Ravensblood Forest only a fool would make martyrs from heathens

@Donovan Azura

From the fields to the forest Donovan had described was not a long journey. Renard followed the edge of the mountains down and over the coast, and from there it didn’t take long for the rock to vanish and for fields to turn to forest; a very interesting sort of forest, at that.

Renard had not been somewhere before where the trees were quite so tall; they towered, and maybe it was a child’s game to be surprised they weren’t touching the clouds, but nonetheless, the wolfdog was almost surprised to see them glide by above, unharmed.

Nor had they been somewhere where the trees looked like they bled.
They’d been keeping an eye out, yeah, but they didn’t expect to actually see it. Deep red lines like dripping blood clinging to the rust-red bark of the first tree they approached, but at least face to face it was much easier to scent the air and tell that, yes, it was nothing other than sap.

A bit disappointing, though they hadn’t actually been expecting blood. Visually impressive, without a doubt. More importantly, the breath they had taken indicated more than sap on tree trunks; it was clear Donovan had recently been by. Not the strength of a full pack, but unmistakable nonetheless.

A quick look around, some brief familiarity with the terrain, and Renard tipped back their head and howled. No sense keeping him waiting for long.

Donovan lazes around the mouth of a cave in the eastern set of mountains. Looking more like a large cat lying comfortably on his side with his hind legs stretched out next to him and his from arms rest on his elbows. He’s been viciously licking at his left paw of the treacherous red sap that plagues just about all parts of this forest. The shit never comes off he concludes. He almost considers giving up when a howl sounds through the air and into his ears. It sounds very close and the males thick ears point forward curiously and he freezes. Tongue still flat against his paw, the only difference in his position the golden hues that scan the area in front of him. 

Slipping the black appendage back into his mouth, he stands. Instantly he begins heading towards the howl in a brisk trot. Passing around boulders and migrating through the forest of towering trees, he seems to finally hit his mark. About ten meters out he sees the form of his most recent acquaintance — Renard. The other fascinating Akita-wolf mix with an odd yet stunning coat.

Urging himself forward, heavy paws thump against the ground and crunch the debris of the forest beneath them. He doesn’t try to be quiet and upon round a rather large tree trunk, revealing himself to the other, he chuckles.

“Well, well, well.” He hums, shimmering eyes meet their own. “Look who actually kept their word. I’m impressed.” Donovan can’t help but sneak in the teasing lilt into his voice. “Come to spar then?” He questions with a tilt of his head and a challenging smirk on his handsome face.

Renard’s call stayed just as long as it needed to be to be heard before they went back to looking over the fringes of the woods. It was a nice place Donovan had picked out, even beyond the appropriately spooky trees. Truthfully, despite the blood just being sap, Renard loved those. Very over the top. Nothing better to state your intentions with.

The trees did afford a little less cover than they might have preferred. They were used to all the pines, low to the ground and laden in ice; there was just endless open space here. Things to get used to – they’d told themselves that already. The Yukon was old and familiar and the whole point of this, well –

Something snapped off to their left. They turned after it, ears already angled forward, but they knew who it was before they picked up the striped coat and golden eyes.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Renard said, with no small amount of false offense. They chuckled. “I suppose I understand. Like I said, no better way to understand someone. I am, indeed, here to spar.”

Though if Renard was really concerned about making themselves understood, they would never have called in the first place – they would have gone and found him themselves.

Couldn’t go giving away every secret. Where was the fun in that?

Donovan chuckles at the faux, sarcastic hurt in the others voice. “Good. I’ve been itching to spar lately. I’m eager to see what level of skill you possess.” Donovan nods his head to the right to beckon the other to follow him. “Come, I have a better spot to spar. These trees make it feel to suffocating.”

He will take them to a clearing, relatively bare of the monstrous trees and random brush that litter the majority of the forest.

An even 1:1 on their recent record, but Renard wasn't bothered on their chances. The footing was much more…understandable, here. Win or lose, it seemed like their neck would be staying where it is. “Lead the way,” the wolfdog said, half-smile quirking their lips, and followed Donovan as he headed deeper into the forest.

Their memory wasn't photographic by any means, but Renard kept an eye out as they moved. Always paid to know as much as you could; information was worth plenty, even if just to themselves, and something they’d already been trading. Though they did have to admit there wasn't much to see except what they’d been seeing since they arrived on the border.

After a while, moving further and further into the forest, the impossibly tall tree trunks began to thin out, the blood-red sap with them. Much less of an atmosphere, and not much more comfortable for sneaky purposes, which were currently unnecessary. They’d already been seen.

“Had any success with recruiting yet?” Renard asked. They’d reached some sort of clearing – devoid of most of the trees and the brush, grass clipped short, and the exposure of it all made their spine prickle a little. Missing the shadow already, it seemed. “You have chosen a home with such a friendly atmosphere.”

Glad you’re back!! ;D Also if you scroll all the way down on this thread, you’ll see where he took Renard. It’s under the training areas and it’s near the enormous tree.

As they walk, side by side most likely, his ears swivel at the question Renard asks him. An easy smile gracing his features, he shrugs. “Not too bad. I’ve met many others with nowhere to go, yet only time will tell.” At that he glances over to give the other wolf-dog a mysterious once over. “Although I do have to say, it’s exciting having another around so much like myself. In blood at least.” He fitfully adds the last sentence because now that he thinks about it, it doesn’t seem like the they’re anything like Donovan at all. Except for the thing he points out.

Then Donovan chuckles when they talk about how beautiful the forest he’s picked for his new pack is. “It’s beautiful during the day. During the night though, it’s easy to give one chills.” He hums this lowly, comically bumping against the others shoulder. The brindle males tone of voice holds a jesting, ominous edge it.

They don’t walk far. As soon as thirty minutes they’re upon a massive clearing empty of all but one trees. The limbs are thick and spiderweb off of the trunk like tendrils. Each limb thick enough to hold two of Donovan’s weight or perhaps even more.

“Here we are.” He laughs, gesturing towards the tree. “I don’t know what to call it yet, but I’ve decided I father like it as a training area.” As he says this he casual hops up onto a tree limb about four feet off the ground and easily walks up onto a higher one. He gazes down to Renard with a smirk. “Good place to train no?”

yes!! summer classes out of the way so my free time is back. thank you for the link!

Renard cocked their head back in reply, barely catching a glimpse of the other wolfdog out of the corner of their eye. Almost an edge in his words, there. Donovan might have shared his own story, and Renard could even appreciate the purpose behind it, but, well, nothing like keeping your cards close to your chest. A spar didn’t require anything so much as the presence of teeth and the proof you knew how to use them.

They huffed a laugh. “Yes, I’d expect.” Suppose it depended on Donovan’s personal leadership style how on the nose trees dripping blood was to the pack he was forming here. He’d had enough of an edge to him and his voice talking about his past that Renard was inclined to believe this would suit well enough – and here, the edge crept right back to his voice as he bumped their shoulder.

Renard returned the gesture with the knife-flash of a smile.

The trail wore on until they reached the clearing; devoid of the towering trees and much of the brush, nothing more than a single, gnarled trunk that looked as though it had seen years beyond counting.

“An interesting choice.” Renard stepped languidly forwards as Donovan leapt into the branches, wound his way higher up, and smiled again. “I hope this isn't practice to climb the rest of the trees in this forest. Might be a bit beyond my skills.”

Awesome and no prob!

Roll here. I rolled a miss!

Donovan lets out a booming fit of laughter. “Oh, hell no.” He says to the others suggestion of climbing trees. “Balance training is what I was thinking of using this for.”

Then his smirk grows and his shimmering eyes hold his usual devilish gleam in them. “Shall we begin?” He asks, quickly jumping from the limb he walks in and landing hard on the ground with an audible thump. He’s coming towards Renard into attempt and bite at the their hindquarters jestingly but predictably misses. It is a fairly foreseeable move and it’s not like Donovan actually tried his best to hit that first move. See it more as a introduction to their spar.

rolled there as well for a hit!

Renard’s eyes lingered on the tree for a moment longer. “Oh, good,” they said, a wryness in their tone. “Much more effective.” They were lacking in the balance training themselves, but before that could become a potential issue – Renard was not fighting on a tree branch without dire cause, thank you very much – Donovan jumped back down to the forest floor, the thud of a more than four-foot drop plus the bulk falling that distance more than sufficient reason to stop admiring the scenery.

This was a good thing, too, because no sooner had Renard turned their attention to the other wolfdog then Donovan was coming right after them, teeth bared –

Unlike their last unfortunate “spar” (if it could even rightfully be called that), they were prepared. They spun to the side just in time to avoid what could have been a nip or a bite and turned back, teeth bared to snap against Donovan’s shoulder – like they had been doing every time lately, more as a test, sure, but it would be a smart idea to revisit that after this –

– their fangs met fur, and then flesh, scraping through the skin there. Not that Renard was a believer in the if it’s not broke don’t fix it school of thought, but maybe this tactic kept some merit.

Drawing back, they returned the smirk with one of their own. “I guess I’m not opposed.”

Got them good rolls here. :’>

Donovan’s miss directly effects him. Resulting in an easy bite into his muscled shoulder. The scrape of teeth along his skin, most definitely drawing pinpricks of blood, make the fire within him burn for battle. Though this isn’t a battle, it’s a spar and Donovan keeps that in mind before going in for his next move.

To his dismay misses as well. His teeth aim for that pretty, curled appendage that is their tail, only to be denied by the others quick movement. After two misses it’s safe to go in the defense. So spinning around Donovan plants his paws securely on the ground, hopefully able to see the other wolf-dogs next move easy enough to dodge.

the dice are so fickle :weary:

Their spar fell quickly into silence as Donovan lunged back after them. Whatever he was doing, safe to say Renard wanted no part in it; they whipped back around like a snake feeling a paw tread upon its tail, expecting to be presented with Donovan’s side, only to find the man with both paws planted squarely on the dirt, clearly awaiting Renard’s next move.

They could have stopped if they wanted. Even sounded like the smarter move. But, you know…much more interesting to do it this way.

So Renard went hurtling right towards him without hesitating. Jaws yawning wide, coming up on their back legs at just the last moment to grip the side of Donovan’s neck. They knew from personal experience that it was more loose flesh and fur there than anything potentially dangerous, and this was just a spar, but they locked their jaw in and yanked a little, rolling the same playful growl out of their throat as when they’d pulled the deer apart back on the coast.

Roll

Thankfully the other wolf-dog continues the spar. Though Donovan could see the wonder and hesitation fixated in their body language, he’s grateful they took the bate. So when Renard comes his way baring his pearly whites Donovan can’t help but brace for impact. The second the brindles male feels those fangs latch onto his scruff he widens his stance to securely plant himself on the ground. The most unusual yet playful growl rings in his ears and the ghost of a smile on his lips is widening joyfully. A rolling laugh is even able to escape him. 

He’s limited on movement with the fur of his scruff caught in the others maw so he cranes his head as much as he’s able to to bite and nip at the others front legs. Just enough to give a little pinch of surprise.

i am so painfully slow *smacks myself with a broom*
rolls in the same thread :)

Renard’s position put their forelimbs in danger, and they knew it, so they shouldn’t have been surprised when Donovan bent his head, teeth snicking against their skin. They yanked their leg back, though there wasn’t much place to go as long as they were trying to keep their grip.

For a moment longer, they hovered, huffing against the roll of skin and fur caught in between their teeth, and then, because why the fuck not, loosed their grip a fraction, set their paws on the ground, and shoved their full weight into his side.

This was not the smartest move, Donovan being posed quite securely where he was standing and also at least a bit bigger than them but somehow, nonetheless, the weight of their shoulder was enough to knock him away. The bite summarily aimed at his hind leg was not so successful; their jaws clipped shut on empty air.

Youre back... again! (*´ω`*)

His playful bites are successful in meeting the thin fur of Renard’s legs and Donovan his smiling. Or he is until he’s being shoved with enough force to send him a good few steps away. Though with the few steps, comes momentum and he’s dashing off towards the tree.

Paws thumping on the ground the short distance to the tree, he pounced onto a thick limb. He skillfully climbs higher and smirks down to the other male. “Come get me or give up, peaches.” He teases.

They were clearly off their game, now, because the tree was right fucking there and they hadn’t been shy about their reluctance to start climbing all over it. They were still expecting Donovan to come back after them; by the time they’d turned back around, though, instead of the teeth they were anticipating, he was – well.

Renard stopped. Straightened. Turned themselves to face the giant wolfdog perched in the branches like some very large bird. The tree’s limbs were thick, so at least he wouldn’t be snapping the branches, but this was, admittedly, a gap in Renard’s…education.

They didn’t relish the concept of tumbling out of a tree, to put it lightly. They’d snuck over a low branch or two before, of course – there was nowhere as good for an ambush as up.

This was not an ambush. Clearly.

And yet. Refusing was not a solution. Renard examined him as he climbed higher, too high to simply jump from the ground and latch on to his tail, and sighed.

At least banter, they could do. Their lips twitched back into a sharp grin, and they leapt up into the branch Donovan had landed on first. Still close enough not to be…too much of a problem.

“Are you sure?” Renard watched him, motionless, like a cat watches a bird. “I’d hate for you to fall out and crack that pretty head of yours.”

Donovan smirks when he realizes the other is not at all interested climbing up and into the tree. Snickering he shakes his head. “That would be a shame wouldn’t it?”

With a new aura of calmness, Donovan steps down the limbs of the tree. Skillfully pawing down each limb and eventually meeting the grimy forest floor. Coin gold eyes meet Renard’s on and he smiles briefly, coming to walk up to him.

“I give up.” He hums absentmindedly.

He turns his body and jerks his head in a follow me motion. “Let’s go grab some water. I’m fucking parched.” He comments lowly. Then he looks to Renard curiously. “Tell me, where do you see your travels taking you?”

“Just to make me feel better?” Renard snorted, tipping their head to the side, but followed Donovan back down to the ground. It felt better with solid earth under their paws. “No need. Suppose I can’t fault the benefit of balance lessons.”

Not a win, no matter what Donovan offered. They thought it was probably not a tie, either. Renard had hesitated to follow him up the tree; that only reflected on them. But they could take a loss on equal footing, when one person wasn’t trying to chew out the throat of the other.

Renard hummed. “I’ve fought…a few people. The first one invited me to her pack. Sagtannet?” They tipped their muzzle in the direction of the mountains, just visible over the trees. “I thought about it. But, as you can see,” a soft laugh, “I’ve gotten sidetracked."

Donovan laughs. “Nonsense. You’re a good fighter. A fair spar partner.” He chirps deeply. As they walk further into the forest in the direction Donovan knew there was water. 

He listens intently to the other speak, flicking Holden’s orbs over to them every so often. He gives an interested hum at their first sentence and he turns to look at the mountains as well. Though when Renard gives a breathy chuckle and speaks of being sidetracked he can’t help but wonder. Will Renard join them? Or perhaps Donovan could sway this interesting wolf to lean towards the path of the Saints. Having another so much like himself would put him at ease and he seems to be hitting it off quite nicely with the other. So what would be the shame in trying? The worst he can get is a no, to which he would nod politely back to them an accept it. Denial is nothing new to the wolf dog. Yet he cannot help but think about the pros Renard would bring to his pack. 

With only a slight hesitance he chuckles back. “Well. I’m glad to have distracted you, Renard. I was thinking you’d be an asset to me. Would like to consider you a valued member of my pack.”

Then he gives them a way out. “Of course, I wouldn’t take offense to your denial. We would remain on good terms.”

It was probably hard to afford being picky, searching for new followers, but there was something in them pleased by the offer nonetheless.

“An interesting proposal.” Renard cocked their head. “The one who proposed Sagtannet lost to me. Not ashamed to say you would probably have won here, if trees were involved.” They examined Donovan for a moment longer. The man certainly had a presence. A goal. The latter, at least, was something they were lacking.

Which was…why they’d considered Praimfaya’s proposal in the first place. And they probably knew this one better than her. Whether also being a wolfdog meant that much, Renard had no idea, but they’d certainly get a reputation.

“I accept.” Renard smiled. “I’m sure you’ll make things interesting.”

AHHHH so excited Renard joined us! Imma pm you here in a bit!

Donovan smiles like the fucking Cheshire Cat. Pure, unadulterated excitement in his expression. Truly, he is excited to have the other join. Their joined blood in that of a dog is what really get Donovan going, let alone the fact it’s the same type of dog.

He gives a hearty laugh and bumps their shoulders roughly. “Oh, Renard,” he says shaking his head. “it will be fun.” He exclaims.

Once he’s calmed down, he locks eyes. “It’s good to have you join. Perhaps now I won’t get all of the odd stares, you get some now too.” He chuckles. “After we get water I can show you the dens.”

Donovan was much bigger than Renard themselves, but they saw him moving before he actually did, so they didn’t sway too much when he bumped his shoulder into theirs. “Good to hear. Wandering around can only entertain for so long.” They smiled, squarely meeting Donovan’s gaze with their own.

They swished their tail to the side at the mention of their shared heritage. “Glad to take on my share, of course.” However many odd stares that would be. Donovan excluded, everyone they’d encountered had seemed more interested in the spars than whether their tail curled or hung straight – not that they had anything against the attention.

Renard inclined their head pleasantly. “Lead the way.”