Round 2 will begin on 6th May.
It was a late spring afternoon - the sky was covered in a thick mass of clouds, but the sun had managed to peek through occasionally and feed the earth, plants and other living beings with the so much desired warmth and light. The packlands were quiet and peaceful and Pump embraced this happily, when returning to the denning area after a very long day scavenging, hunting with some other packmates, as well as making sure that everything was fine at the borders and there were no intruders. It had been rather uneventful as of late, even their unfriendly neighbour hadn't shown it's ugly snout in their lands and understandably, the wolf-dog had left her guard down a little.
However, this was about to change, when she came upon a thick and fresh scent of the bear and the first raided caches the others had so diligently made. She followed the scent trail and it didn't take her long to find the guilty party, busy digging out the remnants of their recent kill. She felt her fur bristle along her spine and a low growl erupted from the depths of her chest. Pump proceeded, making a large loop around the bear to see, whether it was the same that had chased her and Thistle the other day. Surprise, surprise - it was. The creature briefly lifted it's head and it's dark gaze met Pump's. She bared her teeth at him, retreated few steps and let out a warning call for others.
The bear was too busy eating, to pay any notice to her, and, while waiting Pump watched in disgust, how this parasite took everything they had worked so hard for to get.
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Ragnar, as he often did, spent the late afternoon, lingering close to the birthing den , worrying bones, attempting to mark them - each bone representing one of his numerous Gods, each telling a story relevant to that God. It was simple - he was not artist - but he figured they would make good teaching tools for their sons …and for Thistle too, if she wished to share in the lessons. The Gods were just as much apart of being a Viking considering how thoroughly they were weaved into the culture itself. He had finished up Thor’s bone, tucking it into a corner of the den beside all the finished ones in a neat little pyramid beside the small pile of ones yet to be marked. Looking at them in comparison to one another Ragnar doubted he would get them all done before the birth of their sons (because he was stupidly confident that Thistle would give him sons, period), but they would be too young at first to do much of anything which, he realized, would give him the extra time he would need.
He ducked back out of the den then to check on the furs he had laid out to dry in the sun days previous having ripped them (in a rather gruesome and bloody way) off of his prey so his sons would not have to suffer the cool earth beneath their tiny, fragile newborn bodies despite that they would never be without a body - be it Thistle’s or his when she needed to go out to drink or relieve herself - to keep them warm, he had found much comfort in the pelts his father had given to him and his brothers as small children and wished to return the favor with his own.
It was then that Pump’s call broke through the serene afternoon sky, shattering the peace that had enveloped the burning horizon. Body froze as head lifted, scarred left ear swiveling to pick up the last, fading notes. A warning. A summons. A call to arms. Hackles bristled along his spine in a shiver of anticipation, as his ears slicked against his skull, lip curling back to expose his sharp, deadly teeth. He looked to Thistle quickly, ignoring that strained palpitation his heart gave as he took her in face and then body, heavy with child. Sharply, the Viking turned away to a small mound of dirt where he had hidden the drugged mushrooms he had found that would put him into the Berserker state he had not sought after in a long time. He had not told her he had actively sought them, mostly because he simply did not wish to worry her, he kept them for emergencies and this, he decided, was the very situation he kept them for. He pulled one delicately out of his stash and then another. Two was more that sufficient enough (probably a little too much) but something was wrong and the Viking wanted to see the threat eliminated no matter whose death came first.
He pushed the dirt back over his stash and then looked to Thistle then, his body taunt and tense as he approached her, ignoring the mushrooms briefly enough to draw his teeth across his leg until he drew blood and collected it upon his muzzle where he smeared it on her cheek - a passionate gesture common of his people when they left their lovers behind to fight.
Ragnar then made haste to reach Pump’s side, eyes catching sight of the bear as it ate it’s way through their cache. Eyes narrowed as the scarred Viking looked at the creature that had caused the death of the cougar (whose cub he had sacrificed), that had nearly been the cause of Thistle and Pump’s own deaths. He looked to his hybrid leader then, knowing it would take a small amount of time for the drugs to kick in giving him just enough to time to hear the plan, learn his role in their hunt, and for the others to gather before the blood rage could grab a hold of him. A small part of him worried about telling Thistle to seek refuge in the birthing den for she would be trapped if it came after her but Ragnar did not plan to let it get that far into the territory.
Thistle heard the howl that rose up above the ridge as she watched Ragnar work tirelessly at a gift for their sons and her eyes jumped towards the forest. She was certain it was that dodgy bear that almost had her and Pump for it's dinner not that long ago. A small deep growl came from the depths of her maw and she wondered briefly whether she should answer the call. While she could still hunt and still hold her own for the most part, fighting a bear did not look well for puppies so she decided she would have to stay and of course there was no way that Ragnar would let her go anyway, which he made obvious at his quiet words to stay put.
She was surprised at the smear of blood he presented though not at the mushrooms. She had guessed that he would have them hidden somewhere and though she did not like the thought of such things, she also knew it was another part of his culture that he adhered to so she spoke nothing on them. She would ask him about the cheek smear later. She nodded her head in semi-agreement. I'll gather up some healing supplies in case i need them hopefully I don't. It would give her something to do and it would keep her calm instead of allowing her to worry about her family and friends fighting something much bigger than they. She had caches all around the den site and even in the den. She had to really work on getting some niches in the den walls for the herbs so she could find them easier. This way she would have to dig each cache up to see what she held in them.
Thistle watched him go and with a soft parted sigh she began to look through the caches nearest the den so she could easily run into the den if needed most of them were inside though she had two outside. She began thinking in her head she would need Yarrow, perhaps some poppy though she was loathe to use it. Cobwebs, some jopi weed for infection and some Bergamot.
Charging at the sickly deer Gavriil chased it down. As he suspected it only ran a few feet before the cinnamon make caught up and landed a quick bite to its neck, blood dripping from his muzzle. Gavriil consumed about half of it before placing the doe in the pack cache. Proud of his prey for today Gavriil wandered around his pack borders, the aspiring warden hoping to catch some wolf from another pack.
Not long after the noon hit the sky was filled with clouds. It looked like it was going to be a very solum day. Suddenly noise broke the silent void. His alpha, Pump, sent out a warning call about a bear. Gavriil knew it was the bear that they had, had a short conversation about. Quickly the male ran to his alpha's location. As he rounded the bend Gavriil saw the bear consuming prey, his pack's prey. The cinnamon wolf stood by his leader and Ragnar waiting for her attacking command.
Round 2 will begin on 9th May. If all of you reply sooner, then the next round will begin quicker too. Those, who didn't manage to post in this round - feel free to jump in the next ones.
While Pump was waiting and observing the bear, she wondered, how many would arrive to the scene. She had no doubts about Ragnar, because this fellow was in a dire need of a good fight and a rush of adrenaline, and Gavriil was the second, who came to her mind. For Diluculo this was sort of a test for her loyalty and courage she claimed to have. Speaking of the rest - none of them seemed that strong or capable enough to fend off a beast this big. However, the power was often in numbers, therefore she wished to see them nonetheless.
It didn't take long before the white beast arrived at the scene - wired up, ready for battle. It occurred to Pump that Ragnar smelled a little odd, but that didn't matter now, as long as he was able to stand on his feet and stick to her orders. She acknowledged his presence with a curt nod, her gaze still fixed on the bear, who was gorging from their caches, and didn't seem to take the two wolves in notice.
Gavriil was next to arrive and at that point Pump felt a rush of confidence she didn't have before. They were strong and they would teach the furry beast a lesson. "We can't fight it," she told both of them with a little regret in her voice, for she would have loved to rip it to pieces, "nor can we kill it, it's too strong for three wolves. But we can make him leave." Of course, they could attack him, but that would mean that they would get wounded if not killed. "I will go from the front and you go from either side," she beckoned in the direction she wanted each of them go.
"I am going to run up to him and the moment he goes after me, attack him from both sides and retreat imediately," Pump told them in a stern voice. "Let's go," there was no time to waste. She waited the two to take their positions, then took a deep breath, forgot all of the natural fear she had, and ran full speed at the bear. Her teeth were bared, she growled and snapped at him. The animal dumbfounded at first, but then it left it's meal unfinished and with a mighty roar leaped towards the offending party. Pump barely managed to evade him, before taking off for a safer distance. "Now!" she barked at the two males.
Listening to his alpha’s orders he waited until she lured the bear with her growls and barring of teeth. Maybe at another time Gavriil would have worried about the ebony she wolf getting hurt, charging at a bear full hustle in attempt to bait it towards you was hazardous. Now only the thought of protecting his packmates occupied his mind.
The ebony wolf barked the command and Gavriil immediately took action. Rushing up to the bear’s unprotected left side. Quickly he lunged for the thick hide of the beast. Grabbing a massive amount of fur and little flesh the male chomped as hard as he could making sure the bear turned his attention towards his sides and not at Pump. After landing a bite in the bear he did as was commanded and retreated back a few yards and silently waiting for Pump’s next expertise.
In the end, or so far it seemed that it was just Gavriil and himself that had been brave enough to answer the hybrid leader’s call. Three of them against the bear was not enough to kill it, not without sacrificing all their lives in one, stupid fell swoop - which, admittedly, might just happen as it was. As the drugs began to take their effect upon him, heat crept into his body , blood began to pound furiously in his ears, and the Viking gave his head a hard shake once as if to clear his mind of the leeching frenzy that he could feel creeping upon him, until his vision began to tinge red. Their orders were simple, though Ragnar would have much rather he rushed at the bear since he was pumped full of the Berserker drug that allowed him to feel no pain and likewise, no fear.
At Pump’s ‘now’ Ragnar leapt forth, charging muscle that might have been impressive if he wasn’t charging at an angry bear, putting for the time being his attacking companion out of his mind as he lunged, jaws agape with the intention of ripping and tearing into the bear’s flesh. It leaned to the right as Gavriil no doubt laid into it and seeing his chance Ragnar sunk his teeth into the bear’s shoulder opposite of Gavriil, fur and flesh and blood rising to a horrid mixture in his mouth as he yanked his head down hard in attempt to strip the flesh he had grabbed from the being but at it’s cry of pain and rage the Berserker jumped back, releasing his grip upon the beasts’ shoulder as Pump had commanded him and sauntered backwords, smirking at the bear through the bear’s blood that dripped down his lips and bared his bloodstained teeth in a leer at the creature, no longer able to see colors but instead only the black of shadows and red as his blood pulsed, alive with the Berserker frenzy that consumed him.
It was a feeling Ragnar realized absently that he had missed dearly. It felt good to do what he was born to do: fight.
They worked as a team. Pump had a little doubt about Ragnar initially, since his desire for a good fight and blood could overcome his common sense easily. Even though his attack on the beast was more ferocious and daring than the wolf-dog would have ever tried to do, he snapped out of it at the right time, because the next moment the creature thrust a well-aimed swipe with his paw at him, but missed.
The bear roared and raised to his hind legs, coming down to all four a fraction of second later, shifting his dark gaze from one growling wolf to the other, as if contemplating, which of the enemies to take down first. Pump was ready to follow the same tactic she had done before, but the bear had other things in mind. He turned to face Ragnar and charged at him head-on.
"Now!" she barked at Gavriil this time and made her move, going for the flank Ragnar had injured already and expecting the gentle giant to do the same, but attack from the other side.
Opening her mouth she snarled and growled and roared making a terrible racket that could distract the beast and draw it's attention toward her, but the thing would want to keep it's eyes on it's attacker, it could only stretch it's attention Nerian had a shining stone dangling from her jaw wrapped in thin vine was a Beryl Stone, it flashed and shone briefly every few moments in the right angle. The eye of the bear of any bear was accustomed to look for shiny things.
Nerian was to small to do any damage to the bear but it didn't know that she darted in and out roaring and growling never getting into paw swiping range but enough movement combined with the shiny thing that it would drive the bear mad.
Pump barked a short command to Gavriil and he charged the bear attacking the opposite side that the ebony wolf jumped at. With his strong jaws the cinnamon wolf bit the side of the bear grabbing a mouth full of fur.
The heat of battle as Ragnar faced down the mighty creature as it reared back on it’s hindlegs, towering over all of the wolves easily if they were do rear back, easily a thousand pounds of muscle upon it was like a secondary drug to the Viking. His blood pounded fiercely and loud in his ears though it was not from fear but the mushrooms that Berserker had consumed. Fear did not exist, in it’s place the Viking knew only rage and protectiveness. To protect these lands, these wolves, his wife and unborn children she carried inside of her. When the bear’s front paws slammed upon the ground causing the earth to vibrate with it’s sheer force, and began it’s charge: directly at Ragnar, the Viking tucked his head down to protect his throat, Pump and Gavriil both attacked it from either side as it surged like a tank towards the daunting silver cloaked Viking whose salmon pink tongue darted out to swipe the blood across his nose and smear it further on his muzzle as if he were tempting the beast. Ragnar rushed the bear then, distracted by the two wolves who attacked it’s flanks, having stopped it’s charge careening to nearly miss slamming into another wolf: covered in mud, small, with something dangling from it’s muzzle. If it was for the fact that this female wasn’t pregnant he might have mistaken the mud covered woman for Thistle, but the lack of babes growing in her womb left only one alternative.
That did bring the Berserker up short and he faltered, momentarily stunned.
Round 4 - 15th March.
Pump attacked the bear from one side and Gavriil did as he was told from the other. He, however, went further than simply making a "fuss" and pretending to attack, but actually bit the beast. The bear didn't budge, since it's rage was primarily focused on Ragnar. In the heat of the moment another of their ranks joined the fight and Pump recognized Nerian, who carried an odd shiny object and made every attempt to distract the beast.
It worked a little at some point, since Ragnar seemed to be able to evade the claws of the bear, appear near Pump and grab one of the bear's paws. The wounded animal roared in pain and thrashed with his claws - Ragnar was already out of the way, so was Nerian, but Pump wasn't so lucky, because he toppled her over and in a momentarily panic she let out a loud yelp. Then she tried to scramble away from him, but not before she was brought back to the ground by a well-aimed hit on her back.
Nerian was small and fleet and as of yet uninjured, She drove herself in and bit the top of the beasts muzzle then threw herself backwards in a heap in an attempt to evade any attack the beast might make. She was small and quite able to care for herself, used to avoiding wrath and keeping herself in one piece helped her.
She howled and growled darting forward and backward toward the bear dragging it's attention toward her.
You! she called to the uninjured wolf ONLY NIP it heels!! She panted Make noise!! Back off and then chase then back off AGAIN!! She darted and in and out and roared and growled then glared at the other uninjured wolf whom she didn't know his name Make it think it being chased by a whole army of wolves
Her shiny bauble and her darts were eventually going to win the bear over and it would charge her leaving her with no alternative to Flee taking it with her, if she was fast enough she might draw the bear away from the injured and if she could remain just fast enough she might come out of this alive. However she knew there was a chance that she just might not survive.
Her thoughts of how stupid the alpha was kept to herself now and forever, if only the alpha bitch had more control of her pack, trained them to listen, waiting until the new moon like Nerian had mentioned, her shiny beryl with it's hidden meaning would have more effect.
It was difficult watching his pack mates being injuried by the mass of fur before him. He was angry but saddened by the whole event. Seeing Pump injuried was a little too much for the male. The full length of emotions would hit him after but now only anger filled his mind. Following his subordinate's orders the male charges the bear and nipped at his heels taking out chunks of fur. Backing up a few feet the cinnamon male growled before taking another bunch of fur from the bear's pelt. He was prepared for the bear to turn on him. Hell, that's what he wanted. It would give Pump time to get to safety.
His own wounds were not of a consequence - had not even been spared a glimpse (mostly because he hadn’t even felt the bear’s claws shredding and slicing through the flesh) - the muscle was fidgeting, and he was vaguely aware that there was something warm rolling down his leg but his attention, while momentarily claimed by his Priestess’ arrival on the scene - stupid and courageous as he thought it was - had called the attention of the Berserker’s blood fury. Nerian yelled at him, her foreign words lost upon the Northman - as if he had suddenly forgotten that he could fluently speak and understand the common tongue - in his drug induced battle state. The bear came for a vengeful attack on Pump then, her loud yelp splicing through the noise of the battle, the snarls and growls and roars from both parties. For the briefest of moments it chilled Ragnar’s blood, and he was then, for the briefest of seconds aware of the pain that shot white hot through his back leg as if someone had suddenly lit it on fire but in the next hairsbreadth of a second it was gone and Ragnar focused upon the bear as it went for a second attack at Pump.
The Viking rushed it then as Nerian barked out orders to Gavriil, slamming his weight (which was very little against the bulk and muscle of the bear) into it’s torn shoulder, in the hopes of getting it’s attention away from Pump at the same time that Nerian attempted to lure it away. As Nerian’s decoy worked he moved towards Pump attempting to coax his hybrid leader to her paws. Priestess, It was a forlorn thought, a prayer to Thor to keep her safe though her chances did not look all that well. Faced with the idea of losing her to the bear caused the Viking, when he reflected upon it later, to feel grief; but there was no feeling now, nothing but the drugs and the blood frenzy that would need to wear off before he would allow Thistle to tend to his wounds (not to mention he would insist that she tend to Pump first).
It wasn't the first time Pump faced death eye to eye. Every time, however, it took a different form. The first time, when she had almost starved to death during a harsh winter, it had come to her cold and soothing, luring her to fall asleep, whispering that everything would be alright, that she didn't have to fight anymore, that it would be easier. The next it had been in a form of aggressive leader wolf, who Pump had challenged, and now it was the anger-crazed bear, covered in stench of adrenaline and musk, it's small, black eyes staring at her and it's jaws slightly parted, ready to snap any moment.
However it was not meant to happen, because someone was yelling, more action took place from different angles and it took only mere seconds for the wolf-dog to realize that she had escaped a sad and miserable fat yet again. She got to her feet, wincing slightly - even though the hit had not left any injuries, the hit had been hard and left a sore spot on her back. "No need," she told Ragnar and shook her coat, thus indicating that the matter was closed and she wasn't going to discuss it any further.
As for the bear - Nerian's tactic and the joined forces of Ragnar and Gavriil had persuaded him that it was better to leave the place. It was limping away. With the little imagination Pump had, she would have wanted to chase him glorously out of the lands and beyond, but the beast had already admitted his defeat in this fight, therefore she watched him disappear. "Nice work, everyone," she told and her gaze briefly stopped at each of the fight squad. "Anyone hurt?"
It was only in the aftermath of the battle, as Ragnar watched the bear limp away, accepting it’s defeat with what little bit of dignity that remained of it, that his body shivered as the effects of the drugged mushroom he had consumed began to wear off in time with each slowing beat of his heart. The colors began to melt back into his vision and he was, as Pump spoke, becoming more and more aware of the matted feeling of fur on his left, hind leg and hip. His muzzle was covered in the bears blood, sharp canines stained with it, his breathing heavy pants to expel the heat that he had worked up. None of the others seemed hurt and she had brushed away his offer to call for Thistle. Ragnar took a step back, wincing at the stabbing pains that shot through his leg as he did - the drug having finally worn off it would seem - and peered to look. There were three gaping claw marks - hard at this point, covered in sticky blood and fur matted and clumped with it, to tell if they were shallow or deep (but he assumed that they must be shallow because he didn’t see any bone or muscle) - closing his eyes for a moment as if he might pass out (not at the sight of blood but from the loss of it and the mushrooms). Perhaps he would have but he fought it and for the time being, his mind complied.
She bent down and pulled out the aloe vera, the bergamot and the cobwebs and motioning to him with a paw and a raised eyebrow spoke quietly Come on you lets get you fixed up? Is anyone else hurt or just you viking? She wasn't really expecting an answer and she met him halfway to fix the wound so it would not fester.
Nerian panted with exhaustion having lead the bear so far away it complelty lost interest the chase and in her and her pack mate whom she had not had the pleasure to meet yet and decided to ignore them altogether and continue on a staggered trail leading further away from the pack lands not likely to return.\
exhaling softly she moved toward the male and collapsed in the woods only when the bear was far enough off that she could no longer be a target. her ears rang she had never run so long or hard in her life, the turned and leaps she had to do to keep the beast attention made her muscles weak and sore already, tomorrow she'd be even stiffer. she glanced up at the male and offered a tiny exhausted smile, I'm Nerian
it took a few moments before she stood and stiffly walked beside her pack mate back toward the alpha's last known position. she knew he'd want to get back there and very was glad he had waited for her.
Gavriil and Nerian returned to their alpha's position just in time to hear her congratulate everyone and question if everyone was okay. Gavriil spoke up "I'm okay, I'll be sore tomorrow, but I'm well.". A sense of relief flooded the male, knowing both that his alpha was okay and the threat of the bear was gone.