Bearclaw Valley bear with me

Ico — who in his essence was the very opposite of a bear — had spent his first few days in the Valley remaining as small as possible... which wasn't hard. He slept beneath a mostly-fallen maple tree in the forest, he ate only what the others left, and although he patrolled the borders as required he had thankfully not yet met any trespassers. And he certainly hadn't met any bears, which was the key reason to lie low.

The other reason was that he couldn't shake off the prickling feeling that Merrick and Fields would soon realise he was as useless as a dodo with a pilot's license. Ico's days here were surely numbered.

Despite being wary of the bears, and shy of everyone else, Ico was still very curious. And so he'd already managed to explore much of the Valley; right now, for instance, as dusk began to darken the horizon and he drank from a stretch of river he'd only just discovered. But as he lapped at the cool water, he saw something Great reflected there... and he froze.

Was that a bear...?

The devil of a wolf had scaled his way down the rocky slope to decent upon the Bearclaw Valley. Unafraid of the pre-existing packs that reside there, he passes through the thick coniferous tree filled forests. The ground crunching beneath him as heavy paws step on pine cones and pine needles alike.  He follows a silent stream that trickles through the valley and carries on through into the forest. 

His black, leathery nose hits the ground in an attempt to find something to kill and eat. He’s not terribly hungry but might as well take a sniff around. Though he stops on his attacks when he sees a small, white furred animal just beyond the stretch of land before him. He can’t help it when that devious smirk stretches his maw to show painfully large, white canines. He wants to have some fun. He decides, walking towards the animal ominously.

As he gets closer he realizes by smell it is another wolf. Only about forty feet away and downwind, his head tilts and his ruined ears perk up in curiosity. This being looks akin to a fox or oddly colored coyote. Que interesante. He thinks silently to himself. 

Circling around the small wolf, same devilish smirk laid cross his maw he reveals himself to the other before him. His massive form completely dwarfing the other. Body corded and thick with muscle flex as he stalks towards the wolf from the other side of the river expecting him to be able to hear his approach but the other seems too distracted by the river that he laps up. Until his figure freezes, it’s at this moments Santi realizes that the small wolf has seen his reflection in the water. 

His reflection all in all similar to a great bear. The wide head, strong muzzle, short cropped ears not looking big enough to be another wolf. Let alone his massive size could get him confused for one if he didn’t have such an unusually tinted pelt. Even his tail allows him the appearance of a bear, where it was docked he has only a nub.

His silvermoon eyes gaze heavily onto the wolf before him, waiting on the other side of the river to be noticed. His maw contorts into a devious, but still devilishly handsome smirk, even if it is equally terrifying.

“Boo.” He drawls deeply, more as stereotypical joke to spook the other. 

He comes only a hair closer, stepping into the shallow river, the water only going up to his mid arm, he stalks ever closer through the river. Just to startle him even further, wanting him to know that the water won’t stop Santi from getting to him.

Small, fey Ico certainly looked like a coward; and indeed he was no brazen knight. But on the other hand, it was possible for this boy to feel so intrigued, so curious, that he might — albeit for a moment — put his life on the line. So it was with this bear-who-was-not-a-bear. As his scent reached the riverbank and the water's surface calmed enough to bring the stranger's visage into sharp relief, Ico saw a male who could rival Merrick for presence and power. Yet this one was wilder still, smirking like a hungry bandit come to devour the teddy bear's picnic.

Although the white wolf's ears flickered downwards, successfully intimidated, he stood tall and stiff — ready to howl for Ursus warriors in a moment's notice. But he would give this dark stranger that moment; the briefest moment to give a reason as to why all this needn't end in bloodshed (though it did seem inevitable that it would). The creature did not carry any obvious air or scent of a pack member, but it was possible Merrick had either sent him or otherwise marked him as an ally. He did seem the sort of man Merrick would recruit. In this one, fascinating, fleeting moment where anything could happen, Ico searched for a story.

You don't look lost... he observed softly, brown eyes wide. At least not in the physical sense.

The massive being continues closer to to the other, thought instead of going straight for him he circles to the smaller’s left. Water drips from his thick legs as his wet paws smack against the river bank. Head raises high enough he laughs and finally stops in his tracks.

Peering down at him intently he cocks a single brow. “You look like you’re about to do something irrational.” He jokes, his deep accented voice rolling out the words. 

Then he steps closer, towering over the smaller, Fox-like wolf. “I’m not lost and I’m sure you’re not either.” He comments, idly walking closer, head leveling out with his body. 


Again he doesn’t go straight towards him, rather he goes to circle him. Sidling behind the other, he gives his tail a hard stare. “Que lindo, would be a shame if you became food.” He laughs. “I suppose you’re lucky I’m not hungry.” He says as a way to let the other know he has no intentions of eating him.

With that comment, he reaches down, teeth showing frighteningly and gives the plume of the end of his tail a tug. The motion quick and painless, but more to annoy or scare the other, or perhaps just give Santi something to do. His smirk appears back on his maw right afterwards, thriving on his reactions.

Deep down, a little part of his consciousness wriggled with glee that the beast opted to speak (and with such an accent!) — for it was mainly through speech that the greatest stories were told. But Ico had been holding out for something very unlikely: to unravel the inevitably fascinating tales behind this loner's everlit eyes, he'd have to be an ally to Ursus and one disinclined to attempt terrorism. But the stars did not align here. And so the briefest attempt at storytime was over. Imagining, even fleetingly, that the situation could be otherwise was the most irrational thing Ico would do today.

For all his flaws (and there were a lot of them), Ico was at least agile, and sprung nimbly away from the nipping white teeth. Quickly, he leapt up lightly onto the craggy hill by the river to give himself an iota more time as he sent a cool, urgent howl skywards — trespasser!

The call was directed to @Merrick or @Taylor, but grasping of any Ursus warrior with a gleam of action as bright as the crazed light in the trespasser's eyes.

ico.
merrick quickened his trot, swallowing his newly caught vole as he moved. the howl had spoken of a trespasser; he smirked, wending his way in the direction of water.
there, little ico. and there, a hulking beast with ears shorn and tail cut, reeking of various things, with a malevolent look that merrick rather enjoyed.
he sidled upon the earth, nudged ico reassuringly, then with banner raised, began to advance downward to meet the brute, a proud flare of red hackles towering upon his shoulderblades. "what can we do for you, my good bitch?" merrick shouted, the words ending in a darkening, joyless cackle.

His teeth make a lightly audible snapping sound and he smirks when the smaller wolf moves out of the way. He loves teasing, he can’t help it. Though when the smaller scurries up a nearby hill and lets loose his own howl, calling for his pack mates, Santi knows there could be trouble.

His silvery white eyes gaze up to this new wolf that makes his appearance merely a few moments after. Santi has a twinkle of mischief can be found swirling in his eyes, he’s intrigued.

This male’s size is mildly bigger than the other but still minuscule compared to the great bear of a wolf. His ears are worn, like his, but still somehow different. The single copper eye looks to Santi and Santi can’t help but look back devilishly. The red lining his spine is bristled and impressive on the other, accomplishing the goal of making him seem just that much more intimidating. Though to Santi he’s more curious and cautious rather than intimidated, sure to never underestimate an opponent. He learned that lesson when he was a part of the ring. 

His ruined ears perk up when the other speaks and he replies with his own deep chuckle, it resonates in his chest. His impressive canines show as well as his purple-black tongue.

“Now, now, solo estoy de visita.” He comments back when his laughter dies down. “Your little friend there can’t handle a little teasing.” He drawls softly in a teasing tone. His accent rolls the words out easily and his ears press back to his skull and his silver eyes show faux sadness, imitating the white wolf’s stature. Holding a paw a few inches off the ground as he says it. Hell, if he had a tail it’d be between his legs too.

Then his heavy paw slaps down on the gravely ground beneath. He begins sidling closer, ever so slowly. The smirk appears on his maw once again. “It’s very nice to meet you both. I am Santiago Gabriel Arcos.” He introduces himself easily and confidently, that same easy smirk laid across his face. 

“I mean no harm, unless you do...” His dauntingly, ghost like eyes peer up at them with a raging fire in them just as a warning. “...y confía en mi, you have no chance against me alone.” He punctuates with a smirk, displaying his elongated canines. “Though I really can be sweet if you play your cards right.” He says deeply, tone of voice soft again as he chuckles.

the howl that broke over bearclaw was all the nightshade needed to wake. her eyes opened at once, luminant and full of dry chaos.

down the embankment the little bird went, until she saw first ico, and then the familiar form of her lover. and then, not so familiar form who, for all of his outnumbering, menaced merrick with a set of gleaming teeth.

astara snarled, placing herself protectively alongside her bear. she was not a wolf naturally territorial, and allowed all manner of souls to pass through the godwood unperturbed — so long as they did not threaten her kith. she leveled a hardened gaze upon Santiago, harder teeth bared — there was no joke to be had here, and his threats struck no humorous chord in the blackbird.

Closing in behind Merrick and Astara, Taylor muscles through the undergrowth, thick with dusk. He is kinetic, made up of vectors that constantly push and pull. His eyes are two punched holes into mania. There is a barely suppressed urge under his face— the urge to kill, the urge of having killed. 
Wordlessly, he appraises the trespasser. Bear-like, darker than the shade, but only by a few degrees. Already, he's thinking of the trajectory he's going to take. The angle of incidence of his teeth into the skin.
Merrick's voice runs a jagged path up his spine. A heartbeat going wild under a tactical vest. His hackles are already raised, his teeth already bared.

Ico's quiet lack of fear in favour of experiencing an interesting situation was bordering on the foolhardy — for he should be more afraid of this hulking menace. But there was another reason for his bravery in the smirking face of death: he ran with a pack now, and that pack was the wildest Ico had ever heard of. Sure enough, Merrick was at his side in moments, bristling like a great panther. The youth bowed in deference and admiration, then returned his brown eyes to the threat.

And although much about Santiago Gabriel Arcos was curious and unique, threat was the only word that mattered here. Ico had suffered a lifetime of teasing, and had no pride to quash. But the trespasser could sense a pack growing all around him, so to walk dominantly into its heartland, snap at a pack wolf and laugh in the face of its Alpha was to mean harm and to invite it. Even Ico could understand that.

Two other Ursus warriors emerged with Merrick. The handsome Fields, taller than the river was wide, and Merrick's counterpart: the empirical shadow, Astara. Ico had never seen her up close before.

That she should walk this Earth at all was alarming, for Astara looked more like a symbol than anything else: a symbol of oblivion, necrosis and midnight. And, perhaps, of magic.

To Ico, the three champions descending looked like three comets blazing through the darkling sky.

merrick remained silent until his bristling raven and sunflower friend strode to the fore. singular eye watched the accented male closely, and he grinned through the peals of laughter, holding his ground as the other approached.
the confidence was met only with a rueful flare of his nostrils,
and then merrick flew forward, nimble paws propelling him up up up
snapping toward the brute's muzzle eye nose ear, throwing himself before the larger jaws with a single cackle blossoming in his throat.

Rolled the dice on whether or not Merrick’s attack/Santi’s counter attack is successful. Found this fighting system works well in my experience. Don’t be afraid to pm me if you’re not into it and I’ll change it! :)
Dice roll:https://wolf-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=40396

In this case Santi is going to dodge instead of attack.

Watching one after another come over the small hill and appear at the little wolf’s side, Santi realizes he’s more outnumbered by the minute. The tall, leaner male appears after. Then a smaller raven furred she-wolf who is already baring fangs–no questions asked.  Then even after his argument of not really attacking their little fox friend the wolf who he assumes is the head of the pack darts his way. The great bear wolf’s ears press back and he bares his own teeth. 

Santi is bloodthirsty at times, but he’s not stupid to fight a one versus four, if he includes the little scoundrel that howled for his pack. The only thing that allows him to dodge the male heading his way is the distance he and the raven furred wolf have. 

He watches the other sprint towards him from the hill and lunge up towards his throat. He cranes his head back and tips backwards on his hindquarters just enough to dodge it by a hairs breath, his front paws coming of the ground to go into a standing ‘beg’ position, much like a rearing horse. Those teeth snap inches away from him and he takes advantage of the mishap by rushing his muscles into action and hopping off to the right and spinning around to face their assumed pack leader.

He sheathes his teeth but his nose is still wrinkled in a weak snarl. “I enjoy a fight, but I’m sure you can assume I know how stupid it is to fight a one versus four.” He growls matter of factly. “It’s a fucking death wish.” He backs up. “You come to protect, yet I meant no harm.” He argues attempting to keep his smirk at bay, raising a brow at the other. Apparently this bunch doesn’t take too kindly to being laughed in their face.


He’s no coward but he’s seen what happens when one is outnumbered. The taller blonde wolf seemed to be the make or break factor. He’s large enough to be able to take on two, but three is definitely pushing it if they actually use teamwork. He doesn’t include the small white wolf because if he so desired he’d be able to snatch the little thing up and snap him in two much to easily.

even if astara was alone, the intruder would have been no match for the nightshade. her appearance was beguiling — small she was not, nor was she timid — her lurking deportment only scarcely suggested the true iniquity she was capable of. astara, much like her beloved bear, had lived a life of exercised violence —- and as a result, gave no quarter to those who crossed her.

merrick’s dry cackle was the only signal the blackbird needed. she glanced from ico to taylor to assure neither were blooded before she made her own bid for her pound of flesh.

santiago’s words were unheeded as astara closed in. he would be given no stay of execution— while he was mid-rear astara lunged for one of his raised front legs, intent on bringing him down so her bear or taylor could close in.

Listening to the stranger, it drives a headache into him. A stomachache just about to blow up. He's seen the smirk too many times—like a uniform, they wear it, loitering in the alleyways and coming out at night, crouching and making infantile noises at pretty girls.
Neatly, quietly, he decides that this man is scum.
Merrick and Astara move as one. Taylor lunges forwards too, his teeth bared down to the very last molar, his head lowered, bull-like. Even when he's within striking distance, he does not stop, his mouth poised around one of the stranger's hind legs.
Already, he's rolling his jaws, a biological mortar-and-pestle designed to crush bone.

Ico remained alone atop the craggy little hill on the riverside as the embers of disquiet became the flames of brawl. If bid or (somehow) needed, he would've gladly joined the fray and done his best, but truthfully he was woefully unqualified and would only get in the way. So he stood fast and dipped his head low to watch, russet eyes moving this way and that to keep track of what was happening; that way he could at least yell "look out behind you!" if required.

He did not stand like a wolf who'd just unleashed the hounds of war, for the purpose of his howl had evidently not been to suggest bloodshed. He had simply been deferring to his superiors, requesting their better judgement. And Ico had already learned that Ursus judgement was swift — and could be as brutal as a plummeting eagle.

the man reared back ponderously, a clydesdale of an animal. more heavy words sprang forth, but merrick was no longer hearing them.
the man had committed an unforgivable trespass. 
the nightshade flew forward, followed by fields. merrick's tongue lolled; he glanced up the ridge toward slight little ico, giving a single quick nod of approval before dashing back in with clipping teeth. again he leapt, sailing for the brute's throat.
there was but one way for the cur to save himself, and that was to run — now.

Another dice roll: https://wolf-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=40396&pid=425600#pid425600
@Taylor you’re more than welcome to dice roll whether or not Santi actually rips his whole ear off or merely just rips it. if not, then Santi’s goal was to rip off the whole thing from the base.

Santi knows he’s in it now, unable to turn back. He’s quickly surrounded by the Ursus pack, surely with the idea to rip his limbs apart brutally. His end goal is indeed run, he doesn’t plan on fighting back–isn’t stupid enough, but first he has to escape in order to do that.

His dodge from the male wolf in front of him leave him open for attacks and in no time the she-devil with raised hackles and those ethereal purple hues is upon him wildly. She goes for his leg and is thankfully able to pull it back quick enough to avoid her snapping jaws. In retaliation, or if only to gather himself a few precious extra seconds, he throws his heavy paw at her, that could well have been close to the size of her head. The force of the push, or rather a punch, is rival to a falling boulder with his size and strength behind it.

Then, his attention turns to the never forgotten male that ferociously bites at his hind leg. The pain excruciating as he lets out a savage growl when the canary furred male sinks canines into flesh and muscle. The feeling is nothing new to him. Kicking out his front paws to weakly fend off the two pitch black wolves in front of him, his silver eyes with a fire lit in them flick towards Taylor. Craning his neck, he bares his teeth and snaps forward with savage intent. His elongated canines latch onto the base of Taylor’s ear, the muscles in his body flex impressively at the wicked shake he attempts. With the purpose of surprising the other enough to be let out of his devilish grasp he shakes his head and-if luck is on his side-rips the appendage off, separating it from its owners skull. If not, the blood still pours. Ears bleed easily and this is no exception as Santi’s muzzle and teeth become stained in that sweet crimson.

It’s enough to escape the golden males grasp and he wholly takes advantage of it. Jumping over and out of the cluster of bodies his maw drips with blood and he snarls at the white hot pain of his leg at every step. Though (due to the dice roll) he’s unable to really escape. He stands, hackles raised teeth bared, blood dripping from his maw, his black tongue flicks out to swipe blood off red stained teeth. He stares intently at them. He doesn’t want to fight, he’ll flee when he gets the chance.

i put my dice roll in your thread, link to astara's successful hit here: clicky! <3

santiago managed to avoid astara's teeth once, but he would not be so lucky twice. taylor and merrick both flanked the demon, their teeth bared in vindicating unison.

astara did not falter -- the paw that swung towards her face was suitable enough of a compromise, and the she-devil lunged for that limb instead. interrupting the full swing of santiago's blow by leaning into the attack, astara was able to cut the male's momentum in half. his forearm swipe hit her full on in the chest and she grunted, but the blackbird was staunchly prepared for physical force.

astara was no shirking violet: large as this brute may be, she was every bit his rival. her teeth sunk into his forearm with merciless force. the nightshade then dropped her weight entirely downwards in a crocodilian roll, designed to bring the brute on a crash course with the earth.

unsure of how the whole rolling mechanic works, but i rolled on discord and santiago rips taylor's ear^^

Through his bunched up lids he sees Santiago's ink-blot face blow up in front of him (what was that quote, about the whites of their eyes?) and Taylor sees his teeth one by one, the old food stuck in between his incisors, the smell of sweat and aggression.
Blood and fur fills his mouth. Unbearable heat melts half of his face—have you ever been branded with an iron?—and he feels warmth drip down his neck. For a few nauseating moments, Taylor is sure that if he brings his hand up to his ear, he would find only the absence of one. It takes half of a second before he realises that he doesn't care.
Taylor, his brother breathes in the other ear, the ear that still works. Why won't you stay still?
His mouth aches. It aches to bite bone after muscle after tendon. He rears, more Thoroughbred than Clydesdale, and snaps at Santiago's face as he is dragged down by Astara the ballast (what was that quote, about an eye for an eye?). 

The dark potential in the story of Santiago Gabriel Arcos was all but lost; Ico would never know what brought him strolling dominantly into packlands, or what strange world lay behind that drawling accent, or what traumas had informed that brazen attitude. That story had vanished like so many droplets into an ocean, but another story was unfolding before Ico's very eyes — the tale of the riverside bloodshed, of how the warriors of Ursus had chased a devil from their midst.

Fields! Lookout! he heard himself yell, but Santiago was a quicker fighter than Ico was a herald. Almost flat on the hill's grass now so he could watch as carefully as possible without being hit by blood and spit, the boy cursed himself for not noticing Santiago's movements in time to save the ear of the shadowed golden knight. Fields...

also put my roll in ur thread!

hot metal, burning in his eyes, his nostrils. merrick fancied he could taste the arc of fields' blood; it fired him, froze his own veins. the madman snarled, low, vicious.
astara bore another blow; merrick dove around her, trying to latch sharp slim jaws into the flesh behind the opposite foreleg, ripping head to and fro with saliva beading his lips
his quarry moved too swiftly and yet
payment payment payment i'll kill you you fucking bastard
and now fields would bear the mark of ursus wolves. their savagery.

Not gonna lie might have gotten a little confused here. Since Santi is getting chewed on and has to react to All of them it got confusing for a sec lol. If there’s a problem with something feel free to pm me :’) also the rolls got a little ate up too lol. Sorry

Santi lets loose a growl when the slithering form of the she-wolf’s teeth grab a hold of his paw. His eyes widen as she drops, her pelt dirties as she begins a death roll. He snarls as she twists his paw but thankfully is strong enough to prevent himself from crashing to the ground. His strong limbs stabilize him and he tucks his chin into his chest, the plume of his jaw and neck frame his face as he uses gravity against her, crashing his bony, thick skull against her ribcage. Yet somehow the devil doesn’t let loose.

He’s caught up with an onslaught of blood as the blonde male comes towards his face, teeth gnashing against his flesh. More blood splashes onto their pelts. And thankfully the other unruly wolf misses his mark as he thrashes about with the other two.

Getting his face gnawed on wasn’t on his to do list today but it seems like it’s happening whether he likes it or not. Before he knows it the side of his face is torn, it’s sure to leave an ugly scar. And for just a fitful moment he wonders if he’ll ever get his foot free from the prison that is Astara’s teeth.

The minimal damage to his face doesn’t seem so minimal with the amount of blood coming from the wound. Though thankfully the canary wolf was only able to successfully snap at him. He moves away from the other the best he can, knowing he can’t make much space from the others as the female chomps on his paw.

He turns his whole attention to her and the fire that swells within his very soul desires death. He lunges towards her form, low to the ground as she is and, if luck allows, takes a hold of the side of her neck. His body heaves as he attempts to shake her. The smaller wolf’s body moving side to side from his cruel desire to rip apart her throat.

dice roll here! - i think we can go with a major injury/sprain instead because santiago would need to be able to run away. <3

the serpent and the blackbird work together, weaving in and out -- while around them,  fur and fangs fly.

astara's vision ebbs away to only her quarry, forgetting merrick, forgetting fields -- forgetting even the svelte ico on the rise.

santiago's face comes for her like a maul, contorted and dripping deep crimson. astara's fangs hold tight, remaining steadfast -- while above the male thrashes like a fish plucked from the water.

her grip tightened as she felt sinew turn to ground meat between her slavering jaws; blood, thick with the tincture of iron, coats her tongue.

now it was her time to retract, and she does so while santiago's teeth clutch her ruff. with his paw held firmly in her mouth, he would be unable to move her much, if at all given their similar physiques -- for his front end's balance was now within her control.  she felt his teeth dig deep into the back of her neck and instinctively rounded her shoulders as she gritted her teeth in pain. she would not -- she refused -- to ever let go, and the agony of his teeth raking down her spine only serve to incentivize the fire of her wrath.  she dropped forcefully to the ground now to unseat his hold, but still, he stuck to her with his needle fangs.

with his limb still held in her jaws and their bodies parallel, astara flung her head upwards in a savage wrenching motion, pulling the beast's forelimb up up up against her chest -- with every intent to hear bone crack backwards as it was forced in a direction it could not go.

throwing evie in a little late xD

Evien cursed his limp - he was so much slower than the others, and it took a long time for him to get to the border. There was snarling and the stench of blood in the air, and the medic was more than alarmed. He hadn't even found a medicine den yet, he didn't know how he was going to take care of everyone with the limited supply of rosehips and moss he had. The boy didn't even know how many of the Ursus wolves were injured. 

The brown wolf approached the scene and his eyes widened in shock. Fields was bleeding, Astara was attached to the giant wolf that had done it. Everything was chaos. 

Evien was caught between wanting to fight the beast and just wanting to get everyone out of there. His tail drooped helplessly and his ears flattened to his skull, anxiety clear in his posture. This was worse than he'd imagined it could have been. 

"Fucking stop!" he shouted, fur bristling as he ran forward, not quite in direct fire, but certainly inserting himself in proximity of the fray. He was addressing the beast they were fighting. "Leave! You're going to fucking die if you don't!"

Ico's voice is inaudible in between the carnage, the sound of his own screams and heartbeat, the stuttering sound of ripping skin. A pang in his teeth as they drag through Santiago's cheek—a scythe through wheat— more blood. More fur. His zygomatic arch on the inside of his cheek.
The moment of impact is fleeting.
Astara hangs on to the very end like a fighter pilot sparring with the last enemy, smoke and fire sputtering out of her fuselage. He blinks away the blood from his eyes, rolling slow and dark over his brow like molasses.
He's tensing, drawing back for another punch, when he hears Evien. He turns wild eyes to him, his pupils so dilated that they appear black and shiny. Heavy breathing. From his bloody ear, there's only a sick pressure and a distant high-pitched scream. You've ruined me, he thinks, but he doesn't attack, for Kastner's sake.