Ravensblood Forest My new favorite place

@Kierkegaard :)

Ever since he dreadfully met up with his pack mates here, Ezekiel knew he loved it. Not only was it a forest with big trees, but also the red sap intrigued him. Not to mention he loved the sweet honey like smell it produced and he found walking in Ravensblood very relaxing. Though of course the first time he'd been here, he'd met Anita, a female he didn't particularly like that much. Luckily that only ruined this place a bit and like he did with most people he hated disliked, he pushed her from his mind to enjoy a relaxing walk which he deserved.

At about noontime he stopped, knowing he'd have to return soon. With one of the pups recently deceased, food was more of a priority than before. They certainly didn't want any more dead pups on their hands. He'd probably have to hunt on the way back, so he thought before he left he would take a nap. Naps were another one of Zeke's favorite things, for when he wakes up he feels ready to do anything. And surely in his new favorite place, he would have quiet and peace and a long leisurely nap.

Thank you for making the thread!!

The ghostly brute had made many treks through the crimson forest. He had been able to find seclusion there where many of the other territories on the coast had been more densely populated. There was something eerie about the glow of the wood and the strange blush-colored trees. It had been on their arrival there that Kierkegaard had encouraged a hunt. A familiar ache settled in his heart and stomach at the thought of his sister. She had not been pleased when he had stolen the dark pup from a neighboring pack. She was less pleased to hear that he had intended to keep Signe until she had grown. Though the Sairensu children had not shared words on this matter, Kierkegaard knew it to be so. He had lived his entire life at his sister’s side, and it pained him to think that she was no longer near to him.
 
The specter was growing older, though. His long legs had become weary in his time spent in the Teekon Wilds. Once, he had been able to open traipse the lands there in search of a quiet cavern or crevice to hide his being, but he was to be six years old in that year… it was showing in the gait of the ash-colored brute. Long limbs carried him carefully through the wooded area. It looked as though the foliage was beginning to return to the trees. This was a sign of hope; with returning greenery, the prey would be quick to find their way back as well.
 
An unfamiliar scent wafted through the giant’s nares, and he turned his skull almost defensively in the direction of the strange wolf who had sought slumber on the forest floor. Fur bristling, the ghost peeled his lip over his canines and huffed heavily through his nose.

No problem!

Ezekiel was once again woken from almost rest to the sound of a huff. This happened quite often in Teekon Wilds. Something he missed about the bluff. Back there, wolves knew not to mess with him, and waking him up was out of the question. Here, nobody knew him or what he'd done, which he didn't mind. But being known sometimes had its benefits. He pushed himself up, muscles straining themselves to bring him to his own feet. The famine really had taken a toll on the Manchester. He couldn't wait till the foliage and prey returned to the land.

When he saw the other wolf, a ghostly white male with fur bristling, he took a defensive position. Ezekiel wasn't about to get ambushed by some stranger. He would fight if that's what this guy wanted. What do you want? He asked, faint agitation in his voice.

The slumbering creature had been foolish to bed in open terrain without having someone to keep an eye on him. Kierkegaard had managed to startle the grey-coated wolf out of his nap and he found himself greeted with words that demanded to know why he was there and what he could have wanted. The ashen brute lowered his head towards the earth and breathed in deeply. The scent of prey was faint, but he was so ravaged by hunger that he would have believed it to be before his very eyes. Snorting, the coal-smattered wolf lifted his head upwards and peered lazily into the gaze of the other male.
 
“Food,” he answered in a guttural growl. Kierke drew his salmon-colored tongue across his muzzle and frowned heavily at this stranger. The agitation did not go unheard by the lone brute. He scowled at the grey-coated male and did not say a word more.

Ezekiel tensed up more at the stranger's growls. His eyes narrowed as he watched the other lick his lips as if preparing for an attack. Ezekiel didn't want to fight right now, but this guy seemed a bit crazy. Food. Was the strangers deep reply, an apparent scowl on his face. Zeke didn't like the way this guy was acting, a low rumbled began at the back of the grey wolf's throat. His lip quivered in a snarl and he began to flex his claw on the ground.

Yeah well there isn't any here so fuck off. The large male puffed out his chest to look bigger. He was ready to defend, but his wear was clear. His bones could almost be seen through his thick coat, his muscles had less fat to cover them. He still held the appearance of a young wolf, especially with his large baby blue eyes. However he made up for these weak features with his better ones. Intimidating gaze and sheer size, as well as his skill in battle. This is the kind of thing he was accustomed to, real fights with blood and teeth.

The slate creature before him seemed to have a tongue on him; Kierkegaard flattened his ears to his skull and reeled his lips over his fangs to show that he was not impressed with this brute’s verbiage or his manners. Lashing his tail from side to side, the ghostly figure lifted his skull upwards and leered at the stranger who was making a show of his physicality. It did nothing to phase the ashen loner; puffing his chest and digging his claws into the earth did little more than make the ghostly creature laugh. His chuckle filled his chest and rumbled into the air bitterly and without second thought.
 
“You do not have a claim on these lands,” he spat coldly to the slate creature. The hackles on his back were rising to meet the challenge of the other wolf. There was a savagery in the fire of his eyes, and he instinctively looked to the places where the bone jutted out on the other male. Kierkegaard was not physically well either… the famine had done more to him than take the meat from his bones.
 
Starvation had taken a piece of his sanity.

So a fight I guess, knowing Zeke he'd definitely be too pissed to back down at this moment! We can roll a dice or let it play out, and I'm willing for an injury but no death please :)

The strange wolf's chuckled only angered Zeke further. Was he mocking him? One thing Zeke had never been able to handle was other wolves belittling him, laughing at him and thinking him silly. He was no coward. The other male was in for a surprise. Whether or not he was starving, Ezekiel couldn't handle this wolf being here, especially knowing that he was pretty close to their borders. Kierkegaard said he had know claim on the land, but Ezekiel wouldn't be leaving the other male until her knew his own pack was out of harm's reach. This guy was aggressive and they had pups. The thought of this ghostly wolf taking little Odette away angered him, and he couldn't take it anymore.

Still snarling like a demon, the soldier lunged forwards. He wasn't looking to kill, but to warn, and keep this guy away. He went for Kierkegaard's feet, hoping to pull him down using the technique he'd learned from Aeronwyn. Zeke was one to learn by experience. This had worked on Niita, and him, so it should work on this brute.

Nah they can have a little tussle. Just no huge injuries on Kierkegaard because I need to keep him relatively well timeline wise... since his likelihood of taking down an Alpha would be significantly decreased if he was greatly injured. Let's have 'em fight like cats and he'll end up running off in the end. <33

 

The stranger’s internal fears were not unjustified. Kierkegaard had been a creature of chance; his peculiar and oftentimes savage ways had carried him to taking a pup once. It would not have been entirely out of character for the ghost to do it again. While the slate-colored male had been previously napping, he had snapped out of his sleep-like state rather swiftly, and was presenting himself for the art of war.
 
Kierkegaard huffed through his nostrils and peeled his dark lips over his canines once more, suggesting that he would not be talked down to by no more than a peon from some unknown claim. Fixing him with a fiery stare, the ashen brute watched with mild surprise as the blue-eyed stranger initiated the attack. Feelings of manic hunger drove him, and he watched with bristling fur as the unknown wolf aimed for his feet. It was an interesting move to open; interesting enough for Kierke to allow it to occur.
 
As Ezekiel aimed his fangs for Kierkegaard’s legs, the ghost tightened his limbs and took a gamble. He would not move to leap backwards, but hold his ground. When the fangs of the other wolf connected with his limbs, he parted his jaws and aimed for the back of the neck of his attacker. Pain was something he had endured many times, but he found himself knowing a fight with another wolf was not wise in light of the famine.

Ok! Sounds good to me!

Zeke made contact and yanked at the ghostly wolf's legs pulling him down. But the other hadn't responded the way he'd hoped, and instead of being able to thrust Kierkegaard to the ground then grab his scruff, Zeke found himself caught in the male's jaws. At first, a flash of fear went through the Manchester boy. He hated being grabbed, he hated feeling beaten and powerless. It frightened him, but more than anything pissed him off further. His moment of childlike fear ended with a wave of adrenaline and testosterone. In his mind, this was practically his land. And no deranged son of a bitch was gonna take it from him. Thrashing about angrily, Ezekiel threw his head upwards, hitting the other male in the throat. Hopefully this would temporarily choke Kierke and he would loosen his grip just enough for Zeke to slip out and circle his opponent.

While anger fueled his opponent, Kierkegaard was driven forward by a completely different mentality. Madness had eaten away at pieces of his mind, and though he had not lost himself entirely, his actions were not made with the same precision and thought that they would have been. The sense of anger that drove the slate-colored wolf underneath him was not present in the ghost. He was void of most sense and while this made for a dangerous fight, would also mean he could lose a larger chunk of rationality.
 
Feeling the male twist beneath him for a moment, the brute’s gripped was attempted to tighten. From underneath him, the slate stranger threw his skull upwards into Kierkegaard’s throat and the ashen male tossed his head back and staggered a few feet away, pressing his rear to the trunk of a tree. Shaking his skull, dazed and rattled, the pallid ghost snapped his fangs together at the blue-eyed brute. Lowering his head toward the earth to keep his limbs protected, he watched the other man with madness in his fiery optics.

When the other wolf had tossed his skull into Kierke's throat, the loner had bit deep into his own tongue and blood was pooling inside of his mouth. The tang of it sent him alive and he swallowed as much as he could if only for the metallic and familiar flavor. 

Ezekiel watched as the other male was flung back, bumping into a tree and shaking his head. Zeke was satisfied, watching as blood began to pool out of the strange white wolf's mouth. The other bent his head down to protect his limbs, snarling all the same. Blood flying when he snapped. Zeke couldn't help but shake his own head, he'd been bitten on the back of the neck, and it was beginning to sting with all the dust that had gotten in the wound. He shook it off, but it hurt all the same.

As he circled Kierkegaard, he continued to growl. He secretly hoped the other would leave without any more, but this ghostly male seemed off and didn't seem like he would. So Ezekiel went back on the offensive. He lunged forwards, hoping to headbutt Kierkegaard back into the tree behind him. Eyes wild with the intensity of a fight.

Okay! <33 Kierke is out. Thank you so much for the fun thread. :3

Rational thoughts filtered back into his irrational mind for just a moment as he peered on the blue-eyed creature, bristling and preparing for their second round. The ghost was not wanting to go further with this; his limbs were tired from lack of food and he could not risk injury beyond what had already been afflicted to his being. His rear was still pressed tightly against the wood behind him, but he would need to wait, or else his figure would be followed after by this anger-driven fool.
 
Watching, Kierkegaard saw the first movements of the other male’s attack, and he waited for the last moment possible before darting to the left and away from the trunk of the tree. His eyes did not turn to face the other wolf, but instead were focused on the distant stretch of land ahead of him. The ghost would not turn back, because there was fear in craning his head. Instead, he would run until his ragged limbs shook and his chest heaved with the breaths that he could not seem to capture in his lungs.  

Awesome! Thank you <3

Ezekiel was about to make contact with the other, before he dashed out of the way, rushing towards the stretch of land beyond. Zeke thumped into the tree, stepped back to shake his head clear, then turned to watch Kierkegaard run away. He raised his head and let a triumphant grunt follow the stranger. A warning not to return. Feeling like he'd done his duty, Zeke turned to head back to Silvertip Mountain, hopefully the ghostly wolf wouldn't return.