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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. |
Well, this was rather unfortunate. The wolf had gone out, alone, to try and find food and get a feel for this new environment that they settled down at for now. With the rest camping somewhere deeper into the Dampwoods, Lukos decided it was a good idea to go explore from camp all the way out to the outskirts, in detail to get an understanding for what was around that they could use or need to steer clear from. Apparently however, he had become too complacent after the tragedy that befell his family, and the world thought it fit to remind him of that.
He had gotten a little ways off, perhaps halfway through his search when he heard something in the trees. Stopping to hone his senses, the swordsman grabbed his trusty katana's hilt before a whirling noise sailed through the air and collided into him. Feeling rope wrap around him, the wolf snarled as two stones smacked against him, restricting his arms as he tried to retain balance on his legs. Bolas, of course. Effective to use, annoying to be used on. Three figures emerged from the surrounding brush, one bee-lining for him as the grey male started to howl for help and was swiftly tackled to the ground. Landing with a resounding oof, he had the fleeting thought that he might talk his way out.
"Would you-" he began before the dog on top of him began viciously pummeling his face, blow after blow raining down and snapping his head back and forth, the final fist landing square on his chest, leaving him gasping for air. With his chestplate still broken from the arrow it took before, he never thought to repair it or make a new one. Lying there as they searched him for valuables, only finding a sword to pry away, the wolf thought on how much of a fool and how careless he was for such obvious blunders. He should've learned from how close to death he came last time.
With one of the bandits examining his blade and the other two hoisting him to a sitting position, their apparent leader inspected the black metal sheath, drawing the sword to look at it's edge. "Fine piece of metal you've got here, friend. Tell me," he said, taking the sword completely out and discarding the scabbard offhandedly, pointing the blade at Lukos. "What's some old man like you doing in the middle of nowhere with no food? The knights aren't too far from here, but you don't smell like one." he noted, seeing the victim's fur beginning to turn a brighter shade of grey than the rest, his scent being far too that like a loner's to belong to any pack. A pack still existing, at least.
"Who were you calling." he asked, getting right up into yellow eyes as he pressed his own blade to Lukos' throat. What irony this was, to have a sword that wasn't even double-edged turned against him. Putting on a smile, Lukos chuckled, tilting his head. "I can't tell if you're a risk-taker or just stupid for hunting so close to the Cava-" he said, not even allowed to finish as the pommel of his hilt came crashing against the side of his head, the whole world blurring and ringing as his sudden captors repeated a question he couldn't hear now, drowned mumblings just above a watery surface as he bared his fangs and hazily glared up. Honestly, you'd think they'd be gentler to someone so scarred, even missing most of an ear. Kids these days.