Respect

Saluce Tremblay · 10-16-2010, 07:13 PM

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THIS IS SPARTA!

His tail was at best okay, although it would take several weeks to heal, and most likely it would never feel quite right but otherwise it was still behind him. The shift in his noss’s attack to his back only left the other with a mouth full of fur, because obviously he wasn’t the only one with a thick coat built to ward off the winters chill. Almost ironically most wolves shared the same trait, if they were of a grey wolf lineage, being a species built for colder climates. If he had been of a warmer region the coat and his form would have been smaller but there are books wrote on it.

Before his eyes dahlias where showing up. Rather his ears and nose told him differently. A pack fought its battles together, they where nothing when they were alone and now he was filled with pride to see his fellow pack mates with him. Those blue orbs that where surrounded by GREY FUR, the behemoth continued with his grip on the others leg. His mind went into action taking a quick assessment of the situation. Saluce noticed the kick more than see it, felt his opponents weight shift all the while he rambled on and on about honor. This idiot deserved to die, and he had picked the fight with the right wolf and pack, well at least wolf anyways.

Another wolfs weight flew in and it gave Saluce a moment to release his grip on the others leg. Now that he was fighting two others his attention was drawn to them. Which also meant the behemoth could take a moment to shift. Shift into a much better form to rip this wolf from limb to limb. Already his form was growing length, powerful arms pushed forward with the eruption of the change; all the while the devilish growl that had started grew in a ferocity that shook the earth. His form was always impressive in optime form, now that he was pissed off it was even more so. What would the Harbinger of Death do with his Alpha and Bris in danger now as well? Oh if he had his swords a simple strike would have been all he would have needed. That crimson could have spilled out of the other wolfs belly and he’d laugh in his dying face, maybe even skin him but no, all he had where his opposable thumbs, claws, fangs, but a physique more in line with his talents.

Still awkwardly on all fours after the change his head reared around at the trespasser. Standing both fists came together taking the opportunity with his attention drawn elsewhere to prepare a better more fitting attack. Raising them above his head, muscles flexing, before the full weight of his body came crushing down bringing those clasps fist’s down at the back of Noss. The power behind it was drawn from the entire movement of his body moving as one; surely such an attack wouldn’t merely create a light bruise?

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