Dawnlark Plains waiting for a rainy day

@Goliath - I was dumb and accidentally tagged you in the thread for Arturo, sorry! uvu/

And then he steps in snow. It ripples through his spine and down every muscle and he has half a mind to be a child and scramble backward through the thicket and away. But no, he's a soldier, and what do they do? Soldier on. Despite his deepset scowl he does, shuffling through the snow that's come quite early considering the season - he's yet to learn it's the norm for this place, anyway, and he lets a foot shake loose some clumping ice and fur, the cold chill of the morning wind biting at his scarred skin. Huffing through his nose, he let himself roll to a stop, a grey and brown conduit in the plain of ice and snow-frosted trees that circled the plain. It was beautiful, sure, to any who didn't understand where enemies could hide and how blood looked on pure white.

Watching his breath curl away from his nose, he slowly picked up a lumbering pace, strolling through the snow with an idle glance about. The white did nothing for his upset depth of vision, and he found himself squinting as he walked, tasting the frigid air for some sense of pack or prey that could linger close-by. He really had to get used to this territory, now that he was - for the most part - stuck in it.

Its ok c:

Snowflakes began to pile up on Goliath's large, fat-covered body. He had slept through the snowfall for several hours, and where one would usually see a large mass of speckled, hazel fur came the unusual blotch of snow and ice. He had become barely distinguishable from a large snow-covered boulder, the only noticable difference is the black snout that popped out by his foot. Ice had formed at the tip of his coat and whiskers, and his long deep breaths rolled out infront of him like a Dragon puffing out smoke. 

Awakened by the hard crunch of snow nearby, he lifted his massive head and turned to look at the source of the noise. Chunks of snow began to fall of his neck, and he shook the remaining bits of sludge and ice and that had crusted around his mane. Grudgingly, he looked for the maker of the noise, hoping that it was some small animal so that he could sleep once more. Cold weather was for hibernation, that much he knew.

Seeing a male intruder far by the sides, he jumped up onto all fours and perked his ears. Recently, there were a wide array of foreigners attempting to breach the borders, and he was rather satisfied, but now it started to become slightly repetitive.

"HALT!" he boomed from across the clearing, his hopes were high that he could make this confrontation as quick as possible, the snow had made him wet and now that he was gone from his small hibernation-blanket of snow, the insulation dissapeared and the cold, sharp sting of a breeze cut through his pelt. "Goliath make quick." he added, lumbering forward.

Damn. That was most definitley not the wind. An irritated flicker twitched through his ears, and the veteran rumbled to another stop, squinting at the figure that slowly materialized out of the white horizon. Or was that a rock? Rocks didn't move. Did they move here? No, ridiculous. He whuffed through his nose, a cloud of breath curling around his mangled head. It wasn't a rock - no, as the other brute moved forward, it was very plainly male, and alive, and breathing, and... talking like a war grunt.

So, all in all, not too far from what he was used to.

Make quick? The rock, now named Goliath, is impressive for his youth - he'd looked like that once upon a time, before he was dragged through life's gutter. The remaining golden eye in his head slid down toward the snow behind him, a thick, baritone voice summoning up from his throat. Ah, he chuffs, brow lifting and scars twisting around the bone, This is your ice field, then? His voice is rough and tarried with age, aged like a smoker's and twice as deep. He really rarely spoke, and the try for humor is awkward at the very least, his face not matching the sound of amusement. There's no latent threat in his body language, hopefully - if anything, he hopes he looks as damn tired as he feels.

Stepping closer, Goliath saw that the man was old. Worn and torn by age, he saw the cuts and scars that signified many previous battles. One much more intelligent could find respect for the geezer, but Goliath wasn't one who particularly enjoyed the presence of the elderly. He always thought that all they tended to be was useless, only holding on to previous memories of pride instead of living in the present. If anything, they were rumpless sacks of shit which called each other 'wise', full of lies and could live in former glories.

"It is, Old git" he growled, only partially telling the truth. Goliath began to feel immense feelings of anger, something which he could only link back the old hag which he called 'Grandmother' who had abused him when he was an adolescent. It had become so great that he stood up, and struck her down. Back then, he wasn't focused and forgot to finish her off. An older Goliath would not have made the same mistake.

Shaking these thoughts out of his head, he barked an order:"What is name, greybeard?" Goliath always kept a mental note of the intruders, and although the male before him was clearly not a threat, (atleast in Goliath's eyes) he wanted to remember then name of all who he bested in combat.

A bored glimmer very quickly became his ruined face. Old git. He was no stranger to rowdy children; not all were born of black barracks and blind mothers, killing by one and war by two. Very few pups nowadays were taught respect; they lived in their worlds as king and crown and paid no mind to the old stones beneath their feet. A mountain is a wonderful place to build a castle, before it crumbles beneath you. "You don't hold yourself very well for a - what is it - alpha?" There's a smirk somewhere in his voice, but nothing twists the ugly black grimace of his mouth. Very little ever did.

Peppy thing. His flattens one ear, amusement flashing through that golden eye as he turns his gaze to the seemingly-neverending white. He really had no intention of being a problem, and he was close enough now to smell quite a few wolves on Big and Tall's pelt, but new recruits always had been his least favorite. Biting to the black, fetid gums had always sort of been his favorite method of discipline, but he was quite at odds - a general, against an army? He might have been a megalomaniac, but he wasn't stupid. 

Instead, that unsmiling face levels young grunt's, looking down the length of his scarred nose with an eye meant for severity and stern disapproval. "You're not at the top of your food chain, are you." He states it as bluntly as scripture, and the old bastard doubts that he's wrong. If he was, he pitied the troops of a man so impulsive - or neurotic? - to snap teeth before questions.

Oh my, I'm going down the childish root for Goliath..

You don't hold yourself very well for a -what is it - Alpha? 

Goliath nearly hunched over in laughter. This old geezer thought him to be the Alpha? Goliath snorted back the remaining bits of unnessecary cackling and peaced himself together. "Goliath lowest of low, if Alpha, me kill you already" he grunted, his face returning to the grim, unmoved expression he wore minutes before.

Gramps had begun to stare off into the distance once more, and this sparked even more rage in his flabby, ugly, fat-covered heart. "HEY!" he barked, his deep, loud voice rebounding off the plains. "Me talk to you, gramps" his voice returning to a much more (but still loud) hiss

Bringing his muzzle down to a couple centimeters away from the much older warrior. If the hag wanted to play games of intimidation, he could play aswell. Noticing a blind eye, Goliath nearly began to chuckle once more. While others might be much more intimitaded, Goliath could only think of how bad of a combatant would oldie have to be to lose an eye. "Goliath can kill all. Prove me wrong." he snarled, his teeth itching for a bite or two off this smartass. Besides, noone would miss an old wolf such as this one, and if he didn't kill him, another wolf would.

ACCIDENTAL DOUBLE POST!
Sorry XS

hehe, i'm surprised karm isn't getting more petulant, he's normally terrible n immature B)' sorry he's just sort of being a dick, though cx' you're welcome to have goliath attack him if he would! 

No, he was definitely like him when he was younger. Petulant, eager to snap, refusing to back down. Others he might have already snapped for the jaws, lost his control and bit for their snouts to force them into the snow and below his paws. Why he hadn't with this one, he couldn't rightly say. He didn't feel things like nostalgia, and there was more irritation than smug calm to feel; normally, the smug bastard could enjoy riling somebody up to snarling while he sat in casual indifference. But now, he just sort of wanted to leave.

"Waste of time," he grunted, ears fluttering. Whether the boy liked it or not, he knew the journey here had been harder than usual on his body. A fight now would be hardfought, possibly won - but that wasn't a bet he was willing to take. With age, he'd realized, had come a lack of impulse, and even when he itched to teach a lesson, his paws working at the snow, he wouldn't take 50% odds. He'd never been much of a gambler, anyway. Besides, the boy was lowest of the low. Karma was surprised they'd trained him to speak, honestly; boys that hadn't been meant as more than cannon fodder hadn't been able to count past five, so far as he remembered.

"I'm not interested in your commander's land or his pack, let alone a fight with one of his soldiers," the thick chuff weaved thickly between his teeth, the end to the conversation or whatever prospect of raised hackles Big and Tall offered. The ugly scars over his lips curled into a mangled, warped smile, stopping just before that dead, golden eye. "Though I wonder what he'll think of his lowest ranking saying the land is his own." He gave a stride back on this, quite content in leaving, if the mongrel was done spitting threats at him - follow through or let him go. A man who didn't follow through or concede defeat was no man at all.

Eh, I think a couple bites won't do any harm c: Bad language ahead btw :o EDIT: Scratch that, wrapped up an ending with as little pp as I can

Goliath was done talking, this old fuck had definetly had his share, and now it was the fight or flight choice.

Yet the final words were what broke Goliath down into a barbaric, uncivilized frenzy. This old man had pulled his last straw by hinting at a talk with his leader, and Goliath's temper had finally broken. Perhaps it was also the product of some anger-inducing disorder, but right now it was not something that would descalate to a talk.

His head hot with anger, he gave a single final warning; a sharp, guttaral snarl, before throwing in a sharp bite, aiming to gash the old bloke's shoulder.

However, something, perhaps a the shards of a past trauma, stops him. His jaws closing inches away from the unflinching veteran's skull, and Goliath's anger can only be expressed through the terrible, unwanted trembling that shakes his colossal body. A sensation of pins and needles floods his legs and torso, ending with a dull numbness that simply has him still in place, foaming at his mouths, an expression full of anger as the old geezer simply turns and walks off into the distance.