[m] cardboard cartons the color of cement, a dog pack

holding in its hate

POSTED: Thu Jan 11, 2018 9:22 pm

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.


Sorry for the wait, guys! It's time to drive out the dog squatters that have hassled Inferni!

Dated January 5th, set in the Concrete Jungle near the churchyard. Preferably most of the dogs are beaten up and chased off, rather than outright killed, but if you're interested in killing one of the dogs, contact me. If this gets busy, we can set up a separate channel in the Inferni Discord to sort things out.

The stench of cannabis and alcohol wafted from the outskirts of the old churchyard, while voices rose up with ribald jokes or slurring song. Crouched in the weeds, Clover bristled at the audacity of the mongrels; even after multiple minor altercations with Inferni members, and explicit threats if the dogs didn’t leave, they were howling around a campfire like they owned the place.

She began to slink forward, moving as quietly as her bulky Secui form could afford. Behind her, other shadows detached themselves from the forest and crept closer. She smelled soot and aggression in her comrades, felt their energy. This would be their first proper battle, and proper victory, in their new lands. It felt like cleansing.

As she came around the corner of a gravestone, she spotted a couple of the dogs: two shorthaired bully mutts in old wool-lined jackets, one hanging onto an old metal bar and the other smoking a cigarette. Near them a black-and-tan mongrel was tapping rhythmically on a piece of wood and singing lowly in some foreign creole. Clover couldn’t see the others, but she heard drunken giggles behind an old van, and someone cussing someone out.

She kneaded the hard, cold earth with her claws and suppressed a growl low in her throat. Perhaps of all the Infernians with her, she felt like she had the most to prove—that these mongrels in this dead place, her birthplace, were not “her people.” She had chosen the wily warriors around her.

Conrad, poised beside her, let out a little hiss as a signal. Then he, and Clover, and others, rushed onto the street.

The mostly-white bulldog spotted them first and started barking angrily, lifting the metal bar and aiming to swing it at Conrad, who dodged. The female pitbull dropped her cigarette and unsheathed her claws, backing away and growling. Behind the van, a familiar drunkard staggered out—Tahoe, hair mussed. Beside him was a skinny brown dog who began to shake and snarl at the sight of the coyotes.

Clover rushed for Tahoe, eager to tear into him like she’d promised she would, but then a shaggy gray shape leaped out from behind the van and smashed into her. A bony shoulder jabbed into her flank, and she rolled over on the pavement, protected from abrasions only by her thick coat. She snarled and whirled on her attacker—

A matted, skinny gray dog who stank of booze, snarling back at her with glazed eyes.

Clover’s heart stopped. Her tail drooped. She didn’t move, even with the chaos of the fights around her, the yips and barks and howls.

She couldn’t hear it anymore. And, suddenly, she couldn’t see.

User avatar
oderint dum metuant
cave canem
unconditional loyalty

POSTED: Wed Jan 17, 2018 1:00 pm

[WC: 261]

Some days he itched for a fight.

It wasn't as if he missed war (which he recognized as a necessary thing) or even killing (though it was his moral duty), but there was a rush that came from it that made him really feel alive. Properly, fearful and in as much control as one could be of chaos, fighting was breathing every sweet breath of God-given air and know that it was for this creation he had been made to defend.

Antioch embraced and loved this duty. At its summons he had come without question, though provided little insofar as direction. He disagreed with needing to exercise resistant. Death was a part of battle, and the sort of thing likely to be found when one decided to fight.

Huge and bristling, Antioch exploded with a burst of speed at the sound of Conrad's signal. He held back just enough to make sense of where everyone was going – and saw a great mass of gray collide in his vision. His eyes snapped forward. Two of the unfamiliar dogs were all but upon one familiar, and Antioch snarled. This sound alerted the pair, but the stinking one he collided with didn't move fast enough and took the brunt of his weight. It bowled her over while Antioch found his momentum again and spun towards the male.

The shepherd dog snarled and barked like a madman. Unfettered, Antioch used his superior speed to propel himself into a proper leap. He snapped at Tahoe's arm, his ears pinned to better protect them against retaliation.

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
signature art by Songbird
User avatar

POSTED: Thu Jan 18, 2018 12:56 am

Posing as hardcore

Redtooth, being a father, had a personal stake in all of this. Boone and Merari were getting older and more prone to wander around the territory without the supervision of either parent. It was only a matter of time before their curiosity took them to the ruined city where the dogs ran rampant. These squatters, they were a clear and present danger. Redtooth volunteered eagerly to help drive them away.

Dogs didn't belong here, he thought, and anyone who didn't share their coyote heritage was to be treated as a threat. Of course, Redtooth made a rare exception for Clover, but it was not a kindness he intended to share with the dirty mongrels who hid in the ruins.

He gripped the handle of his axe with both hands; white knuckled and tight. Ready to swing. He didn't want to kill. It wasn't in Redtooth's heart to take someone's life if he didn't have to. He was, however, ready to make quite a show.

Holding back, Redtooth watched the barrel fire burn as he waited for Conrad's signal. The orange light danced, casting long shadows along the broken concrete walls and narrow alleys. He took a hasty breath and held it in. His hands shook. He was at war again.

With the signal cast, they made their charge. Clover and Antioch singled out the leader while Conrad squared up against some burly looking bulldog. Redtooth trailed behind and brandished his axe. Redtooth's eyes met those on a brown, scrappy looking dog who appeared to come fully unhinged. He could see untapped fury in his eyes. Hate, fueled by youth and the powerful will to survive by any means necessary. In his hand, Redtooth could see the glint of silver in the firelight. A knife.

The dog charged. Snarling. drooling. gnashing; all with rabid intensity. Redtooth held his ground and tightened his grip around the axe handle.

He stepped into the swing and aimed for the wild boy's gut.

OOC drivel goes here.
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
The Family
User avatar

POSTED: Fri Feb 09, 2018 11:32 am

🍀 Replying to this again, but others are still free to join in. People can kill Tahoe and Adande; Red has Bambi covered. :') The others are gonna get out.

The matted gray dog didn't recognize her. There was nothing in her glazed eyes but that flare of feral instinct, possession, rage.

The dog gnashed her teeth and advanced, her reek choking Clover, who was in a world of roaring silence and darkness. She trembled and stepped back, but then Antioch rushed forward and bowled the skinny dog over. She rolled on the pavement; Clover smelled blood from an abrasion and heard a loud, harsh curse. The dog had trouble getting to her feet, and meanwhile the clan was in their midst.

Antioch dug teeth into Tahoe's arm as the man beat a fist over his head desperately, while a thin mangy mutt was snarling wildly and rushing for Redtooth. Conrad's target had changed; he fought the singer now, who wielded his wood "drum" as a weapon.

Clover turned. She looked for the grey dog, but she seemed to have vanished -- as if she really was just a figment of her imagination.

She spotted the bully dogs instead. The tall, broad white male had turned to leave in the chaos, and the female pitbull was jerking on his arm, shouting at him: T-bone, don't you dare go--

Clover wouldn't let him. She rushed for them next, barking.

User avatar
oderint dum metuant
cave canem
unconditional loyalty

POSTED: Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:15 pm

[WC: 245] Tahoe isn't dead yet, but Antioch can finish him off ;>

Bite, hold, shake, release, repeat.

As a puppy this was how he had learned how to kill. His parents and elder siblings would give them opportunities to learn this, but when he had been alone Antioch had found this technique adaptable to the violence ahead. Even now the simple pattern was more than enough against the screaming wolfdog. It was a noise as angry as it was painful, and Tahoe – bleeding severely – went wide-eyed. The awful two-tone look of them might have spooked a mangy mongrel like the company he kept, but Antioch felt immune to shock.

Not with his firstborn son dead. Not with the wars and the chaos they had brought. No, this was work, nothing more, and he was not moved by it.

He hit the cold ground and pushed forward as soon as his legs were able to bend properly. Antioch was far too close for Tahoe to put much distance between them, but it was enough to make an attack like the previous one unobtainable.

Tahoe cradled his wounded arm close to his belly. He was shouting at Antioch, cursing foul obscenities, looking for a way out or a weapon. Unwilling to grant him an opportunity to find either, the coyote dove for Tahoe's legs. The wolfdog attempted to kick him, lost his balance, and shrieked when Antioch mauled his leg – and his working hand, when it narrowly missed slicing the coyote's scarred face.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
signature art by Songbird
User avatar

POSTED: Fri Feb 16, 2018 6:54 pm

(Sought permission to use T-Bone, apologies for late post, not in best head-space.)

Sometimes he had witnessed shapes in the shadows, typically Dawn or Dusk, milling around the sad, scant remains of the blasted urban landscape that surrounded St Paul's Church, his little sanctuary away from the mainstray of the Clan. They kept their distance with what the Stranger perhaps imagined was a measure of trepidation; although in truth there was ever one true resident within the confines of the relatively undamaged Church, the occasional visitor or two had seemingly given impression the place being too well lived-in to risk trespassing.

And tonight the strays were terribly bold; camping out with little to no attempt at hiding their presence and within eye-shot of any coyote who happened to visit the religious building. Were they intentionally trying to provoke a response, did they not fear the coyotes?

Perhaps not, and perhaps Maja would be saddened by what was to come, because the Stranger knew she'd be watching over him, over the others, beady little bright eyes glinting at the inevitable to come. His grip on the staff-axe tightened.

It all just... mattered so little now as the ambush was sprung; Warriors of the Clan lunged from the darkness like shadows brought to life, carrying the wrath of a people destroyed by another, moralistically inferior kind, throwing themselves upon yapping off-cuts and unwanted vagrants.

...And there, the Stranger circled the skirmish, languidly keeping to the shadows, his weakened figure melding into the darkness even as Clover, Redtooth and... what was his name again? Antioch, father of the kindest children Jhiral had met, he was sure... if memory hadn't failed him. Perhaps there were others, but it became a blur of violence.

The Stranger hesitated, knobbly feet rooted to the spot as shapes danced in the darkness, identities melding into abstracted shapes to the tune and scents of snarling, growling, screaming and cutting and mauling and... He wasn't here to kill or maim; he was here in some fashion to support the others, but hadn't joined in the initial surge... oh no. They could absorb the attention, the attrition, while he skulked like a opportunistic predator, moving to cut off any idiotic idea of the strays moving towards the Church, and within moments, the opportunity arrived.

He prepared himself, quickly checking bandages were in place, face half-hidden as shuddering jaws half-bared.

Thus a white-pelted man, thick of frame and weilding some manner of authority from the moment he barked out warnings, tried to flee the field, going in the direction of the graves and its attendant Church, leaving behind a female of similar breed that the Stranger was unsure of.

Clover followed the coward.

Jhiral stood out from scant concealment in the graveyard, looking entirely at home as he rolled his shoulders, presenting himself as an obstruction, seeking merely to re-direct the bigger, running bulldog, leaving his fellows to their fates.

T-Bone's dark eyes widened as he witnessed another man pop up from seemingly nothing, sneered at the shrouded figure with a gleaming long-axe, stumbled over something in the ground, to a staggering stop and realised the error of coming this way. "Get outta the fuckin' way!" The bully-dog swore, metal bar swinging prematurely as panic began to grip his spineless and half-clad form, yet the Stranger merely advanced, that shiny axe dragging over the top of a grave, the noise as grating as his presence.

The white bulldog panted and snarled, with a brief backward-glance he saw the grey dog chasing after him, turned back and flung himself onwards, wanting to leave, now, before he was chased down and mauled. Even with a head-start it wouldn't last long.

"Bastard! Fucking coyotes, fuckin' ruining a good thing." At first he struck a grave without quite meaning to, then found his impromptu melee weapon batted to one side, before losing patience and simply using his weight to shoulder-barge through the fully clad man, the pair bowling over in a graceless heap of snarls and wordless rattling.

In the confusion of flailing limbs and loss of balance, T-Bone gripped and tore away cloth and something wet, snarling as he bolted up in an effort to run, but cried out as the axe-blade opened a line in the back of his left leg, dropping the thing in one hand while the metal bar acted as balance to stop him falling in the other.

He awkwardly spun about, ready to strike -

- And gaped as the Stranger, already risen if stooped, bandages wrought from that ravaged face, bright eyes standing out in the darkness for a moment before he screamed a terrible, shrieking noise that offended the bulldog's now-flattened ears from its off-tune, piercing tone which rung out into the night.

The stray's voice involuntarily joined in as the axe swung around his distracted vision, catching his hastened-defensive posture in the arm to add another flesh wound. It was nothing lethal, but it merely served to further endear T-Bone to the fanciable notion of leaving with all haste, this time away from the church and away from responsibility for his kindred.

As the pale-stray limped away with foul noises, Jhiral slowly fell to his knees and coughed, panting deeply and dryly wretched, his bearded staff-axe pushed to one side as a grave became his stabilising force. One hand felt about his jaws, touching the tender shape, detecting what felt like something missing from surface of his lips and left cheek, emitting a slurred sigh.

Oh bother. The jackal huffed out in mild displeasure, situational awareness of others dipping now that he , mostly-there tongue flopping uselessly before licking at his lips, tasting blood. He hummed rather merrily, twisting about to see if anybody else was around - wasn't Clover chasing the man too? Either way, his fingers sought out the side-bag which amazingly hadn't been lost, seeking out spare material to cover his face once-more with a manner of urgency.

(T-Bone has some new scars to celebrate, no sleep for him tonight, but otherwise running away.)
Casa di Cavalieri
Second Cadet (NPC)
User avatar

Dead Topics