you stand there shaking by your pew
#1
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Posting Order: Once Vesper and Axatia reply, the order will follow as so.

NPC Participants & Player Controller: A general Boreas wolf EDIT: Boreas: Louis; I am assuming he will be controlled by all three of us

Desired Result: The wolf, after being confronted by Vesper and Axatia, will retreat with some injuries. He will not be killed.

Participants: IF: Sparrow (Aly), Vesper (Raze) SL: Axatia D'Angelo (Shem)
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sorry for the wordy post. ; ; I've been feeling really inspired with Sparrow as of late; only the last three paragraphs sincerely matters.

Word Count → 734


Despite the chaos, Sparrow felt an eerie calm come over her. The transition into battle was not that of grace that was wove into the stories of battle. It was ugly, seeing a fellow canine suddenly become ravage and sought for blood that could not be found in the bodies of prey; enemies and allies alike underwent this transformation. It was natural, instinctual even, for them to act like this, so it did not faze the woman as she herself curled her soft lips over glistening teeth. They were virgin white, but these wolves have harmed Inferni, her friends, family, and they welcomed the chance to meet with staining crimson.

Though her face was crinkled, tarnished like those of the clan and thistle kingdom, some veil was casted over her, allowing her peaceful rage to stay and kept her intimate fear away. Yes, she was afraid, she was terrified about so many things, but her mind was cooperating with her for once, knowing that its own being was at risk if it was to freeze up in the middle of battle. So she went, feet moving quickly over the ground, but it made no noise that could over achieve the rabble that surrounded her now. She hopped between places to hide herself, the while knocking over supplies that held no interest for her besides to destroy it, as she looked for a wolf that would meet the end of her arrow.

She had to take a pause behind a pile of wood, gripping the chopped trunks from behind to steady herself. Her mind reeled and relayed every detail it saw, but her body was weak, it was not trained to do this. Her heart thumped like it begged to tumble out of her chest, but Sparrow swallowed it down and took a glance around the logs. There she saw a lone wolf, though he had a few bloody marks here and there, must’ve just gotten released from a scrap and was now looking for another, probably weaker, combatant. Her right hand gripped tightly over the bow she carried, her skin straining over her knuckles until it became painful, which only egged her on.

She was quick to draw the arrow from the leather quiver and fast to notch it into place, the process smooth and oiled from the training with the white, yellow-eyed man. Only a second had passed since she laid eyes on the monster before her and she stood at the ready, hard eyes narrowed upon the wolf’s throat, and fired a half-second later. Her hesitation was not long, but it was enough; her hands had trembled at the realization of what she was doing, and even if it was on purpose or accident, the arrow whistled by the man’s ear regardless.

The beast whipped his monstrous gaze upon her, seeking a warrior to only find a fragile woman. Teeth smirked into a smile, and for a moment, Sparrow wondered how they could claim themselves holy when their actions showed how demonic they could be. She attempted to dock another arrow, but fingers fumbled, and the arrow fell uselessly to the ground before it could even meet the string. The wolf may have toyed with her longer, but she guessed her insolence with her own weapon annoyed him, and though he seemed to be far off for a moment, a second later he was upon her. Though he did not smell foul, the scent made her think evil; it reminded her of Marcel, yet different in its own way. She thought about slipping into the blackness as she felt the first hit connect to her arm that was raised to defend herself. But, she was too alive, her blood still at a boil so that she was unable to faint, and could tell she would not die a peaceful death that she wanted.

All she could do was to raise her hands in a weak attempt to ward off the male, even going as far as to kick him when she was knocked to the ground, but it was barely a fight. The male knew he would win, Sparrow knew she would lose. The only reason she fought back was the thought of her sister and her mother. She knew they would at least like the idea that she had tried to fight for her life before it was torn from her.

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to patrickhashley

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#2
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I think we can make this wolf Louis, since he is not in any of the other threads. <3 Sie suggested; that cool with you guys? +479

Vesper was meant for fighting, for scuffling in the woods with another mangy loner over prey or barbed words, for fending off an intruder along her borders, for besting a rookie in a sparring match without a tuft of fur disturbed.

She was not meant for war, she realized belatedly. The clash of fangs and steel and bodies all around her was overwhelming. From the moment the wrathful kings led them into the camp, her heart pounded, her head swiveled constantly to make up for her missing ear, and her paw pads became slick with sweat. She had the understanding that she was afraid, if only for the comrades she could hear yipping and yelping at the edges of her hearing. Not all the blood spilled today would be lupine.

For once, she stayed on the edges of the battle. Her bow was drawn, an arrow sent into the rump of a horse, which threw its rider. She only had two arrows left; many had found a place among the branches of trees or embedded in sacks of supplies. She conserved those arrows for a while, waiting for the right time, and at last managed to get one of the wolves in the shoulder. He whirled and snarled, breaking off the arrow, but some luperci on their side she didn’t know interfered before he could find the archer.

Breathing heavily, Vesper flattened her ear and groped for her last arrow, only to realize it was not there. Blue eyes narrowed, and she wondered if she could linger on the very edges of the camp long enough to shift. It took her a horribly long time to even transform into her halfling shape, though; her training in optime would have to suffice for now. Cursing her lack of preparation, she thrust the bow into the crook of a tree and looked for a target.

She found her sister.

“Shit, Sparrow,” she cursed in a hiss, wondering when the hell her weak sibling had snuck into the fight. But there was no time for anger. Her feet pounded the soil as she rushed toward the wolf standing over the tiny coyote, her ear flat and her eyes slits. Lips wrinkled back in a silent snarl as she saw him raise a foot to kick her in the ribs.

He never got the chance. She leaped, taking advantage of his offset balance, and the pair went crashing to the earth. Her claws raked down his shoulders, leaving blood, but he was stronger than her and quickly threw an elbow back to knock her down. She stood between the wolf and her sister, snarling dangerously, but he only growled back and lunged.

She threw her arm up to defend herself, reaching with her other hand to dig her claws into him once more, but his jaws tightened on the limb, and she shrieked.

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#3
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Feel free to pp her letting go if you pull him away. Also, she's being dumb and is probably going to get stabbed again unless one of you distract him.

Word Count → 526

The hair on her back and her nape stood on end. With each step she took, her pulse increased. Fire burned in her veins. Her thoughts were racing, incoherent things that sputtered and told her to kill. Rage propelled her away from Salsola's main group and into the Boreas camp. She was headless of her surroundings or of the enemies that might see her; instinct told her when and where to turn and what to avoid. Ataxia held no concern for her own well being. Her only goal was to see that someone died today. A life for a life; they took her father's, and now she would take theirs.

A shriek pierced the chant of kill, kill repeating in her mind. The hybrid in Seculi form skidded to a halt and turned her head so she could see its source: a pale wolf with its maw wrapped around the arm of a coyote. She gave a low growl at the sight, and rushed forward to make her own attempt on his life. The girl was the smallest of her litter, and certainty not the strongest, but her weight pushing against the pale wolf was enough to make him release his grip. Ataxia's jaws snapped at his legs, tearing bits of fur and skin out before he danced away.

He drew his knife as she approached again. The young hybrid appeared not to notice the piece of metal gleaming in his hands, deeming it irrelevant. "Y-you killed my f-father," Her form was a mass of black and silver fur, shaking with rage. The memory of his death, and of the funeral pyre she had been forced to witness, spurred her on to attack the beasts. Yet her rage was a fickle thing; if she stayed still too long and did not spend it, she might break down and cry. Even so, she wanted the bastards to know their crimes before she tore the limbs from their body.

"DIE." With that, she lunged forward, jaws open and aiming for his legs. Some sense told her that she wasn't strong enough to push him down and rip his throat out, so she sought to disable him first. She felt the knife cut into her back at the same time she tasted blood in her mouth. The sensation shocked her into releasing the man's leg for just a moment.

Ataxia was familiar with pain; her religion required it. She had given herself many scars in an attempt to bring power to her small body, and purify her blood of its wolfish taint. Small at first, but they gradually became larger and more intricate with time. Yet, the pain she experienced from this attack was nothing like the purposeful wounds she'd given herself - even the largest one couldn't compare.

For a brief second she thought she would collapse where she stood, but a fleeting thought of her father and the sight of the knife coming down once again spurred her into action. The hybrid wrapped her jaws around one ankle, and pulled. If she should die, then so be it; she just wanted him to die with her.

Table coding by the Mentors! Image from here.

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#4
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why are you so scared?
you stand there shaking by your pew, the icons are whispering to you



Word Count → 630 :: this came out longer than i wanted. :/ edit: DERP, 3,000+ words? I don't think. [/fixes]

Her retaliation was futile, and the actions she made to protect her head, chest, and the areas where her vital organs laid were falling quickly under the brute force of the wolf. Though her hind claws dug into the man’s stomach, it did not faze him, if not tempted him to inflict more pain on her further; claws tore at her forearms for a moment, tiny drops of red falling on her face. The attacks stopped, but she only held her breath, thinking it may as well as been her last. But, a thud echoed in her ears as the giant fell beneath a force that came out of nowhere.

Sparrow was quick to scuffle backwards on her back, arms aching but swift to get her out of the way of the feuding canines. Scent told her more than sight that her sister was the lightning that struck down the wolf, and mixed feelings came over her. Relief, gratitude, fear, anger was directed at so many things, but the woman had no time to think as Vesper rose from the brawl from being pushed back, snarling like she had never heard her do before. If the wolf believed in such things as a God and Heaven, the mottled hybrid thought he must have saw Hell upon his enemy’s face. But, Sparrow saw icy fire rage in his own eyes as he went at her sister.

Her body moved incredibly slowly as she scrambled to her feet when the Boreas clamped down on the tawny woman; time sped, movements were quick to draw, but herself was slackened, like a dream that was turned into a nightmare. A scream that she knew was Vesper’s echoed, lost to all in the rabble but not to Sparrow, sent a deadly chill down her back, and pushed harder to get up despite her body’s own protests, but she seemed to move all the slower. For a moment, she felt all hope escape her being—being as slow as she was, there was no chance for her to save her sister in time before any more damage was done, moral or not.

A gray figure tackled the wolf, and her breath caught in her chest when she realized who it was. Axatia was excited, full of happy life when she met her the other day. But, it all seemed to be a different story when she watched the D’Angelo declare her justification, venom spitting from her very words, as she finally was able to rise to her feet. Pangs of empathy and pity both poked at her mind, but reasonable feelings did not reach her focus, for the girl suddenly attacked the male, and dread crept upon Sparrow.

She saw the flicker of the knife, a pure silver flash, and instantly felt the need to back away even further, the weapon dangerous and unknown to her. But, before she could even move, the Boreas struck Axatia, and she tensed. He raised the knife again, and the mottled woman rushed forward, though she knew she would not be able to reach them in time to stop it. But, the girl yanked at his foot, making him lose his balance, his knife flailing instead of making another mark. It was then Sparrow was upon them, her tan hands that were covered with a bit of her own life reaching for the silver that was coated with Axatia’s. She had managed to get a grip on his wrist, but he only directed his strikes upon her now, sometimes nicking her on her shoulder or arm when he attempted to hit her throat.

It was all she could do was to keep the point away from her, trying her absolute best to wrestle the knife away from the wolf, and to a further extent, the girl and herself.

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they're just old men like on the benches in the park

except their balding spots are glistening with gold
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#5
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wtf aly i kind of want to see what you wrote +312

As the screech left her gaping fanged jaws, Vesper thought she caught a blur of silver-black out of the corner of her eye. Clawed fingers reached for the dark-headed wolf’s hateful green eyes, but his own hand shot out to intervene. At the same time, however, she could feel his balance shift, and once again she took advantage to tear herself free.

The wolf shuffled backwards, and Ves flexed the hand of her damaged arm, glad to see no muscle damage was there as of yet. She looked frantically across to her wide-eyed sister, but then her dark rescuer had leaped at the lupine soldier. Blood flew as the secui roared judgment then snapped at him, but then something glistened in his hand, and the Centurion’s warning caught in her throat. Even as she stepped back, the deep scars around her shoulders burning at the sight of the blade plunging down, her small sister took action.

Sparrow tried to disarm the man, and obviously it was not going to be easy. Growling, Vesper shook herself into action and jumped forward as well. She clawed at his face, managing to open a gash in his cheek even as he struggled to stab her sibling. Her other hand snaked across his body and grabbed the weapon wrist, twisting until he had to relinquish it, but the close quarters meant he could grab her.

Anger shot through the Centurion, and she snarled curses even as he managed to scramble backwards, his arm locked across her throat. Her training with Helotes came to her then, and she reached up, grasping him then pulling as she bent her body, using her strength to flip him over her. He landed on the ground, winded, and she looked to the secui wolf as she grabbed her shoulder, feeling blood well from where he’d dug his claws into her flesh.

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#6
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not really sure about this post, so tell me if I need to change it to make it seem more logical. Also, I think he has like a dagger and a knife?

Word Count → 410


While the wolf's dagger was stilled by the small brown coyote, Ataxia moved forward to attack him once more. She was not successful; his back legs kicked at her face and his claws scratched new marks into her snout. She yelped and stepped backward, allowing the more experienced warrior to deal with him.

The hybrid licked the blood dripping from her snout, then turned to inspect the wound on her back. With each movement it seemed to open up and spill more blood upon her coat, but there was no way to close the wound while she was in her halfling form. All she could do was lick away the blood and try to ignore the pain.

When she had turned her head to face the melee, she saw that the wolf was on his back and appeared not to be moving. The hybrid gave a low growl of pleasure at this sight, grinning with blood-stained teeth. She approached him from his side - not wanting to repeat the mistake she made last time - and stiffened as if she was prepared to attack at any sign of life.

His hand moved first, trying to get a grip so he could pull himself up. Ataxia's yellow eyes locked on him. She moved to pin him with her weight so he would have difficultly getting away, with some success - she might not weigh much in lupus form, but the weight of her halfling form was enough to give him pause. "You fucking wolf," She spat out her anger, saliva dripping from her maw. "You think your god and your weapons will protect you," Any other fighter might have realized the folly in underestimating one's opponent while they were down, but Ataxia was inexperienced and wanted to gloat before she offed him. "Where is he now? Where are your comrades, your brothers in arms? Why aren't they helping you?" She grinned, tongue lolling out. "They're all dead, and your useless god was powerless to stop us."

Fury flashed in the male's green eyes. "Traitor!" He cried. While she had been gloating, he had just enough to time wrap his fingers around the hilt of the knife in his belt. "You'll burn in hell with the coyotes!" With that statement, he pulled the knife out and plunged it into her side.

Ataxia cried out. All her fears and anxiety rushed through her at once, leaving her unable to move as he prepared another strike.

Table coding by the Mentors! Image from here.

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#7
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why are you so scared?
you stand there shaking by your pew, the icons are whispering to you



Word Count → 452 :: it makes sense to me. and, we can always assume he had a back up. Big Grin and, I tried to make the last bit as vague as possible, since this doesn't have a M tag. ouo''


The close proximity and her limited line of sight confused and frightened Sparrow, but she did see glimpses of what was going on; she saw Ataxia trying to attack from a lower angle, hearing her vain attempts from her whines, and Vesper also in the mix, flashing her hands over the wolf’s face and at one time also wresting with the weapon’s wrist. When she felt the point aim away from her, she released herself from the tangle, stumbling as she whipped around with wide eyes.

She saw her sister again held by the monster by his arms this time, and tensed as she prepared herself to leap at the man; what she would do then, she did not know anything besides to rip and tear at whatever she could touch. But, it was not necessary. With strength she never saw performed by her sibling before, she threw the man clean over her and onto the ground, leaving Sparrow stunned for a moment. But, the shock cleared, and she was at her side immediately, murmuring and stuttering about her bleeding shoulder and arm.

Her yellow eyes tore away only when she heard the venomous voice again, and followed Vesper’s gaze to the young girl. She was snarling over the man’s body, and for once, Sparrow felt like the horrible words were deserved to be spoken. She, like Ataxia, had assumed that once the giant fell, it was over, victory was theirs to gloat. He was good as dead.

She saw the slight of his hand, and it took her a moment to register what was going on. It was not until she saw the silver before it dawned on her that they were not done. She had tried to warn the girl, but her voice was drowned out by the man’s own screams. She had made a start for them, but it was too late as he made the first strike, quick like the lunge of a snake as the knife sunk into her flank.

Sparrow did not remember hearing the girl’s cry, but she must have, since it triggered the same anger she had felt earlier. She grabbed at his arm with her entire being, saddling on top of his elbow while both of her hands grasped at his forearm.

“You bastard,” she growled, her once soft voice flamed with hellfire as she tore at his limb, You bastard!” Claws tore at his flesh, his hand, knocking the red knife away, and did not know if the girl had moved away, but she did not stop in any case. All her attention and focus was on destroying his arm until it was completely dead weight. She intended for him to suffer.

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they're just old men like on the benches in the park

except their balding spots are glistening with gold
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#8
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This is lameness. But yeah poke me if you want me to change anything. xD +338

Pale fingers grew sticky with blood; Vesper was dully aware of the sensation and of the murmur of her sibling as she came to stand beside her. She shook her head once to quiet the other’s pointless remarks of concern, and her blue eyes landed on the silvery-black wolf girl. She had taken advantage of the enemy crashing to the ground, her secui body straddling him. Rather than reach for his throat and end it, however, the Salsolian began to mock the male, spitting down at him, boasting of his defeat.

The vanilla-tawny coywolf recognized such proud fury. It had been hers before; she’d captured it and squeezed all she could out of it. Detaching herself from the present, she could see a younger version of the scarred hybrid making boasts and taunts of her own. I understand, she thought, and curled her lip. But it’s not worth it, girl, she wanted to say aloud, but all she could get out was a scathing growl before the knife slipped into the dark halfling’s side.

She began to move, but suddenly Sparrow had teleported to the wolf, nearly sitting on his arm as her claws dug at it. There was red, and screaming curses from the enemy, and Vesper could feel a mix of sick pleasure and horror at the scene. She lunged forward, trying to knock the Salsolian and her sister to the side, a wordless snarl leaving her wrinkled muzzle. It was almost the feral growl of a huntress moving to reclaim her prey, but there was something desperate in it.

The wolf grabbed at his own arm, shrieking at her, and she dealt him a slap that snapped his head to the side. She buried her claws in his neck, wishing for the strength to snap it, but instead his life began to leak from the new gash. Underneath her hands he gasped and jerked, deprived of air and blood, but Vesper set her jaw grimly and waited, pushing all her weight down on his neck.

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#9
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This is probably over dramatic. For the record, Ataxia isn't seeing a ghost, she just thinks she is. Also, you could follow her if you wanted, but I don't care either way.

Word Count → 313

Ataxia was very still, not moving out of the way even as others rushed to her aid. The cry of "Bastard!" made her ears twitch, but she was otherwise immobile. From somewhere above, the girl saw herself staring glassy-eyed and lying on the wolf while others maimed him and moved to deal the death blow. She despaired at her weakness and cursed her inaction in the same thought. Futilely she tried to regain control of her body, but neither her head nor her limbs moved. Shame overwhelmed her, and finally the hybrid gave up.

She watched dully as the life fled from the man's body, kicking and screaming until the last moment when his neck gave out. A sort of smoke rose from the body, like something she might have seen from her mother's rituals. It coalesced into one mass, a being of hazy, smoky spirit. The wolf's image was pale and screaming. She tried to say something, but no words came out.

Suddenly the hybrid had the sensation of falling, and found herself righted in her own body. The apparition was gone, as was the smoke. Her eyes, which had been focused blindly ahead of her, now fell to the scarred coyote and the man crushed beneath her. Ataxia stood up and backed away from the corpse. She was bloody, and there was a web of pain stretched from each wound, sending sharp stabs into her when she moved. She paused to lick her wounds. When she had finished, another glance was given to the wolf's mangled arm, then to the coyotes. The Seculi wolf had a feeling she should say something, maybe thank them, but nothing came out. The ghost had taken her voice.

The girl turned from the pair and slipped off to the edge of camp. She didn't feel much like fighting now, and her wounds needed tending to.

Table coding by the Mentors! Image from here.

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There was some sort of thrill as she maimed the wolf, being able to cause him pain without the chance of retaliation. For once, she was the one to inflict the damage and not to receive it. In her blind rage, she may have perhap thought that she enjoyed hearing her enemy scream beneath her, helpless to stop her.

But, before her thoughts could have been sorted out, something shoved her away, and she was roughly removed from the arm. She snarled back at the growl, teasing as if she would force her way back to the arm, but snarl died in her throat as it realized it was her sister. Suddenly, she felt smaller, less powerful, as the more dominant female finished off the male. Sparrow could not believe that she had spat at Vesper, better yet her higher rank.

As if all her anger had been sucked out of her, she was calmed enough to inspect the flailing body under the tawny coywolf. She saw a bloody arm, or what she guessed was one--it was mangled and distorted, whatever fur was left darken by the crimson. For a moment, she actually forgotten that she did it until she glanced at herself, and noticed her stained hands. The woman thought she was quesy for a second, but she kept from overthinking it, and let herself become detach from what she saw before her as she covered the injury on her right arm, to quell the small flow.

She saw movement beside her, and watched as the girl step away, with some form of emotion on her face. She did not see what she saw a moment ago, but nonetheless was concerned for her. She looked over at her sibling, silently asking her with her glance if they should follow Ataxia and try to help her.

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