Dragoncrest Cliffs The wind is on the rise,

@Wylla, @Mahler, @Wintersbane 
:eyes:

Oh, but she was stubborn. Umbra skulked back to the cliff, as the moon was high in the sky, and drizzled the world in rainfall. A white glare, as she was on guard. How the seafang wanted this cliff, but she had no power to do so. Would it be wise to find someone with power? To take what she so wished? 

A nobody, that was who the kraken was, and she needed to be somebody. Gain allies, gain.. Friends, was it? Perhaps she must, to gain what is rightfully hers. Umbra looked down the cliff, as she thought so.

But who was worthy of her?

Rather, whose protection was Umbra worthy of? Certainly not Sagtannet's.

As she'd promised Mahler, Wylla departed Nova Peak to check on the cliffs. She didn't expect to find anyone there. Mahler would not have returned so significantly injured without doling the same out to his competitor, and what wolf would be so stupid as to return here in that state, after that sort of warning?

So when she saw a dark silhouette cut beneath the rainy moonlight, standing atop the wet cliffs with both the bearing and scent of recent injury, Wylla decided to swing first and ask questions later. This might not even be the wolf Mahler fought with, but Wylla didn't care. They had to establish a strong presence on the cliffs to prevent the same happening again. The chance to exact vengeance for her partner was on a silver platter. She would not miss it by faltering on the chance of innocence.

She moved into a silent charge, emerging from the treeline with jaws unhinged to seize and crush Umbra's hind leg as she lunged from behind.

Sunhawk had limped after Umbra as she crawled back towards the cliffs where she'd gotten her ass kicked. Okay, you had to give kudos to The Crazy - guess if you like the taste of something enough you gotta have it twice. "Hey angry lady, do you think we can stop for a snack break, like gopher or somethi---"

Except Sunhawk didn't care for the taste of pain his ribs were doling out, and he felt so light headed that at first, he was pretty sure the banshee coming at Umbra was one hundo-percent an illusion. Just some brain-matter funkiness, or the spectra of a residual TBI.. Surely, not actually a living/breathing/totally-there wolf who seemed like the physical manifestation of Durvasa coming down on Umbra like she was the world's most tasty slice of cake.

"Oh fuck me." Sunhawk muttered. He was unwilling to plunge to his death Blackrock-style a second time. The first had been enough. "What did you do to these people?" He stopped right where he was gimping as Wylla tore down the country-side towards them at a pace that made his spleen hurt.

"We'll stop here and then move somewhere else." It wouldn't be wise to stay here too long, especially with their injuries. She was not completely battered anymore but still sore, and injuries now coating over with marks over her body. Sunhawk? She didn't know, she didn't care, he just kept following after her, and keeping her somesort of company.

"What the fuck-" Then she hissed, as a badger lunged from the abyssal of the inland and crunched onto her leg. The seafang could hear Sunhawk in the distance, but now her attention was focused onto the being that attacked her so. There wasn't a prompting, it seemed her existence set this wonder off.

Umbra was given a surprise attack, and she would not escape so easily. A repeat of the past that would be done, and so the kraken growled with her own ivories, and attempted to set them right on the others face. A leg, for an eye.

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Descriptions of uncomfortable eye stuff.

There was a second wolf there. Wylla failed to notice him even when he spoke. Her eyes were fixated solely on Umbra. Her jaws, aimed solely for the bitch's hind leg. Sunhawk may as well not exist to her. Whether this was the wolf Mahler fought or not, any wolf's presence on the cliffs right now was unwelcome. She remembered Drageda. She remembered the arrogance of those creatures, lording over Grimnismal like they were something special just because their heads were empty of anything besides their superiority complex. She remembered them hurting her brothers.

Drageda was dead and gone. Grimnismal, dead and gone. But Sagtannet was alive, had come so far to escape the inevitable beat of war drums and spare their children the anxiety they had once experienced in another pack, another time, under similar circumstances. Wylla would not have a repeat, especially after her partner was harmed. Umbra's injuries being recent were enough to damn her to the Eisen's unquestioning fury.

She felt flesh between her jaws. She felt the crunch of Umbra's bone as she clenched her jaws as tightly as she could. The effort of it made her skull vibrate. Felt and heard the crack that meant she'd successfully broken it. She released Umbra, readjusting, preparing to bear down on the woman and slam her head into the cold stone—

—then nothing but white hot lightning searing her brain as Umbra's jaws shattered her fragile brow bone and teeth sliced clean through her right eye. The globe ruptured. Wylla screamed and wrenched her head back, doing more damage than good: there was no hope of saving it now. Bits of it tore from her head, snagged on the cliff wolf's jaws. What remained leaked vitreous humour and blood in equal measure. If Wylla wasn't blinded by the destruction of her eye then she would've been blinded by the sickening combination of liquids staining her face.

Her shrieking carried across the cliff. She took the pain and formed it into a spear; her sensibilities left her in that moment, replaced by berserk rage and feral intent. She surged ahead, compelled by pain and madness to drive her jaws into any part of Umbra she managed to reach—her strikes, though fast, were sloppy, inaccurate and incomplete. Not unlike death throes, only this was simply Wylla losing her mind over what had just happened to her. In her head beat a red command: KILL.

But even if she got ahold of the woman, she would only rip flesh and fur free and strike again and again, determined to tear Umbra into pieces, nothing else.

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Description of Wylla losing her eye (RIP)

Every man dreams of watching two hot babes wrestle by the sea - maybe with a little bit of a busty crop top, maybe with a few drinks. You might expect some girlish screams, some coquettish winks - if you're especially lucky things get hot and steamy around sunset.. Girls might lose a top or two.. but never an eye. Chicks never lose a fucking eye.


There's a saying 'Hell in a hand basket' and while Sunny had no discernible idea what a hand basket was, he was getting a pretty gristly view of what Hell must look like.


Hell was watching this demonic thing come flying down the stones like an incubus. Hell was witnessing this out of control, harpy-looking, badgery, flying saucer-of-a-monster grab Umbra's leg and shatter it. Hell was that noise the bone made, like the crunch of a stick but more brittle, less dry, with a little wetness sloughing off between cracks. Hell was watching Umbra's toothy retaliation and seeing her fangs puncture eye-socket, and ((hold the fuck up, was that a fucking eye dangling like the world's worst lollipop between her incisors and canines?)

Sunny felt his insides clamp in revulsion. Before he could stop it a splatter of vomit darkened the sand, stinging his tongue. Jesus FUCK, THAT CRAZY LADY HAD JUST LOST A FUCKING EYEBALL

Like it was a set of keys, just twirling and dangling from Umbra's teeth.

Sunhawk made the esteemed and intelligent decision of looking at the hole where the eye should have been. It was like watching a car-wreck, his eyes climbed up Wylla's neck to her face to her hole, all without him commanding them to do so.  Wylla's eyehole was plundered, red, and oozing a liquid that was a color so wrong that Sunhawk puked again, this time spraying his feet. Oh god why did I look why did I think it would just be a black hole?

What was worse, now this decidedly un-busty, un-hot babe (Girl With One Eye? Not diggin' it unless its a Florence song) was ripping Umbra a new one so fast that Sunhawk was afraid his friend was in danger of having her own eyeholes mugged.

Just like his neck and eyes had watched the scene without his explicit permission, now his legs were moving of their own volition. Sunhawk forgot his injuries in the moment, feeling the burn of adrenaline pump through him. He launched clumsily towards Wylla, regretting his decision to do so the second he felt his ribcage howl in protest. If he didn't kick it in gear STAT, his friend was about to turn into a hamburger thanks to Cyclopylla.



Sunhawk angled his shoulder towards Wylla, approaching on her blind side. What he didn't realize in the process was that it opened up his body to the spray zone -- you know, the aqueous humor that was splurting out of Wylla's socket like a defective faucet. Sunhawk watched in horror as one particularly fat droplet was flung into the air in the most resplendent, glittery arc -

And then it fucking landed

on his

FACE

Sunhawk recoiled instantly, feeling his face and body shrivel in on itself. He scrambled back, forgetting his bravado and feeling very, very vulnerable. Any second now the Cyclopylla would be on him and turning his eyes into eye-soup too; Sunny was not about it. "Let's get the fuck out of here!!" Sunhawk bellowed, turning to Umbra and doing his best to push her out of Wyclop's warpath (and fluid splatter).

Mature Content Warning

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The kraken roared, and like a mighty wave falling against the new cyclope. They could hear their bones be crushed, and their skin pierce from the ferocious that was her fangs. However bones snapping, and blood dripping, Umbra was not just a fool to be injured without an offense for her own life.

She could feel her teeth descend upon, fangs sinking into the fleshy substance of what was once Wylla's eye, and ripping it out with a snarl. An eye for an eye, or a leg for an eye, she would not go out with causing a mayhem of sorts. Even if it would mean certain death, as the woman went crazed with such an act on Umbra's part, she was like a bloodthirsty barbarian, ready to charge.

But the coming in terms with the soon-to-be-death, on both of their parts which aligned to the krakens thought, was momentarily pushed away. Sunhawk pushed her so, but at the same time being washed in the scarlet water, and he screamed 'lets get out of here!'

Yet again, was she saved by him.

It seemed destinies aligned, and she didn't let the chance go by, but it was troublesome. She did her best to scurry away from the cyclops rage, and only hobble her self away. She couldn't get far without help, but was quick to hop like a silly rabbit- much to Umbra's embarassment. She looked back to the companion, an actual glint of worry to her eye-

He best make it over alive.

The sound that tore Wylla's throat raw fell somewhere between a banshee's wail and the bloodcurdling scream of a flayed animal. It was unrelenting, piercing the quiet of the cliff-side with every snap of her jaws. She writhed, fury incarnate, snatching air and fur alike in teeth driven mad with rage. So insane was her onslaught that some of it was even her own.

Sunhawk suddenly disappeared into the part of her reddened vision that was now gone. Wylla’s reaction to this was visceral. She felt it all the way down in her kidneys, the clench of fear that made her whirl toward him and away from Umbra. She didn’t even know who she was attacking anymore, the bitch or her squire. She didn’t know if the blood on her tongue was hers or theirs. It didn’t matter. She was reduced to a killing machine who would tear the throat of anyone who gave her half a chance, bucking like a stallion, shrieking like the highest wind.

Sunhawk was wise to call the retreat. Wylla was unable to pursue. Even if she had her wits about her, the pain and the fear would stop her in her tracks. She couldn’t see from her right side. She couldn’t see from her right side. Wylla threw back her head in a keening cry, a wretched howl, a summons for back-up to hunt down these pieces of shit, though they likely wouldn’t hear it over the wind. Umbra and Sunhawk were free to make their escape as she lifted a leg and pawed pathetically at her face, only to choke on vomit when she spotted a mangled bit of her own eye on the wet stone.

Stag had been sidetracked on his search for Wylla, for out on the coast he was assaulted with a new scent -- the exhilarating smell of the ocean. Here he had seen luxurious flowers in late summer bloom, including a line of bobbing strands of purple flowers which, at a distance, settled like indigo haze over goldenrod meadows.

But a scream -- Wylla's scream -- ripped him suddenly into reality. All thoughts of collecting these flowers for Phaedra was gone as that cry cut through him ruthless as a freshly stoned knife; his stomach dropped and he was in a run before he knew it.

Umbra and Sunhawk were long gone by the time Stag came upon Wylla. Her face was dark with blood, and she was pawing at something wrong on her face. Stag rushed to her and nearly threw up himself when he saw not one, but several puddles of vomit -- swallowing back the bile that threatened to overcome him, Stag was horrified to find Wylla bloodied and very much missing an eye. His fur was on end and his skin prickling as he looked wildly about them, expecting an ambush in any moment. "Oh my god -- Wylla -- holy shit. Wylla. Wylla -- are you okay?"

Sunhawk beat a fast retreat, not dissimilar to how a crab might scuttle back the moment it sees a seagull's shadow. He held Umbra where he could despite the screaming of his ribs.

Speaking of screaming, now there was a new voice on the scene. Thank god Sunhawk had quit Wyclop's harpy-like company before reinforcements arrived. If Wyclops had been bad, Sunhawk shuddered to think what her recruits were like.

He didn't spare a single glance behind them. His eyes were set ahead - towards the burning sun - well the fuck outta here.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Why did she think coming out here to fight these hooligans was a good idea? She'd been confident in her abilities and could take a few injuries, those would heal, but if she'd foreseen losing her eye, there was no way in hell Wylla would've risked this. This god forsaken cliff wasn't worth losing something as precious to her as an eye. Even when Drageda ruled here and harmed her packmates, it wouldn't have been worth losing an eye to defy them.

Static filled her head, reducing her to a beast that flailed and whined and couldn't get any hold on her sensibilities. Umbra and Sunhawk beat a hasty retreat, leaving her there on the wet cliffs until Stag's voice pierced through her agony and grief and took root in her sentient mind. She went to him imploringly, the remains of her right eye flopping sickeningly against her cheek as she turned her head to look at him. Nooo, she moaned, stumbling toward Stag's bleary outline with the full intent of pressing against him.

She would be okay once she worked past the loss, but right now she needed someone's support to take the edge off her horror.

Stag's stomach clenched violently as Wylla turned to him, and he saw the full report of the violence that had been inflicted on her. He felt nauseous immediately-- not out of the gore, but out of the fact Wylla was hurt. "Wylla!" He cried again, rushing towards her to support her weight.

Adrenaline and fear began to make its way through his bloodstream. Stag was trembling as he held up Wylla, his breath in shaky gasps as he looked around him. He didn't see any sign of assailants, but that didn't mean they were safe. They needed to leave here, immediately. "Wylla -- Wylla, are you okay?" He tried to peer into her good eye, to see if there was any cognizance or salience there. "We have to go -- lean on me, I'll bring you home okay?"

Fade here?

Her breath rushed out in short bursts, laboured pulls through her nostrils as she tried to hold back her rising panic. She anchored herself to Stag's voice and forced herself to listen to it, find strength and comfort in it. Quite possibly, he was the only thing that kept her from going mad with her rage then and there.

Okay, she quietly ground out, listing until her small shoulder pressed lightly into his. He really was a good young man. Strong. Full of a lot of potential. She closed her remaining eye for a few seconds, swallowed thickly, then gave a slow nod that made the world spin. Something fleshy and nauseating bobbed against the skin below her eye socket when she did it. She tried not to think too much about it.

Home. She tried to think of home instead, and allowed Stag to guide her there.

Stag was relieved Wylla was at least conscious; he didn't know much about eye loss, but was under the impression if he'd lost his own he'd snap. He tried his best to disguise the quiivering of his skin as Wylla leaned against him -- not disgust, but something akin to protective fury and fear melded into one.

They had moved to be safe, and now Wylla had an eye lost because of it. He held his shoulder up, lips drawn in a firm line as the two transported themselves back to Sagtannet. He was far from loquacious even when not under duress -- all the same Stag found it hard to speak evenly and calmly between the chattering of his teeth.

Wylla had been hurt. Who was next, Phaedra?

Stag vowed a new vigil that night.