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+--- Thread: Arrow Lake mourntart (/showthread.php?tid=31720)
mourntart - Stigmata - December 29, 2018
slinking about the frost-rimmed lake, stigmata followed the lone tracks of a limping stag - a casualty of the pitiless mountain trails. it had made it this far, pursuing what all survivalists persisted for, but its herd had abandoned the meandering mule a day or so prior, and it wouldn't be long now before the warhunter successfully drove the fractured elk to its death. he would harry it each time it dared rest, and soon, diaspora would eat fine once more; courtesy of the sunspire's bounties.
the shadows deepened, and a steady snow began as night approached. this forced stigmata to inwardly debate on whether or not he should press forward. the stag would die eventually - with or without the wolf's prodding - but finding a buried, frozen elk-sicle wasn't exactly preferable to a hot, steaming meal.
RE: mourntart - Thorn - December 29, 2018
already night fell, or at least, it seemed to with a hammer's strike to thorn; he had been trailing his own game up until that point, and had found night's inconvenient descent meant that his game (a hare) had sunk deep underground. with snow falling at the rate it was accumulating, he would have better luck bedding for the night and starting fresh in the morning.
resigned to another lean night of sleep with no meal, thorn had dug a small pit for himself when a predator's shadow passed through. feeling an instinctive need to suss out this stranger, if only to smell him, thorn nosed through the tangle of snow-laden boughs towards the warhound, his posture saying "hey! who are you?" while his eyes burned with curiosity.
RE: mourntart - Stigmata - December 29, 2018
stigmata turned at the shifting of a broad, shadowy mound and he watched the formless chimera take shape of a wolf - inkblack from bow to stern and bejeweled in virgin snow. stigmata lifted his tail and invited the bold yearling forward with a slow, testy wag. he was wary of young males with a natural trot, especially considering his claim to the sunkill peaks had been usurped by such a creature, and he was loathe to forget about that.
he tucked his chin to accept the forward brute's greeting, his eyes prying shrewdly for a tell of danger (or something that he could exploit).
RE: mourntart - Thorn - December 30, 2018
they met upon that court of white, thorn's inkblack frame in brief contact with the ironshod grey hunter. no words spilled from his firm mouth, but his body readily spoke for him. the brute's acceptance of thorn's presence necessitated establishing the dominant order, and thorn felt his breath quicken as he nosed the winter-plush pelt of the stranger.
pulling back, he walked with a careful gait around the warhound, noticing the lion's eye upon him. if the boundary was to be tested, it was to be done now. thorn's pared ears rotated forward, and he lifted his jaw ever so slightly to be above the proud crown of his acquaintance.
the next few seconds would be telling -- and how stigmata reacted to the cur's quiet edict would show whether the iron hound was a liege worth following, or simply abandoning there alone in his court of snow.
RE: mourntart - Stigmata - December 30, 2018
their reception was tense and laden with testosterone; leaving stigmata deathly still as he anticipated the yearling's coming need to establish his own limitations. the black dog - virile and unbridled - seemed eager to know what he could get away with, what he was entitled to, and he had chosen an iron-fisted lecturer to bother with his query.
godsilver eyes speared to cunning coins of fool's gold, and between the lift of the young bull's chin and the projection of teeth roaring for his neck, there went only a single chest-thundering beat. he sent an undoctored message to the shadowbrute, with hardly a warning flash before the hammerstrike, and then, having left a stinging bruise upon the competitor's throat, he coiled back in true basilisk form and prepared to lash out again.
RE: mourntart - Thorn - January 01, 2019
in a matter of seconds, he was struck down by the coiling venom of the wizened male. thorn’s hide stung with the leader’s rebuke, and his yellowed gaze flashed in response to the cobra-strike executed by the warhound.
and yet, no retaliation was made — for handily, the cur had been put in his place, not unlike an elder boxing an impudent child’s ear. there was some fight left in the black brute, but like any intrepid predator, thorn knew when his energies were best conserved.
his ears laced back as he stepped out from under the heavy breath of the basilisk.
the message was clear: with newly tempered posture, thorn accepted his defeat and ranking below the male, and made no further bid for dominance.
RE: mourntart - Stigmata - January 01, 2019
though prepared to deliver one with righteous impunity, there was no need for a second strike, and for now the amateur competitor proved shrewd enough to rescinded his bid for the olympics. stigmata relaxed at once, satisfied by the male's display and too overly confident in his own ability to remain tightly postured. that being said, he still seemed hyperaware of the bull wolf, and kept him tight in the corner of his peripheral at all times.
he was impressed, too, by the inkborn stag. he was a fine specimen, and given another two years he could be an insurmountable force. the cogs in stigmata's head started turning, and he narrowed his eyes on the male as if in suspicion. "who are you?" he demanded, quiet and easy.
RE: mourntart - Thorn - January 01, 2019
their physical contest now over, thorn relaxed -- though his rough shoulders were still raised, and his gaze alert under the watchful eye of the damascene competitor. he would not attempt a second rebellion; thorn's loyalties were won by brute skill, and he had been thoroughly bought (and cowed) by the older hunter.
his gaze was kept low to the ground, unchallenging - but as the male asked who he was he could not help but glance on the face of his defeat, ever so briefly. "thorn. i have traveled with mahler." it was evident now, at least to the eyjolfur, that this proud sovereign was the wolf in which mahler had briefly spoken of.
RE: mourntart - Stigmata - January 01, 2019
the mention of mahler did wonders for the iron wardog's mood, as what remained of his annoyance was gone in a flash and his tail lifted into a curt wag. "ah, yes," the hound drawled. "the one with two others, yet to be seen." he recalled with casual cynicism what little the mountain's resident gargoyle was able to tell him of the dark wolf he had met and allowed solace in these mountains. he wondered who the others were, and if they lingered. thorn didn't smell much like anyone else - except perhaps faintly of diaspora - but he would be sure in a moment. "will you be staying?"
RE: mourntart - Thorn - January 01, 2019
while the change in stigmata was noted, thorn remained reserved under the cold eyes of his superior. his tail lifted just slightly so above his hocks - enough to note the easier demeanor, but not enough to appear challenging. just one name, and stigmata's mien had changed -- proving once and for all this was the brute in which the esteemed gargoyle had seen fit to pledge his loyalty.
will you be staying? the cur did not draw out a reply - answering instead with a transparent "yes."
RE: mourntart - Stigmata - January 01, 2019
though he did not verbally respond, he reacted to the answer with a sly expression and a heartier wag. good, he snorted proudly, lifting his chin and panting as a surge of excitement pulsed through the tactician. "i am stigmata," he declared. "you are ours. we are yours. there need be little else." the wolf turned in the direction he'd originally been going and indicated with a toss of his skull for thorn to fall instep at his side. "we have a stag to fell."
RE: mourntart - Thorn - January 01, 2019
the man revealed his name; a powerful name, remarked thorn, for a powerful creature -- in silence he watched as the tactician announced their next endeavor, a stag to be conquered.
the brute allowed a small smile -- for bloodsport was a game well practiced by the fell beast, and he looked forward to the prospect of proving his worth to the imperial stigmata.
falling in step behind the tungsten leader, thorn nosed along the riffled snow, eyes trained ahead.
RE: mourntart - Stigmata - January 01, 2019
stigmata returned them to their primordial roots - hungering down the trail of a fettered deer; scouring along the limp-line it had carved in the snow. the smokehound felt confident with the ox-made wolf at his side. the two of them in tandem could likely bemoan a hale stag to death, let alone one that was already crippled.
he appreciated the intense silence shared between them - a quite borne of bloodthirst - and when at last the smell of deer had strengthened to its pinnacle, stigmata paused to allow the young male first pursuit, if only to see how he performed when given point.
RE: mourntart - Thorn - January 01, 2019
the pair spread forth, hounding the tattered trail of a limping buck; its' tracks were uneven, each hoof placed in inconsistence -- thorn paused to study the shortened strides. detecting it was lame in a fore-limb, the beast skulked ahead at stigmata's silent insistence, his gaze trailing the snow-blanketed rough-lands.
he coursed ahead, body low and prowling -- the scent of buck grew ever headier, and when he was within sight of the hapless creature he slithered behind interrupted breaks of stone, his pelt affording a natural, shadowed camoflauge. he came from head-on -- a pursuit that might have seemed tactless, save thorn knew pivoting on an injured limb was a laborious process; the buck would struggle to spin and turn away, which would afford both him and stigmata time in which to fell the wounded beast.
he exploded from his vantage, a black blur eclipsed by disturbed snow flurries. the buck rose its head and froze, soft eyes wide as it recognized its' danger. its long legs spun rapidly, but not soon enough -- and soon the two wolves would close in on it and deliver it from its suffering.
RE: mourntart - Stigmata - January 01, 2019
thorn was not only physically capable, his intellect shone through a brazen display that capitalized perfectly on their current target's weakness. his own body on autopilot, the tactician dove in with a fencer's strike and cleaved the stag's precious gullet before it could recover from its vicious stumbling. having done the work of a surgeon's blade, thorn's contributions to the assault were unnecessary thereafter but certainly sped up the process.
at the death of their prize, the blood-splashed stigmata regarded the formidable thorn with a stern kind of fondness, before tossing his head back in a howl for @Mahler, @Takiyok, and @Finch to come dine and socialize with their newest recruit. but first, the two of them gorged first happily, long before the others could arrive.
faaaaade. "thorn, everybody. everybody, thorn!" the end <3