Sequoia Coast you're tearing me apart, lisa

there was too much going on for ingram -- he rapidly looked at each wolf, doing a panicked headcount until kierkegaard stepped forward and spoke a guttural tongue. ingram's ears pulled back as he regarded this male anew -- clearly he was more than the intimidating gargoyle that occasionally spooked ingram when he inadvertedly came across him in the grotto. ingram apprised him with a somewhat jaded adulation - he had just rose in his station and quieted the room with his austere gravitas.

here ingram was, the inept defuser standing before a suspicious suitcase left in times square. everyone was watching. he felt a hundred stares on his back until kierkegaard came and swept the attention of the room to him and he was finally able to sigh in relief, knowing a physical conflict had just been expertly avoided. thanks dude.

until lycaon said something. dude. ingram knew the cutting barb was coming well before it was delivered and he looked at his brother with his gaze flinty and lips pursed in a scowl as he finished. for why. for why. the women before him would surely take affront to that comment, and it served no purpose but to riot their anger further.

he glanced back at arrille, who finally had the good sense to move away from the women, which circled like hyenas around them with their eyes rueful and teeth visible. his hackles lifted as he prepared for their reaction and in a quiet whisper he shot a not-so-friendly suggestion arrille's way. "arrille, fucking run, man."

when he turned back, furi had already descended towards lycaon -- and writ clear across her face was the intention to harm him. ingram did not pause to think then -- his limbs moved of their own accord. lycaon was his soulbond, his brother -- seeing anyone inflict any damage to his precious little mug was untenable to ingram. with a snarl he launched towards the pair, rounding his shoulders in the attempt to deflect furi's attack, and if he received her teeth, he got her teeth -- so long as lycaon remained unharmed.

For the briefest of moments, the situation seemed to have calmed. Kierkegaard watched as the scene flickered to an intense pause. The fiery-furred female requested that one of the others go retrieve noni, and then faced him with an inquiry: how do you know our Heda?

“Does it matter?”

The ashen mercenary responded with a tired expression. He didn't wish to take the time to explain to all concerned parties how he knew the leader of Drageda. Kierkegaard only wanted to keep them from each other's throats for as long as he could. Almost as if he had spoken this rumination out loud, Lycaon cast all diplomacy to the wind. Kierke fixed the pale Beta with an expression of absolute loathing before the dark-furred female dove at him with a gaping jaw. Furi was quickly followed by Ingram.

Kierkegaard turned to face Arrille, motioning for the young boy to follow Ingram's orders. While the two yearlings were battling over who had the biggest cock, the older wolf curled his lip and took a protective stance in front of the seemingly prized Arrille. He may have been older than the lot of them, but he had a great deal of experience more than any of those who stood in front of him. The ghost had seen more fights than they had hair growing on their asses. For the sake of all that Caiaphas had put into the sound, he was willing to put himself before the younger boy.

All the while, he tempestuously reminded himself just how much he fucking loathed children.

the old guy doesn't want to answer her, which is annoying but at least they're gonna get somewhere -- and then the one blixen really doesn't like, the one who'd already crossed a line when he called furi a bitch, opens his ugly little mouth again. 

furi moves before blix can, a flash of silver and black and teeth, and the scene descends into fresh chaos. look, the gona'd make an effort to be responsible, but if this was how the chips were gonna fall, well - she's not exactly known for her even disposition or tendency to think things through. errupting in a snarl she launches herself forward too, just after furi, as ingram gets in between them. she is a missle aimed at ingram, teeth seeking purchase wherever she can reach, less concerned with herself so much as keeping ingram busy so that furi can get to the other boy and deliver the consequences he so richly deserves.

Ah shit, my bad. His temper was not nearly as controlled as I thought.

Artaax froze in his steps as the pompous sewage was spat into the tension. Rage swept through his entire body, sending his hackles on end and muscles trembling with the need to act. Much like Lycaon was a testosterone-filled 16 year-old, Artaax was a testosterone-filled 14 year-old that didn't particularly like the fact that the big kids looked down on him for his youth. Not that the hompleia considered himself to be small by any means, but he was just as prone to match stupid with more stupid when the situation was right. And for Artaax, raised by and alongside many of the strongest, fiercest women in the Wilds, there were few crimes greater than to insult on such a basis as the one the arrogant stranger had chosen, and so he easily fell victim to his own protective nature/god-complex. With a kill, a war, the naivete of youth, and a highly inflated ego already under his belt, there really wasn’t an ounce of self doubt available to stop him, let alone the huge dosage that would’ve been necessary to invoke prevention.

A pause, a shared glance with Furi that said oh yeah, fuck that guy, and the dragedakru found himself turning, darting, and lunging towards the bad-mannered moron with teeth bared and intentions set on tearing that foul tongue from his mouth - a kindness to said ill-used tongue, in his own astute opinion. He wasn't as quick as his friend, who had the advantage of being nearer and still mostly facing the brute when she had simultaneously leaped. It turned out to be helpful, for the few seconds of delay gave him the opening to pivot around the colliding bodies of Blixen and Ingram and Furi maybe idek, and spring towards Lycaon with all effort focused on smashing his face into the ground. Oh, and the tongue ripping thing. Can't forget that.

the funny thing about running your mouth was that you generally had to be fast enough to catch up to it. Lycaon, though boasting physical heft and maturity as an advantage against serious injury, didn’t have the mental endurance to know when to "picK yoUr bAtTleS".

for some, it was a lesson that had to be learned over time and through experience. 

when the Grimnismal beta launched his missile of sexist denigration, the furthest extent of his planning was who his targets were and the velocity at which said missile would make impact. he was pretty accurate about the impact. he did not lay the fallout in his provisions, though—much less a diagram of his exit strategy when the antagonized hens/chicks hiked up their feathers and set to the civic task of castrating him. this mutual hostility could not be redeemed with a heart-to-heart with whomever heda was. no, he’d unbalanced social justice in their eyes, and they took it upon themselves to right it. 

the advisory from Prince set Lycaon’s head at an incredulous cant, but he only had time to respond with: ”is that so––” before Furi displaced him with the canine equivalent of the business-end of a splintery 2x4. 

her aim was true and her teeth successfully found purchase on the nape of his neck, eliciting a surprised yelp from the boy. he recoiled like a sidewinder into a reflexively defensive lurch, recovering from the collision with a bit of floundering as Furi used his head as a teething ring. he reeled about, snarling, firmly scruffed like a irrepressible kitten. the angle she had wrestled him into afforded his head little motility, but he strived mightily to seize her ear with his teeth in an effort to lever her clenched fangs off his merchandise. amidst the clash, the cheeky, entirely uncivilized juvenile still managed to grunt: ”you only want me for my body!!”

there was a dervish of white fur and slobber flying. Furi was a wispy thing, and her onset wasn’t as robust as the spite in her head—she managed to slough fistfuls of fur from the subject of her ire, and slice a gash on his gums as he reached around to wrestle free, teeth bared. blood limned his gums.

not soon after he attempted to end the sable assailant’s strafe upon his assets, a third player entered the game. this was a wolf he was slightly more evenly matched against, and Lycaon was smart enough to sense that they were taking this far more seriously than he was. moreover, after the initial mushrooming of adrenalin had dissipated, and his impulse for a reaction was satisfied by the violent release of tense energy, the beta was ready to fold up and run to tell Wylla allllllll about the delicate sensibilities of their neighbors. he just needed to troubleshoot his exit strategy...

a skirting flourish of cream drew his eye and Lycaon flinched away from the incoming slug of Artaax’s southpaw—though his tongue had rumpled to make room for flashed teeth so any fantasies running wild about prying it from his oral cavity would go ultimately unfulfilled. alternately, if the drageda wolf continued in his efforts at fretting his beauteous face, Lycaon would rear up and jaw-spar with the paladin, his upper canine chipping against the hard enamel of Artaax’s own. the shard that broke off would be swallowed with blood that thinly streamed into his throat.

with Arrille now under the wardship of the largest and most unimpressed male in the party, Lycaon had no vested interest in being pitted against a third or fourth ankle-biter. not currently hindered by any substantial weight, he ducked his head (at the cost of losing a chunk of fur as a result) and attempted to deliver a bucking push against Furi and her white knight. if successful, his vulnerable bits would be inaccessible to their direct range of motion and he would be free to make his bolt for freedom.

Arrille could only watch as the fighting began because one of the wolves of Grimnismal said something, something he missed entirely. He had never heard Ingram speak in such a way, and even Kierkegaard signalled for him to do so. At first, he couldn't just let them do this, running from a fight wasn't him...but in this case, he knew he had to.

So he did. He turned, he ran as fast as he could while the wolves of Drageda were fighting wolves of Grimnismal. And as they did, he knew one thing was for certain; he started this. And one way or another, he would he found responsible.

Last post from meee

The fighting began, then-- too fast for Prince to keep track of, everyone was flying at each other and all he could focus on was the traitor. He watched hawkishly what he could see of him past the old wolf who seemed to have taken it upon himself to be his protector, but he was liberal with his glances towards the others. Assured that his side was not losing, he moved away from the group as if he was leaving, about to try to get to Arrille himself.
Then the traitor-- the coward!-- ran, and before he could stop to think Prince was after him. He went around the others, giving them a wide berth and opting to take the long way around after Arrille. Later he would feel guilty for abandoning his packmates to this fight, young as they all were. But for now, he was focused on the source of this conflict.

No more participants, please

If it wasn’t for Blixen, she’d likely have a mouthful of Ingram. Some level in the back of her mind is glad she doesn’t. He’s a foolish boy that doesn’t understand any more than the others. She’s able to make contact with the idiot that doesn’t know how to shut his mouth, latching onto the back of his neck and shutting her jaws with everything she has, with moves that mimic a mix of Eske and her tundra born mother. If she could hold on a little longer, she’ll have more of an advantage, but she yelps in surprise, unable to keep her grip. She does not give away easily though, snapping and slashing toward his face as ear pools in her ear, down behind her cheeks.
 
Artaax goes mostly unnoticed until he takes the lead of the attack that she loses sight of Arrille altogether, not noticing Prince disappear off into the distance without them. Her only concern is tearing the blood from the other’s body.
 
As Lycaon pushes back against the both of them, she uses everything in her force to prevent it as she’s not yet ready to give up; strained for this since coming to Drageda. She has seen the outskirts of war and death already that this only seems natural. She’s doesn’t quit until she has to. Should the brute get away from them, she will chase but if he remains within her grasp, her teeth aim to sink for the taste of blood.

what restraint ingram had when he bid to push furi aside was immediately abandoned as he witnessed the blood of his brother shed. furi was an acquaintence, but lycaon was his blood -- to see any wolf assail his brother brought a furious and frothy explosion of energy in ingram's steps.

with a snarl he tried to fling himself on furi then, his jaws hinging open in the attempt to clutch the back of her scruff and pin her. if he contacted her, he would attempt to throw her down into the dirt - anything to lessen her assault against lycaon. she was closest to him and the most distracted -- had it been blixen in her place, he would have attempted the same attack with the same intensity.

he did not hold back this time -- he was twice the age of even the oldest of the adolescent group, and by proxy of their age gap, had considerably more muscle development and weight against them. their teeth were just as sharp as his, surely, but he was confident in his step as he retaliated to their violence with his own brand of murderous rampage. as blixen pulled close behind him he felt pain sear his haunches -- reacting immediately to the sensation, he attempted to push hard against furi and use that momentum to propel himself towards blixen with his fangs bared and jaws lashing for payback.

it did not occur to ingram to escape; he was fighting tooth and claw now for the safety of his brother, and that was the only thing that enveloped his mind as he fended off his attackers.

Sorry! A bit late to the party, hope no one minds me joining in >_<

Perhaps she should have stuck with her friends that day instead of going off on her own to search for some seafood to snack upon. If she had known there'd be a fight, she would have not wasted a second getting to it - she had been trained as a warrior, and she wanted all that time to not be for nothing. Nose to the ground, she sniffed around for Ingram, carrying with her two fish, held together at the tail by her teeth. The scent trail he had left behind was strangely mingled with a whole bunch of Grimnismal wolves and it took her straight to the horrid sight of fighting pack wolves.

Her ocher eyes grew wide in disbelief and she dropped the fish on the ground before her. Tha hell? She called under her breath, brows knitting together in a worried frown. She had to put a stop to this! Those were... Drageda wolves, weren't they? They knew her, sort of, right? Surely they could make piece? There was also the little tidbit that Furi, perhaps unbeknownst to her, was Chusi's adopted sister - but Chusi was too panicked to pay attention to that.

With a thunderous gallop, she intended to stop the violence the only way she knew how; WITH MORE VIOLENCE. Hey! HEY! She called at the group, hoping to shift some attention to her. She stood, ready to face any attack the younger wolves might throw at her.

sorry for the hold up kids. kierke out.

They were too occupied with their own qualms to notice that Arrille was listening, and his young limbs were carrying him away from the fight that was unfolding. Kierkegaard watched him with a careful gaze, waiting to see if any of the Drageda wolves would attempt to pursue; only one did. The ashen brute watched a pale form chase after his young apprentice and he curled his lip. The two youthful wolves were nearly out of his sight before he turned back to face the mess before him; fangs and limbs clashing together violently. Something in the pit of his gut urged him to leap into the battle and wreak havoc on the tenderfoot wolves before him, but he knew that it was not yet his place.

Turning, the ghost abandoned the call of the war for another task. It did not soothe the burning inside of him, but Kierkegaard knew that Arrille was his priority and he was not to return to the sound without the younger wolf in tow. So, he pushed aside all thought of his pack mates and their conflict. If they had started the mayhem, they could certain bring an end to it. Just as he had arrived on the scene, the ragged man departed in pursuit of Arrille and the young wolf who had followed.

in the midst of the fracas it's hard to keep track of every movement -- things happen too fast for blixen to process as she moves in pure instinct. all that matters is the taste of blood in her mouth as she makes contact with ingram, only for him to launch back against her. blix is a skilled gona but she is young and inexperienced and slight compared to the older boy, and she can't get out of the way before his teeth land true against her shoulder.

the redhead doesn't hesitate, though, a hiss of pain escaping her as she shoves back against the boy with all she's got, abandoning any semblance of form for trying to get her teeth in him, kicking and biting: this is no spar with nomi, this is a street fight and she'll play dirty (and, presumably, suffer for it). the arrival of the new girl goes completely unheeded, her world narrowed to tooth, nail, and ingram.

Artaax did indeed continue his efforts at fretting his enemy's damn sexy face. His jaw smashed hard against the other's as the other while wolf swung upwards at him. He opened his jaw wide in an effort to worry the other's muzzle and maybe get in a nice cut to send him home with, but ultimately fell back and away. He swung around quickly enough, aiming to lunge again and try bowl the male over. But angry as he was about the comment, he had no intention of killing, or even seriously maiming anyone. His intention was only to put the foul-mouthed sonofabitch in his place with a few good hits and some good ol' fashioned humiliation. But ultimately, he would leave off and let the mangy eel slip away with the rest of his minnows.

I uh. I'm not great at the insulting sea-related creature metaphors. Or grammar.

should we have an unbiased party dice-roll for which group gets chased off, since Ingram retaliated?

captive to the chaos, there was no opportunity for Lycaon to lift his head and notice that several members of their jovial gathering had elected to take festivities elsewhere. the arrival of a het up Chusi also flew over his head as Artaax gnawed on it, ears seesawing in avoidance of the scapegrace’s unsparing teeth (at the cost of some gum tissue, which Artaax’s incisor caught and lanced in a successful attempt to send the Eyjolfur home blood-spattered). 

Lycaon had made no retaliative strikes, instead rowing against Furi’s initial onset with defensive posturing. behavior that wasn’t submissive in nature—he just didn’t regard the situation as one that necessitated aggressing on his behalf... yet. 

snout and cheek ruffs stippled pink from the blood gorging his jowls, he pushed through the brunt of Artaax’s jostling, tail clamped to his undersides to prevent any leverage it might have provided in hauling him back into the fray. however, Furi was quick to lunge after him; her intentions clearly more demanding of bloodlet, and he angled his shoulder to offset her impact with a severe tight-lipped snarl that commanded she back off. 

almost immediately Ingram set upon the foolhardy females, going for Furi first, and then Blixen— Lycaon heaved his body in front of Artaax, bidding to intercept any attempt from the hompleia in joining laying siege to his outnumbered brother.

PP w/ permission.

Sparring one-on-one is relatively easy. There’s usually a clear winner and loser (or one that does slightly better than the other one day), but when it comes to having to deal with more than one other wolf proves relatively difficult. Her mentor excels in combat at a greater level and while she has learned from her, it is different when put into action. The pale wolf’s command to back off is only obeyed because someone grabs her by the scruff and tugs her back. Unprepared for the attack, she doesn’t have a strong footing against someone coming from behind and her back legs buckle a little, giving her a struggle to keep on all four feet.
 
When Ingram uses her as leverage, she temporarily forgets the pale wolf, turning instead to see the boy charge Blixen but not before she actually hits the ground. Trying to avoid being trampled by Artaax and the other, she shuffles in the snow until she’s back up, launching for Ingram’s rear end. It isn't a properly calculated task as inexpereinced legs send her forward, but she at least has his blind side in her favor. With lips pulled back in a snarl, her teeth swing open and latch onto the muscle-y flesh of the dark brute’s back leg with all she has to help prevent him from hurting Blixen any more than he already has.

they were doomed because of lycaon's big fat mouth -- and partially, because of arrille.

the next several seconds were a blur to ingram, mostly because he was aware of overwhelming pain. furi's teeth, blixen's teeth -- all teeth -- found him -- he was used like a ratted punching bag, flung from foe to foe like a rag -- and he blindly kept his feet about him but that was it. in truth, he had as much blundering grace as a drunken otter, and stumbled wildly about as they assailed him.

for a second furi is on the ground, but ingram did not think about taking advantage of that. instead his focus was on lycaon - "run, idiot!" he yelled, stumbling forward wildly as blixen's fangs drove into him. searing pain claimed him and he flinched under her teeth, almost buckling to the ground in agony.

there was a moment, a brief opportunity of escape, and ingram took it as best he could - with a grunt he shoved through and placed his body in front of lycaon, forcing him ahead with a growl as he received the brunt of their assailant's attacks. he was weakened, bloodied, and battered -- and as quick as he could he limped off before they claimed his life as well as his dignity.

just gonna keep this a moving since i think it's almost done?

furi joins her -- the tide seems to be turning in their favor, adrenaline and triumph surging through her -- and then she distantly hears ingram's shout to run, idiot. no! a frustrated snarl escapes her as they move to make their escape, but blixen doesn't chase after them, realising that in the chaos arrille's gotten away from them. fuck. any feeling of victory in her is squashed by that particular revelation and she looks to artaax and furi with a wild-eyed frustration, breathing hard and silently asking what now?

Artaax rushed at the white brute, knocking into him as he swept towards Furi. The boy followed him doggedly with bared teeth and snapping jaws, but the fray was breaking apart fast, as was his will to pursue the fight further. When the pale wolf shoved his body into Artaax, the equally pale wolf snapped one last time at the other's face - with no intention of making contact - and allowed himself to be pushed away. He stepped back with a snarl and a snort, running his tongue across blood-covered teeth. He took a few steps forward again as the boys began to retreat - an effort made to encourage them not to change their damn fool minds about the best decision they'd made so far that day.

As the last of their neighbors retreated, Artaax turned to look at Blixen and Furi with furrowed brows. He said nothing as he looked them over, trying to assess what wounds they had earned themselves. Really, he was already in the process of putting this whole thing to bed in his own mind, so when he met Blixen's gaze, he too was asking what now? But more because he was hungry than because he felt there was more to be done with this mess.