06-18-2009, 09:13 AM
I hope this is okay. As always, if you have any problems, tell me. If not, then you can either have Dawali start the attack next post, maybe just collect himself/get back up from the last attack, or if you want, you can powerplay Brennt attacking again.
The two wolves crashed to the wooden floorboards, the larger atop its prey, two vague shapes indistinguishable in the dark, two identities lost in the shadows. The dead would be determined before the day could identify him. Perhaps it mattered less because it was not to be revealed for so long. Perhaps the answer didn't exist until it could be verified, with no observers and no light to observe by. If a wolf dies in the night, does it feel pain? The two of them undoubtedly believed so.
The predator's jaws locked into the nape if the smaller wolf's neck, and bit down savagely, feeling the flesh puncture and the scored muscle compress under that terrible force. The smaller wolf thrashed back, but it had forced him to the floor, and here it could surely kill him. Resting on his back, he could wound terribly and remain unwounded. Nonetheless, the wolf knew little of fighting, where the black female would have made certain to keep on her feet, the wolf had not, and turned in desperation, bringing his fangs and claws to bear. This made his throat easier to access, but even as the predator lunged down in an effort to take assault that weakness, the thrashing legs of the smaller creature pushed and raked its underbelly and shoulders, and a wave of exhaustion came over it...its strength wavered, it lacked the power to drive down into that neck. In direct opposition to the pushing legs, it found itself unwilling to push further, and for a moment, even leaned its weight against them, breathing heavily. Then, it changed direction slightly, to circumvent the locked leg joints holding it at bay, and satisfied itself with a chomp on what it assumed was the wolf's chest. The thrashing persisted, and Dawali's teeth snapped shut on its clotting head wound.
The predator yelped loudly and withdrew several steps, blood spattering across the floorboards. There, however, it stopped, and lowered its stance again, a low, terrible growl escaping its quivering lips, bloodied fangs at the ready for another attack. This time, there was no lightning to illuminate the scene. Only utter darkness, and the low timber of a monster's warning in the black.
The two wolves crashed to the wooden floorboards, the larger atop its prey, two vague shapes indistinguishable in the dark, two identities lost in the shadows. The dead would be determined before the day could identify him. Perhaps it mattered less because it was not to be revealed for so long. Perhaps the answer didn't exist until it could be verified, with no observers and no light to observe by. If a wolf dies in the night, does it feel pain? The two of them undoubtedly believed so.
The predator's jaws locked into the nape if the smaller wolf's neck, and bit down savagely, feeling the flesh puncture and the scored muscle compress under that terrible force. The smaller wolf thrashed back, but it had forced him to the floor, and here it could surely kill him. Resting on his back, he could wound terribly and remain unwounded. Nonetheless, the wolf knew little of fighting, where the black female would have made certain to keep on her feet, the wolf had not, and turned in desperation, bringing his fangs and claws to bear. This made his throat easier to access, but even as the predator lunged down in an effort to take assault that weakness, the thrashing legs of the smaller creature pushed and raked its underbelly and shoulders, and a wave of exhaustion came over it...its strength wavered, it lacked the power to drive down into that neck. In direct opposition to the pushing legs, it found itself unwilling to push further, and for a moment, even leaned its weight against them, breathing heavily. Then, it changed direction slightly, to circumvent the locked leg joints holding it at bay, and satisfied itself with a chomp on what it assumed was the wolf's chest. The thrashing persisted, and Dawali's teeth snapped shut on its clotting head wound.
The predator yelped loudly and withdrew several steps, blood spattering across the floorboards. There, however, it stopped, and lowered its stance again, a low, terrible growl escaping its quivering lips, bloodied fangs at the ready for another attack. This time, there was no lightning to illuminate the scene. Only utter darkness, and the low timber of a monster's warning in the black.