Silver Creek takes two to tango

@Derg - merc trade thread

She was bored. There was nothing to do so she was perhaps a bit reckless in issuing a challenge. Wren lifted her head, calling for a spar of sorts. Something friendly. Nothing that will give a scar or maim. She didn't want to be put out of commission just yet, mind you.

Her head lowered, eyes trying to look every which way but up and down. Someone would come. Someone would help her take this excess energy and tell it to fuck off. Wren's eyes brightened when she smelt someone new though. A male wolf by the scent of them.

Turning to face them, she'd grin.

He was scouting out Kingslend.
Wandering around the outside of their territory, making sure that it would be safe to bring his packmates with him.
For their offering.
So far so good, but he wanted to follow the river.

He climbed. Up up up.
He looked on ahead, but it didn't seem like following the water to the source would be possible.
So he paused, sipping the water.
A howl rang through the area.
His head lifted and decided to investigate.
It couldn't hurt, right?

A woman stood, looking to him with a smile. He returned it with a wave of his tail. Derg wondered what she'd demand.

"Hey" says Wren. Simple, right? He doesn't seem to know what she wants, so she elaborates. Taking note of his scarring, she is a canvas waiting to be painted. Boring. Uninteresting so far. "I'm in the mood to fight" and straight to the point. She shakes her head, scowling lightly "but a friendly match, okay? I'm still learning." A lie; she could fight if her life depended on it. Almost truth; she had so much more to learn.

Her tail wags somewhat. "I'm Wren" if he cared to know "if you agree, just no scars. No maims. I can't ruin this pretty face." Not yet, at least. But her grin told the man it was a joke. She wasn't a vain wolf. The woman stood there, waiting for his reply. His acceptance or denial. She didn't care as long as she found someone to spar with. And, for what it was worth, she had met yet another Saint.

"Hey," he mused back. Head tilting with curiosity.
A fight? Who would be so calm before a fight?
No, what she described was a spar.
Two different things in his mind.

"Derg," he replied in turn with his name. A soft smile on his lips.
"Of course, you wouldn't want to end up like me now."
Derg chuckled, tail swishing. This sounded good.
He strode to the side, assuming that this would now be their start.

"I like a guy with scars" she chuckled, but not in a flirty way. Matter of fact more like. "but most men don't like women with 'em." They were intimidating, or so the rumor went. Wren wasn't well versed in courting, and was bullshitting her words at this point. Derg, the man's name, strolled to the side. She judged he was better at this than she was.

Used to it, even. What the hell... about the Saints that screamed bloodthirsty and violent? At least the man didn't seem to be compared to the others, but the key word was 'seem'. He could flip a switch. Wren judged the distance before lunging at him, giving the wolf plenty of time to prepare should he freak out that she went at him.

Seeing as he was used to facial scarrings, she tried to grab at his left shoulder instead. Her jaws snapped open, trying to close around the tender muscle there. But she wouldn't draw blood - or heavy blood. They had a deal.

She was taller. Ok, no bother.
He'd fought plenty of wolves taller than him. He had more weight too. A little boulder boy.
He chuckled at her statement.
His mind instantly went to Arlette.
"My 'Lette is still beautiful, I'm sure you wouldn't be worse off."
That was...borderline flirting? Actual flirting? He didn't know.
He just wanted her to feel ok if something ever happened. He didn't want anyone to feel like Arlette had. 

But they were sparring, no no time for chit-chat.
She lunged for his shoulder, connecting to his muscle with a soft bite.
His mind drifted to the soft warrior he'd met in the winter taiga woodlands once.
Perhaps they fought the same.

He drove towards her, pushing to get his head under her ribs to flip her onto her side, or at least push her balance off.
Unorthodox, yes, but sometimes it worked well.
Trained fighters often didn't learn to expect the unexpected when traditional fang and claw were used.

"Maybe I'm just vain" she shoots back before they could begin. Wren cracks a smile that furrows into a listless snarl when they did. She makes the first move, connecting with his shoulder but he drops under her. Derg tries to lift or flip her over; but it doesn't work. She becomes limp, making it that much harder to tobble her when her full weight is under his snout.

Her neck cranes, trying to bite at his face but cannot get a grasp. Groaning inwardly, Wren struggles over the man. They're more or less flopping around, trying to get serious but unable to. Perhaps they're both scared of hurting the other wolf. It'd been too long since the woman actually got into a fight. Her last realm was relatively peaceful.

miss via dice

Derg couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle.
He'd been careless in this move. He didn't set it up.
Her weight became that much harder as he pushed, so he drew back.
Her teeth snapped wielding for his face, but he'd learnt.

Swinging away, he moved behind her, looking for another opening to attack.
There, her leg.
He drove for it, snapping it between his teeth and giving it a good tug, hoping to drag it out from beneath her and unbalance her a bit.

Hit from rolls

He was ballsy, she'd give him that.

The man dove for her leg, collecting it effectively in his jaws. He yanked and she retaliated by kicking with her free leg. The force behind it was enough to smack him square in the jaw, allowing for her to manuever out of his grasp.

Ha! Wren thought, whipping around and breathing a bit hard. Her chomped leg smarted but she wasn't out of the game yet. It was still early on, and she could lose. But a spar wasn't a losing system. It was a learning system.

And she was already learning. Wren narrowed her eyes to protect her face, her ears flat against her skull. She waited for Derg's next move.

success per roll

He was expecting her to shake her leg to free herself.
Or smack his face with her tail.
He was rather blindsided by her free leg connecting to his jaw.
He let go instantly, head whipping to the side.
Blood flooded his tongue where he'd bit it.
No problem, the sharp throb would fade.

She spun, awaiting his next attack.
He swallowed, composing himself.
He should feign on her, after making such bold moved she could do with a fakeout.

He drove towards her again, drifting to the left of her, looking like he'd drive for a foreleg.
But no.
He spun his teeth upwards towards her throat. Or face. Whatever he was met with, he'd tackle the issue as it came.

 

Success

Okay, so he was ballsy and smart. She'd also give him that. Teeth connected with her scruff and the woman gasped inwardly. If there was one thing she hated was the feeling of suffocation. Wren tore herself backward, hoping to dislodge him. A fight could be over before it began if a foe got your neck.

She hadn't expected him to be sharp. His ruse worked. She was nearly at his mercy right now - thank gods it was a spar. Wren blamed it on being soft for a year. She hadn't picked a fight - a proper one - in ages. And her old pack? Well... they had an easy silence for some time.

Except that one time where foreign wolves came to their border chanting blood. Yep, she almost forgot about fighting for her pack then.

unsuccessful roll.

He seemed to have shocked her.
She tore backwards.
Well, anyone would if a stranger suddenly took hold of your neck. No matter how gently.

Derg gave her a moment.
He didn't know what she's been through - though he wouldn't think she'd ask to spar with a stranger is she had trauma.
Perhaps a spontaneous decision.

He paced slowly, watching her, letting her make the next move.
To fight, or to finish there.

He lets go. Wren almost whines, protesting this soft treatment. But she guesses its just how he is. Kindly like that. That Lette seems to be a lucky woman by the hour. Instead, she scowls at him briefly before giving a nod.

"I guess that's enough for now" there is some fur missing from her neck and he's bloody in the mouth.

She could do worse for her second spar in the Teekons. Her aim wasn't to kill the guy anyway. Wren tilts her head, frowning. "Sorry about that" the brunette motions to his jaw "I didn't... mean to kick so hard." No hard feelings, hopefully?

He nodded softly, licking the blood from his maw.
Perhaps she'd return to the Saints with him.
They could spar again.
He thinks Arlette and Wren would get along well.

"I've had worse," he chuckled softly.
He swiped his tongue with a paw. It was still bleeding pretty bad.
 Oh well.
"Do you want to come to my pack?" He smiled softly. Arlette needed someone she could relate to.
"We could train together." Maybe the offer would sound too good.

"Sorry" Wren says, her shoulders drooping a bit "Kingslend has accepted me" her scent was faint considering she wandered a lot outside of their territory. She didn't blame him for the mistake. "but we're neighbors" she recalls the Saint leader's words. A tail wag was given to Derg "so you can call on our border. I'll come."

Whenever he was raring to go again. She doubted the Kings would mind if their new member got some practice in. All experience was put toward guarding Kingslend more effectively. "Maybe I'll meet your 'Lette eventually" she smirks. Derg's affection for this mystery woman apparent, she gently teases him. "I'd like to" Wren adds, giving a nod.

Well, that wasn't all bad.
He grinned.
"I'm glad you're sticking close then."
And that he could now call on a member of Kingslend to vouch for his deed.
Perfect. "I'm the Saints Overseer."
And it would be good if Wren took to Lette, perhaps walking with her in other territories.

"I'm sure you two will meet," he smiled.
Today was a good day, putting his small injury aside.
He should probably get home, looking to the sky now, the weather forecast didn't look great.
"Are you going home now?"
Perhaps they could walk together until they parted ways.

"Overseer Derg" she muses the title "I met a few of your Saints already, actually" which she would be glad to tell him about, if he wanted to walk for a bit. Wren could stand to make friends in the Teekons, and he was willing to be friendly.

She gives a nod. "Yeah, but it'll be better to walk back with someone I know" Wren begins, picking herself back up and composed and all that shit. Shaking off the spar, she bounces back toward Kingslend. An open invite to join her until they parted ways. 

Kynareth's words echo in her ears. There were murderers afoot.

exit/fade on my part! thanks for helping!

He smiled softly.
"I hope they behaved," he jested. They likely didn't.
But she wasn't bothered too much, so he was perhaps surprised.

She bounded, joyful after their spar. He trotted after her with his tail wagging behind him.
He even did a few bunny-hop bounds of his own.
They walked and talked of their packs and they soon parted ways.

He hoped that they wouldn't turn on Kingslend.