Wolf RPG

@Alduin

He would go home soon.

The clear air, without the scent of his Wealda and her heat, was soothing. He fretted and felt the commanding urge to turn and go back to the Rise increase with every step he took away from it. It bothered him deeply to be missing, though he had not wandered too far, but it was necessary. He needed some time. He was not a stranger to a female in heat but away from his old pack and its strict rules, he found his freedom to decide caused him great strife. He felt that deep down, despite whatever instinct may arise from her scent, he didn't want to mate her. 

The idea bothered him. If told to do so, he would - and had before - but he felt no want for her with his mind. His body would respond, he could tell, but the part of him that was in control did not desire her. He thought, much against his will, of Balto...and then Ashlar. He turned his mind away from both.

The land he'd wandered into was wet and, by way of the season, cold. A grey rain didn't fall from the sky as much as it hung there in suspension. He was grateful for the clear air but he would not stay here long. Even as he thought it, he felt his feet shift his trajectory in the beginnings of his path homeward.

The hellhound slinks away from his cryptic islands once more. His need for violent entertainment hungers once more. Though Alduin doesn’t feel particularly murderous at the moment, but Banesteppe always does. He whispers tantalizing words of violence and death in his sensitive ears.

My cursed boy, it has been some time since you last killed. Your god requires more blood — better go sharpen your teeth. He says in that devilish voice. 

The spirits constant bothering leads the hellhound into the wading ocean and onto the mainland. Further, it leads to a familiar land with weeping willows. Their vines swish softly in the wind of the upcoming storm. It would rain soon. Good. Alduin would prefer to have his scent covered up as much as possible. 


Only then does Alduin recognize that this is the place he fought that woman. The woman he dunked in mud to cover his scent and left for dead. It’s likely she didn’t make it, but when he went back her body was not there. He can only hope she didn’t. 

So he moves languidly, blood red eyes on a constant swivel as he travels through the swampy wastelands. The place does have a certain charm to it though. Still, it isn’t enough to make him relax. So with his head level with massive shoulders, he slinks along the soft, mossy ground. 

Everything is normal, until he sees something dark in the distance. His eyes squint as he curiously moves closer until the shape becomes another wolf. Nostrils flare as he attempts to take in their scent and when he does he finds out his unexpected company is a male. Spotted auds twitch and shift as he listens to the forest around him, all while focusing on this new stranger. He looks to be about Alduin’s size, but it’s clear the brindled mutt carries more weight and bulk. While the other male is a touch leaner, his sleek black pelt makes him look dangerous and panther-like. 

He’s had enough looking from afar. So he slinks forward further. His approach wouldn’t be secretive, he would boldly move towards the dark furred man. Head still hung at his shoulders he would get close enough that his presence would be hard to ignore. Stopping at a comfortable distance, the hellhound doesn’t say a word, but his eyes hold a muted curiosity. Even as his head lifts slightly and he chuffs low in his throat to the other.

Meanwhile, Banesteppe would scoff. What are you doing, Alduin? He wonders with a touch of amusement. Are you not going to sink your teeth into him? Wouldn’t that pelt be beautiful with a nice sheen of red?

This, Alduin would ignore. Only acknowledging Banesteppe with a slight scowl on his face. He’s more focused on this man and how he may react to the godly sight that is Alduin Deagon-Sandraudiga.

Ratio is in his own mind but not a fool. His eyes focus as he comes out of his thoughts and he watches as a...very interesting-looking wolf approaches him. Ratio halts when they grow close enough. The stranger's approach had been low, not entirely friendly but not unfriendly, either. Prophet had met him similarly. Ratio looks over the male, thicker than himself with a coat of stripes. Ratio has never seen such a pattern. What catches his attention most, however, and what he stares at for several obvious seconds, is the curled tail at the male's side. 

Very strange. Oddly, Ratio thinks he somewhat likes it. What would cause such an affliction? He isn't sure. It must be useless for signals or language but it was neat in appearance. How must it feel to have such a tail?

Ratio shifts his body language into an easy neutral, then, pulling his eyes from the tail and to the red eyes. He is reminded very much of his first meeting with his Berserkr and is more at ease because of it. After a quiet moment, he asks, "Yes?"

The darker male comes to a stop, clearly recognizing Alduin’s presence and acknowledging him. Their eyes meet for a moment and Alduin realizes that his orbs are just as bloody as his own. A beautiful ruby — crimson like the life force that pumps through their mortal bodies. 

This strangers eyes drift though, seemingly taking in Alduin’s appearance. Alduin does the same to him, all while following his gaze. His eyes linger near his back half and Alduin suspects it’s his curled tail that he stares at for so long. He gets many wild looks due to his appearance but he’s very much used to it at this point.

Eventually, eye contact is made once more and Alduin never looks away. Shameless in his dominant nature, but also catching on that the two strangers have an unspoken understanding. Their body postures are neutral and perhaps that’s because Alduin is in a decent mood today (which never usually happens). What with his constant lack of sleep and the spirit knocking at the door of his crumbling mind 24/7, his mood is usually poor.

The silence is broken with one word in a deep baritone — yes?

The hellhound blinks once and squints his eyes some, wondering if he’s ever met this man before. His memory is wretched and he’s found he’s unable to remember many he came across in pup hood before he and his family vacated the Teekon. Ever since his return — ever since Banesteppe — his mind has been foggy at best and rotten at worst.

So Alduin would take a few cautious steps forward, almost close enough to touch, if the other lets him of course. Though if he were to move Alduin would not proceed closer. His massive head stretches out towards him, once again, even with his shoulders. Nostrils flare as he takes in his scent, allowing him to get more familiar and gauge whether or not he might know this man. A quick mental synopsis finds that he obviously has no memory of him. 

So he tilts his head a touch. “Have we met before?” He asks in that deep, rasping voice of his. He would back away some, making a show of looking down the strong line of the dark male’s body. “There is a familiarity to you…” He hums as if he is deep in thought, brows furrowed with the intensity of searching his nonexistent memories.

ooc; Yeah, get it! No problem.

They are a fairly even match, though the curly-tailed man is thicker in frame. They face each other on the soggy terrain, posture neutral, respectful but not pandering. There is no fear in either of them. Ratio feels comfortable, he enjoys the feeling of equality. He is unaware of the other male's god complex and is mistaken in assuming he feels similarly. It doesn't matter, though, as the man steps forward and Ratio allows him. He is neither afraid nor interested in giving ground. 

Curiously, Ratio inhales the curly male's scent in return. It means nothing to him, though he notes the tang of the salty ocean. This man lives on the coast. Ratio had turned away before he wandered too close to the sea. Perhaps he would have found this man, instead, if he'd continued. 

Ratio soon understands the investigation when he's asked about his history with the male. Ratio has no memory issues, he knows he has never seen the curly brute before. "No." He couldn't fathom why he is familiar. He is, of course, cloaked in simple black - not uncommon. His eyes are a little more distinct and the scar along his chest, flank and muzzle are even more so. He hadn't been sporting those for too long but the man was not very old, either.

"My name is Ratio." he offers.

He hears the other male inhale Alduin’s own scent and he flicks his eyes down to flaring nostrils for a half a second. Following the line of his muzzle back up to his eyes and further to the scar on the man’s cheek. 

So he has seen battle then? That’s good. He thinks.

Perhaps if Alduin were to fight him he would offer a bloody challenge and a few more scars to add to his already healthy collection of new and old. Yet, despite the hellhound’s seemingly constant thirst for blood, he wants to see how this plays out — this unsaid understanding between two strangers. Still, he wants to know how he fights — he can’t help it. It’s in his blood, it’s in his upbringing training — it’s what he’s been taught to do since he could walk.

Yet, he still searches this familiarity that settles in this stranger’s dark complexion. Why does he seem familiar at all? Does his mind play tricks on him? Alduin knows of his rotting brain and it’s uselessness at certain times when it’s most inconvenient, but, more so, he wonders — knows — that he’s going insane. His deteriorating sanity is a constant chain around his neck and the other half is held tightly in Banesteppe’s hand. All Alduin can do is beg for mercy, but he knows he will not get it unless he obeys the ghostly slave driver. 

So when he gets a simple no in return, Alduin hums a low response back. It’s a neutral type of noise meant to show acknowledgment that’s he’s heard him, but give nothing more. 

But he does get something else back: a name. 

This man calls himself Ratio. Alduin tests it in his head a few times, again, searching for that ever lingering thought of familiarity, but of course gets nothing in return.

Alduin would hum again, a sound deep, short, and curt before giving his own name. “Malacath.” He offers back simply. His raspy voice doesn’t rush the word out, but rather says it slowly and surely. 

After though, he begins a slow walk around the dark male. His posture is not threatening — he’s merely looking. Taking in all those scars and the powerful prowess the panther-like man has. He wants to see what he’s got.

“Do you fight, Ratio?” He almost purrs out the words — his voice guttural and rolling. His tone does not match his expression. For his visage is usually settled in a neutral scowl, though now his bloody eyes gleam with muted interest.

Malacath. 

It is a name unlike any he has heard in recent memory. It sounds like a name befitting a warrior. He feels that this is deserved. If Ratio could know what the mind of this stranger held, the alien insanity it housed, he would have felt his skin crawl. He would have wanted to put the man down, to end the sickness. As it were, Ratio was pleased by the attention and gave his own in return. He was interested, his nose had told him the man had a pack but he wondered how loyal he was. Could he tempt him to the Rise? Was that even his place?

The man began to circle him and Ratio watched him. He was still confident enough to remain neutral but not foolish enough to drop his gaze while the man walked behind and around him. He did not feel that he would need to defend himself suddenly but though he reminded Ratio of Prophet, he was extremely aware that this was not his Berserkr. 

"Do you fight, Ratio?"

Words that may have been a threat to others, thrilled the black male. His expression visibly shifted into bright interest, his eyes flashing with withheld excitement. "Of course." he rumbled. "Do you, as well?" Would they spar? As he had with Prophet? Ratio was excited at the prospect of meeting teeth with someone new.

Surprisingly enough the other male is confident enough not to seem threatened with a man like Alduin at his hocks. Slinking behind him and circling like an orca watching a seal on a floating ice cap. The interaction is entertaining if anything and the sheen of the other makes pelt is tantalizing — pretty, even. For Alduin’s own coat is much duller and coarse due to the salty sea he finds himself treading more and more often. 

He does see those ruby red eyes, so much like his own, follow him the entire way. Which means he is not only confident, but smart too. One should never let a stranger out of their sights, especially when they’re this close, and especially when it’s someone like the brindled hellhound in their presence.

So when he’s rasps out his question topped with the other’s name, it’s obvious the male’s interest is piqued — visibly so, which is even more satisfying. His eyes light up despite the hard hue of red, excitement shines brilliantly while he meets Alduin’s own bloody orbs. Alduin does not look away, even at this close a distance.

Of course. Do you as well?

Circular, white brows twitch up with his own excitement at hearing that this Ratio also fights. Even better. He already feels his blood pumping a touch faster. He’s stock still but a black-purple tongue flicks out to rasp over his own scared lips. He has him in his sights and it’s a predatory look too, one mirroring the darker man’s excitement while also looking devilishly sly and evil. Alduin’s having fun and it’s only about to get better. 

A hardly there, upwards tilt of his lips shows. “Of course.” He parrots Ratio’s words back to him with a touch of a teasing tone to them. Then hums, “So, don’t you show me?” He rasps deeply. 

Then just as quickly, Alduin’s bulking muscles tense and he’s nipping, almost playfully, at the nape of the others neck before pouncing away into a more suitable ready position. His stance his wide and his head is lowered, that predatory gaze is set on Ratio, expecting him to make a move — hoping he does. He wants to see how fun this could get. For he’s already thoroughly entertained, but perhaps, it could be even better.