[P] chains of fate
Ethereal Eclipse, Skoll Haskel
#1
Sababu had taken refuge in the thick greenery beneath an endless stand of towering tree's, more to protect his sense of smell from the oceanic barrage of this land than anything else. Being near massive amounts of saltwater still made him queasy- the warm, wet, sharp air took him back to those grueling weeks on the small ship that had brought him to this strange land. Well, nearly, if it hadn't been for the tremendous storm surge that had towered over the boat and crashed down- sending the boat to smithereens, and scattering the passengers across the water like a mere child tossing leaves in a puddle. As harrowing as the moment was, the young jackal thanked the spirits everyday for nearly killing him!

Here he stood on dry land, alive and free. No more masters, no more chains, except for his own fate. He didn't know how he'd been so lucky to survive the storm at sea, but it did not matter to the carefree fellow. "Per'aps life be showin me dat lucks FINALEE on ma side." He twisted his sharp little muzzle and held a paw to it thoughtfully, "Now, eeeef oanly dat fate wood sind me a frind!" He peered around anxiously, hoping to be heard by the spirits, but no one came. He threw his little paws in the air and continued his exploration through the ferns and over many soft, damp, mushroom-laden logs. Though he enjoyed the sheer thrill of exploration, his belly loudly pined for a piping hot mouse. He'd eaten so many grubs over the last moon he felt like a grub himself.
#2
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skoll is a jerk

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The gold-haired werewolf wandered the woods with tousled head hunched and nostrils flared to catch odd scents in the bush. Ever since rescuing Mullica from the muddy, evil-eyed coyote, Skoll had been on edge. He suspected Inferni, but did not rush to the borders; that was the job of thinkers and speakers like the ever-composed Aatte. Instead, he swore that he'd keep the forest safe.

A promise he'd made plenty of times before.

He looked remarkably feral, his tangled blond hair falling into wild green eyes, claws unsheathed and hands flexed to grasp as he went. His princely posture devolved into something hunched and wary -- as if expecting the coyote or its kin to burst from the trees now and assault him with narrow, snapping jaws. He marked trees as he went, with piss and raking nails, because while it was beyond their claim it was still his.

He scented something -- something exotic, something that kindled memories. It was different than the other scent, subtle enough, but it still did not belong. He curled his lip and stalked through the trees until he spotted a slim, dark-streaked Luperci. Immediately, Skoll drew himself to his full height of seven feet and stared the jackal down, stone-faced and silently demanding an explanation for its presence.

<style>@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css');</style>[/html]
[html]<center><img src="http://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/cdm.gif"/><br/><span style="font-size: 14px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; text-shadow: #ffffff 0px 1px 0;" class="cdm"><span style="color:#daa520;">TOP OF THE WORLD, BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN</span><br/><span style="color:#7a5f48;">THEY BUILT YOU UP AND BROKE YOU DOWN AGAIN</span><br/><span style="color:#191970;">SO NOW YOU HOPE TO BEAT THE SURF IN</span></span></center>[/html]
#3
ooc. yay jerks!!! :D

ic. Just as he began to mull over the hole in his guts he was alerted to a presence. A particularly barbaric Luperci materialized from the bushes and towered like some sort of freakish fur-covered oak tree. Teensy in comparison, Sababu tensed and subtly bent his knees, ready for action at a split-second notice. A fearful grimace planted across his muzzle. Dagger-like teeth probably looked like mouse claws compared to what lay inside the beast's mouth. His hackles raised of their own accord, typical of an overstimulated canine, though the survival purpose of making oneself appear larger was fruitless in this situation.

The intense stair reigning down from those greenfire eyes was giving him a headache, like laser beams cutting past his skull and searing the folds of his brain. He felt quite indignant to be approached in such a manner by a complete stranger on open lands. He squinted his eyes, looked up, and exasperated, "WHOT?! Cood you plees re-die-rekt dat glare fo heafun's sake!" He lifted a limb to his face as if shielding it from the direct stare of the sun. He was frozen with fear, knowing that a mad dash to the escape line might trigger the tall, savage one's predatory instinct for the hunt. It crossed his mine that this guy might be a slave collector, but the smell on him seemed to say otherwise. Though that was a relief, every other aspect of the situation was not.
#4
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yay xenophobia!!

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His presence had the immediate and desired effect of striking fear in the stranger -- a short and bony jackal, dusty-colored and streaked along the ribs, who fluffed up and curled lips in a fearful grimace. Hair bristled along Skoll's shoulders as he waited, mostly hoping for the other to limp off like a typical scavenger. His experience with the other jackals made him less hopeful about this -- and he almost waited for the other to produce a hooded, demonic snake like the last.

The loner suddenly burst out with an odd sound that was a word and followed with a garbled mess barely recognizable as English. Skoll curled his lips and furrowed his brow, nose wrinkled as if he'd caught a bad smell.

I can't understand a fucking thing of what you're saying, Skoll snarled at him, but he didn't move. He might have been a statue -- a gargoyle, fearsome features contorted into stone to ward off evil. Or -- at least a suspicious little runt of an animal. You aren't welcome here, barbare. Go yap at someone else.

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[html]<center><img src="http://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/cdm.gif"/><br/><span style="font-size: 14px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; text-shadow: #ffffff 0px 1px 0;" class="cdm"><span style="color:#daa520;">TOP OF THE WORLD, BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN</span><br/><span style="color:#7a5f48;">THEY BUILT YOU UP AND BROKE YOU DOWN AGAIN</span><br/><span style="color:#191970;">SO NOW YOU HOPE TO BEAT THE SURF IN</span></span></center>[/html]
#5
ooc. *cheers madly* yay xenophobes! yay little twats! :D:D

ic. He was told in a forceful manner to SCRAM! Sababu sniffed the air tentatively to search for hidden enforcements this brute might have brought along, but he seemed to be alone. The jackal's instincts warned not of kidnap, slavery, or torture. As far as he was concerned this formerly suspicious and terrifying-looking Luperci was nothing but a scary-looking-but-ineffectual dumbdumb! Amidst the evaporating fear he felt a fit of laughter seize his throat, it cracked his muzzle open and he retorted, "Yoo tink yoo own dis laund!? HAH! You are nut-ting but a territorial savage, a dumb broot!" His stance became a bit more tense, in case he needed to react to any sort of physical backlash. Sababu was not a powerful monster, but he trusted in his quickness and hyper-reflexes.
#6
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--

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The jackal cackled suddenly. Distaste continued to warp Skoll's light features, and his head tilted slightly after the manner of a dog to better hear and understand the accented gab that dribbled from his ugly, narrow mug.

It was his turn to smile, but he bared too many teeth and revealed too many sharp points. I do, he agreed. It was not explicitly Cour des Miracles territory -- they were several yards from the borders yet -- but that did not matter to Skoll. You know why? he asked, as if hoping to incite a response from a reluctant cub. Because I have friends -- and I'm bigger than you.

Perhaps it was savage -- but Skoll had always fallen on instinct. He stepped forward at last with a snap of teeth and swept a large, clawed hand at the jackal, hoping to smack him aside into the dirt. Whether or not he succeeded, he lunged closer and clicked saliva-shining teeth close to the other's fur.

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[html]<center><img src="http://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/cdm.gif"/><br/><span style="font-size: 14px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; text-shadow: #ffffff 0px 1px 0;" class="cdm"><span style="color:#daa520;">TOP OF THE WORLD, BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN</span><br/><span style="color:#7a5f48;">THEY BUILT YOU UP AND BROKE YOU DOWN AGAIN</span><br/><span style="color:#191970;">SO NOW YOU HOPE TO BEAT THE SURF IN</span></span></center>[/html]
#7
ooc. apologies for the wait. attempting to write on a very tiny, crappy netbook lessee how this goes... Your call if the thread ends or the chase begins. :D

ic. His smile contorted into a frown as the large Luperci asked him a foreboding question. He held his breath, expecting to be lunged at by those nasty fangs. The brute answered his own question instead and Sababu let out an inaudible sigh of relief. At that exact moment, in his split-second of inattention, he felt a forceful power overtake him and he let out a terrified screech. Next thing he knew he was lying prone in the dirt. His head throbbed from the impact of the Luperci's paw and he felt a fear reminiscent of his time spent in slave camps back home. He stood up, cringing and snarling, "Yoo are no different than all de udder wolfs! Peek on da weak, booly us... and den get upset when we show our deesgust!" He spat in the wolf's direction and took off in the opposite direction. He prayed for the beast not to give chase, but he couldn't help himself for uttering one last parting word, "FOKKER!"


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