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Posting order: Post order defined by first round's posts. Skip to next poster one if no post has been made in 3 days
PNPC's:
- Lanna Irving, Female, Eurasian Wolf (DOB: September 31st, 2008) - Kill at will, but leave some fun for the rest of us, too! You don't have to kill them quickly
- Aamund Moss, Male, Gray Wolf (DOB: April 5th, 2007) - please leave alive and relatively unharmed
- Everyone can powerplay these characters
Objective: Dawali attempts to stop the attackers from getting to where Maska is hiding. He lures them away under the pretense of showing them where Maska is.
Geographical setting: Somewhere just outside the village, on the northern end.
Dawali hesitated. It had been an easy thought to begin with, but now he was not so certain. The faces that he knew - Savina, Vigilante - they were elsewhere. Anu had not come, no doubt she was still injured. This was a relief to the russet male. No one could see him, and no one could doubt him. At the same time, the betrayal did not impact him as much when he did not know these ones' faces. This relief confused him, for who was he betraying, really? Savina? Vigilante? Perhaps he was betraying himself, his family... he did not know. He was lost in the chaos of betrayal, injustice and deceit his life had become, and now he knew only what he must do. His obligations, they rested with Maska, with the Great Tribe. His family was there, his daughters. They were all he had left now, and the power of the entire culture he had brought up with moved his legs and his smile, his words and his body language. His tail was tucked firmly against his stomach and his ears were flat against his skull. Two Guardians were with him, and followed his lead as planned just minuted previously, when he saw the group coming in his direction. "Please." he'd said, shifty-eyed, as if he had not wanted the Guardians to hear him. "I can take you to Maska's tent." And so he'd left, and they were quickly moving away from the core of the fight, the sounds dying behind them. The further they got from the Town Hall, the safer Maska would be. p>
Finally, they turned, and Dawali took a few steps backwards in his four-legged form, as Aamund drew his bow from atop his war-horse and aimed it at the attackers. Lanna remained still but her hand was on the grip of her spear, alert and ready. Dawali's ears were flat - from his discomfort or his fear? It was hard to tell them apart. He said nothing. What was there to say? Dawali just hoped he wasn't about to die at the hands of one of these strangers.
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