Mount Apikuni Calling out father oh, stand by and we will
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the fire fae
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#1
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@Revui
tags for reference.
Orlaith was on the rougher side, compared to the quiet, angelic fairies. Her father was a warrior, a guardian to the fae-folk, and she diligently followed his foot-steps as the only child. Her mother was a quant, quiet woman of gentle nature, loving a rougher male. Though her closeness to nature didn't fall completely, she still had an incling, a thankful nod to her motther.

Where she fought with @Ying a few times as sparring partners, the place seemed to almost howl to the fire wolf. It gave her an eerie feeling which she didn't like too much- and now, she found another place quite similar. The mountain top that was across the Emberflame Ridge, and moreso near the Lone Star Mountain.

There was signs of falling of the land, though the little that happened was so long ago, she nearly would've missed the remains. There was a few scorch marks when digging up a few areas too- almost like the land itself seemed to be cursed. She felt otherwordly with this unnatural shiver she felt to her spine.

It seemed like the earth was going to howl and split open, taking her down to depths, her remains be swallowed with others.

Orlaith was on edge when she stepped to the land, and felt alert, she seemed to be set off by any movement.
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#2
The smaller mountain was affixed in Revui's brain as soon as he'd spotted it; he was on a different mountain at the time, but upon descending the range and working through the valley, his path moved inevitably towards it. The terrain was easier here than the other mountains; it was a bit disappointing.

What intrigued him the most wasn't the forest with its peculiar scorch marks (which he bypassed time and again, barely noticing until he'd crunched through a decaying tangle of charred bark) or even the sprawling forest growing like a wildfire along the next ridge. He spotted a burly looking wolf doing a similar investigation of the area and that drew his eye.

Revui thought they looked impressive. It was a simple aesthetic pleasure. They looked healthy, strong, and carried themselves as if they owned the space they inhabited; all of this reminded him of his own family upon Moonspear, and ignited in him a lust for what he had lost. As he drew closer to where they loitered Revui became aware of something deeper - a more pronounced burning in his belly, much like when he'd spotted Ikkalrok.

And as he wasn't getting what he thought he deserved from his chosen woman, he would find a way to obtain it from another source if he had to.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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#3
The mountain enough caused her tension, but when she felt a burning gaze at her back, it gave unnerving shivers. Turning around, the flaming wolf locked eyes with a silver beast, he looked as if he had found some prey. Despite the unease she stayed afloat, her head held high with pride, and a look of a narrowed arrogance to her face.

She wasn't sure how to address this foe- he produced nothing that seemed friendly, but didn't seem to hold any intentions to attack. All he looked like was a primitive wolf, found his rabbit. She didn't appreciate being treated as if she was some sort of meal, and looked toward the male with a silent anger.

It felt like they were sizing each other hope.
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#4
As he swaggers closer, he slows his pace. There is no effort made to conceal his intentions, but maybe that's because Revui cannot help himself or the obvious interest coursing throughout his body. He is watching her and his eyes are alert, his entire being focused upon her. She is very much autumnal; the opposite of his bland wintry self. He wonders what she thinks of him in return - in a vague sense - and sees the subtle lifting of her posture.

Is she appraising him? There is a look he cannot describe upon her face. It isn't interest. She's watching him like a wolf gazing at a raven which circles overhead; as if he is a pest but a necessary one. As he stops nearby he sniffs the air and finds a tangled web of many others — she is a pack wolf.

A low rumbling invitation carries forth from his chest, and he wonders if this woman will be as easily swayed as Ikkalrok.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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#5
Her demenour turned into disgust rather quickly as the man approached closer with clearer intentions. Her absolutely repulse was clear upon her golden face as she took a few step backs into a unsettling creep. More intimidated all else on the obvious intent produced, she was throughly creeped out by this stranger.

Awkwardly so, she coughed, "What do you want," but the words were hissed out more in a sharp growl then a short-pause of a friendly poker-face. A demand of answer. She couldn't even hide her displeasure over the gray man well enough to ask nicly for an answer, in a hope to a more friendly end, then what his intentions were to be. 

She was flight or fight right now, and for once, Orlaith was leaning toward flight.
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#6
The woman was utterly repulsed but he did not really care; Ikkalrok had been stone-faced when they'd met, and remained somewhat limited in her expression of her emotions, which suited Revui fine because he wasn't adept with them to begin with. So when this stranger stepped back from him with a distorted look upon her face he wasn't put-off in the slightest. If anything her backpedaling was an invitation: giving him more space for him to creep in to.

What do you want, the woman shot at him; at least this one could speak, perhaps he could get her to shout his name. That sounded like quite an achievement.

The question itself earned a low snort from the man. He felt he was being obvious—prowling close and puffing up with confidence, showing off his lustrous and healthy coat, his fine body. He was strong and strong was good—Ikkalrok had appreciated that. Why wouldn't this stranger?

You look strong, he explained in his pedantic manner. It is an attractive quality. He could not take his eyes off of her. She was strong like Ikkalrok but also resistant, which was new, and somehow that challenge was intriguing to him. What would it take to get what he wanted out of her?
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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#7
The silver stranger stroked her ego, while pushing himself with a prideful stance. Orlaith could not read when someones looked in desire, and found it disturbing more or less She chose to remain unbetrothed in the court, but also wasn't particulary wanted. The warriors sought her out, but she didn't see any strength within, and nor' did she appreciate them treating her like a delicate object. The others saw her as a barbarian, a woman of fires then of the gentle sea-fae's, or the wind fairies, even though earth ones were more preferred then of her nature.

"Thank you?" She was still standing a bit aggressive, but couldn't deny a compliment. Despite.. Feeling awkward with his stare.

More disturbed upon the situation, but also couldn't deny appreciating another warrior, which she assumed he was due to his body, "i'm Orlaith," so she wanted to release the tension of discomfort, "guard of Seelie Court. Who are you?"
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#8
She thanked him and Revui was pleased with himself, thinking he had done something good, and missed the thinly veiled disgust within the woman's tone. Being acknowledged stroked his ego in turn.

I'm Orlaith, guard of Seelie Court. She introduced herself, naming a place Revui did not know, so that piece was left to hang in the air while he gathered up her name. An ugly mess of sounds. It did not suit this warrior at all, he thought. Who are you?

If he had been a little faster on the uptake or more barbed of tongue, perhaps Revui would have said: I can be anyone you want me to be. Instead he spoke the truth, with pride, while prowling closer to her to get a better sniff of her thick coat. I am Revui, I serve Merrick of the valley. I am his weapon, called upon to tear his enemies apart. In saying these things the man hoped to impress the object of his current fixation but he just sounded like an edgelord, unfortunately.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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#9
And Orlaith saw him as such. If he hadn't presented himself so creepy earlier, she may have been impressed by his words- as in truth there are times where she would nearly say the same thing. The guard prides herself at being the fangs of her court, and keeps it as so. She definitely doesn't like when there are challengers, or those who don't submit to her within the willows.

The fire fae was rather quick to slide toward his side, in attempt to avoid him so, and not continuelly back up from the man, "You are from a Pack, then?" She asked, assumingly so. She was circling him. Orlaith never heard of Merrick, and does not know many of the Packs within the valley. What an odd time to gain information.
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#10
She prowled around him in the same manner of Ikkalrok during her heat; this only emboldened Revui, who saw more of what he wanted the longer he was here with her. Obviously he was quite the catch: strong, healthy, well respected in his chosen home. He had complimented the woman on her own strength. She had not run from him yet, and so he felt inclined to push his luck further.

Her question was met with a small indignant huff. Yes. I told you, Merrick is my leader.

Revui moved in with a fluid lunge, closing some of the distance despite the woman being on an arc away from him. This was some kind of game, then? She was playing hard to get. Harder than Ikkalrok anyway, who had eventually given in to him. Orlaith smelled wonderfully wild - so different from the valley wolves - and while she lacked the scent of heat, Revui was oblivious to that facet of such an encounter. He was enamored by her presence.

Why do you avoid me, girl? He drawls next. His tone - usually stony and chilled - was trying to be playful.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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the fire fae
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#11
"Where is this Pack located?" So she could obviously avoid such crazed wolves. If they took in such a man like him, she could only imagine what kind of ones lurked there. He didn't do anything wrong to say, but more gave her quite the creeps. His stance, his stare, just him gave such a wary feeling. It felt surprising, for the guard who feared nothing.

"My name is Orlaith," she snapped, "not girl." It seemed like a mockery, rather then a ploy of play, "you are a stranger, why would I not avoid?"
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#12
She is afraid of him. Not intrigued, not like Ikkalrok. It frustrates him to notice this now, after having invaded her space and tried to charm her in his bestial way. He was strong and healthy and everything a man ought to be - why wasn't she tempted by him? Instead she was wary, trying to back away whenever the chance presented itself. He stopped trying to corral her close.

You know my name, who I serve, you can see I am strong - why are you afraid to be near me? That's what he took from all of this; her refusal to be close wasn't a denial of his greatness, but the silent acceptance of her weakness by comparison. She was intimidated. We live in the valley below, with the bears. He finally answers of her, irritated, giving in to what she asks with the hope it will earn him some favor.

I could tell you more, for a price. He offers - but is skeptical that this avenue will get him what he wants.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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the fire fae
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#13
"I'm not afraid, but wary of your intentions." She refused to admit it was fear for the wolf, despite the disgruntle feeling she felt swelling within, "you may look strong, but that doesn't matter when you see so.." Orlaith couldn't find an exact word to describe the man before her. She had to pause for a moment, before speaking so, "unpleasant."

His personality was simply off-putting, and while the man himself looked like a strong warrior, the aura he gave off was something she wouldn't be tempted by, "a price?" She said, raising a brow. What kind of proposal could one give?
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#14
She could deny it all she wanted, but he didn't care for her words enough to accept them. In Revui's mind he was superior and she repeatedly made that known to him by backing off.

She did sound intrigued by his proposal, so he continued: If you can beat me in a spar, I will tell you whatever you want about my home. He did not think she would win; but then, he also did not think the information he carried was of any value. Revui wanted physicality and he wanted her, one way or another.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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the fire fae
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#15
"Alright, fair." Despite accepting the deal, she did hold some internal hesitation. Orlaith, out of all the wolves, wasn't too confident in her abilities against him. There was something he had, that she didn't, and that was experience. Of course she would never let that be known, so regardless, she accepted the match.

"I'll accept your proposal."
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#16
Did rolls on the Discord, Revui won. Oop.


As soon as she accepted the terms, he launched at her. There wasn't much distance between them to start with so the end result wouldn't have the same power as what Revui would usually produce. In the end that would not matter; he aimed for the bulk of her mass with his head angled low and shoulder taking the brunt of the collision, hoping to destabilize her footing so that she'd go down in one motion. The burst of momentum drove him right in to her, and he felt the collision dully rock through his shoulders; they would be sore as a result, but feeling the woman bow down before him was an ego boost.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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the fire fae
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#17
Orlaith prepared herself for his blunt of an attack, a simple blow of mass itself. She expected a simple bull-rush, however he had more experience and instead aimed in a particular area, that had the wolf tilt a little to the side. She was unstable, and opened her eyes realizing upon the fact she was about to fall.

Though as a sore loser, during her downfall, she was quick to snap fangs at him, an attempt to grab anything. She felt that if she was to go down, this would be the quickest spar yet, as she could see him not letting the opening be in vain. It was a fustrating.
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#18
Down she went. The leviathan was set there upon her, knowing that he had won and yet choosing to remain atop her. It was wrong of him to do so - the spar was over, the victor clear, even as the woman fought on with snaps of her teeth and glancing blows upon him. He should remove himself and let her rise, but the feeling of her still fighting and pushing against him was exciting.

It reminded Revui of the fight with the foxes, and the subsequent celebrations, with Ikkalrok. The circumstances of his win in this particular instance were different of course, he was fighting alone and it wasn't a life or death situation, but he still had the itch for physicality. He was still missing the carnal connection with the bear-woman. Why not make due with this other woman? She was strong, fighting fit, and even though she lost to him - that did not lessen her prowess.

He let out a low rumble, like an alligator's deep call trying to summon women from the murkwater of a swamp; he could take what he was really after but that was a line even Revui did not have the capacity to cross, not really. She could see how strong he was, how able bodied, and he was poised in the perfect spot to do as he pleased - but he waited, he gave that hesitation, for her benefit.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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#19
"Alright you won!" Orlaith hissed in anger, "now get off!" Usually when an opponent went down, and there was obvious of no escape, the other would politely get off. Instead he stared down, like a hunter with their prey. A deep rumble came from his throat, and only set her off even further. At the point now, she was struggling to remove herself.

Orlaith admitted his strength surpassed her, but she knew it would not be forever. There would be a day she would rise to his challenge again, especially as he gave this humilation. She was impressed, but annoyed moreover by the arrogancy he seemed to hold. Almost surpassing herself, which gave a lowblow to the guard.
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He wasn't going to move off of her; she couldn't make him, she was defeated, he felt too superior. Basking in the win, feeding off the adrenaline and her proximity, Revui did not have much stopping him from devolving utterly in to the beast he truly was. The beast that the Nightwalkers had made of him, that Ursus had further cultivated. If he wanted something he would take it — and what he wanted here wasn't blood, but it was physicality in another vein.

She struggled and he grew more excited. She hissed at him and tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let her succeed — it was another layer to their spar, and excited him in the same way that Ikkalrok once had. He was clearly strong and fit and the perfect match for this hefty woman. The fact she was resisting him and he should step back and be decent in the moment completely blew past him.

At least, until he made a real try of it — and one flailing limb struck him right between the legs, bowling him over immediately. He was aware of the bloom of intense pain clenching through his abdomen and the sensation he was tipping over, hitting the ground where he could curl up to wait out the coiling pain she left him with; he may have won the spar but the woman had taken his pride down a peg.
The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.

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#21
She held a grin, despite a failure of a battle, she hit a sore spot. It may not have been the most mature way, but she felt if it went on any longer, Orlaith would've been in real danger. Once he tumbled over in pain, she was quick to scramble upwards, and simply toss away. However, she also, attempted to give one more kick to him,

"I'll win next time," she threatened, before fleeing the scene.
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