. The eagle had seen many fall to it, and had he believed that the creature would fell all of them, he may even have sided with it.

Those of his kind knew well that all things have their time. All things end. Should the stars have aligned differently, it was he who would have been first to assist with the strongest of the group. In this case, it was the mountain queen and her followers, not the beast, that had earned the reputation for strength. It was she who held it too as the creature fell to its side.

The eagle descended, landing upon the shoulder fur, matted from wounds. He outstretched his wings as though to claim it, aggressively flaring the crest of feathers on his head as he did. Ravens had already gathered, as before. Trusting only that the mountain queen would keep her word, he dug his hatchet-like beak into the open wound and pulled at the flesh, pushing down with his talons for better leverage.
Nyra ripped and tore all she could, finding the courage within herself to steel and stay to the end as others arrived to fell the ursine beast. 
She narrowly avoided claws to the face as she ducked from the bear's claws, snarling and biting harder. She turned her gaze toward Hydra to see the Queen grip the bear by the throat as Nyra had to an equally massive she-bear before, watching in awe through her hold on Yakwahe as Hydra made him collapse to his side and eventually fall still. 
Only then did the Harbinger dislodge, blood dripping from her teeth as she shook out her fur, respectfully stepping back from the pack and the dead bear to stand alone. She knew she did not belong here, and her ears slanted back as she now considered the consequences for the trespass, despite her desire to help.
Seconds became a furious blur. He smelled too much blood to think whole thoughts, and realized in the moment who all had come, and to what end. This was anger, and sorrow, propped up on far too much bottled frustration, and with the beast roaring before them all, there felt like no other choice. His next exhale was only once the great weight of the bear fell to his side, and afterward his mother remained standing. Not without injuries to their own, but that was one thing. One tiny thing of many.

And that realization granted him opening to the new thought, and aggression fresh in his blood, all he needed to do was make the finest of shifts to redirect.

He didn't know this wolf and didn't care to, especially now upon his home turf. Too exposed by the grief of his brother's dead body, he saw her look upon the mountain queen and took that as all the cue he would need in that instant to act. Angling his approach from behind her for as long as he could, Antares lunged for the white wolf's side teeth first with all the momentum he could bring down upon someone who had no right to be here on this awful scene. The eagle, the bear, all else, for the instant, went by the wayside. Too frustrated, too stricken by sorrow so deep, he acted out through his vicious swing.
(his 1d15 roll is here for how angry the lunge is for trespass)
With a muffled growl, Keyni tugged at the bear's filthy hide. Blood seeped into her mouth, which she wanted to spit out. She refused to release her hold. Jade eyes darted sideways to glimpse the killing touch of the mountain queen, wrapping her jaws around his throat. Under all of their combined efforts, his strength left him. Loss of blood and denial of life giving air was his end. The behemoth collapsed, yet the tundrian did not relent until his heaving sides ceased to rise. When they did and the light left his eyes, she was certain his bloody reign over the Glen was over.

Stepping back with a bloodied muzzle, she spat the vile tufts of brown fur from her mouth. There was little time to rest. Antares was on the offensive, charging for the pale outsider. Keyni knew not of her affiliation with the Saints, nor did she care. She may have assisted, but she was a trespasser on claimed soil. Soil soaked with far too much blood of their own. Naturally following the Ostrega's lead, she rallied, but not nearly with as much aggression, trying for snaps at Nyra's hind legs, to try and drive her off.
The bear was finished by the time Lane arrived, which was a very good thing. The warriors had brought down the beast quickly. Hopefully, that meant relatively fewer injuries this time around.

Moving beyond the fallen beast, Lane realized that the wolves were still in combat. Two of the Glen wolves attacked a pale stranger. Lane dropped her medkit, surveying the scene with disbelief. Why had the wolves turned on one of their own kind? Wasn't there enough wolf's blood spilled on this soil? 

Her parents had warned her about this-- about pack wolves tearing each other apart all for the sake of pride. At the time, Lane had thought it was nonsense, surely.. just dramatic stories to warn her away from pack life.. and yet, here it was, happening in front of her very nose.

The medic's eyes were drawn to a fourth wolf-- a dark woman with blood running down her flank. Lane barked to woman, hoping to attract her away from whatever pack-wolf nonsense was taking place so Lane could tend to her wound. 

Lane tore her gaze from the pack wolves and nosed through her supplies, sniffing for the dried marigold or-- yes, the horsetail-- that would do fine...
Nyra rolled a 19 out of a 1d20! here! Permission to skip Hydra given in discord! 

The Harbinger, to-be Queen herself, almost forgot how trigger-happy other wolves can be, especially when a pack outnumbered an outsider. 
She had turned her ear as she breathed, catching faint footfalls in the crunch of the snow.
Yeah, someone's coming toward her. 
She had looked at the mountain queen with such awe, though she didn't forget she came here uninvited. 
Nyra had turned just in time to see @Antares lunge, and her fight-or-flight kicked in full throttle. 
She didn't run, not just yet.
As the black male lunged for her side, Nyra whirled with the swiftness of a striking snake, roaring to life like a blazing forest fire as she met him mid-way with her own teeth.
Well, almost her own teeth. 
At the last second, she dipped her head in an effort to punt the black male straight in the nose with her crown, a hard hit that would surely leave blood oozing from his nose and hurt like a bitch should she connect. 
If not, she would damage him the best she could with her teeth - to get him and any other attackers to create enough space that she could run away before too many other pairs of teeth met her body. 

She had come to offer her help, but some wolves just didn't care. Fuck this, she's out. Her Impromptu job is done.
Antares didn't care anymore. As the white wolf whirled on him, he held fast and true to his advance, ready to meet her head on. When she shifted enough to change the force more to headbutt, he swerved enough to at least veer an ounce of his own momentum, but they still impacted--jarring his head, but he reacted by lashing his teeth immediately towards anything close enough to reach. Though, he definitely tasted his own blood now. There was nothing that could hurt him more than the day already had as for an instant, his sights blurred out--but it didn't matter any.

At some point, he arced out of reach of her teeth and he realized Keyni still matching him, too. The intruder was outnumbered, even without his mother--and soon, there was chance for her flight from the scene. Antares would let it happen so long as they kept it quick, but wouldn't forget. He was already on a fine, tempting line of antagonizing further and worse. There was just so much here and now, so much else he needed to do.. even as tempting as it was to run headlong into far, far uglier. His family needed him, and so did Osiris' pack suddenly.

He was silent, digesting this horrendous moment, and breathing heavy as he reluctantly let everything settle. It reeked, and his heart broke, with his furs his spiked and eyes wild. Somehow, they still had to regroup, and he couldn't find his voice.
When Lane looked up from her supplies, the white woman had already whirled to face her pursuers head-on. There was a sickened thud as her face collided with Antares's, and Lane winced. She couldn't recall if she had ever been this close to real combat before. Her parents had provided some training in triage principles and battle-medicine, but that had been done with the caveat that she ought to never put willingly herself in the position to use such knowledge. She'd been instructed to avoid all pack entanglements when possible, and to never find herself tied to a pack during wartime. 

When Antares and the white woman pulled apart, Lane could see blood on his muzzle. Was it hers, or was it his? She disappeared before Lane could get a good look. 

With the departure of the white woman, a heavy stillness fell over the remaining wolves. Lane was relieved that the group hadn't taken off in pursuit of the fleeing wolf. She took advantage of the quiet to bark softly once more, again ushering the dark woman towards her. If allowed, Lane would tend to the injury on her flank before moving on to assess Antares's nose and mouth. She would look over Keyni too, and anyone else who would submit to a quick physical. Perhaps at some point, someone would pull themselves together enough to address the group. Tell them they did good work, or whatever it was those leadership-types liked to say when the savagery and bloodshed was over.