You got some power in your corner now

Noel; BD Jan 14

POSTED: Mon Jan 30, 2017 3:19 am

Optime | Riparian Moors; mid-day | Backdated: Jan 14 | cNPC: Bronx (+715)

Sorry that it took me so long to get this up! Dx We can continue this without Bronx! I just figured it’d be a good reason as to why Shikoba might already be in a sparring mood!

There had been quite a bit of action to be seen on their borders as of late. Even more so, there had been someone—or, a group rather if the midnight raids had shown anything—that was brave enough to actually pick a fight with Inferni. The coyotes had suffered a few losses from the attack in the night, but the death of their comrades had only made their attacks that much stronger. Whoever these wolves were, whatever cause they were foolish enough to believe that they could be the victors in, they had picked the wrong team to go against.

The clan would not be so easily caught off guard so soon. Fully aware that there was someone out there that had a bone to pick with the coyotes, the clansmen would have had the knowledge to keep sharp look out over one’s shoulder.

Cockiness never guaranteed a win in a fight, and as proud and strong they may have been as a pack, they couldn’t let their guard down. It was this reason that Shikoba had taken Bronx out while the weather had a brief moment of calmness. The skies were an ugly grey and saturated all of the bold colors that still remained in the world. At the very least though, it wasn’t snowing, and, that meant for a perfect opportunity to do a bit of sparring.

In the night raids, the young Quintus had been rather lacking in terms of fighting prowess and knowledge. Had it not been a group effort, Shikoba was sure that the coydog would have wound up as dead as poor Maddox. The fight had been a bit of a shocker to Bronx himself, and, as he’d later admitted, group fights had never been his strong suit, even less so against those that had an Optime form.

It was a weakness Shikoba sought to remedy. Otherwise, the next fight might very likely be Bronx’s last.

Bronx had been eager as ever to get some training in, not wanting to be a burden the next time…if there was a next time. The Whiplash had assured him there would be. The seemingly failed raids would likely lead to a second, more organized wave.

Seeing as how the Quintus was bound to a four-legged form, Shikoba thought it might be good to spar with the coydog while in his Optime. It would put the younger Infernian at a disadvantage, sure, but, better for him to learn against an ally than in the life-and-death battle against an enemy.

Shikoba had led the pair to the Riparian Moors. The once-green meadow was flat enough that they could get in a good lesson, as well, the trees that surrounded it helped block out some of the random frigid winds that blew across the open land. They had been going over techniques and cues by the time the sun had started to peak through the heavy, grey sky.

“Okay, come at me,” the Sciens coached, gesturing for Bronx to begin once more with the beckon of his fingers.

The coydog let out a deep breath. His lips thinned, and his golden sights were set on Shikoba’s arm. With his wits gathered, the young male put his large paws into motion, gathering speed up until he lunged. His maw parted to reveal his large, ivory fangs, intent to let them sink into his target.

At the last second though, Shikoba jerked the limb out of reach, and he felt the hard knuckles of the coymutt strike him lightly in the temple. Bronx landed easily in the snow, the blow having only been enough to make him aware of it than to actually hurt him. His shoulders fell as he looked to his friend, who only shook his head. “You’re too obvious, Bronx,” Shikoba informed him. “I knew exactly what you were aimin' before ya' even got two feet into motion.”

He waved the targeted arm around for emphasis. “It’s one thing to pick out what ya' want to go after. It’s another when ya' only focus on achievin' that. You didn’t even think about my other hand did ya'? Or even my feet?”

Bronx’s ears fell and he sighed.

Shikoba Whiplash

User avatar

POSTED: Sat Feb 18, 2017 12:31 am

Almost two days had passed since the last attack - two days Noel had spent confined to his bed, left to lick the wounds he had sustained during his brief scrap with the raiders. Harosheth, an aging, rusty-furred woman, had taken it upon herself to oversee his recovery; her soft-spoken personality seemed to do a complete 180 when it came to her patients, as she spared no pity for him when it came to his routine checkups. (The cranky teen had relayed back to her, albeit in broken, heavily-accented Spanish, that he absolutely refused to be cooped up in the stuffy room - an argument that lay upon deaf ears, as she pretended she could not understand him in hopes that he would drop the topic entirely.)

Frustrated and fed up with the constant surveillance, the teen had slipped away in the early hours of morning before she had the chance to drop in, limping slightly down the silent halls of the D’Neville mansion without a set goal or direction in mind. Even now, as he found himself wandering into the grassy Riparian Moors, his chest throbbed with a dull ache - an unrelenting reminder of the injuries he’d sustained during the ambush. He thought back on what he had seen as he walked - what he still could see - the motionless bodies that lay unnaturally still, unblinking eyes that stared up at nothing, the surprisingly red blood that had stained the slushy snow scarlet - it was not the first time he had witnessed the aftermath of death, but it had never felt... real until that night.

The coyjackal shook his head as if to remove any lingering thoughts, huffed, then continued on.

Through the misty morning haze he could make out two figures sparring, blurred and ghost-like through the light fog that touched the meadow. He recognized the first coyote to be Bronx, a plush puppy-like male (who, in his opinion, seemed to be too much of an airhead to do any good in a fight). The man that stood next to him, on the other hand… Noel cocked his head, squinting as he slowly drew closer. His features and fur color resembled another hybrid he’d seen before - Shikoba, was it? - leading him to believe that he was, in fact, the Sciens male in his Lupus form.

The solitary teen continued forward, approaching the pair as inconspicuously as his vibrant coat allowed him to be. Bronx, he observed, was no match for the older hybrid; Shikoba countered the coydog’s straightforward attacks with practiced ease time and time again, moving with a fluidity that could only come from experience.

"He ain’t much of a fighter, dontcha think?” the youth divulged abruptly once he had come close enough, brash and shameless in a way that spoke volumes of his less-than-stellar upbringing. “Spar with me instead.” In his eyes, there was no need to tiptoe around the meaning behind his words - one too many harsh encounters at the docks had taught him that only those who held hidden agendas had reason to conceal their intentions. Most would call him boorish, but he cared not; someone like him would hardly have the time to worry about something as trivial as manners in the slums.

OOC: Noel is in Lupus, I also apologize for my delay!! :<
Wordcount: 546
User avatar

Dead Topics