M - Murder in the First Degree

Ciellen

POSTED: Tue Dec 17, 2013 10:22 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.

Kohaku Amarok
I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar I am the son and heir of nothing in particular

Crimson dripped down bitter steel, falling into the snow to stain it a gruesome shade of pink. The surrounding snow had been flung in various directions as splatters of blood told the tale of the fight. Light flakes of snow drifted from the grey sky, drifting between the charred and dead trees with an almost peaceful air. Meanwhile, the two advisories squared off on final time.

Kohaku's creamy fingers gripped the bound handle of his dagger as his breath came in slow, controlled pants. His short sword lay five feet to the side, well out of his way and half buried in the snow. His left fingers ached from when the other male had violently dislodged the sword from his grip. Blood tricked down his bare arms where he had been slashed and his lip bled from where he had been socked in the jaw. Bruises would surly form in his belly and back from the tussle, but for now they bothered the young male little. Yet, for all of his injuries, his opponent was worse off.

Before him stood a perfectly white luperci male, an arctic wolf no less. The other brandished a heavy broadsword and sported a chain mail shirt. Both males were nearly the same height, although the ivory arctic wolf was clearly heavier than Kohaku. Despite his weight advantage, the arctic male bled heavily from a series of deep and serious cuts that littered his body. His bright pink tongue hung out as he panted profusely.

The broadsword was lifted high and slow before it came crashing back towards the earth. By then, Kohaku had easily danced to the side, using his dagger to cause another gash in his opponents arm. A howl of pain came from the snowy wolf as he slashed sideways. Yet the steel kissed only air as Kohaku leapt out of the way. Each swing came slower than the last as the brute tired. In a sudden turn, the other dropped his sword and charged Kohaku head on. Kohaku lifted his dagger, but the small knife was swatted out of his hand. Kohaku grunted as the arctic male barreled into his chest and soon they were down on the ground rolling.

Snow flew up and threatened to blind Kohaku as he struggled. White fingers wrapped around his throat as the male pinned the Anathema beneath his body. The pain did little to stop Kohaku as a twisted smile crossed his lips. His ivory and cream arm shot up, hand flexing backwards to activate the catch to the blade hidden in his gauntlet. Without a seconds hesitation, he drove the blade into the other male's snowy neck and gave his opponent a red smile. The grip around his throat relaxed as the other fell on top of him. Kohaku grunted as he heaved the dead weight off his own body, blood staining his white white coat and making him feel rather sticky. Heaving his tired and injured body to a sitting position, emerald eyes gazed down at his fallen opponent. "Should have just given me the mail when I asked for it."
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Ariel
Luperci

POSTED: Thu Jan 02, 2014 10:46 pm

OOC: Sorry for the wait!!

The arrival of winter had carried the wanderer's journey inland, though the frigid spray of dark seas was not a deterrent to him. He was a creature born in the cradle of arctic frost; his first memories were of snow and ice and the red, red sun. Rather, it was a restless mind that pushed his paws to the tangle of wood, where he thought the ache of memory might settle in a world less familiar to him. The barren arms of silent spectators reached toward his snowy figure, pulling and snapping as he passed.

In the pause of breath he heard the sound of struggle. Ears rose to their full height, and with muscles bound to stillness did he listen to the discord of two men. Like falling snow the wanderer swiftly pursued the action, nose quivering in urgent guidance, his movements hushed upon the late breath of winter. Eventually the woods gave way to the entanglement, men as sturdy as the creaking boughs that caged their turmoil, wounded and unwinding in chaotic exertion. The wanderer only received the tail end of their dispute, and as the other emerged from beneath the body of his assailant, Ciellen approached.

He dropped his satchel a foot away from the fallen man and knelt beside him. Large hands made quick work of his examination, turning the head, feeling the pulse, looking for a sign of life or its potential where there was clearly none. The male resembled him in some fashions, carrying the lineage of his people although certainly not the culture of it. His size recalled a vision of his brothers, June in particular, the spitfire of the Loreaths always looking for trouble. Fingers ran over the gash in his neck, and felt its wasted heat die in his chest.

The bright blue of his eyes addressed the living one now, although there was no anger or accusation in his gaze. "Are you alright, my brother." he asked, observing the blood around his lips and arms. He carefully replaced the body of the other into the bed of snow. There was nothing to be done for conflict or its consequences.
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POSTED: Fri Jan 03, 2014 4:11 pm

Kohaku Amarok
I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar I am the son and heir of nothing in particular

Thin cuts traced lines up and down his arms, breaking through his thick winter coat and exposing tender red flesh. Yet the cuts were relatively shallow and while they might bother him for a few days, were of little consequence. Kohaku doubted they would even scar. As he sat, he ran his fingers over his split lip and whined slightly at the pain. Nothing too bad, nothing dangerous or deadly. Although he wasn't looking forward to the next few days. The cold wind bit at his cuts painfully, a sensation Kohaku wasn't entirely used to. Despite the mexican influence of his father, Kohaku sported the winter coat of his arctic mother and very rarely felt the cold.

The moment his fight was over, another arctic wolf emerged from the woods. Kohaku scrambled to his feet, ears flying forward as his black lips pulled back into a feral snarl. However, the other moved to the dead wolf's body and began to check for signs of life. Kohaku relaxed and moved to collect his dropped weapons. They were his previous tools, given to him by Aeron when she had first agreed to train him. He couldn't afford to loose them.

Kohaku went for his short sword first. He picked the blade up as he knelt on the ground. With great care he grabbed a fistful of snow and began to clean the blade as best he could. A rare tenderness came from the young male as he worked. It took only moments for the blood to clear and Kohaku whipped it down with what clean section of his robe he could find. He sheathed the sword and moved over to collect his dagger. As he moved, he glanced at the stranger with suspicion. He wasn't threatened by the newcomer, but Kohaku didn't want to be caught unaware if the other arctic wolf decided to attack as well.

The patchwork male repeated the same process with his knife, cleaning it with the utmost care before whipping it down and sheathing the blade. Cinnamon ears flicked towards the still living arctic wolf and his gaze rose to meet the other. A cocky smile drew across the young male's lips and he gave an amused chuckle. "Doing better than the other guy." His smile disappeared though as he turned to face the other. "His armor 's mine though." Kohaku gestured at the mail that the dead wolf wore. Kohaku's tone practically dared the newcomer to dispute his claim and a threat lingered behind the young male's gaze. "Friend of your's? Or a just a nosy stranger?"
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Last edited by Kohaku Amarok on Thu Jan 09, 2014 8:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Kohaku is dead. I am accepting no more threads for him, but I will finish current ones.
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Luperci

POSTED: Thu Jan 09, 2014 5:00 am

The response of aggression hadn't fazed the wandering medic. He seemed to expect it the way one anticipates rain on a cloudy day. And just as thunderstorms came and went, the adrenaline had quickly drained from the scene, leaving only dampened suspicion and distrust. The survivor went about his interests with tight lips, unknowing his actions would betray a softness to Ciellen. By stolen glances and the grace of adjustable ears, he had perceived the way that his friend of conflict meticulously and carefully cleaned his weapons. Even travelers of dubious entanglements had precious moments, relived through every fond and tender touch to the worn relics they carried. Ciellen had once cherished the items of his satchel for the memories they embodied, but a long road and increasing isolation turned his materials anew. Like the rocks or trees, suddenly they seemed foreign in their distance and far removed from their contexts. Alone, even his possessions were like strangers, and he realized the only thing he really owned was his memory.

Gentle blues rose receptively to Kohaku's hard gaze. He returned a small smile to his words and gesture, and gave a low laugh.

"The sounds of your disagreement were hard to ignore," he spoke, before looking back toward their mutual acquaintance. "I do not know him, but I think in his current state, he would agree that his armor is more useful to you than it is to him."

The wanderer placed his palm along the slope of the man's cold forehead, his eyes traveling the paths of distressed creases and wrinkles that immortalized his final moments. His eyes were wide still, glaring into the frigid unknown. There was a great pain in his passage, and Ciellen felt only a practical type of sympathy. But there was no telling what lifestyle the wolf had lead, or what hopes he had for his demise. The warrior life was not one that Ciellen particularly understood or condoned, but because of his duty as a medicinal wolf, he was invariably tied to it. How many men had he seen ride with the fires of glory in their eyes and hearts, only for Ciellen to later uncover as broken men. He knew too many that had professed their wish of valiant, honorable ends. It was the romantic, enchanting sort of wish, carried from boys to men. He wished he could have arrived moments before to have at least put the man at ease. Careful hands laid the man's eyes to rest, sheathing them beneath their white veils. "Go with peace."

He turned toward the mail then, and carefully unwound their mechanics from the stiff body. As rough hands worked the armor gently from their owner, he spoke, "If you would like, I have a balm you can apply to your wounds. It will ease their sting and keep them clean. No sense in joining your friend, now that he has bestowed upon you such a fine gift."
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POSTED: Thu Jan 09, 2014 8:55 pm

Kohaku Amarok
I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar I am the son and heir of nothing in particular

For a brief moment, Kohaku had almost forgotten about the stranger as he tended to his blades. The Dasa hadn't meant to show the arctic male his gentle side and would have scoffed at anyone else for doing so. It was a complete accident and he didn't even realize he was being so tender to the weapons. However, they were his prized possessions and the only things he really cared about in the world. Whether Kohaku realized it or not, the care he showed towards them was as obvious as daylight; not only in the way he handled the blades, but in the care he took to keep them clean and sharp. Each blade was well maintained and the hilts were constantly in good repair.

In response to his question, Kohaku was greeted with a small smile and the answer he desired. "So you're nosey." It wasn't a question. However, the young male wasn't really bothered by curious strangers. So long as the male didn't try to steal his prize, Kohaku could care less what the other did. A smile erupted on Kohaku's face when the ivory wolf commented on the defeated wolf's armor. "He could have used more armor." Although the young male spoke confidently and his tone had a cocky ring, the fight had been hard. Kohaku was quick and agile, but he wasn't as experienced as he liked to think he was and could get bullheaded in a fight. While his injuries were fairly minor, Kohkau had been hard pressed until the very end.

Emerald eyes rolled in the patchwork wolf's head as the other offered a final blessing to the deceased canine. Kohaku found the gesture beyond pointless, but he decided against interrupting the other. There was no point in starting another dispute. He simply shook his head and waited for access to the body. "Hey-" Kohaku shouted after the male began to remove the mail that Kohaku had fought for. The youth's creamy hands immediately grabbed hold of the hilt of his short sword and a snarl threaded to erupt from his maw. However, the other began to speak and Kohaku relaxed as he realized that the snowy male wasn't going to contest the prize. In fact, he even offered to tend to Kohaku's wounds.

Kohaku's eyes narrowed in suspicion and his ears flicked back as he watched the stranger. "What's the catch?" There was no such thing as free.
WC::000|| Ames de la Mort
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Kohaku is dead. I am accepting no more threads for him, but I will finish current ones.
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Luperci

POSTED: Fri Jan 10, 2014 4:38 am

The youthful warrior was all edges and sharp remarks, but when it came to his blades he was as smooth and peaceful as the polished steel. Ciellen held onto this thought even as the survivor quipped about his opponents' dearth of armor. It occurred to him that Kohaku himself did not seem to sport much in the way of protection, and yet he had managed to come out relatively unscathed. If he really put stock into the idea that more armor increased safety, and this armor had failed its previous owner against a wolf with little to none, how much good would it do for him? And then he thought how much of fighting was preparation, material and skill, and then how much of it was just plain luck. As the young man waited, Ciellen smiled to himself.

Kohaku's protest went ignored as the medic worked the mail off the now nearly immobile body. Unknown to the boy, but obvious to the wanderer was his complete disinterest in such material, even if it would make for a good trade. There was no use for Ciellen to gather more possessions, especially since he had become increasingly disenfranchised with those he already carried. He did not feel threatened by the young warrior either. Undoubtedly the smaller male could deal him considerable harm, kill him even, but the medic had no reason to believe that he would. No matter how insidious or misguided his reasons for conflict may have been, Ciellen had seen the boy in him, lost and shaped hard and rough by the world, tenderly cleaning his only means of comfort and stability.

One satisfying pull freed the mail at last, and Ciellen patiently held it open for the warrior to see. It seemed large by comparison. "You'll grow into it," he laughed, his deep voice low and rich. After a slight, teasing pause, he offered it to him, expecting that the young man would not feel comfortable until it was in his hands. Then he stood and dusted off the snow from his legs. The youth's wariness and suspicion did not annoy him as it might with others, and with enduring patience he gave the other a calm smile as he moved back to his satchel. The bag folded to accommodate his large white hands.

"I ask only that you give me your name. You can keep everything else."
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POSTED: Fri Jan 10, 2014 6:48 pm

Kohaku Amarok
I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar I am the son and heir of nothing in particular

In truth, Kohaku's victory over his opponent had been a mixture of luck and skill. The young warrior trained day in and day out with his blades, honing his skills and perfecting his art. He had learned at the feet of masters who had taught him to use his small, agile body to his advantage. When Kohaku was able to keep a cool head, he could be a formidable warrior. The fact that his opponent had chosen a broadsword made the fight a bit easier. All Kohaku really had to do was dance around the arctic male until his opponent had become too tired to even wield the blade properly. However, his good luck had kicked in with each narrow miss. One true blow at the hands of the broadsword would have finished Kohaku once and for all.

Kohaku enjoyed being up close and personal with his opponents when he fought. It was why he chose to use a dagger and short sword rather than cutlasses or rapiers. With the smaller swords all Kohaku needed to do was get past his enemies defense and the game would be his. A long sword was good for reach and heavy hits, but the weight of the blades slowed the strikes down and made close combat next to impossible. It was this weakness that Kohaku had chosen to exploit and it had led to the ultimate demise of his snowy opponent. However, getting in close also meant exposing himself to a battery of kicks, punches, and other short ranged weapons. For that reason, Kohaku had been slowly accumulating light armor to add an extra layer of protection.

The still living arctic male laughed as he held the mailed shirt ip for Kohaku to see. Emerald eyes rolled in the warriors head as he grabbed the chain mail. "So long as it doesn't fall off, I don't' care." He could feel the steel links weight in his hands and the texture of the interlocking rings against his sensitive pads. Kohaku couldn't help but smile as he brought the mail close to his face as he turned it over in his hands. There were a few rust spots that would have to be repaired and it could use a good cleaning. Otherwise, the mail was excellent condition and a wonderful prize. A good piece of chain mail could protect him from most slashes and cuts. He'd have to still be careful around jabs, but it was better than nothing.

Crimson ears flicked as the other asked for his name in return for a look over. For a brief moment, Kohaku considered telling the other to stick his medicine where the sun don't shine. However, getting his wounds checked out couldn't hurt. "I'm Kohaku… Amarok." A brief look of pure hatred flicked across his face, there and gone in an instant. His birth mother's name had been Amarok and the only thing Kohaku could say about her was the looked forward to the day when her life would end at his hands. He hated Kiara with every fiber of his being and only wore her name as a reminder that she was still out there. Someday though, he would have his revenge and he could drop that horrendous name.

Moving towards a nearby log, Kohaku lowered himself onto the trunk as his side complained about the movement. With the fight ended and his adrenaline levels dropping, the young wolf was beginning to feel his bruises. "Alright, lets make this quick. I don't want to stay here long enough for some self righteous idiot to come along and decide he has a right to judge me. What's your name by the way?"
WC::000|| Ames de la Mort
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Kohaku is dead. I am accepting no more threads for him, but I will finish current ones.
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Luperci

POSTED: Sat Jan 25, 2014 2:13 pm

Ears drawn to their full height, the wandering medic observed with interest as Kohaku examined his prize. It wasn't an area that Ciellen knew much about, but he could see the familiar look of trained appraisal in the boy's gaze. He was still so young. The wanderer wondered of the kind of life which thrust a person so early into such a brutal career. Many of the men Ciellen met and treated had come from privilege, and saw the duel as an honor to their family lines. A naive thought to Ciellen now, where the road had shown him a man's capacity for cruelty, where each individual carried their sadness like another accoutrement picked from ruins. The world beyond Tatkret exposed the softness of his own upbringing. His brothers did not fight for their lives or struggle to feed themselves. They did not starve in the colder seasons, but relished fresh snow, dove into the icy waters and gleefully chased seals. His brood was well accommodated, and his brothers had sought the excitement of battle unknowing of its grave effect. He remembered his father's broad hand nearly enveloping his shoulder as he touched it. "Will you not fight, Ciel?" A man so tall and so hardened by the life of the arctic, and yet Ciellen still questioned his judgment.

Gentle blues flickered curiously as the boy scrunched his face and spat out a name. There was probably no denying its authenticity, he couldn't imagine someone faking a calling they so obviously detested. A smile creased his features, but the warrior was already off and settling himself along a log. Snowy shoulders rose and fell with quiet laughter, and the medic returned to his belongings. As he shuffled through the miscellaneous objects, he thought of relinquishing some of them despite their material value. His monastery had been filled with ancient treasures. When Ciellen had returned to seek readmittance and found the remains of his Brothers, he took some of their cherished items with the will to bring them to their families. But he soon discovered that many of them did not come from families such as his. They had been alone in the world. They had sought a family among lost strangers. Techniques of healing had been more than just purpose to their lives, it became a bond. His hands paused around a simple carved stone, the only insight he had to Orfeu's life before the monastery. His heart ached in thought, wondering of his good friend's last days.

He quickly shuffled it aside and found the balm. Unlike most of his possessions, he kept it in a tiny glass jar, something of a relic from the old age. It was useful in preservation, and as he came across herbs he would not have to worry of their expiration. Gathering a small cloth in addition, he stood and brought the supplies over. He bent down in the snow. "Do you frequently encounter judgmental travelers?" he responded to Kohaku's words, though his attention focused on his swollen lip. It did not seem too problematic, and in its saliva rich location, with the touch of cold, the swelling would subside and the laceration would quickly recover. But it would not hurt to clean it. He dabbed the cloth along the snow for dampness, and applied it carefully over the surface of his cut. His hand withdrew, and he opened the jar. "My name is Ciellen Loreath." Blue eyes flicked toward him. "A traveler, though not judgmental. Everyone heals just the same," The balm was cold and its consistency slippery, but once applied it would quickly absorb the burning of pain and the sting of exposure. His attention carried then to the boy's arm, and his hands would gently guide it to extend. He wanted to be certain nothing was out of alignment. Ears listened carefully to the flow of the warrior's breath, waiting for hitches or abnormalities in sound. "Do you suffer from pain in breathing?" he asked, though he suspected Kohaku sported little more than bruises around his ribs.

OOC| Sorry for some PP here with his examination, lemme know if you want me to change it!
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POSTED: Sun Jan 26, 2014 6:31 pm

Kohaku Amarok
I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar I am the son and heir of nothing in particular

Honor and glory meant as much to Kohaku as rabbit piss. The young warrior felt no need to prove himself in valiant feats of glory and gore. Kohaku had experienced first major battle at the tender age of eight months old and had killed his first canine at six months. He had been raised to believe that he was a prince among wolves and to take whatever he wanted by any means necessary. Besides rape, Kohaku was willing to do anything. So rather than searching for glory, Kohaku went looking for trouble and fights because he found a sick glee in making others suffer. The pain of others was his pleasure and murder was practically a sport.

Kohaku hadn't come from privilege either. He had grown up on the road and on the run, constantly moving from one place to another. Until Amy's death, his roof was the sky and the most he had even owned was a bit of rawhide that Amy had given him so he wouldn't chew on her wagon wheels. His life had been hard and even harder when he had been forced to take care of Amy's orphaned daughter for a while. But hard environments bred hard men and Kohaku, despite his agile and lithe form, was as cruel as one could get.

The white wolf's question had Kohaku for a minute. "Uh, yeah… I guess." Kohaku didn't really experience to many judgmental travelers, but he knew they were out there. He remembered how New Dawn had reacted to Amy's lifestyle and Kohaku life wasn't too different from the way her's had been. The last thing Kohaku wanted to do was stir up trouble before he was ready too. It would happen eventually. After all, Kohaku still owned Zalen and Kiara a good and bloody death. However, those were plans for the future and Kohaku preferred to remain relatively forgotten for the moment.

Ciellen introduced himself as he began to work on Kohaku's various wounds. Emerald eyes regarded the other with contempt as he flatly replied, "I really couldn't care less." He scoffed as Ciellen explained that he wasn't some judgmental travel. Everyone judged, just at different levels. "Well, aren't you just special." The examination continued on and Ciellen proceeded to prove and prod Kohaku's various parts. When prompted, the warrior answered with a terse, "No. That idiot wasn't competent enough to do more than give me a few scrapes and bruises." Despite Kohaku's bragging, a lot of his victory was due to luck. Although skill factored into the equation, Kohaku couldn't completely take the credit.
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Kohaku is dead. I am accepting no more threads for him, but I will finish current ones.
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POSTED: Fri Jan 31, 2014 3:12 am

The boy's dismissal coaxed a chuckle from the medic, though his attention did not stray from the task. He thought about how the warrior's comments illuminated the absurdity of an absence of judgment. Ciellen meant only to put the youth at ease, but realized belatedly that his choice of words seemed conceited. He could understand Kohaku's reaction. He gently lowered Kohaku's arm and turned it to show its cuts. He cleaned them off with a new corner of the dampened cloth, then carefully applied the balm again. He did not think the wounds were problematic and within a day or two, he would surely be on his way to perfect health. At his examination, the boy further derided the fallen warrior's skills, and Ciellen could only raise a brow.

"Oh..goodness." he breathed, suddenly very tense as he observed something along Kohaku's side. A large hand gently touched along the youth's left rib. "It seems.." he said with a stony expression. Eyes narrowed in serious inquiry, and he pressed his face closer, his hand knocking gently at the young warrior's rib cage. It was a foolish sort of maneuver, and anyone trained in medicine would realize his farce. He withdrew from Kohaku seemingly shaken, his head bowed as he cleaned the cloth with melted snow. Patiently, slowly, he placed the lid back on the balm and gathered his items. Blue eyes rose to meet the gentle emerald, a soft sadness creasing their edges. He looked away and stood up. "Have you been checked by a medic before?"

OOC| Sorry for the shortness! Hope you don't mind Ciel playing a little prank, haha x)
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