+- Wolf RPG (https://wolf-rpg.com)
+-- Forum: In Character: Roleplaying (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=5)
+--- Forum: Archives (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11)
+--- Thread: Blackfoot Forest battle (/showthread.php?tid=64671)
battle - Blackfell - January 26, 2025
a shadow at her side. a loyal dog following after it's master.
a coat of onyx blending in within the darkness of the forest, crimson eyes flitting to and fro; jaws agape, tasting scents upon a pink tongue. following, dutifully, hungrily, after the trail left behind by one-eye and his mistress.
@Meleeys had went ahead, leaving the two of them alone. but blackfell does not speak, intune with the silence of the forest and thrilled by the prospect of their hunt.
RE: battle - Gjalla - January 26, 2025
branches clawed at the faint moonlight, leaving shadows jagged and deep, swallowing all but the faintest flickers of movement. gjalla moved like a wraith through the gloom, a stormcloud looming overhead before it touched down to destroy its target.
her hound was at her back, trailing just behind, his towering form a specter at her side. she had not looked back at him for a while now, not since they departed from the valley after one-eye and the she-wolf he got pregnant.
she was a creature of instinct now—ears twitching, tongue flicking, every ounce of her honed in to focus stark's scent trail. it reeked of copper and rot, stark's lifeblood carving a jagged path through the undergrowth.
she'd instructed meleeys to go ahead, keep a closer eye. a precaution—if gjalla got too close, she would not hesitate, and she wanted to draw it out. let him suffer and hurt up until his last.
in doing so, her absence left the silence to stretch taut between the remaining pair. gjalla welcomed it, relished in it, the quiet offering a chance for her anger to simmer unchecked.
RE: battle - Blackfell - January 26, 2025
a shadow to her stormcloud.
the bulk of him blending well into the midnight of the forest. spindly branches clawing at his tall, lumbering form as he passes by and under. the crimson stare of a hunter fixed ahead, scanning the trail for any sign of their quarry.
but the forest was sickly with him. as if he had been all around, his rot pungent. to an extent, it was nearly disorienting.
gjalla’s anger was simmering, like to wear off on him the longer it breathed. they shared a silence, an understanding that was all too familiar, and yet unfamiliar all the same. stark’s blood their silent vow.
he had not spoken since they’d set off, had barely even let his breath give him away. but now, as they neared the crest of a ridge where the scent grew stronger, he rumbles knowingly. it is now he breaks his silence:
do you smell that?
but he already knows her answer.
RE: battle - Gjalla - January 26, 2025
the trail was maddening. stark’s stench clung to everything, weaving through the forest like a sickness. it was everywhere and nowhere, poisoning the air so thickly it left a bitter taste on her tongue. a poison, he always was—eternally toxic. ever undeserving. gjalla’s lips curled faintly, and she let out a low growl under her breath—a sound not meant for blackfell but for the man they hunted.
they didn’t speak. they understood without words, two halves of one whole. moved in tandem, stalking forward as one.
the climb grew steeper as they neared the ridge. gjalla’s jaw tightened as a foul stench hit her nose, periwinkle irises narrowed into slits.
the man behind her spoke, a low rumble. she didn’t answer immediately. didn’t need to.
“yes.” a single word, clipped and cold, but it carried with it the weight of her wrath. her gaze flicked toward blackfell briefly before snapping back to the trail ahead.
“close now.” she muttered, more to herself than to him, her tone dark and brimming with promise. her breath curled in the wind like smoke as she exhaled. she didn’t look back to see if blackfell followed—there was no need. he would follow. her hound always did. she was growing to like it.
RE: battle - Blackfell - January 27, 2025
he prowls just behind her. a bear lurking, in search of its next kill. hulking frame a shadow trailing hers. the sickly stench of stark’s blood coats the air, rotten with infection, acrid like the rust of iron. despite the sick it grows in his gut, he inhales deeply; taking nose to ground, rooting through the snow.
in the distance, a blood trail.
a smirk comes upon his black crown. he surges forth, through the snow, long, strong legs making quick work of the terrain. it does not take gjalla long to catch up, to meet him stride for stride. she was a storm building force, her fury crackling in the air between them. it fueled him, made his own anger sharper, more precise.
crimson eyes met crimson snow. there comes a chortling, dark laughter from the titan.
he's like to bleed out before we find them.
RE: battle - Gjalla - January 27, 2025
he surged ahead, nose to the ground, following the sickly tang of blood mingled with the frost. “he will not,” gjalla snapped, quickening her own pace to match his. she had no doubt, only faith, as if sheer will alone would keep stark breathing until she had her teeth around his throat.
the blood trail was sharp against the snow, jagged stretches of red over white. her lips curled into a snarl, baring teeth that glinted in the dim light filtering through the trees. “if he bleeds out before we get to him,” she hissed, “i will rip his spirit from the hells myself so we may send him back.”
stark had to survive, if only so she could feel the life drain from his body by her own paw. feel his last breath between her teeth.
RE: battle - Blackfell - January 27, 2025
he matches her snarl with a toothy, grim, humorless sneer. his heart thrums to the beat of her battle cry. the vigor he sees in her, the ferocity, the bloodlust, fills his veins with a drive like no other.
he proclaims:
he’ll survive.as much as the both of them would hate to admit, he was a ghastly bastard.
the jagged streaks of blood ahead spoke of desperation, a cornered beast clinging to what little life he had left. stark’s cowardice reeked as much as his wounds, and blackfell could taste the end drawing near.
but gjalla's fury comes with it's flaws. as does any fury. it is often the fate of any hot-blooded warrior.
you’ll have your chance,it is his job to be the voice of reason against her plight.
but cornered beasts still have teeth.
RE: battle - Gjalla - January 27, 2025
you’ll have your chance, he'd said, but cornered beasts still have teeth.
she sees his words for what they were, a cautionary tale she'd known well. her anger often got ahead of her in matters of the heart, blinded by an urge to defend. she shakes the warning from her mind, dismisses it with a half-truth; "that is what you are for," to keep her safe, as she kept morwenna safe.
she lopes at his side, even paced as her mind spun. stark's would be hers to claim—she alone would sever the snake's head. if he managed to coil around her throat and got the opportunity to squeeze, blackfell would stop it before her breath left her. her hound was protective, she knew it.
RE: battle - Blackfell - January 27, 2025
his focus is tethered to her—always to her.
she will take the kill, of that he has no doubt.
he knows, with a certainty that grips him like iron, that she is everything. everything he could ever want. everything he could ever need.
he breathes for her. he hunts for her. he kills for her. his purpose, his being, has been reduced to one simple truth: gjalla.
there is no shame in it, no hesitation in the thought. she is his anchor, his reason. a hound bound to his master, a sword and shield in equal measure. her word is law, and he will wield it without question. she need only breathe, and he will answer.
there comes an ache in his chest; the kind of ache that drives a man to do unspeakable things. the kind that ties a wolf to his purpose so fiercely it becomes indistinguishable from love, devotion, and hunger.
i will kill for you.
his loyalty to saatsine is merely an extension of his loyalty to her.
RE: battle - Gjalla - January 27, 2025
her ears flick toward him, catching the weight of his words. his declaration. i will kill for you.
it doesn’t surprise her, not entirely—blackfell’s devotion had always been palpable, a smoldering ember at her heels, waiting to be fanned into flame at first command. the absolute of it is what strikes her, the pluck of a song cord that sends a shockwaves through her. a darkness, saccharine sweet. yes, he would. she would let him, watch in awe when he came back with a blood-slicked maw. what lengths would he go to in order to please her?
gjalla doesn’t respond, not immediately. her gaze fixed ahead, tracking the crimson streaks that carved their path through the snow.
she glances at him from the corner of her eye, a maelstrom gaze meeting volcanic for a fleeting moment. his expression is unreadable, save for the intensity in his crimson stare. he is an enigma, a shadow bound to her by loyalty so fierce it borders on worship.
gjalla growls low in her throat, but it is more to herself than to him, more pleased than pissed, and quickens her pace. “stay close,” she orders, brooking no argument. storm and shadow.
RE: battle - Blackfell - January 27, 2025
she commands, and he obeys.
the raven who has become blackfell’s shadow, perched high above in a skeletal tree, lets out a sharp caw.
the bird shifts his weight, flapping once before gliding down to perch on a jagged outcrop. its beady eyes gleam in the dim light as it snaps its beak, then casts its gaze toward a shadowy hollow in the side of the ridge.
crimson eyes narrow and see it for what it is.
there,he rumbles. the faint outline of a cave is barely visible against the frost-laden rock. the entrance blocked by a felled tree.
without hesitation, he moves ahead.
RE: battle - Gjalla - January 27, 2025
her gaze snaps to the hollow, barely discernible against the ridge’s frozen surface. a crow perched upon it — squawks at them from a distance. blackfell urges her forward, and so she follows. stark’s scent clings to the air, thick and rancid, and every instinct screams at her to move, to strike, to end this.
“wait,” she commands, and he stops, twists his head back to glance at her. gjalla steps forward, closing the distance between them as they near the mouth. her eyes fixed on the hollow, her mind racing through the possibilities.
after a moment, she composes herself. she exhales slowly, a plume of white against the cold. “he might not be alone.” she mutters. “if the woman who followed him is with him, do not let her intervene. kill her, if you must.” an unfavorable outcome, but a possibility nonetheless. in the end, it would make no difference to saatsine. they wouldn’t even have to know.
gjalla’s gaze flickers back to the hollow, her ears twitching as she strains to catch any sound, any sign of movement. there is thrashing, she thinks. life. perhaps the trickle of water.
her lips curl back in a snarl as she steps closer to blackfell, her voice dropping to a growl. “help me move this.”
they do not get the opportunity to. the tree shifts, and out comes the snake.