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+--- Thread: Redtail Rise the fall of rome (/showthread.php?tid=66846)
the fall of rome - Osgar - January 03, 2026
The sun is low and the shadows are long by the time the roman tracks the herd to the foothills of a great plateau. An old bull stands sentry while his harem feeds, and young spikes duel at the fringes for a power that might one day be theirs.
A haggard sigh sends plumes of white into the air. Those who wear warcrowns could sooner lie dead in the snow, and a painful twinge in his hip is a jaded reminder that winter breeds weakness in both hunter and hunted.
It is as he sags against a great pine that he notices them. Wolf tracks, entangled with elk. His hackles raise and he kneels to examine them, though his gaze remains fixed on the treeline for signs of movement.
RE: the fall of rome - Winter Hawk - January 03, 2026
red dusk steps from the trees without haste.
the elk scent is thick here, pressed into the snow and earth, but it is the man’s pause that draws his eye. the way he kneels. the way his gaze never leaves the treeline. not careless. not foolish.
red dusk lifts his tail into a high, steady flag. not threat. not welcome. a question carried in posture alone.
who are you?
he does not bare his teeth. his weight settles forward just enough to be felt, rusted coat catching the last light as shadows stretch long around them. the rise is behind him, unseen but present, bound into his stance.
RE: the fall of rome - Osgar - January 06, 2026
He is right to be careful coming here. Rising to meet the approaching man, the roman holds himself tall and firm in a way that might distract from his weakened leg. The stranger oozes confidence and appears well fed, his plush fur indicative of someone honed for winter hunts.
Perhaps he sought the same beasts as Osgar.
An unhurried pause as his gaze shifts languidly from the elk to the man, ignoring the question in his posture as he cuts right to the chase. "Are you here to hunt?" His name means nothing here.
RE: the fall of rome - Winter Hawk - January 06, 2026
red dusk does not answer with words.
his gaze shifts east, toward where the land opens and the elk have been moving heavy and loud. he lifts one forepaw and brings it down hard, a single, blunt stomp that sends a dull thud through the ground.
elk.
his tail flags high and still. a laid plain.
then his eyes return to the male,waiting to see if he understands what has been given.
RE: the fall of rome - Osgar - January 06, 2026
Does this man not speak? Osgar is not even sure the primitive stranger understands what has been spoken, and watches him paw at the earth with a rather deadpan expression.
The mime is reminiscent of an old bull's warning, though the Roman can grasp no further meaning from it.
Should he even bother talking more? Taking a step east, he relays the information gathered from his observations slowly and simply. "Two-hundred paces. A large herd with one bull and several spikes." He pauses and cants his head in what should be a universal question.
RE: the fall of rome - Winter Hawk - January 06, 2026
red dusk scents what the man names before the words finish.
bull. old. heavy. watching. spikes restless at the edge.
his ears tip east and his tail lowers from its high flag, easing into something more measured. he takes a step and angles his body slightly, drawing a short arc with his nose along the ground, then flicks his head toward the fringes rather than the center.
spike.
he lifts his muzzle once, slow, and releases a quiet breath through his nose. not refusal. not challenge.
a better cut. less risk.
his pale eyes return to the male, waiting to see if he understands.
RE: the fall of rome - Osgar - January 08, 2026
I shan't waste more breathe, he thinks as his words are met with silence once again. But the sigh that escapes his lips is more contemplative than annoyed as his lazuli gaze plays closer attention to the stranger's movements this time.
It is a primitive dance. One reminiscent of the field signals once used in battle. He watches the other's body turn towards the herd's edges. They are worlds apart but, finally, a glimmer of understanding emerges in the slow wag of Osgar's tail.
A spike, then. He nods firmly and moves to worry the elk at a slow lope.
feel free to pp if u wish!
RE: the fall of rome - Winter Hawk - January 08, 2026
red dusk feels the shift before he sees it.
the tension loosens. understanding settles between them like breath shared in cold air. his tail gives a single, approving sweep as the male moves at last with purpose.
good!
red dusk lowers his nose to the ground and takes the trail cleanly, scent thickening as the herd stirs. spikes peel and bunch at the edge, restless and young. he angles his body without looking back, trusting the other to read the line.
spirits speaking now. no words needed.
he ghosts forward, muscles coiling, steps placed with care. when he stops, it is sudden and precise, weight sinking low into the brush.
ready when you are.
he waits for the moment to launch.