The Heartwood Take the oxygen straight out of my own chest.

November 29
Set after this thread.

This place was familiar, even with the snow blustering at dizzying speeds from the heavens. He'd sought it out as a form of shelter foremost; the meadow he'd been wandering through felt as if it would go on endlessly until that moment where Revui noticed the trees, veiled as they were by the spectral eddies of white noise. He knew this place well enough, having navigated it in the past on hunts and patrols with his siblings. He did not think of Moonspear despite the looming shape of the mountain in the distance—he did not think of his family as followed trail after trail through the woods, so focused was he on his task. The only thing to break his fixation was the occasional scent of prey; but try as he might, Revui could not discern where the mice fled to, or if the rabbit trails were fresh, or if the half-buried hollows he came across housed anything living. His heavy steps resounded between the trees; the crunch of each stride echoed in to the earth and would scare away anything near, and so he continued to suffer, to be plagued by a dizzying hunger.

6°, currently it is light snow and set during the day. Located in Great Bear Wilderness, the heartwood | ooc notes: I'm going to place this chronologically before this thread!

Another place he couldn't recognize. Growing more and more frustrated, he wandered the woods already in search of a way out, of a familiar sight, a familiar scent to guide him back to some familiar lands than this charred wasteland. Dead trees and charred earth held no promise that there would be any prey here either - and the growing hunger in his belly spurred the agitation he tried so hard to impede. 

Thick paws drummed against the ground at a slow pace, claws dragging with every step as his brow furrowed deeply, a snarl tickling his lips as he grew more and more impatient with his situation. Some food, something or someone to recognize! Still, he held onto a pride, striving to show no weakness. It was the sound of feet along the trail that dragged him forward, someone was ahead... he hoped it was a familiar face, a name he could muster from the caverns of his memory and just as he approached the individual -

No one.

Not a scent to be recognized. The feeling of disappointment was crushing. His sneer deepened as a flash of white broke his features for a moment, broken by bitterness and the growing list of failures. Not only was this man not a familiar face, but he held a new scent too. One foreign to his nose. Everything about him was new, and it pissed him off.

When he finally lost momentum and stopped his crunching, there was quiet. A stillness settled across the expanse of forest that was, at first, only broken by the whisper-soft falling snow. This did not last. Something else was roaming between the trees, and it crashed with the same hapless abandon as Revui; it sounded more and more like a bear, and drew closer by the moment. The boy didn't feel threatened by the thought of something so large and (most likely) sleepy coming towards him, not until he turned to face the shape, and saw a snowbank fall to pieces against the broad chest of some pale wayfarer.

He was immediately defensive; reminded of the giant white bear he had once come across in the past, and how easy it had been to coerce and harass that particular creature away from Moonspear, Revui was unafraid. The stranger was no bear and he knew that, recognizing the wolfish gait and the grim outline of the stranger's face through the snowfall. However, they came upon his quite abruptly, and seemed intent to invade his space.

At least, that's how he perceived the moment—until the stranger stopped, almost as if they were perplexed, and then they drew back, the scent of Revui somehow offensive. The boy bristled and let the sight of the older, larger wolf recoiling bolster his ego; he took up that space, swaggering closer, investigating the stranger. They weren't familiar—but perhaps they lived in the area and knew something which could aid him.

Revui did not hesitate with his posturing, with the shrewd look in his eyes - a challenge.

Confused and lost, Rosencrantz was not someone to swagger on over, tall and proud with a challenging glint in their eye. It was clear he did not welcome the unfamiliar man to come closer, a distinct hatred in his eye beamed toward the grey-scale gargoyle and grew with every step he took forward. Twisting his features was an ugly snarl, with every fiber of his being he warned the stranger for coming any closer, taking a step forward as to claim his own space while a rumbling vocalized his warnings from within his throat. 

Bristling while focussing on the stranger, did everything to try and scare off the man from approaching any further. Even in his state he didn't want to fight, the rage that bore deep within was more or less toward Rosencrantz himself - but he was always so terrible at hiding such a thing. Puffing himself out, making himself look larger, formidable, vicious as the teeth shone brilliantly in the light of day. He was a knight in clad in shining armour of course. 

Should he turn to make his way away from the stranger now, the man might chase after him, giving him an opening from behind... Rose felt forced to face the man until he backed off hopefully. Perhaps a month ago he would lept at the opportunity to fight, to pick one with this man in the ashen woods - but now, he was too tired. Too hungry. He wouldn't think straight. The man was defensive, and perhaps, should shit truly hit the fan... he might be a beast of instincts to try and save his own skin.

The stranger's reaction served to fuel Revui, feeding him as kindling might feed a fire. He was tempted closer despite the snarling of the stranger's face and the posturing, the noise. It took a moment for him to recognize that the stranger was at a slight disadvantage: he was missing an eye. The scar took up most of his broad face and was quite impressive for its ugliness. No words were exchanged betwixt the two beasts—but there was an electricity, a growing tension that no amount of posturing could curtail. The pale wolf moved defensively, favoring his wounded side a little bit more, and made a subtle move to protect their own throat.

Revui's bristling mirrored the white bear of a man; he thought of Vengeance back at the forest, and likened this creature to the giant. It was like staring down the leader's own ghost, or perhaps his soul—and if Revui was ever very thoughtful he might've found that notion charming, maybe amusing. It flickered in and out of his mental periphery too quickly to matter, though. Rather than fixate on those similarities of sizes and attitudes, the boy was intrigued by the thought of bloodshed. How easy it would be to turn that pale coat red! To rend muscle from those old bones, and glut himself to good health!

There had been enough warning, enough of a stand-still between them (momentary though it had been); Revui took the initiative and lunged first, going straight for the stranger's remaining eye—then side-stepped with expert skill, anticipating how the rival warrior might react, and sought to grapple with the opposite side, the junction of neck-to-shoulder.

Despite his best attempts, the stranger was not interested in backing down. The faceoff fueled the stranger, while the stranger's antagonistic behavior fueled Rosencrantz's frustration and rage. His growl deepened, the snarl snapped as foam spewed from his lips, bubbling as he tightened his grip between his own fangs as they ground furiously against one another. They were both simply in no shape to be fighting, and yet this mad man was intent on starting one! The famine had stolen much of both their muscle mass, even Rose could see in the stranger's body the lack of fat.

But that didn't deter him either. The younger man lunged forward feining for his one remaining eye - the boy was either stupid to go for his better half or was doing what most did when facing a foe with a missing half of a face. It was a calculated guess, from experience cultivated over and over from one encounter to the next, and thankfully this time, he guessed right.

Immediately as the boy went to aim for one, Rose was already prepared to defend his other. Willing to take the chance that perhaps his educated guess would go, either way, he felt as if he had a 75% chance on being right as opposed to the 50/50 most would assume when faced with two equally healthy beasts. Quickly he aimed an attack on his off side, clashing ivory against ivory as the skin along his neck took most of the damage while being blunted with his counter. Attempting to thrust the other's face up and away while ducking down with his own attack to try and grab at his chest.

Current wounds: a gash along his neck

Wounds: Chest gouge.

Things happened quickly, as was common for fights and especially so for brawls between rogues. He felt the satisfying click of his teeth against bone, the tug, the slice, the taste of the blood on his lips. The counter-move came swift and powerful; something collided with his chest and drove him back, nearly off of his feet. A burning pain as his skin ripped, igniting something left long dormant during his days in the pit: an intensity previously muted, now unbound.

With a roar the boy drove himself forward with enough momentum to close the distance again, but this time he wasn't using the tactics his family had taught him. He was doing what came naturally, letting his body react, primal and a touch unhinged, as he snapped his teeth at air, at fur, at flesh if possible, eager for another bite even though he was putting himself at dire risk.

Immediately his pristine coat was stained red, again. The rush of battle filling his veins, but this time, this was different. It was for survival as opposed to that fleeting joy that the rush of adrenaline had brought him. One of them could die here and now thanks to the famine. One wrong move, one punctured artery that bled a little too much. This was not a fight between soldiers, but one to see another day, while the other a madman trying to steal that from him. 

There was a mad look in the boy's eyes and only one solution came to the paladin's mind as an act for survival. Keep a calm mind, focus, be tactful and it would make his chances for victory a little higher than to fight the boy on his own mad grounds. 

Defensively he exposed his shoulder to the boy's frantic biting, flattening his ears against his skull and lowering his center of gravity along by bending his knees and elbows, he took the brunt of the boy's attack and once they collided, aimed to grab hold of his elbow and pull.

Current wounds: a gash along the right side of his neck, the left shoulder has deep bite wounds

Wounds: Chest gouge, probably some tears to his legs.

There was no reason for them to be fighting in the first place except for Revui's need to dominate, but beyond that, he needed to let off some steam and it hadn't felt possible within the woods controlled by his once-captors; it was wrong of him to set himself against the first body he come across, or at least the first who looked like a challenge, but mad was the right phrase for it. He was hungry, angry, unable to process all that he'd been through, and was trained in combat. Overall it was a bad combination which the pale wolf was being forced to deal with.

Combat was what he knew. It was all he knew. Hydra had tried to do more for him when he lived on the mountain—make him slow down and think—but he had been running off of the fumes of his anger for so long that everything else fell away from him. Until now, as his pain and his blood shocked his system in to some kind of awareness. He felt his teeth slice and the flesh give; he moved automatically, as he had been trained, and was countered swiftly by the teeth of his opponent. Back and forth they went until the pale wolf reached for his elbow and something clicked for him.

He wanted to plunge face-first after his quarry but seeing that split-second of teeth aiming for his forelimb made his brain vomit images of Black Hat grappling at him; the breaking of bone, the overwhelming pain, then waking in the pit—

With a roar Revui focused on that one movement from Rosencrantz and did his best to get out of range, backing down as best he could, except that the other man's momentum had him moving so fast that Revui felt crowded, and he lost his balance, and then he was tripping on his own feet; he hit the icy dirt a few seconds later and with a snarl began to snap his teeth at the air, kick with his paws. He wouldn't be broken again—he wouldn't be a captive again—!

Everything was moving so fast. The hunger in his stomach made keeping his thoughts clear much harder than usual. The taste of blood beckoned him to take a bite, to chew, to eat something despite the taboo it came with. His teeth only made a bit of contact, scratching the surface as he hungrily bit at the air while the boy went down, stumbling over his own feet while the paladin did nothing other than try to grab hold of something than just loose skin.

The landshark was down, fallen over his own haze and inability to completely think through his actions. There was a moment of clarity in the knight's mind, to turn and take this moment to flee - but what if the boy pursued? How long could he evade this battle-hungry goliath until their teeth clashed once more? No. He would have to continue until one of them was down. A rabid dog would never give up the pursuit to bite its target, and neither would this one once the flailing was done.

In a moment Rosencrantz rushed forward, with every intention to place a heavy paw right on the boy's neck and slide it upward to rest below the boy's jaw to further control his snapping jaws, while another paw was planted firmly on the ground. Should he succeed, he would place as much weight on it as possible, to choke out the gargoyle. The Knight's jaws were aimed to try and pin down the boy's shoulder to prevent him from getting up - should everything work out in his favor of course. Even the most battle savy of warriors would know that not everything went according to plan, no matter how well thought out it might be.

It was over even faster than it had begun. The full brunt of the pale stranger's effort hit him, forcing him off of his feet as if the mountain of a man embodied the force of an avalanche, and try as Revui might he could not compensate fast enough. He was too busy feeling the emotional weight of his prior loss; the fear that he would be swept away and deposited in the earth, left to rot there by yet another enemy. He felt the weight of the rival warrior press down upon him and as that pressure hit his throat, he tried to roar and to fight them off; however, their positioning was superior. Light turned to haze around him; he saw spots, his snarling choked back, and while he wheezed and fought to breathe Revui could do nothing — he was dizzy, like someone held him in a headlock — and the boy would have passed right out had his opponent not grappled with his shoulder in such a violent manner. Something popped; maybe it was his imagination, or maybe he was hearing the capillaries in his eyes pop at the corners as a by-product of his struggle... Regardless, Revui passed out in to the snow thereafter, the fever of battle leaving him except where his fresh wounds burned and bled.

Time ticked so slowly. He could feel his own pulse as it beat to its own drum, under his paw, he could feel the same for the gargoyle underneath him. Their drums beat to a different rhythm, but both as strong and feverish. As he felt the struggling male slow, Rosencrantz could feel his breath try to catch up, bleeding, bruised, he had to make sure that the greyscale man was done before heading off to heal. 

Half expecting the boy to leap up and begin round two, Rose braced himself for the worst until... nothing. The boy fell limp and the bitter victory belonged to the alabaster warrior. With a heavy sigh, he stepped off of his opponent and began to walk away, leaving behind him the boy to recover at his own pace and hopefully, not wake up until Rose was far, far, far away from him.