The Heartwood oh, death

Over a year now and it still burned in his chest. At the time of the news, Akavir had slipped away while the pack had rallied for a new leader, marveling at how the world could still appear as if it were the same when everything in his world had been turned on its axis.

Now, he stood, only vaguely considering the barely familiar trees that loomed behind him in the afternoon sun. Now, when his champagne gaze looked out to the forest floor, there was no Ibis there. No body. Not even a sign that anything amiss had ever happened here.

He did not know how long he stared now at the empty spot—only realizing now how numb he had been in his grief. His muzzle tipped up, trying to slow his breathing and focus—his father had become a firm believer in the magic that allegedly graced his family… the ways of the Mayfair witches. If he possessed any potential for harboring magic, he would think it would be in the very forest his mate had died.

“Ibis,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes falling shut as he tried to sense her. What he would give to catch wind of her scent once more or to feel the warmth of her small body against his, tucked at his side as they often had at nights.

His only response was from the humid wind of the summer day, stirring the acrid stench of ash and burnt woods. Nothing magical. Nothing of his lover who had been dead for over a year now.

Large Brutish paws tore up the ground as he moved through the heartwood. Red Eyes gleaming, searing into the night that burned around. There was nothing an no one here anymore. His pack even their scent was stale, but he continued through, like a wraith. Stalking, searching. Something to ease the burn in his chest.

He came across a male there. Handsome, dark. And a growl resonated from his throat. Red eyes snapping to the man as his tail arched and swayed above his back. Towering, slathering. He snarled.

You are in claimed territory Shadow. Run or die.

He quivered there, body poised to take flight, to chase after this shadow of a wolf. Even if clearly he was hurting, he was upset with something. However, this was not the brown beast's concern and he was a warden, the harbinger. He needed to keep these woods empty for Alduin, for Khasni. Perhaps even for Atka if she chose to make her home among death.

I hope a dreven is okay.

If he hadn’t believed in ghosts before, there was a spark of potential for it now. An ear flicked at the sound of the rumbling threat, Akavir’s paler eyes settling upon the large spectral. Crimson eyes burned at him, saliva pooled at the lips in the brimming anger of the other. It was almost as if the harbinger was a final gift beyond the grave from his dead wife—their shattered love and mistrust represented now in the dark beast before him.

“This is home?” Incredulity traced his words, and he chuffed back a scoff. His own pelt bristled, his form shifting to stand at a greater height as he prepared himself for the onset of the other. A land of burnt ash and waste. Of death...


How fitting for the red-eyed monster.

Dreven met the other's eyes with burning in his own. A maelstrom of what could be, quickly blanking out, as was everything with him. Never feel, never wonder, never question. Do what needs done and move on. He had made that mistake with Atka and now it was like a burr in his hide.

Dreven made a soft hmm sound, beneath the growl. Looks can be deceiving Shadow.

Then with a deeper snarl he lunged, aiming for the other's face. Hopefully he would run if not. then he supposed he would taste blood today. He didn't care either way. He just needed this one out of borders and away.

Not sure how you want this to go or what you wish to do :) I am good with being stopped, I am good with a spar, dice or non whichever you prefer.

Tabletop spar posted here

The wolf mumbled something in return, none of which mattered to the shadowrunner as the guardian went for his face. Akavir met the onslaught with a rumbling snarl of his own, jaws gaping as he lunged to the other to squarely meet him. Slashing teeth aimed for the others muzzle or cheek, his back paws finding purchase to the forest floor to better his balance and leverage.

A fight wasn't a smart thing for a lone wolf to partake in--but there was something freeing about simply doing rather than reflecting.

Perhaps Dreven was distracted or this wolf was better, but his teeth jarred against the other, but he drew no blood or meat. The other however scoured a dark thick line if blood from his jaw to his underside chin. Blood dripped in a torrent.

Face wounds always did. He snapped back pushed shoulder hard into other if could. Then back pedaled to redirect and attack again.

It seemed his refusal to turn tail and run had surprised the other wolf--the mere audactity to defend himself when he was caught trespassing... though he scented no pack here. Still, normal circumstances would have had the dark widower bow out on the moral aspect alone, but something in him had snapped--the crimson eyes bore down on him, and he had long grown tired of simply allowing life to swallow him whole.

The blood was copper on his tongue, the scent of it initiating another snarl from the shadowrunner, his mind practically preening at the tautness of his muscles, the need to release his energy and rage.

The stranger rammed against him, pushing him back and forcing the onslaught of his teeth to the other's face to halt and his own muzzle tipping as fangs grazed the top of his snout, breaking skin and bubbling his own blood forth to the air.

He shifted his own hefty bulk then, side-stepping to escape the groping teeth and attack and duck his own head below, looking to scour the juncture of his opponent between neck and shoulder, to grip and push back.

There were no sounds beyond Drevens own harsh growls and snarls and his opponent. It was almost as if everything had gone silent.

Dreven knew well the feeling of overwhelming stress. The need to push back at life when it caught you in angry teeth and claws.

Dreven reared and fought to wrestle the other to the ground. Searching for purpose in the scruff of the other neck. Seeking and wanting the others blood now if not his life. There were no saviors here. Unless he could save himself.

sorry for the wait, love!

The large behemoth moved to crash into him, wrestling him to the ground and in a swift moment, Akavir did go down, his side and spine cracking into the earth with a force that could have knocked the wind from him if he hadn't used the speed of the fall to propel himself away from seeking jaws.

The black shadowrunner would roll, finding his paws, pushing himself up but not without a bruising pain releasing from his ribs. The other would not stop, and Akavir would need to determine what was worth the battle--his life or his pride. His own jaws made to seek the others sensitive face, looking to swiftly shift his paws closer to a route that could mean his own escape if he could distract the other enough.

No worries, lovely.

Teeth dug deeply above and below eye socket, barely missing the eyeball itself, but leaving scouring marks in his face. He blinked as blood welled and dripped into his eye momentarily blinding him.. Dreven roared and scrabbled against the other claws attempting to find puchase on black pelt.

Dreven backed off and circled. Moving to attack again, whilst giving the other room to also run if he pleased.

Blood fell from multiple wounds and panting ragged breaths feel from scarred chest. Dreven stared growls lipping along his maw.

The taste of blood spurred a certain adrenaline and distaste all in one. Fury, perhaps, not from the beast opposite of him but for life in general and the way it had played out. Visiting his wife’s alleged grave site, being met with teeth and red eyes, Akavir was certainly infuriated, but not stupid.

Or, perhaps he was. Another partial lunge as he saw the opening, a sloppy attack that did nothing but stall his own escape and miss his opponent without any grace. A rumbling snarl, the shadowrunner backed away toward the opening, champagne eyes flaring as he eyed the other, unwilling to turn his back but also willing to accept the strength and prowess of the other would certainly see him to an early grave should they continue.

The steering pain in his muscles revealed this would be felt for days if not weeks from now—the taste of blood not just from the red-eyed stranger but from him as well.

Okay love. You can have him escape and his attack will miss or you can let it hit somewhere, because I rolled a 7...which would knock his hp out.

Dreven had no qualms about fighting another and he certainly had no issues defending his pack lands. Nor did it matter to him who this wolf was or had been. This was their claim now, at least he hoped. He hadn't seen his leader for some time. he wondered at it.

Dreven saw the man backing up, but not running and he lunged forward again, jaws snapping at face, throat anything he could reach. Paws finding purchase in the ashy dirty ground.

Were his mark to hit, it could possibly be the other's death or permanent maiming. White teeth against dark flesh made for a pretty color.

I'm going to have him bounce since I'm not ready for him to die, but I think it's only fair he does get a good maiming for it all! Having him try to escape and his mind is more or less blanking from the moment. Thanks for the thread hun. <3

Snapping practically on air, a grievous error and the return was tenfold. The other's final lunge saw the red-eyed wolf's teeth render his flesh, the tender area in his haunch, near his belly. It was pain he hadn't experienced before, physically at least--nothing had deteriorated him more quickly than the death of his wife.

He twisted, pulling from the grip of the other but not without the shredding of flesh and muscle. He sneered in pain, his body quaking for a moment as he stumbled backwards. There was no other option now but to run as the adrenaline fueled his body--his mind blank for the moment as he would see himself away from the ashened and burnt grave site, and away from the jaws of the beast so intent to keep it.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. And yet the anger that clenched his heart still gripped tightly, despite the fading of his vision.