Wolf RPG

Deep within the territory lied a lake that Echelon had never seen before. But then again, she hadn't gone looking for it either. Yet the size of it betrayed her ability to have spotted it from somewhere else — the forestry hid it, and the higher climes and ridges she had not yet fully explored. It rested off center and modestly, the banks already muddy and rank with growth. She traversed this area lightly, not willing to be trapped in old mud posing as dry earth as she carried a rather large bone along. The femur of an elk left behind from some hunt perhaps when the Spine was in lesser times, hardly chewed.

Whoever it belonged to before didn't matter — it was hers now, and she was unwilling to part with it but for few things. She drug it along, letting the bulbous end bump and rattle against whatever she met just to be a nuisance. It could have been carried just fine, but she didn't want to risk choking herself trying to carry it properly between the trees as she left the lakeside.

And besides, she thought as she banged it loudly off a rock, this was more fun.

Blackness. Silent, dark, cold, perfect. The rare times she slept were rock solid, save for... now. Racket. That was all she heard. Something banging against something else in an obnoxious manner. Having risen from her short slumber, Kroc now sought out the source of this nonsense. Surprisingly, she wasn't in too terrible of a mood, though she wasn't in a good one either. It was the norm for the Valley Wolf, at the very least. 

Arriving on scene, Kroc took in the visual; a small, dark wolf banging a bone on some rocks. The wolf was familiar, ears tipping in Echelon's direction for a moment. One of the few wolves here that Kroc held any respect for, the beast stayed her anger. Instead, she ventured closer, coming up on the female's left side only to lower her head and snip her teeth at the femur. A movement with no malice behind it, Kroc's way of playing, if a bit rusted and rough. 'Play' wasn't exactly a word in her vocabulary.

Someone came out to investigate the noise.

It did not surprise her to spy Kroc emerging from the greenery she was pushing through with the femur. Echelon was beginning to come to terms with the fact that if anything, the pale bear of a wolf was quite an asset. They had done much already for the Spine in her eyes and because of that, it was true in that statement that Kroc was definitely from Tartok and its broad swath it had carved into the world.

She allowed her canine companion to draw in close, pausing in her steps to roll the bone over the same stones a couple of times. Antagonizing the already antagonized, that was a forte she knew well. And though within had her playful qualities, they were covered save for only the most private of times. They were little snippets of a youth she had taken away and particularly one she did not miss.

So when Kroc's teeth snapped close near to the bone, Echelon feigned in her pulling away, only changing her grip on the femur to swing it back and forth. Mine. She was not interested in sharing her weathered chew toy, but that didn't mean she wasn't implying that she couldn't bash the larger female with it all the same. It was a tease attuned to the other's form of play. She swung it closer to Kroc, eyeing her with hushed ferocity with a low growl bubbling in her throat. Mine.

Bright eyes watched with amusement as Echelon stepped back, gold following the aged white of the bone intensely. How curious. Kroc did not want the bone; in truth, she preferred a buck's antlers to chew on. She would eventually need to find a section to keep in her den but for now... For now, she was confronted with the situation at hand, not realizing the faint smile tainting her expression. This was enjoyment for her, and it showed, particularly if you knew that any kind of positive expression for her was rare.

The gurgled growl did not distract her, side stepping the swing for the most part. The weapon glanced her nose, making her snort and shake her head, eyeing her opponent once more. She would have to take that damned bone seriously, especially as she was slower than Echelon likely was with her smaller frame. Her mind worked, searching for a way in against the dark devil with her accursed weapon. 

Not much time passed between Echelon's swing and Kroc's move into her personal space, raising up to bat a large paw at the female's muzzle before aiming her body in such a way that she would come down on top of her, effectively body slamming her. Her heavy stature could be seen as an asset when used in such a way, though it remained to be seen if the smaller, quicker wolf would successfully avoided it.

She snorted as Kroc steered clear of her waving the bone. That singular huff punctuated how she felt about this, and it was nothing short of good. She was quite content with the ownership of that bone, but it was a contentedness that would soon be cut short. Keenly she observed her out of the corner of her eye as the larger female raised a paw to bat at her, the swat seeming half-hearted in comparison to the pounce that swiftly followed it.

Now Echelon wasn't really the type to simply skirt away from a challenge. In the company of a known associate, it was much easier for her to simply take the punches and roll with them. So when the weight of her kin came barrelling into her, she took the brunt of it and responsed with ferocity. Her grip on the bone released, dark lips pulling back into an open-mouthed snarl as she turned her head in towards the exposed underside of her assailant. Likewise, her posturing turned much more dominant as a result, her tail rising to bring up the end of her hackles standing. Brash enough to bear the weight on top, she struck like a pit viper long coiled from lying in wait — but the strike wasn't meant to draw blood. With her own kin, she'd nip and torment the flesh beneath their plush coats, but drawing blood was not a necessity here.

Something along the way worked; Echelon dropped the femur. Kroc knew this for the light bites that picked at her underside, annoying but not quite painful. Not like an actual rending of the flesh. This was play though, so it made sense. With a little maneuvering, all four of her feet touched ground again, protecting her belly from the dark woman's teeth. Instead of moving back to regroup, the bear-like figure surged forward again, jaws snapping as she made to distract her from picking up that infernal bone again. If she didn't pick it up again, Kroc would be a happy wolf as she was not seeking to develop concussion from a wayward strike.

Pushing her advance, she closed in again, though with the smaller size of the coywolf, she was finding it a bit more difficult to throw her weight around. It was something she hadn't thought about before as she was not used to coming into contact with hybrids. Obviously, she needed to adapt her combat approach when it came to fighting those on the more extreme side of 'small'.

When Kroc did not back off to regroup, Echelon held her ground like a matador watching a bull in a danger zone. Though she was significantly sized like a coyote, the way she handled herself was far from the hasty retreat that would have eked its way through her lesser heritage. If her blue eyes could have bore holes into the light-colored pelt of the larger female, she would have made the attempt to do so; instead she could only watch as she came charging, her body tensing and standing protectively over the femur.

The snaps started soon and came in quick and in their spar, Echelon took the risk of snapping up the bone and trying to push her own weight against the strong legs of her larger companion, growling and pushing to push her off-balance. If she couldn't push her over — this something Echelon wasn't certain of anyway — then tripping her would have worked the same, as the bone was but an awkward extension of long limbs they did not entirely have themselves.

Unlike a coyote might have, Echelon did not back away. Kroc expected no less, knowing she was a wolf of Tartok and such wolves were not easily 'goosed'. The dark creature went for the bone still and in the tangle of limbs and makeshift weapon, somewhere, her feet got tangled and there was a crucial moment in which she stumbled. It pissed her off as she was normally not clumsy and the surprise of her almost fall had caught her off guard.

In trying to pull herself (and all of her feet) together, Kroc did manage to give Echelon a bit of space, unwilling to take another smack of that bone. Her ankle smarted from connecting with the damn thing in all of that mess but for now, the Saurturi ignored the pain in favor of circling her again, this time feinting going for her front again before shifting her aim and intending a hard nip for her rump. If she couldn't attack her head on, then she would change tactics and go for other, less protected areas. 

The change of tactics came as no surprise to Echelon, who kept a steadfast eye on Kroc's bobbing and weaving form. Yet in spite of her disadvantages, she was undeterred by the feint and instead welcomed the hard nip that followed. She clamped down on the femur and turned, once more trying to bring Kroc back into her full view; in the same stroke she kicked out to try and drive space back between them to complete her own turn. She wouldn't swing the bone this time, but there was still the concocting of plans hatching away inside her own head.

Once again, Kroc vacated the coywolf's immediate vicinity, not trusting that bone to gently crack against her skull. They faced off again and Kroc realized it was a good way to even the odds, even turn them against an opponent. Most wolves didn't fight or spar with an additional item like this to help them. She told herself that she would learn more about it, get more familiar with it so that next time, whether it was Echelon or someone else, she was not bested by it. 

At some point, they broke apart for good, and Kroc grinned at her pack mate. Her breath intake rate had increased a bit, her heart pumping blood and adrenaline throughout her body. The feeling of it all was welcomed and it only amped her up more, which she would gear towards her patrols. She turned then, heading to the borders to do just that. 

They went to arms in the only way a Tartok wolf could. Though it may have sounded vicious and looked it as well, other than fair nips, bumps, and rough swings of limbs, nary a drop of blood was sent flying. She smarted from one end to another, but there was an amused smile spread thinly across her narrow muzzle. It was good to spar, even better when she understood that Kroc was a good sparring partner as well. She fought like Tonravik, but there were nuances that separated them. It was a welcome challenge.

So when Kroc left her for the borders, Echelon did the same. Only she did not follow in the steadfast trail left by her comrade — she headed for the borders opposite of her.