[M] steeled yourself for travel, unpacked your blade

POSTED: Tue Nov 28, 2017 11:59 am

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.

Clover stood on the fringes of an old junkyard: a rusted chain-link fence flattened on the pavement, dead grass sprouting in the asphalt, broken glass and bricks everywhere. An old minivan was overturned, its contents reeking of mold, and a gnawed bone abandoned months ago lay among the weeds in its shadow. The woman stepped closer and looked inside, shivering though her coat was thick and healthy and she wasn’t very cold.

She never thought she would be back here again.

She stepped away from the stinking van, its chewed leather interior and piss-stink, and folded her arms tightly across her chest as she looked down the street. The new Aquila had seemed somewhat contemptuous of what they’d called the Concrete Jungle, but nonetheless the coyotes had begun to place scent markers on old telephone poles and the corners of buildings. Maybe they thought there was something worth scavenging here, never mind the old fire had hollowed out all the brick and stone.

There was nothing here for anybody. Clover remembered that.

She kicked a little rock and watched it skitter across the pavement, bouncing off an exposed piece of rebar with a ting. Then she heard a sound up ahead: a low wuff, the soft and uncertain sound an alarmed dog makes before the barking begins. She stared in surprise as a mongrel stepped out from behind the concrete half-wall, a handsome shepherd who stank of alcohol.

She flattened her ears and began to lift her lips in a warning growl as the dog staggered toward her, his ears pricked and tail wagging, like he knew her.

“Mariaaaa,” the man crooned. “Whatcha doin’ out here, girl? T-Bone found a new stash, don’t worry, daddy saved some for you if you do me one o' your favors—”

He came closer. Clover snarled and lunged at him, swiping the arm that reached for her. He yelped and grabbed the bleeding white limb, and gawked at her. He sniffed. His eyes widened; one of them was a pale blue as to look white.

“Oh shit, you aren’t Maria!”

“Who the fuck are you?”
Clover demanded, advancing on him. He skittered back, got his paw caught on the fallen fence, and fell on his ass. “This is Inferni territory now!”

The shepherd stared up at her in utter confusion.
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POSTED: Wed Nov 29, 2017 10:27 pm

(Permission to power-play Tahoe granted for minor-ish stuff, woot, hope this is fine.)

The surroundings here were actually more depressing than those left behind after the fire, that itself was almost impressive. Abandoning a perfectly usable hideout, wandering for days and then returning to the fold, or something to that effect, had... a somewhat enlightening effect on the otherwise reclusive man.

The scents and sights of burnt out land did not inspire a great well of confidence, the Church he had camped out in with his belongings was... stable, at least, and so far nobody had looked too hard at what the scarred man took with him, thankfully. With scant time here, Jhiral had met few members of the clan en-route with little surprise, Fang was as-ever frowning at his recurring injuries, but at least she was getting practice with a patient that didn't complain.

So it was here, among the husks of former civilisation, that he wandered as lonely as a cloud in the sky above while lazily following the caws and noises of his avian-friend, barely bothered as the chill settled in, biting at exposed features, his coat hardly growing to compensate.

Maja was ahead, flying swiftly in wide, lethargic arcs, following a female more familiar with others in the clan than the raven's own counterpart, curiosity getting the better of her as the girl, Clover, inspected the sad remains of a junkyard, a hopefully usable structure laying upon its side being swiftly forgotten as the big dog-female swiftly found and then began to stalk towards a incoherent, light-pelted male.

Within moments the big raven had decided to act, fluttering down with a rather distinct grace while cawing merrily, landing upon a cracked half-wall of concrete within mere metres of either Luperci, startling the shepard-man on the ground. Blinking to and fro her bright eyes settled upon Clover, perhaps she had known Stark too? She felt a little sad, then focused upon the dashing gentleman who reeked of one thing or another "Eyyyye, woofers." She greeted helpfully, startling the man into shuffling away and dragging his backside over the rusted fence, widened bi-hued eyes flicking from raven to canine, canine to raven.

Coughing, the man nursed his bleeding arm. "The fuck is this?" Eloquently put sir.

Maja tilted her head, briefly bemused. "Am Boss Birb." She croaked with a winning expression and fluttered her wings, much to the fallen male's incredulous reaction.

"Who - I don't - just piss off bird!" He spat, trying to hook his paws onto the fence, staggering to get up and shivering, blood coursing now, moving away haphazardly, unwittingly putting himself in a worse position when company would be called.

Taken aback, Maja opened her slackened beak towards Clover, as though deeply offended, before emitting a distinct call to her own friend, but making her tones ever-so slightly obnoxious for the questionable benefit of the Luperci present, answered moments later with a off-tune whistle out of sight, from behind the confused, stinking loner.

It wouldn't take very long for Jhiral to enter the forsaken junkyard, different direction, so both Clover and the man could comfortably stand-off as the gentleman tried to hurry, unknowing of what exactly to expect, could be seen from some distance calmly clambering over random debris, the metal butt of his walking-stick knocking against random rubbish and broken components of long-forgotten shapes, eyes shaded under the hat, seeking out what was causing all this fuss, panting from the exertion. Given Jhiral was to one side, effectively flanking present company, the otherwise-handsome shephard-male was apparently ignorant, his drunken state doing little to help realise the situation's growing concern while focusing upon the grey dog who advanced upon him so swiftly.

"I don't know who you are girl, I live here, see?" He addressed Clover, huffing, mildly bothered that a stranger would turn up like this when he was looking for somebody else.
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POSTED: Tue Dec 19, 2017 11:53 am

Clover balled her hands into fists and opened her mouth to repeat himself — but then a raven landed on the concrete wall and greeted them. The shaggy dog looked at the clan bird with curled lip, reasoning that the creature was just as daft as most of the others; why else interject itself into a tense interaction, trilling for attention? If nothing else, it at least worked the shepherd mutt into further bemused frustration. He got up.

And then the raven cawed, and another bird whistled — but it wasn’t a bird. Clover squinted at the figure approaching over the grounds, then glanced at the mongrel.

“You mean you lived here, asshole. Your nose so far up your fucking ass you can’t smell the scent markers around the city?”
The grey woman advanced a few more steps, and the man narrowed his eyes and tensed in preparation to meet her. “Do yourself a favor and fuck off somewhere else, drunk-ass limp-dick.”

The shepherd suddenly grinned at that. “Goddamn, you got Maria’s mouth on you too,” he said, then raised his brows in playful flirtation as he staggered closer again. “C’mere and I’ll see if it works good as hers does—”

Blood spilled onto the concrete again as Clover, snarling like a demon, lashed out. He recoiled and cursed as the slash narrowly missed his pale-blue eye, then sloppily struck at Clover. The punch grazed her shoulder and let him get close enough for her to grapple, though once she had her claws in him she only shoved him away again, let him trip on the rubble.

“One last chance, motherfucker,” Clover shouted in his face, puffing up to her full size.
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POSTED: Wed Jan 10, 2018 10:52 pm

(Apologies for late reply, will try and do better. WC; 699)

Indeed Maja trilled for attention, it was another trait the large raven possessed and was more than happy to play up to whenever she desired. Hopping and cawing, she drew the attention of somebody rather unlike the current pair of naked combatants.

On his part, Tahoe took all of the grey-woman's swearing and vulgarities in his drunken stride, a lecherous grin playing across his long, self-admittedly handsome muzzle. Oh yes, she had a mouth alright, and getting past her over-aggressive posturing, she had a fiine body too, strong, slim and curved in all the right places -

Then she clawed him. Even with alcohol coursing through his veins, the shepherd bloody felt that. He recoiled, the she-demon getting the better of him for only a moment before he tried to punch the bitch, only for her to shove him away, again his backside met rusted fencing.

"Bitch!" He literally spat out, saliva twanging out of his now-bared maw, perhaps coating her face while she shouted and puffed up too-close for comfort, previous attempts at flirting dropped. "Fffuuck you, I'd mean that lit-liter-literally." He continued while scooting back, fingers catching in the metal of the fence, before he'd stand up once-more, circling around her in a stagger.

All the while, a well-dressed gentleman arrived and doubled over none-too-far in the background, one hand gripping his walking-stick and staff-axe, the other holding the edge of a ravaged metal-frame, coughing loudly enough for Clover to hear, but apparently undetected by the drunken doggish-Luperci as he unloaded less than flirtatious words. "I'm not leaving, 'cuz you 'rrived and stuck your chest out," He sneered while naturally glancing at her notable chest. "...sight 'fer sore eyes assit-is. Maybe I could call m' friends, see how eager you are, bitch." He added, hands feeling about in a heap of useless rubbish, before he'd grasp at something akin to a terrifying... bent wooden stick, while being entirely focused upon Clover, rather than the raven that cawed and bounced, or the second Infernian only starting to look up, panting and doubled over.

"Or you can behave now, yeh? Your call girl, last chance before I get 'pissy and stop tryin' to be nice." He delivered that with all the power he could muster, but being inhibited and bleeding, had less the impact than desired. It was only a moment later he had the brain-spark to turn around, and swore loudly while finally recognizing he was outnumbered and standing right in the middle. "Who're the fuck are you?"

For his part, Jhiral choked on his saliva, then frowned as he witnessed the scene of a man being an abject bother towards what Maja had communicated as a fellow pack-member, thus he felt inclined to help. Rising up and offering a very helpful wave of his right hand, the man closer the gap quicker than expected, rolling his neck and thudding the walking-stick, making Tahoe try to back away, his own choice of weapon, a near-useless thing, being held with rather little courage as he gazed in morbid curiosity at the bandaged features of a man who's appearance made Tahoe's own skin crawl - it certainly wasn't from the cold air.

"Eyyye, friend, meet naiked mutt and naiked woofer! Naked peoples, meet friend!" Maja cawed loudly enough from nearly-behind Tahoe, eliciting a startled, wild swipe, striking nothing but thin-air and his own decreasing pride as the man stumbled again, all the while the raven croaked out an obnoxious, mocking laughter. "Ayyye clan-friend... dog. Need 'elp, yeh?" She added towards Clover, fluttering merrily.

Meanwhile Jhiral sought to simply get closer, pressuring the handsome man further, to the tune of flustered swearing and a sniffing cough, another swipe at thin-air doing little to nothing as the jackal stopped, unleashing a comparatively placid hum, neutral in body-language. The foreign man glanced to Clover in a self-conscious, yet hopeful manner, ears lowering and shoulders tensing, aware of her anger and not wishing to also be on the receiving end. Naturally, however, he sought to very-much offer a 'good afternoon, miss' in body-language and a crinkled, eye-smile, before refocusing his attention upon the miscreant nearby, rolling his shoulders as he thudded his walking stick against the junkyard's ground.
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POSTED: Sun Jan 28, 2018 11:25 am

[365] I'm late too ;) But for what it's worth I think you captured Tahoe perfectly!!

Clover bared her teeth and bristled and cursed, though anyone -- or anyone whose nose wasn't full of their own booze-stinking breath -- could smell more than just aggression on her shaggy coat. Her eyes were dilated, though from a sensastion far from pleasure or arousal. Old ghosts plagued her mind, and with each slurred word and swagger of the man, she felt more and more afraid.

Her ears flickered at a distant coughing as her clanmate made his way over the debris that littered the old yard, but she pinned them down and snarled when the man ogled her and grabbed for an old piece of wood in the rubbish.

The dog opened her mouth to say something else cutting, but her lecherous enemy spun around and gawked at the diseased-looking beast lumbering toward him. The street mongrel jumped at the raven's squawk and backed away from Jhiral -- who greeted Clover in some silent, well-meaning way.

"... a fuckin' zombie..." the street-dog was cursing, and he swung his stick weakly at Jhiral, more like he was trying to ward off a demon than deal damage to a mortal, normal foe.

Clover grimaced but advanced as well, and let a series of deep, growling barks erupt from her throat: half angry shouting, half meaningless animalistic noise. Turning to see that she was advancing with teeth and claws bared, the odd-eyed mutt pinned his ears, spat one last curse at each of them, and tucked tail and sprinted across the yard.

Clover followed him with more barking and snarling until the mutt leapt a fence that she slammed up against. Her claws hooked around the chain-link, and she rattled it like she wanted to tear it down -- but she only became aware of her heavy, panicked breathing. She slouched back, taking deeper, slower breaths and turned to look over her shoulder quizzically at Jhiral.

Then her mouth tightened in a frown again, and she offered only a bland: "Thanks." Only her shaking fists suggested she had more she wanted to say, but while she knew of Jhiral (who could miss him?) she didn't know him well enough to say more.
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