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[P] [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Printable Version

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[M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Vesper - 17 January 2017


WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: .

333 words. January 17th, Boreas Conflict thread. Set in Halcyon Mountain, north of Drifter Bay. Players will be skipped after 48 hours without a reply. (ETA: I forgot to describe it, but Vesper's raven Stormeye is accompanying them.)



The name reverberated through her skull until her teeth chattered in anger and her frozen blue eyes burned. Boreas.

To think that an enemy she had defeated nearly five years ago had come back to haunt her. It was something that Vesper still could not quite believe, though the rosary around her throat seemed all the heavier for this. She still remembered the hateful red eyes of the man who’d wounded her, and the desperate embrace with Myrika turning her away from the sight of the dead, toward cleansing fire. She’d been newly made Centurion then, a year before the birth of her children, before she believed that Inferni had settled into peace at last.

But now the wolves had returned—seeking vengeance, she imagined. She shook her head, and the beads rattled; self-conscious of this noise, she looked over her shoulder at the pair of younger males who followed her through the mountain trail and let out a low growl.

“Their camp was not far from here, last time,” the Aquila said, as if she had not already mentioned as much when ordering them to accompany her on this trail: a so-called mercenary and an unproven stranger. ”The woods. Near the ocean.” She thought she was right, at least. Her memory was foggy; had it been north, or east?

Logic would dictate that the Boreas contingent would not settle in the same place, but emotion and vague memory set her paws on a northward trail, with scraggly pines and bushes flanking her. She did wonder what survivors had fled in the chaos, what tales they must have told the offspring of the dead.

She wondered about Ithiel and Alma and their children. She wondered about where Ezekiel was now. She wondered, too, if Myrika was safe.

Vesper growled again, and like a mad hound fixated on a singular scent paced onward through the winding, ice-slick trails of the mountains as the rosary rattled again at her neck.


Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Cypher Blackwater - 17 January 2017

  • Tumultuous emotions whirled in his soul, seething and unbridled. Fleeting moments of events past flickered through his mind, bringing with them ghosts and demons of old. Again, sounds of screams echoed in his head, the song of anger and fear coalescing into a single note that managed to somehow orchestrate the truth of darkness inherent in the situation he had found himself in once more. The man from Chesapeake Bay found himself wondering if this is what his life had become – and seemingly what it was always destined to be – a few moments strung together, each one more tragic than the last. Conflict seemed to follow him wherever he went, no peace being found even when he could consider that he might have been given respite. Alas, nothing ever ended up in such a way, and one would be forgiven in assuming that this constant amount of tragedy and loss would be reason enough for his well-worn cynicism. Perhaps once, when he had been younger and idealistic, he could have maintained a lingering notion of optimism, but now, the ashen ‘yote found himself more inclined to see only the darkness in the world – a darkness he no wholly considered himself a part of.

    Cypher padded with subtle wariness behind the Infernian Aquila, his ears flickering attentively to catch the words Vesper spoke to them. The former mercenary gave a disconcerted growl, images of the raid that occurred not a few nights before still fresh in his mind. The Sciens gave a cursory glance to the other male that accompanied them, Redtooth, who was even newer to the ranks of Inferni than the Blackwater son was. Cypher pondered what was going through the other’s man head, wondered what Red was making of all this conflict and drama. The former Guild member had found himself taking a liking to the other man, even if some part of Cypher found him a bit strange. The ashen and ivory pelted male would never forget that Redtooth had helped him that day when the trees had decided to wage war on his life once more. For that, the man from Chesapeake Bay found himself feeling a sense of debt and gratitude towards the other male. Regardless, the contemplative Sciens was grateful to be on patrol with two Infernians he knew well enough.

    The mountain path they had taken wasn’t particularly precarious if one was careful enough, though at Vesper’s words, the former mercenary found himself nodding in begrudging appreciation for the tactics of the enemy. “It sounds like a defendable enough position,” the charcoal furred male said, his voice low but strong in assessment. “The woods would provide a decent enough cover, but I would think accessibility might cause a problem for attacking parties.” The former Guild member paused to give further consideration, his mind thinking back to the tactics assumed by the Guild when he had been part of their group. Battle tactics was never something the man from Chesapeake Bay took too much interest in, and while his execution of plans never faltered, Cypher had tended to be more efficient in solo warfare. Perhaps that might have been due to a guilty conscience, or some kind of plausible deniability should something go awry. The ashen Infernian gave another low growl before wincing as he took a wrong step and found himself sliding slightly down the ice-slicked path. His shoulder was still a problem and the man cursed that he hadn’t been able to avoid that flying arrow in time. There were many things about that raid he wished he had done differently, and more importantly, much he wished he had done better. But hindsight was always giving perfect vision, and the past was always something that called out to be changed.
    • Word Count: 628
      Form: Secui
      OOC: --



Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Andrew Winthrop - 17 January 2017

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Word Count → 349 :: Optime Form

Somehow, Redtooth got himself caught directly in the middle of a situation that he found to be deeply uncomfortable. He was no warrior, yet here he was -- following the Aquila on a scouting mission to who the fuck knows. Redtooth had attempted to aid the war effort in all the ways he could this far, most notably by repairing the dilapidated archery stands around the border, but this, actual fighting, wasn't something he thought he would ever have to do. Still, Redtooth bit his lip and agreed to accompany the scouting party when he was asked. It was common courtesy. After all, there was always a chance that the scouting mission could go off without a hitch and things would stay quiet on the northern front.


In Redtooth's hand was a bow from the mansion's store-room. Despite his wartime reluctance, it was not the first time he had wielded a weapon such as this. Back at homestead, when Redtooth chose to accompany his brother on an off-hand hunt, the bow had always been his weapon of choice. In fact, he was quite proficient with it. However, the bow he took from the storeroom was different. The bow was much longer, so much so that Redtooth held it awkwardly. And the drawstring, it required much more force to pull back than he was used to. Unwieldy as it may have been, Redtooth followed behind his Aquila with an arrow drawn and ready.


"Mhm," came Redtooth's reply as the others exchanged words. As nervous as he was, he was hardly listening -- but he nodded as if he was. Then, there was a painful gurgle in the pit of Redtooth's stomach that was brought on by his twisting nerves. "Uh -- guys..." he muttered. The drawstring of his bow went slack and he sheathed his arrow. "This may be a bad time --" he winced again. "But, I've really got to take a shit. Like, bad." He looked to Vesper in the hopes that she would grant him a brief reprieve to flush his churning bowels.

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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Vesper - 17 January 2017

223 words. Ryan, you slayed me. xDDD This round and then the Boreas woofers can come in? <3 Or they can pop in sooner with assumption that the coyotes are a bit spread out now lol.

Overhead, the young raven flapped and circled. She was nervous and landed often on outcrops and overhanging branches, twittering softly at the Aquila before taking flight once more, seemingly uncertain about where she should be looking—and limited too by her blind eye. Vesper wished, not for the first or even the hundredth time—that Stark had been whole and able to accompany them. She needed his reassurance as much as his experience.

She shared a low croak with Stormeye when they came to a slight slope, an ear twisted back to heed Cypher’s agreement. But his gruff assessment was followed by a growl and the skid of claws on ice, and Vesper turned with lip curled as the dark coyote stumbled down to her level. Urgency drove her along the mountain trails, and the last thing she needed was for the coyotes to slip up, to make themselves prone—

Redtooth spoke up, and Vesper managed a disgusted sound.

“Go,” she snapped. “Be quick, and bury it when you’re done. The last thing we need is your fear-stench drawing in the Boreas.”

She heard a nervous croak from Stormeye ahead, and with another frustrated growl broke into a lope along another path, going to see what the raven had found. She was beginning to rethink her choice of scouting partners.


Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Cypher Blackwater - 17 January 2017

  • It was unusual for the man to stumble, his typical deftness of movement now addled with an injury he should have likely sought to get attended to. But Cypher had always had an innate stubbornness – something that would likely lead to his downfall at some point, or perhaps even give rise to a mistake that could be unforgivable. The ashen coyote mongrel managed to regain a semblance of grace, his footing sturdy once more, giving a mild shake of his pelt to hide his embarrassment at such a precarious display in front of the Aquila. It didn’t help that the Blackwater son couldn’t discern whether Vesper’s expression was one of amusement or annoyance, and he recoiled slightly from her, a frown forming on his features. It became clear though, that her temperament erred on the side of annoyance when her words were aimed at Redtooth – who apparently needed to find himself ‘indisposed’ by way of answering the ‘call of nature’ as it were. The former mercenary gave his fellow Infernian a long incredulous look, a quizzical expression managing to fracture the frown that had adorned it moments earlier.

    The man watched as Vesper moved away, her attention now pulled by the call of a raven and the Sciens considered following her but found himself hesitating, uncertain if he really wished to have the Aquila’s ire directed at him. Instead he turned to Redtooth and muttered, “I think she’s just worried,” he proffered as an excuse though he wasn’t sure how much of it the other male would take at face value. Cypher waited while Redtooth went about his business and took to muttering to himself, slowly edging towards where Vesper had disappeared to, his smoke blue gaze transfixed on the ground before him, his mind consumed with introspective thoughts once more. “Of course, face planting in the snow was always my plan,” the man from Chesapeake Bay murmured under his breath, the wry comment falling from his black lips with ease. “It’s how I plan to scare these Boreas wolves – by displaying my skill at attacking the ground.” Cypher felt his mood sour and for a brief moment he found himself regretting coming with these two Infernians. Perhaps he would have been better served on some solo patrol, instead of here where he felt caught between not being needed and the desire to prove himself – with which he thought he was presently failing in.

    Back when Cypher had been a member of the Guild, the desire to be accepted had driven him into participating in situations he had no need to find himself in. He had been young, naïve, and desperate. He didn’t want to be known as some poor child who had run away from his father and now wanted to be his own man. He wanted to form his own identity, not being caught up in the purposes of others. Perhaps that had been a selfish thought though, and perhaps therein lay the problem. Cypher sighed softly, flicking his ears as a breeze ruffled through his ashen fur. The way this patrol was currently going, he couldn’t imagine Vesper inviting him on further expeditions. In fact, the Sciens couldn’t imagine how this excursion could get any worse. Except if maybe he managed to trip again, then maybe he would forever be known as a useless lump of fur. All he wanted to do was prove himself to Vesper and Inferni, and instead he was making himself look like an incapable fool. The man winced again, his shoulder giving a painful twinge. Yes, there was certainly no way this patrol could become any worse than it currently was.
    • Word Count: 609
      Form: Secui
      OOC: Brilliant, just brilliant xD



Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Andrew Winthrop - 19 January 2017

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Word Count → 195 :: Optime Form

Oh God, Redtooth could already see that Vesper was pissed. He grimaced awkwardly as an unamused scowl fell upon her face. As far as inopportune timing went, this was pretty high on the list -- but nature calls when nature calls. Unlike the war that they were currently engaged, there was no fighting natural bodily functions, no matter how hard one tried (or clenched their butt cheeks). This was a battle that Redtooth knew he could not win.


Go, she said, bidding him away. "Vesper, you're a goddamn saint. I'll be back in a second... you'll hardly even miss me." After all, what sort of trouble could they get in while Redtooth squatted over a hole? It would only take a minute or two, give or take. He turned to Cypher and shrugged. They were all on edge, he reckoned. That wasn't something he could blame Vesper for. At least she found the kindness in her heart to grant Redtooth a brief reprieve.


And so, with his bow in hand, Redtooth traipsed off into the woods -- just out of sight -- to dig a hole so he could take a much needed poop.

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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Jericho Anders - 19 January 2017

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The night attacks had gone worse than expected. It was undoubtedly due to their lack of information, or so Jericho chose to believe. Casualties had been reported on both sides, but fewer of the Boreas wolves had returned than expected. Losses were inevitable in war. God would claim His chosen dead and the others would be left to rot while their souls suffered in eternal flame.

Perhaps owing to the caution now rife through their ranks, things as simple as hunting or taking missions were encouraged to err on numbers. Jericho recognized the importance of this. Their enemies would surely be expecting them now, and respond in kind.

He rode ahead of Abner, who was keeping his eyes peeled for an easy meal. The hunter was frustrated by their location, and had repeatedly cited their trip to the south when he talked about prey availability. Jericho had reassured him – and then been harsher when the complaints had not stopped – and a tense silence had settled throughout their party.

Jericho's eyes narrowed as his nose twitched, picking up scents on the wind. He lifted a hand to show this, making quick movements before turning his horse.

A lone coyote – buffish gray, covered in scars – was ahead.

His eyes widened with surprise, and his jaw dropped ever so slightly. Though he did not trust the spy as far as he could throw him, something as important as knowing what the coyote's leader looked like had to be trusted.

This was divine intervention, he thought. God wanted this to happen.

Bring it back alive, he ordered.


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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Ragna Eklund - 20 January 2017

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Optime | cNPC: Snorri; NPC: Brimstone (Ragna), Jack (+623)


Boreas Conflict II.


Another round, and this game of chess they had against their eastern enemy had not sided in their favor. Even their assault had ended up in a retreat, an insult and shameful acceptance that had made both Ragna and Snorri’s lips curl in disgust. Thankfully though, they were the only ones that could boast that they suffered zero casualties in their unit. Some might have claimed they were faced with softer targets, but, Ragna vehemently denied such an accusation. If such had been the case, they would have slaughtered the group of festering ants instead of just killing one.


The tension back at camp had been high, sprinkled with grief for their fallen comrades. The time to truly grieve would have to be later though. They were at war. Ragna had taken the first chance to leave the camp that she could, and the escape had been made all the more sweet by accompanying the legendary Jericho. Snorri had tagged along—needing a break from fixing weapons—as well as a few others, Elkin and Abner.


They made up a pretty solid group, the Eklund liked to think. Two scouts, one ex-soldier, another that fought well enough that it could be his second profession, and then a tactician. Ragna was sure there wouldn’t be much trouble that they couldn’t handle.


The group had been moving along when Jericho suddenly held up a hand in silent command. Ragna and Snorri halted their steeds, barely a second rolling by before they smelt it too. Coyote. It was up ahead…and all alone. The thing looked like it’d seen better days with its scar-covered pelt and noticeably missing ear. Pity it would make for a poor rug. If the group had brought pups along though, perhaps it could go for a good teaching tool.


Jericho gave a single command, and Ragna and Snorri split down either side of the path. They steered their horses off into the thicker brush nearby. They wound their way around, being careful to remain downwind and to take paths that muffled their horses’ feet.


Once Snorri felt he’d placed his get-away horse in good position, he dismounted and made the rest of the way on foot. He grasped one of his war axes in his hand as he made his way to flank the lone coyote. Jericho had said to bring it back alive, but hadn’t said anything about not hurting it. If the damn thing came after him, he didn’t want to be defenseless.


Ragna had made to come from the coyote’s back, but as she’d moved into position, she’d spotted two more coyotes. One looked to be waiting while the other took a shit. God couldn’t have given them an easier, more pathetic group of sinners to deal with.


She maneuvered Brimstone so that they were hidden as well as they could be in the snow-covered land. Once the others made their move, there was no doubt in her mind that the two coyotes would attempt to come to their companion’s—their leader, if Amariah’s intel had been worth its salts—aide.


Her nose crinkled as she readied her bow. She would make sure that they never made it in time.


Snorri was the first to break from his cover, flanking the lone coyote woman. His ax swung expertly in his hand as he leveled the Lupus woman with a hateful glare and curled lips. “Are you ready to repent for your sins, wolf-killer?” He didn’t care if she’d actual taken a life or not. Inferni’s borders were littered with wolf skulls. She would be guilty by association.






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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Elkin Ward - 22 January 2017

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Forgive me for being awful slow; Elkin has both hawks Edith & Cain, Cain is going for Redtooth and Edith is going for Cypher. Feel free to refer to them gettin whacked away or w/e ;D (+704)

In the past several days, Elkin had been suddenly reminded that they were waging a war. Lifeblood had stained his own hands as well as the fingers of his comrades, bathed in colors of both friend and foe. A select few tents scattered among the campgrounds of Boreas had not been closed for days because they were to be eternally hollow, their inhabitant dead. As Elkin passed them by, it was all that he could wonder. He wondered when they would be given the fire that they needed to purge the darkness that lay like a thick fog over these foreign woods. The darkness of the faithless, of the heathens he had only heard of in stories for so long. God wanted them to clear it, to foster light, even should it be kindled among an earth soggy with blood and soulless bones. God wanted them to clear it, but in his doubts the Ward was chastised into remembering that His work was not always glorious. It was painful, but achingly necessary. So achingly necessary.

He had yet to taste much of the battle, himself. Elkin had instead been putting his skills to use elsewhere; normally within the heart of their contingent poring over sketches and crude maps and the little x's on paper that signified where the enemies had holed themselves away. His tactics were but thin puzzle pieces in the scope of a miles-long image of perfection, but the yellow-eyed falconer knew that these plans were essential. Already, the back of his neck had been itching in slight distaste at the sight of his comrades returning with fresh wounds, evidence of bludgeoning attacks without execution. That had been days ago. Now, the blood under his scarred skin hummed with a desire to boil. He leaped on the chance for a patrol without even a heartbeat of hesitation.

He hadn't ridden Helsa very often since their arrival at their base, and so the darkling mare was thrilled to be saddled once again. With his glaive strapped against his black, blade glinting malevolently in the midday light, Elkin climbed atop his steed and followed the small party into the less-traversed space of the heathen's woods. The falconer needed not even call for his birds; they followed as shadows above and behind him, gliding close to the canopy with any drafts that their wings may catch. The modest throng of God's soldiers rode with purpose and silence across the sin-littered lands of their charge.

They rode, that is, until God gave them a gift.

He spotted the grossly tattered woman in the same instant as the patrol's lead, yellow eyes glowing sharply with unidentified light. Elkin's face lit briefly in the image of a fleeting smile, and one of his birds cried in the sky behind them. But it was a cry of pleasure.

Jericho spoke, and Elkin twisted Helsa's reins. The black creature carried him instantly into the guise of the forest, only a whisper of distance behind Ragna and her own horse's direction. The tactician noted his comrade's plan of attack in the instant she grabbed for her bow, and he complimented it. Helsa carried him to the opposite flank of the foolish coyotes' place of pause, and there is where Elkin dismounted, falling with a fateful snarl to the snow-littered ground. He crouched for only an instant, nose wrinkled and lip curled, scarred fingers rising behind his shoulder to slide the bladed glaive from where it was secured to his back. In the same moment that Ragna's companion revealed himself to the ugly creatures' leaders, Elkin moved.

The disgusting thing that had been defecating in the woods moment before was suddenly facing the silver blade of Elkin's weapon, pointed without the slightest trace of a shake just inches from his nose. The Boreas man looked down with yellow eyes on his inferior.

"Faithless mongrel." He hissed the words, and this seemed to be some unlikely signal. Immediately, the screech of hawks could be heard from directly above, and talons descended. Edith dove to attack the dark man who stood unknowingly threatened by Ragna's arrow, while Cain arrived in a storm of dark wings to claw at the squatting man's head. And so the purging began.

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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Vesper - 24 January 2017

253 words.

"Boss."

The coywolf paused, swiveled her good ear, and glanced at the young raven. She shivered, perched on a dead branch that stuck out over the path, and turned her head a few times before warbling uncertainly. When the gravity of the situation had presented itself to the little scout, when some of her flock-mates had not returned or been found dead outside the borders, she grew afraid. The Ravenmaster's wrath, too, frightened her; she was beginning to understand, for the first time, what the bond with the coyotes meant.

But Vesper croaked at her, telling her to take flight again, and stay high. If she stayed high she would be harder to shoot, but Ves did not say this.

Then Stormeye was in the air, and just as suddenly: "Boss! Many wolf!"

"Shit," hissed Vesper, and she turned with hackles raised moments before the plains wolf emerged from the bushes. Above, Stormeye screamed and flew in a wide circle as the cries of hawks rent the air too, and Ves acted.

She fled into a crack between two stones, thorns catching her fur. She was small and advantaged in this way, and her feet knew this land. She did not hesitate before coming back around, however, leaping out again at the man who'd threatened her with the axe: giving herself space, a moment, before she lunged.

She had to fight like her breed fought -- in, out, bleed them, skitter. She couldn't let herself get pinned down an instant.


Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Cypher Blackwater - 26 January 2017

  • Usually succumbing to unrelenting hyperawareness, one could seemingly find themselves caught in a moment of reprieve – typically being ironic in nature. Certainly, that would be the issue that the Inferni members would eventually be forced to participate in, but for the moment, each was apparently caught in a different state of mind. The Blackwater son found no way to respond to Redtooth’s shrug and instead resorted to his familiar tact of facial dialogue, being a master of the arched brow or a death glare – should the moment be appropriate. Presently however, the man from Chesapeake Bay remained largely impassive, his thoughts leading him on a mental walk that dulled his senses to the reality of the world around him. Memories of a previously fought battle lingered in his mind, coalescing with the sounds and shouts of the conflict that had been endured the night of the full moon. There had been casualties on both sides, as was usually typical in war. But could this even be considered a war? Or was it merely a group of characters wishing to enact their own form of vengeance on those they vehemently believed had wronged them? The ashen male wasn’t certain but there was the nagging doubt that this conflict wasn’t over – not yet.

    Cypher had become so distracted in his thoughts that he hadn’t realised how much distance had formed between himself and his patrol companions. Vesper was somewhere up ahead and Redtooth presently occupied with some form of privacy. It was the Aquila’s resounding voice and the sudden exclamation of a skirmish that drew the Sciens’ mind into the present. Attention snapping into focus, Cypher drew in a sharp intake of breath before releasing an angry, low snarl. The charcoal pelted hybrid moved to go give aid to his leader – hoping that the other Infernian male would do the same – when he came to a realisation that the threat was not coming from a single point. The screech of a bird, not a raven for which he had come to be familiar with, but from something foreign, tore through the air. Cypher lifted his pale azure gaze to the heavens and spied a feathered figure plummeting towards him, talons outstretched towards his vulnerable eyes. Muzzle crinkling back into an unrestrained snarl, the dark furred coymutt snapped at the bird as it descended towards him. The former mercenary had seen members of the Guild use birds of prey in battle, but he’d never had to face one himself. Regardless, the male was aware of how to deal with them. Wings were the ultimate target, and Cypher hoped with a few well-placed snaps of his jaws, he might be able to convince the flying creature he wasn’t worth the effort.

    The Secui formed man maintained a sense of calm desperation, paradoxical as that may seem. Cypher typically didn’t become flustered while under attack, but there was the lingering sense that he needed to get to the Inferni leader that tempered his stoic regard. Fur bristling and eyes burning with unbridled fury at the seemingly unjustified assault, the man felt himself slip into the similar unfettered persona he once adorned in his days with the Guild. “Vesper!” the Blackwater son called, the cadence of his voice shifting slightly. Cypher had become so focused on removing his first obstacle which had been the bird and getting to his leader swiftly, he had forgotten two crucial things: his own injury, and Redtooth. Unfortunately, he was oblivious to the woman with the bow and arrow, and in yet another form of sardonicism, the Infernian man would find himself faced with an archer as a foe.
    • Word Count: 608
      Form: Secui
      Summary: Hears, Vesper. Attacks the bird coming for him, doesn't see other opponents. Forgets about Red (not intentionally!)
      OOC: In the interest of helping the pace/movement of the thread, PP of Cypher permissible short of killing him c; I dunno, throw him into a wall/tree/off a cliff, PM me if you're unsure. Failing at the "Protector" co-rank



Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Andrew Winthrop - 26 January 2017

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Word Count → 359 :: Oh boy. @Ragna, you know what to do. Shoot 'em in the thigh... He's running your way ;P

Oh, who would have thought that sweet relief would have smelled so foul? It was terrible -- so terrible, that Redtooth couldn't help but nearly gag on the fumes of his own excrement. Thankfully, his churning stomach was finally settled, but he was not yet out of the woods. With another begrudging breath, Redtooth realized that Vesper was right. He would need to bury this deep to keep their presence a secret. For all Redtooth knew, the Boreas wolves could smell his shit from a mile away.


And from the noises that Redtooth heard from just out of sight... he realized that they likely did. There were horses, birds, other voices... fuck. They had company. Still squatting, Redtooth reached with one hand for his bow -- with the other, he tore a few leaves from a nearby plant to wipe. However, Redtooth soon found that there was no time to clean up. He saw them now, and they closed in with the precision of a military strike team. The leaves fell from his hand as he first saw the archer. Them, he turned to a sharp steel blade inches from his face, held by a man nearly twice his size.


Oh fuck," he swore as his eyes widened with terror. His white-knuckled grip around the shaft of his longbow tightened -- but he then realized it was of no use to him. No, not at this close of a range. He dropped the bow and his hand moved quickly to the sheathed dagger at his waist. He was unable to pull the small blade from its sheath, instead he fumbled with the clasp in a panic. Then, when the bird came down upon him, tearing into his flailing arms with its sharp talons -- Redtooth realized there was only one way he was going to make it out of this alive.


Run.


He grabbed his bow from the ground and he started running. He wasn't useful at close range, and if he could just get a fair amount of distance between him and the Boreas wolves, he could at least shoot off a few arrows and not be totally useless.

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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Jericho Anders - 26 January 2017

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There were good soldiers in their lot, and Jericho believed that they would be able to handle this boon well. He could not fight like the younger ones – his time had passed – but that did not mean he was useless or incapable. Wolves split off and took positions in the forest, but the coyotes realized they were under assault soon enough. Their target was not alone, as became apparent the moment the assault began.

Time mattered most in combat. A victory was guaranteed only when action was swift and decisive. If too much time was wasted they would lose their opportunity, and support might arrive to stop them. Worse, it could allow for mistakes that might snatch victory from their hands – people made errors when they became overwhelmed or tired.

From atop his ash colored horse, Jericho saw the incidents play out. Ragna and Snorri had split up, one preventing the coyote's support from advancing and the other dealing with the scarred mongrel himself. Elkin had gone to deal with the other coyotes.

Abner had his bow at the ready, but Jericho had him stand down. The likelihood of striking one of their own was too great, especially with the varmints using the attack-and-retreat method of their kind.

Git some rope and git me a bag, he told the hunter, and saw a flicker of confusion over Abner's face. I ain't carryin' the damn thing back unless it's tied up, you hear me?

Yessir.

The sack was made of leather, and meant for carrying meat. It was stiff in some places, stained in others, but looked large enough for the task at hand. Taking this, Jericho spurred his horse forward and moved to cut off the halfbreed from retreating. Storm snorted and kicked, turning at sharp jerks his rider made with the reins. Abner, a breath behind, began circling in a similar matter – essentially using their horses to trap the scarred mongrel from any chance of escape.

Come on you filthy scavenger! Abner taunted, swinging his rope lasso like he meant to catch her like a wild horse.


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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Ragna Eklund - 27 January 2017

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(+753)


TL;DR: Ragna shoots at Cypher’s feet, she then shoots Red in the thigh as he made his way towards her. She shot a second time at Cypher. Vesper managed to nick Snorri in the leg before retreating, Snorri swung and missed (?); he taunts and waits until he hears movement and swings again (he’s basically looking to either knock the shit out of her or distract her from Abner and Jericho x3).


Elkin followed after her, and she mentally praised the tactician as he realized why the scout had found herself pointed in a direction opposite from the scarred beast that was their target. He moved and positioned himself, and Ragna couldn’t have asked for a more intelligent companion for their mission. They stood ready, waiting for the opportune moment.


There was a sudden warning cry from one of those filthy scavenger birds, and had Ragna not been more focused on the two ground threats, she might have tried to shoot the damn thing out of the sky. Sounds of a fight began, and as it appeared that the other Boreas members had made their move on the old goat, the leader’s pathetic escorts realized all too late that they’d done fucked up.


The tactician’s birds were quick to do their work, distracting the coyotes from the true dangers that lurked around them. It was enough that Ragna was able to line up her shot perfectly. Her first shot struck deeply into the snow and unfrozen top soil just before the dark coyote’s feet. She didn’t want to risk accidentally hitting one of Elkin’s birds, particularly, the one he seemed rather fond of.


Elkin’s quarry had finished his business by the time her gaze had moved to see how the tactician was fairing. One of his birds buffeted the unfortunate coyote, but, instead of turning to fight Elkin or his feathered companion like any honorable Luperci, the male decided to…run.


“How pathetic,” she murmured as she lined up her shot.


The coward couldn’t have given her better selection of vulnerabilities to choose from. Sprinting straight towards her, she could have picked any number of things. A shot to the head since he obviously didn’t use his brain? Perhaps one to either lung since he was obviously wasting the air God had given him? One to the stomach to perhaps cure whatever foul thing he’d just expelled from it?


She let her arrow fly.


No, a leg would do. Let the vermin crawl back to the hell it was spawned from.


Her lips twitch with mild irritation as her projectile plunged into the meat of the red-furred coyote’s thigh. A true pity it was that she hadn’t had the foresight of them running into coyotes during their little jaunt. Otherwise, she might have thought to coat the tips of her arrows in a lovely brew of poison.


Ragna let Elkin take the filth from there. She’d given him his runaway back. Using her knees, she eased Brimstone into backing up so that she could line up another shot at the dark one. No doubt, once he saw his friend take an arrow to the leg, he’d try to either eliminate the threat, or he’d turn tail as well. Which suited her just fine. Ragna smirked softly.


She rather liked moving targets.


Another arrow cut through the crisp air.




Had he not been so close to the scarred creature, Snorri might have cursed the raven that sounded the alarm. The annoyance continued to squawk and scream overhead, but, with Elkin’s birds in the area, Snorri was sure that the scavenger would be hard-pressed to make any bold dives towards them below. The wolf let out a snarl as the coyote dashed out of reach, skittering like a rat to safety. He wasn’t overly fond of the way coyotes fought.


There was no honor in it.


Snorri sensed it at his back, but the coyote was quicker. Needle-sharp teeth pricked his skin as it managed to nick one of his legs. He swung the flat edge of his ax out at the damn thing. It was a shame they couldn’t kill it. The coyote was off into the nearby brush again, likely circling for its next opportunity to whittle down his stamina and defenses.


Jericho and Abner moved in with their horses, and Snorri knew that it was only a matter of time before they caught the little vermin. The Niequist bared his teeth in an almost cocky grin. “Come out, come out, wherever you are~!” He twirled his ax tauntingly as his golden eyes searched the thorny brush. “I’ve got some decoration that I think you’d like to add to that flea-bitten hide of yours.”


There was a rustle of movement, and Snorri reaffirmed his grip on the ax and swung.



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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Elkin Ward - 29 January 2017

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One of Elkin's hawks is chasing Stormeye; Raze, feel free to reference her escaping or w/e. Elkin has Redtooth more or less pinned, not sure how many more rounds this will go so if there's more Redtooth can wriggle out for some more fighting~ lemme know if I need to change something? (+570)

A pity, really, that the gutless coyote's raven had been in the opposite direction. Elkin would have rather relished in the sight of his hawk tearing at the smaller pest mid-flight. A shower of black feathers would have been a welcome boost of glee. Ravens were useless, this the falconer had long since decided for the world. Their talons were nowhere near effective in tearing and cutting as those of the hawk.

Instead, Elkin had only his birds' loyalties to blame. They hovered with dark and thirsty eyes never far from the torn ears of their master, and at his command only their constant closeness allowed them to descend upon the enemy almost instantaneously. At the coyote's swear, Elkin could only meet his eyes, unwavering, with the briefest shimmer of a malevolent smile. Satisfaction arose in the tactician's snake-like yellow eyes as he watched the flurry of red feathers fall upon his foe, who stood still in shock inches from the deathly whisper of his weapon's edge. Cain screeched and relentlessly dove to sink his claws into the coyote's arms, but after only brief success, the creature made a rather stupid move. It had the audacity to run.

"Suckling child." He hissed, words inaudible, at the back of the retreating male. The comment was an echo of Ragna's unheard words. Even as the enemy appeared to escape, no fear or intent at a chase darkened Elkin's gaze. "Cain, hold the bird." It took only a subtle nod of his master's chin, and the hawk, who had briefly circled around from his previous attack, immediately switched course to ascend straight up. An avian cry cut the air, splitting and haunting in the fury of the sudden battle unleashed. The falconer's hawk shot forward to dance with the ragtag mongrel's own charge, the juvenile raven who had sounded the call. And so a chase ensued both on God's earth and his skies.

Once his spare bird had been directed elsewhere, Elkin returned his attention to the current fight. He had good sense to trust in his fellow scout's intention, as he witnessed an arrow bury itself pleasantly deep into the fleeing creature's haunch. At the sight of the arrow and the snap of her target's jaws, Edith had the good sense to retreat to higher skies, her feathers ruffled, and turn to land definitively on Elkin's shoulder. The tactician had stalked forward at a nearly leisurely pace, towards the now-wounded thing that had tripped to the ground. Both man and his predator companion peered down with unkind eyes on the sight of the reddish foe. "Are all of you blasphemous bastards as incompetent as this?" The question was more of a sneer.

Without warning, Elkin then lifted his arm and then swung the blunt end of his glaive. The wood made impact against Redtooth's wrist, his intent to send the longbow spiraling from his grip and skidding across the dirt. Again, he lowered the bladed edge to hover in front of Redtooth's face, threatening him to move from where he bled. "Blasphemous bastard." Edith screed sharply near her companion's ragged ear, echoing his earlier insult. To his right, Ragna had effectively cornered her darker foe with the use of arrows, and somewhere in the forest in front of him, Jericho orchestrated the mousetrap that would bring these mens' sorry excuse for a leader to its demise. The yellow-eyed tactician smiled, a dark and victorious expression.

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Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Vesper - 7 February 2017

OOC: Sorry for the wait! Moving this along w/ Ves getting caught, so Boreas could probably retreat if y’all wanted to play that out. :> I was also vague bc I imagine Snorri or Jericho would need to help w/ restraining her.

IC:
A raven screamed overhead as she fled the talons of a predator bird, and cries of violence beyond the rocky slopes. Vesper’s good ear swiveled and strained to catch these sounds before she pinned it back, dodging the swing of her opponent’s axe and running back into the brambles. Tufts of fur caught on thorns, and she panted softly, breath caged loosely between yellowed teeth, as she prepared for another pass.

But then hooves broke through into the bushes, and Vesper was racing with tucked tail as they charged toward her. When she raced again, another horse crashed down into her path, kicking and dancing, and she cursed as she found her escape route blocked. She was agile, but getting older, and quick turns led to stumbling paws, and when she burst out of the bushes again the flat of the axe blade caught her side and sent her flying to the dirt.

The coywolf leader got back up again—Can’t stay down, it’s over if you stay down, her mantra from youth—and ran.

A rope jerked around her neck and she gagged, falling backward.

The wolf climbed down from the horse and headed toward her, and she was aware of another walking toward her. She lunged for them, but a clever movement of the rope tripped her paws, and then a bag descended on her.


Re: [M] Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels - Jericho Anders - 16 February 2017

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False, I am the worst. ;-;

In the west, his youth had been spent in the desert chasing things – food, horses, enemies. The coyotes were usually the hardest to catch, especially as their methods evolved. Jericho and his compatriots had cut their teeth chasing wild mustangs, daring each other to ride the worst of the bunch and getting into fights when inevitably arguments arose as to who did this the longest. It was all training, even if he had not known it then.

So as he swung the rope in his hand, all his years of experience measured the moment. How much time before the others came? Soon enough. They could kill this group, but they were too close. If this thing was the leader of Inferni, they would do anything to get it back.

The moment she went down, his elbow snapped. The rope arched (a beautiful toss, perhaps the best of his life) and snaked over the coyote's head. His hand tightened to a fist and he jerked hard. Jericho was still awfully strong, and he nearly topped her.

Abner was laughing, a strange sort of braying noise, and the little thing looked rabid. He was going to get himself bit, Jericho thought. If not now, soon.

But the capture happened fast enough that with fierce, tight knots, they had the coyote in their grasp.

Hey! He shouted towards the others, gravely voice loud and commanding: Out! Go!

With Abner behind him, Jericho kicked his horse and rode hard. They would need to get away from the ravens more than anything else, and so he kept to the forests as best they could.
Jericho scarcely believed their fortune, and his soldier's instincts warned him repercussions would not be far behind them.


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