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+--- Thread: Blood on my Hands (/showthread.php?tid=11273)
Blood on my Hands - Tonravik - October 04, 2015
The night was dark, and colder than those of the Summer. As this occurred, Tonravik was earlier and earlier to rise. In the Wintertime, there would be no perfect hour to predict her awakening any longer; she who thrived in the cold could do so at any time in that season. Her thick furs made the cool weather the most comfortable for her, and as the winds snapped at her furs and she descended the mountain range to man the borders, it was quite clear she was nearly in her entire element. The mountains covered in snow were what the alpha female knew best... but she supposed that by now, she knew them equally as well as they were now, naked and calloused, rough to the touch, gray.
No longer was she sore from whelping. Her cubs had transitioned from teat to meat, and Tonravik had taken plenty of time for herself to train and run and work off her own excess weight. It had been plenty; the she-bear had grown impossibly larger, but in a way that suggested that she was more mother sow than fighter. That had changed in the course of time that her sons switched to meat and she trained herself back into shape.
Now, at least, it was not so easy to discern that she mothered four growing boys. Still too easy to tell was her role in this place as she prowled downward to protect and patrol the land she had come to think more of than the Spine. She sniffed at the earth, tail well above her hindquarters and dark eyes searching for any wolf too close. Looking over her shoulder, she was quick to decide it would be no bother at all if a pack mate were to join her. As a leader, company was not too difficult to swallow. But it was only her own wolves she ever enjoyed; all others were a bother.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Aasivak - October 05, 2015
NNNGGGGGGGFEYTDFIUWEDIWY! This is mostly long and drawn out for my own damn self to flesh out storyline so sorry you have to read this crap.
Petulant gaze burned into the horizon with a glow that only twilight could bring. A cool breeze swept along the facial features of the Eta, caressing inky fur and tussling it haphazardly in its wake. The Spire was rife with these crisp fingers of chill, coiling into bones and robbing the flesh of warmth. It was a foreign environment. Sandy guard hairs were accustomed to the sea and the temperate climate that grew thick tangles of mossy vines within the trees. A damp environment. Not this ever dragging, bone-sucking and lung-crippling dry cold.
There was a sizzle of anger. Nothing had prepared the former drifter for this merciless territory and some youthful arrogance still believed it was owed. Little doubt that the Coho siblings were plenty ready at this point in their fruitless lives. Nostrils inhaled, whisking in the scent of Nanuk that still clung to outer fur like it was the last remnant of the male's success within the Sawtooth wolves. Dispersed within that very distinct aroma was that of leaves, dust, and other debris that held the stamp of the pack. Much time had been spent within the earlier hours of darkness to erase every last stench of freedom and wilderness. The wolf was a Sawtooth now. The past was the past, though thoughts still dwindled, fleetingly, towards the charcoal-cheeked Tail. What would decide her fate? Would she fare as well?
The sun peaked, bringing a glow to the thin stretch of horizon. Slowly but surely that glow turned into a fire, alighting every sparkle of water source, burning into every tree and hilltop that was visible from the spired peak the Eta sat upon. This was home. Inky legs unfolded, muscles uncoiling from the ache of stagnation and wind, a small shake of hackles dislodging the last bits of dirt coating the unblemished pitch fur. Lanky stature set off on a pace, completely content to seek the individual his bear-wolf guide had spoken of. Rumor had it that the alpha had just begun weaning the monsters that robbed her body of nourishment. It gave the wolf purpose. Feed the alpha, feed the young, feed the pack, and feed oneself.
A flare of nostrils quickly picked up the trail of the sooty beast as she set about her duties of tending the boarders. Such a task was of prominent interest to the Eta, a new duty that seemed self rewarding, and pace gathered into a trot to cover the distance at a quicker clip. Her figure emerged from the shadows slowly, as though the darkness clung to her in respect of presence. Head lowered, sweeping gait steadied, and a small wuff sounded his intrusion. "Tonravik?" he called confidently, hoping her interest would be considered.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Tonravik - October 05, 2015
Tonravik heard another voice, one she did not recognize. She bristled, turning on her heel and approaching him as though intending to bulldoze him over. She very well might have had that intent; she moved like a shark prepared to strike. She was the great white and this mountain was her ocean... but as she approached, the scent of Nanuk and Iqniq assailed her. She knew who this was, via their description... and she wanted him to know her, now. Her ears were erect atop her head as her dark eyes noted the fiery hue of his own, the way he moved, picking across the earth. His body was one of a wolf familiar to her. Not in his relations, but of wolves that had lived not upon the mountains but also, not within forest. He was fashioned as some rocks near the sea could be, eroded into a slim-cut barracuda, long-legged, sharp-toothed. Equally, his spindly limbs reminded her of... of a spider. Vital creatures to the ecosystem. She imagined he would be a vital creature to the Spire's own.
As she approached him, she curved to turn so that she was parallel to him, head high as she waited for his recognition for her place. His head had been lowered, which pleased her, and she greeted him with her own given name for him, "Asiwak," her own tone as confident as his own. It was clear that he had her interest then and there, and she wondered if he had intent in calling to her, or if he simply desired her presence, to meet his leader. She had intended to seek him ought, truthfully, after hearing of his acceptance... but thought to let him settle. His initiative was welcomed.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Aasivak - October 05, 2015
The approach was swift and unrelenting. A large mass of black erupted from the shadows with a coiled power and grace. Her stout head was tall on muscled shoulders, a torn scar the only mar visible on sooty fur. The spider clung steadfast to calm, ears smoothing tighter against nape and fiery eyes adverting with a turn of muzzle. Brawn was not a forte, just yet, though there was capability beneath sinuous form. Never, even with rigid feeding regimes, would the Eta be as thick and stalwart as the native mountain wolves.
The gruff female spoke, his name, and gaze slowly returned back to the carved face of the alpha. More scars blemished a wide muzzle, a bear-wolf just as her silver beta. She had dangerous ears, bits and flecks still missing from scraps it seemed, that remained preened and intent on the response of her company. The ripple of hostility had subsided. "I came to introduce myself," he said somewhat plainly. It wasn't much of a conversation opener befit of such a queen.
"Do you mind company in your patrols?" There was a vague understanding of the solitude needed for maintaining the borders. From what could be gathered, thus far in life, many did not appreciate conversation while tending to their watch. Tall, sharply cut ears splayed atop head at the query.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Tonravik - October 05, 2015
It was but one of his names but with the same meaning; their language could do that. In Inuktitut, it was the first she thought of... but she recalled how her mate had given him the same name, simply a different dialect. As he responded appropriately, she seemed to relax even moreso. It was pleasing to know he had a good mind within him, one that respected authority. It did not stop her curious mind, which wondered at how he would do here. She knew better than to judge one by their stature; she was sure the man was an apt fighter, when it came down to it. And if he was not a mountaineer, he could (and surely would) become one.
His explanation as to why he had called to her was met with shifting lobes. She was glad he had, and she supposed she need not explain her own intent in letting him settle. It didn't matter. It was better this way. Her head tilted to his next question. "Not always." Today was one of those fortunate days (for others, though namely him in the moment) where she could stand the presence of others. Even the days she could not stand it were tolerated when the other was tight-lipped. Speech seemed such a part of others lives... she still could not understand it.
Did this mean he wished to patrol with her? She did not know. He could want to get to know her. So, as to invite him along, she gestured to the earth in a sweeping movement of her muzzle as she took some long-legged strides forward. If he could not guess by her tone that today was one of those said days she would not mind him (or anyone) coming along (which was difficult to do for those who did not know her), he had it written out for him now.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Aasivak - October 06, 2015
The response was succinct. It wasn't taken personally. A small lift of muzzle attempted to subtly display this though there was difficulty in portraying such a personal emotion. The motion of the bear-wolf's muzzle was met with a submissive bob of head, jawline tucking and tall pinna remaining slicked back in flippant observance of rank. Wide paws began their trek with the female, saying nothing more and allowing the larger, higher ranking alpha tend her path.
The spider sidled towards an area of rock and debris where the path narrowed off against the dip in the mountain. Lifting a leg, only just enough to calculate aim, the beast urinated against the dusty terrain briefly before continuing onward. It was not within the Eta's nature to squat for marking practices and there was hope the leader did not read too much into the displayed action. "Do we have enemies? he wondered only when a lapse of time had produced enough thought on the subject. It wasn't a query based on fear, but rather who to antagonize fully while out on patrols. A scent to categorize as weakness and wolves that could be fully taken advantage of should the need arise.
Fiery eyes rolled back to the scarred female's direction, features adhering to a stony gaze that often overtook malicious playfulness outside the Spire's domain.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Tonravik - October 06, 2015
Tonravik moved with him, marking as she moved along and looking past the borders into the land beyond. Thus far, they had no run-ins with any outsiders. They were diligent in marking their territory... and it payed off. There had only been one incident in which they had lost a member... though that was taken care of. None were left from that bout of carnage.
His query was met with a contemplative look. Did they have enemies...? Tonravik knew of the Plains disbanding, and thought of the plains wolves they had dealt with. The tawny wolf had come to them, but had been chased off... she wasn't an explicit enemy any longer, but she was a threat with her knowledge of poison and her cubs lack of knowledge. And then there were the wolves she felt were close... it disgruntled her. She hardly cared they were there first.
"Trespassers are to be killed, no questions asked," she remarked, "Though be sure to call to the pack to alert them, so we may assist—" while she did not grin, her eyes seemed to; there was a definite enjoyment in removing a threat, and the team effort it could involve was only further means to bond with the pack. "Those that would try and use our resources. We do not have specific enemies; we also do not have friends. We keep to ourselves." If any were to harass their family, they would be met with the entirety of it.
She thought it prudent to mention the tawny wolf, in the off-chance she wished for retribution. There had been no reason for her accosting them any of the other times, who was to say she would not come again? "There was a pack of plains wolves, once. They are no more. One remains who knows of poisons. She looks like a wolf for plains. Matches them. Plain," she described, not at all eloquent. She matched where she lived perfectly. Not an eyesore... just your typical tawny wolf, plain. "We took her tail from her, and some of her throat, ear," what else? She moved to his flank and gestured to it, "There." Tonravik believed the woman was not long for the world, but in case she tried to sabotage any of her wolves with that knowledge... It was best for him to be wary.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Aasivak - October 07, 2015
The instructions were clear and concise (as always). Trespassers were given no mercy. It appeared, by Spirewolf standards, not many were delivered mercy. Such a thing was not foreign to the drifter who cared little for others outside of keeping hide firmly on back. The solid alpha affirmed that no enemies currently took precedence nor were there allies to keep attending to. The Sawtooth wolves were their own entity and there was appreciation in that pact.
Another pause allowed hind leg to lift against a small shrub as the pair walked, sprinkling urine in key locations to reinforce the borders and assure their foothold.
The information of plains wolves were given a small flick of ear, pausing as the leader demonstrated areas of scarring and went in detail of key locations that would hint at this particular individual of interest. Apparently the female in question was plain and obviously well maimed. The depth of caricature seemed easy enough to pinpoint. "Hmm," he responded in acknowledgment, a throaty hum breaking the inky spider's silence and demonstrating every detail had been absorbed.
"Sounds like a worthy hunt," he offered bemusedly. It would give the Eta plenty to do some winter, anyway.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Tonravik - October 12, 2015
He listened, and Tonravik licked her chops. Worthy? No. The plains wolf was unworthy of anything, and it was a shame their attentions needed to ever fall to her. Tonravik could appreciate poisons in a hypocritical manner, but saw plenty of cowardice in it. If the playing field were meant to be level, it simply would be. Those that tried to shift the balance were not looked upon kindly by her critical eye, and yet, she did not discourage it herself because she knew those sorts lingered in the world. Better to know all they did to simultaneously knock their legs from beneath them and have them choke on their bile in the process. The wicked imagining played out on her face, and she looked now to the spider with a wave of her tail.
She would be glad for her death, after all. So perhaps it was a worthy hunt. She imagined the man before her could overcome the plains woman in more ways than one. He looked as swift as he was powerful. Tonravik herself was all power and brawn. Experience in war had lent her empirical experience to all sorts of characters, unsavory and deceptive, who would play dead and lunge for the throat. And so she was not made stupid by that brawn. Tonravik was an incredibly simple woman in all aspects of life but battle. There, it would seem there was nothing she did not know.
If they did not kill her, and she was alone for the Winter, nature would do the job. Thoughtfully, she queried, "What do you know of poisons?"
RE: Blood on my Hands - Aasivak - October 12, 2015
The topic turned to poisons. Inky ears shifted on sharply-cut head, considering the suggestion with quiet contemplation. The Eta did not find it unjust or unworthy to use the deceptive tricks of poisoning, nor did it never make it into arsenal. For the former drifter, there were no limits or boundaries. If a subject was desired dead any tactic would do, be it callously tainting meat or pushing able individuals off tall peaks. Death was death. Loyalty was loyalty. There were no grey areas for the spider.
"Some," the wolf concluded at last. It was a limited response for a wolf who carried limited verbal speech. "What are my orders?" he wondered out loud, perhaps inappropriately assuming that the alpha would send the Eta on a quest or journey. Jawline tilted upwards confidently, glowering eyes settling on the mountain-wolf for any semblance of explanation for the inquiry. There was no better initiation than a duty to the pack.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Tonravik - October 12, 2015
His query was not unfounded. "To learn more of them," she hummed. "I can teach you." It would give her ample opportunity to learn more of the man. And while she knew not of names, she knew of sight, of scent, of when a poison was useful and useless. She would not have him be caught unawares by a poison he did not know and that another saboteur would. It could not be had. As she thought of it, she determined she would teach the rest of the pack of this. It could only help, even if they knew what to avoid.
As for medicinal matters, her mate knew some and Kapvik knew others. She would have them both teach her. As a leader, she felt responsible for the lives of her wolves. If they could be saved, she would assist. If their legs were broken... well, they were beyond help, and she would aid them in putting them out of their misery. She presumed a slow death would be the most miserable of them all, and would not have a comrade suffer it.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Aasivak - October 12, 2015
New thread?!
Jawline produced a nod at the leader's request. Luckily, for the Coho-bred wolf, there was already a decent knowledge of plants that grew native in this region. It was only a matter of time to acquire this new knowledge base and put it to great use. Perhaps towards the rogue plain wolf that had dared strike an enemy with the Sawtooth.
"Tomorrow morning?" he reasoned with a drop of attention towards the waning sunlight. A decent majority of the morning had been swallowed up in border duties with still much to do. A den was needing to be fashioned for the former drifter as well as a meal stash to help supplement decreasing weight. The spider would be little use if spindly figure continued to diminish.
Ears preened upwards thoughtfully, hopeful that this date would bring bonding and fruition of new information.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Tonravik - October 12, 2015
HELLZ YEAH
He obliged her willingly, and this pleased her. His lack of questions and his willingness to put himself forward for the task was what gave him a smooth nod of confirmation. Tomorrow morning would do fine. She herself would continue this patrol and marking of the territory. It was up to him if he desired to continue along with her, or else depart her company and satisfy his own needs (which she would not fault him, wanting her wolves to be at their best).
And so the date was set. She would retrieve him come the following morning and they would find a proper place to practice the unsavory teachings she had in mind. Tonravik would teach her cubs, too; it was better that they know. Her mate she had taught the most important things, and would teach him further if he desired, but he knew that, and the basics... so she did not fear for his life. And the rest of her pack? She supposed she would give them lessons in this, too.
RE: Blood on my Hands - Aasivak - October 13, 2015
WOOHOO
The acceptance of dismissal was given with a nod of head. This pleased the spider. It would allow time to gather strength and resources in order to focus for the lesson to come.
There was a reluctance to leave, just yet, without one final imprint onto the borders. The Eta lowered head to smooth against one rock, paws scratching at the large object with a vigorous surge of muscles in order to produce not only hair scent, but that of secretions between toes. A turn of inky body sent the male back from the forward path, a lift of leg sprinkling one final spray of urine before wide paws picked up a trot. Lanky appendages began the slow trek back, wrapping against a jutting spire tip only briefly before diverting the road, scaling the slopes, and plucking a path back towards the center of the territory.
Morning would come soon enough.