cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war
#1
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This is backdated to April 4th. The three wolves involved are Romana, Maaike, and Endre. You two are welcome to decided amongst yourselves who will take the killing blow--Endre would be the easiest to kill, so that's my suggestion. Ezekiel will engage Romana.



Though Ezekiel had not lived through war before as an active member, he could remember what war felt like. It hung heavy in the air like a dark cloud. Patrols had increased and Enkiel had been forward with the need for supplies. The jackal had done what he could with the wounded, but he was blunt when it came to his expectations. His supplies would last, but for how long? As Aquila, Ezekiel worried about these things daily. The two wolves that had come had nearly reached the Mansion, and he sorely despised the location of such a thing. If so many of the clan did not call it home he would tear the damn thing down himself.

With the increase in patrols had come an increase in his own laps and the addition of the stave to his weapons. Ezekiel rode Viggo, covering more ground quickly. The big horse seemed to sense his unease and had been jerky for the first stretch of their patrol. It was nearly dawn by the time he reached the woodland beyond the mansion.

A dark shape shot through the sky, wheeling towards him. The raven cried out sharply. “Wolves coming! East!”

In an instant Ezekiel knew what awaited them. He snarled into the dim light, well aware why the timing had been chosen. With the sun at their back, these unknown assailants would be able to blind them. The Aquila drew his bow and let out a loud, demanding call. Then he urged Viggo forward and rushed towards the oncoming battle.


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#2
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(510)



ems is by nat.

ooc; it was decided emma would kill endre, since she is the newest. and he is the easiest.

Emmanuelle awoke with a start at the loud, demanding call coming from the one and only Aquila, the faceless leader. It chilled her to the bone, but she knew what the call was for and in an instant she was on her feet, without hesitation she grabbed her bow - gifted to her by Alma and the arrows to go with it strapped her two daggers to her good thigh and took off running down the hallway of the mansion, taking barely a few seconds to skip down the stairs. Practically punching the front doors open, the woman yipped loudly to let her leader know she was coming and raced down the steps and in the direction he traveled on his horse, running so fast her feet barely touched the ground. Adrenalin surged through her veins and she didn't even feel the pain from her healing cuts, the worst being on her thigh. The pain would come later, but now she concentrated solely on the battle coming before her, this was her chance to prove hsheer loyalty to her pack and to prevent anymore clan members being harmed.


The scent in the clear morning was strong, and the feeling of dread settled in her stomach once again, she knew that this time it would be harder. There would be more, the woman was sure of it, but she had help this time. The time, would be different. She would murder one of them in cold blood, even if she had to die trying. Her wounds would not go unjustified, and that thought sent her propelling forward with an even harder, faster pace, letting a war cry rise from her throat as she readied her bow, keeping the arrow low to the ground as she continued to run into the fray, taking confidence in herself and her skill, though new, would deal some damage. Even from her first lesson with that damned blonde dog she had shown aptitude with a bow and it would not go unnoticed today.


The smell of horses of wolves hung thick in the morning air, a scent she was growing to hate. Hot blood coursed through her veins as well as something else, pure, unadultered hatred. The previous attack had altered this female forever, but it had made her stronger. Today would continued to mold and change the once sunny and niave female, she would take someones life and show them Inferni was not going down to a bunch of fucking wolves. She caught up with her leader but barely looked at him, she just tried her best to keep up with him and his horse, following behind slightly. Breaking into the woods she slowed down, dropping low and keeping her arrow aimed high. She could hear the wolves ontop of horse crashing loudly through the trees, and her heartbeat quickened as she caught site of one wolf on a silver dappled mare. Not wasting any time she notched an arrow and let it fly, her vision turning red as blood lust started to consume her.

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#3
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It was early morning and Alma found herself staring at the D'Neville Mansion, instead of hunting like she had intended. A full quiver rested on her back, and a bow in her hands. Her hair had been tied back into a braid, and both her hair and fur had been dulled with dirt. Bits of dead leaves and twigs clung to her. The camouflage she had chosen was normal for whenever she went hunting; it helped ensure her prey didn't spot her by her bright coat. She must have looked quite ridiculous, standing there like this, in the mansion's yard.

The coywolf spent more time near the mansion, since she'd been injured. Now that Enkiel's guesthouse proved to be safe, she was wondering if it would be too - perhaps she was wrong to think it would fall on her the moment she entered. Curiosity made her want to look inside and see what might be found - perhaps something that she could use to help her archery practice? A target of some sort? Caution, however, kept her from doing so - at least while she was alone.

The voice of her Aquilla registered in her ears, jarring her out of her thoughts. The tone was urgent, commanding. The coyote gripped her bow tightly, taking off at a sprint. She darted past the gate, entering the forest. She had to squint in the morning light; the trees were still bare and hadn't sprung leaves left, so it did not provide much cover. The scent of her leader and her friend served as a guide; when she could not trust her eyes, she could trust their footsteps.

Her mind was drawn to the attack Emmanuelle had told her about. Her nose wrinkled as she picked up the stench of wolves. It was an attack - and from the smell of it, they had horses. A coyote could easily be crushed under their hooves... Em! Some maternal instinct kicked in and told her to protect the yearling. Perhaps it was her mother's influence, the pups she'd seen, or the knowledge that the young woman been injured before - whatever it was, she was certainty relieved when she saw her friend was still alive.

Alma skidded to a halt beside the two. Emmanuelle had already drawn her bow and aimed; now she did so as well. Despite the morning light, she caught a glimpse of what her companion was aiming at: a flash of brown and silver, with a luperci shape on top. She released the arrow, hoping to distract if not injure either the horse or its rider.
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#4
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Thundering hooves echoed through the woods. This was not a small force, he realized with a growing fury, but one trained and experienced. Ezekiel had little time to focus on the elsewhere; calls echoed his own, and he knew that more would come. Viggo was hot-blooded with fury, feeding off of the rage that poured from every inch of Ezekiel’s being. His fur bristled in a black tipped flame, and he prepared an arrow in a rush.

A she-wolf was charging towards him, her own bow aimed for his heart. Her pelt was shades of gray that gleamed red in the dawn’s light, wearing some sort of leather armor. What he noticed beyond this—beyond even the arrow—was the cross bouncing against her chest. This filled him with an even darker fury. How dare they come to his home and wear the sign of his God. How dare they.

The Aquila and the she-wolf shot almost in unison. His arrow struck her high in the shoulder, but this cost him—he felt something strike his side, grazing it and drawing blood. He veered to the side, and Viggo charged past the female. She turned her own stallion sharply, and wretched the arrow from her arm. Ezekiel fired a second shot and grazed her face. He was rewarded with an arrow striking him deep in the thigh, and he let out a snarl of pain before charging her directly.

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#5
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(616)



ems is by nat.

Emmanuelle breathed heavily, her blood hot with rage. This would end her way, they were tied to eachother now, her and her assailant. One of them would die today, and she would make it so if she did, she would be taking the unkown male down to hell with her. Her arrow whistled through the air and through some luck, weather it be god or her own skill, buried itself deep into the left arm of the other, and a cruel smile graced her lips as she triumphantly notched another arrow, only to be surprised as one whistled towards her face and scraped by her cheek, and with this she grunted in pain but more or less ignored it as another arrow let loose.


This one was aimed for the horse, and an arrow embedded itself in the horses shoulder, a sharp whinny of pain erupting from the animal. Just then Alma skidded to a halt beside her and without looking her at her orange haired friend she put her hand on the others arm reassuringly then ran to and scrambled up the nearest tree, moving through the branches easily - like a second nature. The offending male did not let her out of his sights though, as her leg swung out to grip onto another branch he rose high on his horses back and swung a sword at her calf, taking pleasure as it gained purchase and sliced through her skin, the yelp sounding from the yearling added to his excitement.


Raising her leg from his reach, she glared at the male and clutched her lower leg, examining it quickly. It was a little deeper then a surface wound, but for now she would just have to ignore the pain and continue fighting until the party retreated. He circled the tree underneath her and she carefully took aim, firing off another shot that hit the same shoulder that she had hit previously. As soon as it hit he ripped it from his arm and his sword clattered to the ground, then he angrily shoved his horse against the tree to make it sway and shake. Losing her balance, she fell to the ground, though midway she righted herself and landed safely. He was on her in an instant, his sword cutting through the flesh on her right shoulder, and she ducked to the ground in pain.


She could no longer use her bow, and tucked it against the tree for safety. Both of them were down to one arm, and she had to make it count. Wasting no time, she ducked underneath his horse and swiped at the belly with her claws, another whinny piercing the air. The animals hooves barely missed her as she picked up his sword from the ground, facing him with a dagger in one hand and the sword in the other. He was bleeding profusely from the wounds in his shoulder and his arm, and she could tell he was weakening. Letting a war cry fall from her muzzle she leapt at him, the adrenalin coursing through her blood.

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#6
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Her intention was to prevent the younger woman from being injured too badly, but such was not allowed to her. Not soon after she'd loosed her arrow, a brown wolf on a chestnut mare strode in between her and the target. She drew a shield and blocked the flying arrow. Alma was briefly dismayed at the sight, though her thoughts were on her flaxen-haired companion. She glanced at her and saw that the tan coyote had taken to climbing trees. The coywolf followed suit, placing her bow in her mouth and making her way up a different tree, just in time to avoid a charging warhorse.

Dirt and debris rose up from the ground, blocking her view for just a moment. Alma took this chance to pull an arrow from her quiver and aim in the direction she thought the wolf was in. By chance, she'd managed to catch the she-wolf on the side that did not display the shield. She made a slight adjustment to her aim, then released the arrow. It buried itself in the woman's leg, causing her to turn and catch sight of the new position Alma had chosen. A flash of metal from the woman's hand blinded her, followed by a sharp pain in her shoulder.

Somewhere in the background, she heard Emmanuelle's yelp. Unfortunately, she was too busy trying to ignore her own pain to pay attention to her friend. She could barely keep her balance; any moment now she was going to fall. The wolf was waiting for her to do just that - a certain death by horse hoof awaited her on the ground. The coyote gritted her teeth and jumped to another branch, which swayed precariously under her weight. She dug her claws into the bark, hoping she might stay alive long enough to protect her clan. One hand still held her bow, but she couldn't use it while her perch was so unstable.

Sensing this, the wolf approached and drew her sword. There were no more limbs for her to escape to. Alma made a split second decision to jump once more, and landed on the ground in a crouch. In the process, she had dropped her bow. She didn't have enough time to pick it up before the sound of approaching hoofsteps told her she was in danger. Alma slid out of the way and behind a tree.

That action caused a sharp pain in her shoulder, twisting the dagger in her wound. With a grunt, she pulled it out and threw it at the horse's face. The horse reared in response to the approaching projectile; she did not have time to see if it had actually hit before she stumbled up and ran. Her footsteps led her to another tree, upon which she climbed up and took shelter. She had lost her bow. While she still had arrows, she was essentially weaponless. Alma was starting to think she wouldn't actually be able to kill this soldier; she'd have to settle with distracting it so her clanmates would have one less enemy to fight.
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#7
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He felt the muscles of the horse under him burning and knew that the battle rage was not his alone. The man and horse were too alike; this was not simply Ezekiel’s home, but that of the stallion. This was his herd. These were invaders and they needed ripped from the earth.

The she wolf had no time to draw another arrow, but steel flashed from under her cloak. Ezekiel threw caution to the wind and urged his horse at her. The older stallion whinnied in challenge, but Viggo was a beast possessed. He snapped at the brown beasts’ neck, and as the she-wolf swung her sword, Ezekiel struck her hand solidly with the stave at his side. She snarled and dropped the weapon in shock.

Both horses reared, striking out with sharp hooves. The advantage here was with the Clydesdale, whose weight alone overpowered the mustang, forcing him back. Ezekiel swung the staff at the rider’s head and found it stopped by a secondary blade. The horses broke away from each other, but it was Viggo who now chased. Both horses broke from the group, dodging between trees until they drew close again. A snarl announced the second attack with the sword, which Zeke countered. He had the advantage of distance, though was startled by a jerk of motion and the dagger that flew through the air and struck him high in the chest.

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#8
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(616)



ems is by nat.

ooc; next post for ems kill post for endre?

As she leapt at the soldier, his horse let out a fearful whinny at the approaching would-be warrior banishing a sword and reared in response, having enough of this battle. Taking the opportunity presented before her she slammed her body into the horses chest, sending the horse and rider cascading to the ground. Within seconds the horse had recovered and was running in the direction the war party had come, his hooves thundering over the landscape. The warrior however, was still on the ground and she approached him, her sword and dagger clutched in both of her hands. He backed up against a trunk of the tree and held the sword he had left, holding it in front of him, poised to strike at any second.


Clumsily, she swung at him, a swing he blocked easily. He retaliated with a sharp swing at her midsection and blood bubbled forth from the wound, the adrenaline muting the pain. Angry that even more wounds were being added to her body from her lack of experience she exploded, slicing and stabbing with her dagger and swinging with her sword, a flurry of metal and blood. The loud clanging of connecting steal rang through the trees, each connection a failure to the young female. The yearling increased the speed and pushed her muscles to swing her weapons harder, and soon they began to mark the other warriors body, though only a few were serious. Fed up with swinging and not getting very far, she aimed her sword directly at his heart, but a deflection from his own steel sent the blade deep into his wounded shoulder, a bellow of pain erupting from his mouth.


In pain he dropped his weapon, and it was there that he realized his mistake. She still had her dagger, and as he went to wrench her sword from his shoulder she swiped at his midsection with her dagger, the blood seeping from the deep wound. The sword came out of the wound and before he had time to aim at her she swiped at his face with her claws, the weapons both of them held clattering to the ground. Sometime in the fray his cloak had fallen off and it was as she was backing away that she fell over it and landed on her back, realizing within seconds the serious disadvantage this put her at. He was on her nary a moment later, punching at her face with enclosed fists. Using her back feet she kicked him off of her, though a fist connected with her jaw that momentarily stunned her.


The male was severely weakened now, and so she jumped on top of him and raked at his eyes and throat with her claws and teeth, the coppery taste of blood on her tongue driving her attack to be more frenzied.

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#9
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Without a bow, her quiver and arrows were useless. Alma removed her quiver from her back, and placed it high up in the tree where the enemy could not get it, but she might be able to retrieve it later - that, or one of comrades would if she died. A flash of chestnut in the corner of her eye alerted her to the fact that her opponent had gained control over her horse and was heading toward her. Before she could hop on to another branch a knife whistled through the air, piercing her in the hip.

The pain from the wound caused her to stumble and fall backwards on to the ground. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and for a moment Alma just lied there while the horse galloped toward her. She thought of her family, her clan and the things she'd never done and would never get to do. At that moment it wasn't that she didn't want to live, it was just that it seemed so impossible. The odds were against her - she was fighting a trained warrior on horseback, with a sword and shield, while she had nothing.

"Alma, move!" came her mother's voice in her ear. This time, she did not ignore it - perhaps some old remnant from her childhood made her respond to her mother's command. She rolled over to the side, narrowly avoiding the horse's path. The knife in her hip tugged at her as she moved, causing her to howl out in pain.

By luck, she hadn't broken anything in the fall - but something would get broken if she didn't get away from the horse and its rider. The orange-haired woman's howl slowly died down to a whimper. She stumbled up and pulled the knife from her wound, then took off. She did not discard the weapon - it was the only thing she had now, and she might need it later.

Blood flowed from both her wounds, marring her fur and splattering on to the ground as she ran. She loped around trees and zigzagged through the underbrush. The horse was behind her, she knew, for could hear its thundering hooves. There too came the sound of cursing from its canine master; the horse was having trouble following the coyote. It was a fast beast, but it could not make quick turns.

Skulls hanging from the trees warned Alma of the borders before she'd made the mistake of crossing them. She swerved suddenly and changed her course, circling around a very wide pine tree to confuse her stalker. Her path then took her deeper into clan territory. She had the vague notion that she should find her way to the mansion, but she couldn't stop and observe the landmarks - she had no idea whether she was actually getting closer or further away. Her erratic movement did not help, either.
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#10
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Works for me! We can all post after to get everyone moving back to the Mansion for healing and what-not. :>



One deft hand ripped the dagger from his chest. Blood spilled freely down the front of his body, following the sharp curve of his ribs down to his thigh. Ezekiel was a man possessed. He cared nothing for his own safety, so mad was this desire to rid the earth of these attackers. The white woman was snarling, but her eyes—oh her eyes were laughing. She loved this combat, and he could feel it in each countered blow.

As she swung for him again, Ezekiel pulled back sharply and thrust the staff forward. It caught her low in the jaw, closing her teeth together sharply. Blood spilled freely as she snarled and swung for him again, but Ezekiel spun his horse and Viggo responded in earnest. Dinner-plate hooves kicked out, striking both the horse and rider. The bitch screamed freely, and Ezekiel hurled his staff aside. It fell to the dust.

The bow was in his hands quickly, and with the advantage of distance, he took another shot. It caught the she-wolf in her wounded leg. She wheeled, but to his surprise, pulled back. In a fury he charged after her, but his horse was not made for endurance and it showed. Even as she pulled ahead of him he fired another arrow, though this one missed her and struck the horse high in his rear, only further spurring the speed at which both fled.

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#11
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(616)



ems is by nat.

ooc; sorry for the wait. :o

The coywolf had lost all sense of anything around her, the world itself was a blur. All she could feel was the blood pumping in her veins mixed with the adrenaline and the same pounding in her ears, every reaction her body gave was in tuned to the mangled mess underneath her - but even though he attacks grew more frenzied and she slowly lost herself in the fires of oblivion the thing below her managed too live, something she ended to end right now. He protested with growls and snarls, but soon it turned to wimpers and weak swipes at whatever he could reach, the life was fading from his soul and it pleased the war-driven woman and satisfied her in some strange, alien way.


The blood filled her mouth and dribbled onto her chest as she snapped, ripped and clicked her jaws at the intruding male, he having pretty much no defenses at this point in time. Right then and there she decided to end it, feeling powerful that she was making the choice and not him, this was her sweet revenge. The crazed woman dived at his throat, gripping his life force between her jaw that was protected by muscle and slicked down fur, her tongue tasted the salty taste of sweat and blood mixed. They locked eyes for a moment, and it was clear from his gaze that he had given up and was waiting for her release. Biting down savagely she felt the blood rush from the wound and enter her mouth, she lifted her mouth up with a jerking motion to rip open the wound further, watching the life fade from his eyes.


She stood there, her body shaking from the stress she had put it through today, grasping him with her hands and her jaw, almost like an embrace before she dropped him to the ground, his corpse landing in a heap at her feet. Almost immediately she fell to her knees, dazed and exhausted. Blood pooled around his body and she looked at it numbly, starting to feel the impact of her own wounds and the adrenaline fading. Raising herself up she walked around the trees, collecting hers and his fallen items. Now in her possession she had her dagger, his two swords and her bow and arrow. Walking back over to the male she stared at the cross and rosarie hanging from his neck and yanked them over his head, being careful not to break the items. This might mean information to the pack.


Looking down at him coldly she knelt down once more and lifted him up by his hair, bringing the dagger to his throat wound. Savagely she cut through his neck and spine, severing his head. This would go on the borders later, her own addition to them, another trespasser defeated. Looking around, her gaze searched for her leader or friend, Alma and Ezekiel, to check if they were alright.

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#12
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WHOOP MORE RUNNING


The adrenaline was starting to fade from her veins, and her movements were becoming slower and more clumsy. Pain shot out from her shoulder and hip, causing her already erratic movement to become blundering. Her head felt almost as if it was floating above her while she was running. Running necessitated that more blood be pumped into her limbs, and so unfortunately led to more blood loss through her open wounds. If Alma were capable of coherent thought at that moment, she would have wondered how much longer she was going to last.

The sound of hooves filled her ears - this time, however, it was in front of her. The horse that approached her was a different color than the one that had been following. For a moment, Alma panicked, thinking the wolves had outsmarted her by teaming up to attack her. Then instinct kicked in and she dived below the boughs of an evergreen tree, before the horse or its rider had noticed her.

The sound of both horses faded, leaving behind only the rustle of leaves and the occasional twitter of a songbird. She still did not feel it was safe enough to come out just yet - and her body was still protesting from her exertion. Everything hurt. She didn't want to move, or walk all the way back to the mansion. She considered just lying there with the hope that someone would find her and rescue her, but then realized that she might not be the only that needed rescuing.

With a grunt, the coyote pulled herself up, using the knife in her hand for support. She peeked her head out from beneath the tree. The air smelled distinctly of blood and horses, but she could see neither - well, aside from her own wounds. She crawled out. Her eyes scanned the surroundings for something familiar. This was difficult, in her lightheaded state.

Alma stood up and stumbled in the direction she thought the mansion was in. Her pace was slow after so much running. Inwardly, she thought she should move faster - because who knew what had happened to the rest of the clan - but she could not make herself. She was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

At some point along her trip, she plucked a few leaves from a tree and placed them over her wounds in an attempt to stop her bleeding. It was a little too late for that, because it was already starting to clot on its own.

Two familiar shapes appeared in her vision. One was on horseback, while the other was standing alone. She waved in their direction, quite relived to find that both of them were alive, if wounded.

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#13
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He watched her hair in the wind, and saw blood fly through it. His own body did not feel familiar, so mad was the battle fury within it. Each muscle moved of its own accord. Each blade of fur bristled and rocked with the motion of the hellish creature under his body. After an eternity he watched her pull ahead and finally gave into reason, forcing his horse to a sharp turn and fighting with him back the whole way. Viggo’s cries of outrage out rang those of the Aquila, who could do nothing to calm the stallion but hold on and scream for reason.

It took an age before he gained control, and this was with a fist of steel. Blood poured from the wound on his chest and leaked from the gash in the his leg. His hair was wild and gave no illusions to the madness inherit in his face. He rode back and saw with grim pleasure that the blonde girl, Emma, held within her hands the head of an enemy. In the distance another shape, more familiar, hailed them. Ezekiel slowed the horse and offered a hand to the scout. “Get on,” he ordered. Blood, and not all of it her own, overwhelmed his senses.

“You too,” he called to Alma. Viggo could carry them all in the state he was in.

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#14
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()



ems is by nat.


No sooner then she had started looking was her search rewarded, her leader riding in on horseback, his own body splattered with blood. Weather it was his or the enemies she did not know. The adrenaline had faded from her body and she now felt the true strain she had put on her still-healing being. Lowering slightly, she placed her hands on her knees, the head of the enemy resting against her calf and tilt her head, panting heavily. The Aquila approached her and offered her a hand up onto her horse, she hesitated for just a moment before taking it and being lifted onto the powerful stallion that seemed to be a steed of war.


In a normal situation, she wouldn't have known where to put her hands but in this case she just rested her head on the back of his shoulder gently, and closed her eyes. Her mind was still going a hundred miles a minute and she tried to calm herself, make her mind a simple black abyss, deviod of anything and everything. The short, shaggy hair of the intruders head was still intertwined in her fingers, and even though she felt exhausted she clenched them tight, not willing to let go of her gruesome prize. The other hand clenched the necklaces and she cleared her throat, reaching her hand around her leaders side and holding them out for him to take, if he so chose.


I took them from it, I'm not sure what it means, short of it being religious.. She said quietly, her voice raspy and hoarse from dehydration. The blonde beauty refused to acknowledge that her enemy was another living being, something that attacked her home for no reason didn't deserve the luxury. The yearlings brows furrowed and she frowned to herself, vowing to take all these fucking wolves to the fiery pits of hell.


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#15
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bleh finals


Dimly, Alma worried about both of her companion's wounds. Ezekiel, because he was the leader and Inferni would likely fall apart without him, and Emmanuelle because she was so young - though there was hardly anyone in Inferni that she actually wanted to see dead or wounded. Her eyes scanned over each of them in turn. Blood mingled among the fur of both of them, and it seemed she was luckier than them - if one could be called that, in this situation.

Getting on the horse presented a challenge for the coyote woman, but not one she couldn't overcome. While the yearling climbed up with the Aquila's help, she climbed up a nearby tree. The rust coyote maneuvered herself on a branch until she could safely get on the horse without either jumping and startling it, or slipping off. Alma sat behind Emmanuelle, and watched with silence as she presented the necklaces to their leader. They held no significance to her, and she was curious if they hold any for Ezekiel.

It was then that the orange-haired woman noticed the wolf head. It seemed at least one of them was able to best their opponent. Shame flooded into Alma; she'd barely been able to wound her attacker. Her bow was gone now, and her quiver... is still stuck in that tree. Shit.

All three of them were wounded. It was unlikely that they would delay visiting Enkiel just so she could retrieve her quiver. It was still morning; she might have time to retrieve afterwards - and hopefully it wouldn't rain.

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#16
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(300) Can start wrapping up? :O



The heat of her body was a vague thing to him. After combat everything seemed distant, even when it was right against him. Even the curve of her shape afforded no comfort. One hand took the rosary and the cross and held it so tightly that it dug into the leathery palm of his hand. He let his hand remain atop her own, using it to keep the girl steady. “Don’t talk,” he grunted, and muttered to Viggo as Alma situated herself to mount. With both women aboard, he turned the big stallion and began moving towards the mansion.

“You both did well,” he said, and felt a surge of hot pain rush through his shoulder. Though his body tensed he gave no further sign of discomfort. Viggo noticed, however, and hurried his walk as best he could without jarring the riders. It was a short, bearable thing—the noise of combat had lessened around them, though Ezekiel was certain they had not been alone in facing this.

Enkiel was on the grounds with Rémy at his side. The Cajun was armed with a staff and his red eyes looked hellish. Someone had thought to defend the building, Ezekiel thought crazily, and was glad for it. He slowed the horse before the guest house and dismounted, hitting the ground hard and releasing a hiss of air. While it was subtle, he did not miss the sharp look given to him by the jackal.

“All of you get inside,” Enkiel ordered. “Emmanuelle, when you are capable, I will need your assistance.” She had shown promise as a healer, and he did not want to be the singular one working with so many to tend to. Ezekiel grunted and made a hand gesture to Viggo, who whinnied loudly and shook his head.

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#17
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(293)



ems is by nat.

ooc; this can be ems last post if you wish, feel free to pp her helping enekiel.


Alma joined the pair on her Aquila's war-horse, and she was glad the pumpkin haired woman was relitively unharmed though she wasn't ignoring the scent of blood that hung in the air heavily around the three of them, and as they rode into the area before the guesthouse her concern was multiplied with the streaks of blood here and there and obvious signs of a struggle. She could only hope nobody had died. As soon as Zeke slid off of his horse she did the same, looking at the clans healer as he spoke. " Of course " She affirmed suddenly forgetting her injuries.


She would need to clean herself up before tending to the injured, and so she jogged towards the mansion and jogged up it's steps to her room, swinging the door open and striding across the floor to the bucket she had waiting for her. Holding a cloth she dipped it into the water, wiping her body free of whatever blood she had. A mirror lay against her wall and she checked herself, thanking whatever gods there were that she wasn't as horribly injured as she had been last time. Her fur clean she grabbed her thick leather belt and fastened it around her hips, the many pockets it boasted filled with different kinds of healing herbs. A leather backpack hung against the wall and this she grabbed and through over her shoulder, filled with gauze and other healing things.


Slamming her door as she left her room the dame ran down the hall and skipped down the stairs, jogging to her war party and healer. They were injured, and the Aquila looked as if he was in pain. " Shouldn't we start with them? " She asked, her gaze flitting between the two.

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#18
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Alma did not look around while they traveled, having only two things on her mind: get the quiver and rest. The parts of her brain that worried about the rest of the clan had shut down, replaced with a single-minded goal that she struggled to maintain focus on. She realized they had reached the guesthouse only when the two in front of her had gotten off the horse.

She climbed down, hesitantly placing her toes on the ground as if she thought she would lose her balance. Once she was able to stand up straight without wobbling, she let go of the horse and headed inside. In normal circumstances she would have looked around to see who else was injured, but as it was, she was far too relieved to pay attention. The rust coyote saw a free chair and sat down, crossing her arms in front of her. She was vaguely aware that Emmanuelle had gone missing sometime between getting off the horse and sitting down, but didn't think much of it until she returned.

The question, although not directed at her, sparked the cogs in her mind to turn once again. She looked from Ezekiel, to Emmanuelle and at last to her own meager wounds. "I'm just tired," the orange woman said as she leaned against the chair, "He looks more injured than me." Her eyes darted to the Aquila, then to Enkiel and Emmanuelle.

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