[m] something wicked this way comes

Heine

POSTED: Tue Feb 16, 2016 2:12 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.

Duncan de le Poer
Late afternoon, eastern border, edge of the Pine Barrens near the Garden~ :3 [ 430 ]

The garden had been a favorite spot of his as of late, not because he liked to garden or anything at all to do with plants – especially since in the dead of winter there were no plants – but more so because of the possibilities, and the plans he was making deep in the back of his mind. As his glacier gaze swept the area, he could already see what he wanted to do and where he wanted to do it, and his eagerness to do it was getting ahead of his ability to get anything done. It was still winter after all, he couldn't see the ground, and what he assumed was a grassy knoll could very well be a muddy ditch when spring came and the thick blanket of snow melted away. He could dream all he wanted, but he couldn't do anything until the time was right, so all he could really do was wait; he just didn't like it.

Spinning his spear absently in his hand he wandered past the garden in way of the river, meandering northeast to where the Pictou forked to form the Deception, and where a chill wind swept in from the bay. He pulled his borrowed cloak tighter around his shoulders as a shiver threatened to rattle him, instead a sigh escaping the young de le Poer in a puff of warm breath in the frigid winter air. With the breeze came the scents of the bay, of salt and sand and ocean and fish and outsider. The last scent hit him suddenly and he almost snorted it out, not expecting to smell another luperci, nevermind one that did not belong to Salsola.

Frowning, he tightened his grip on his spear and moved to investigate, just reaching the edge of the Barrens when the sound of an argument could be heard. The scent of outsiders – two by the pungency of it all – mingled with the recognizable scent of someone he knew, and when he finally broke form the trees he found a very familiar Trell confronting a pair of ragged looking coyotes who looked none too pleased to find him there. The loudest one, with a stumpy looking tail, kept going on about not taking anything from a slave while his companion simply nodded in agreement, fingering the knife on his belt like he aimed to use it. Growling lowly, the scout slowly stepped up to stand just ahead of the slave, eyeing one stranger and then the other before finally speaking.

"You two are on the wrong side of the river."

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Salsola
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Eve
Luperci Vedetto Macha Tribe King Bee
night gathers
and now my watch begins

POSTED: Tue Feb 23, 2016 3:45 pm

HEINE KAISER
[ 1,008 ]

He had been out hunting for his master when the sun had begun its steady descent on the horizon. The gradual shift from winter to spring was becoming more apparent with each passing day. Prey was becoming more abundant, the lesser animals out collecting food or finding potential mates for the upcoming season. Heine had nabbed himself a few plump hares and a fat raccoon with his trusted bow and arrow that afternoon. He had tied the creatures up by their hind feet, and had slung them over his shoulder. His bow rested on the other. The Trell hoped the night’s dining would be sufficient for the Arbiter and Henchman. Nowadays, Heine tried to kill two birds with one stone, making use of the animals’ hides as much as he was their meat.

The Huntsman’s plans for the day to have been an easy one were quickly thwarted though as he saw an unfamiliar pair of coyotes on the wrong side of the Salsolan border. It didn’t fall within his duties to accost trespassing strangers, but, given the recent attacks on the pack’s borders, Heine felt he’d be wrong not to check things out. He had strung his quarry up in a tree before quietly sauntering over to the two foreigners with his bow at the low ready.

“Reckon this’ll be ah good place teh camp?” The tan hued one asked his rough-looking companion.

The other answered by dropping the pack from his shoulders, “Meh, good’ess any.” He rolled his shoulders and neck to get out the day’s kinks.

I don’t think it is,” rumbled the slave as he stepped into view. His slate gaze hardened on the two smaller Luperci, his shoulders pulled back and spine straight to commit to the air of authority that he otherwise lacked elsewhere in the pack. The pair before him looked like they had seen better days. One had a stump tail and patchy fur. The other, the tan one, looked just as worn, with ears tattered and hide flea-bitten. “Mangy” was a perfect work to describe the duo.

At his sudden appearance, the two visible jumped, obviously having not expected to have had company in the vicinity. “Give’ah guy a bark before yeh just sneak up on ‘im like that!” Tattered-ear hissed in a manner that could have been joking, had his hand not instantly gone to the sheathed knife on his belt. The pair turned to face him, and Stump-tail’s fiery gaze narrowed instantly on the golden ring that hung from Heine’s nose.

“Eh, ‘ee’s nothin’ but’ah feckin’ slave.” He spat at Heine’s feet as if disgusted by the sight of him. Any respect they might have had for him was gone at the detail.

Heine curled a lip. The observation had been pointed out to him too often for it to have an effect on him anymore. “And I want you to leave.” Was this how they did it? He had never been someone of ranking power before. It shouldn’t have been too difficult though? Common sense said that a show of aggression and authority should have been enough.

Stump-tail whipped his ratty tail behind him as his ears pinned and he bared his teeth. “Yeh ain’t got no say-so ‘here, whippin’ boy!” He made a dismissing motion with his hand. “Get off an’ git yer master, an’ maybe we’ll talk, yah?”

“You’re trespassing—”

The ragged one shrugged nonchalantly, “Eh? Who cares! Ain’t like we’re hurtin’ anythin’!”

Heine’s hackles began to rise at the Outsider’s stubbornness. “You will leave willingly or with an arrow in both your knees, take your choice, Archloch.” To prove his point, the Trell tightened the tension on his bow and turned his arrow threateningly at one of the stumpy-tailed coyote’s knees. He wouldn’t get in trouble for harming a trespasser, would he? He hoped not…

Stump-tail took a bold step forward, a hand grabbing at his own knife strapped at his thigh. “I ain’t ‘bout tah take no feckin’ orders from a feckin’ shoe-lickin’ mutt!” Behind him, Tattered-ear nodded in solemn agreement to the aggressive words. “I’ll slit yer throat and feck yer dead feckin’ body like yer bastard pop did teh yeh whore ov’ah mum before I listen teh the likes of yeh!”

The Trell snarled, and had readjusted his aim so that the arrowhead leveled at the coyote’s heart when he heard a low growl and a pair of footsteps on the snow. His slate gaze flicked, and his body readied to attack at the thought of being outnumbered three to one. As he saw who it was though, his muscles relaxed a bit. It was Duncan, the Salsolan scout who had helped him before.

The darkly-hued De le Poer stepped between the Trell and the Outsiders. He looked more threatening than when Heine had last seen him, what with that expertly held spear of his. His appearance seemed to cause the coyotes to rethink their bullying strategy. Knives against a bow and a spear, two hybrids against a pair of flea-bitten pure-bloods. The answer should have been obvious who would win if things got ugly, but, even with the odds against them, the coyote duo were reluctant to back off just yet.

“Eh, what’s’it to yeh, pretty boy? You gon’ threatin’ me too like yer bottom bitch over there?” Stump-tail readied into a fighting stance, followed by his partner beside him. “All’s yeh had teh do was’ask, and I’d plow yeh too,” he sneered goadingly with a suggestive wink.

Even though it only added to the coyote’s point about him being nothing but a slave, Heine looked to Duncan expectantly, waiting for the ranking member’s command. His bow remained ready to fire a quick shot at either of the Outsiders.

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Heine Kaiser

Salsola
Serf (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird
Luperci Mate to Abeni All Hail the Fallen King
YOU'LL NEVER BREAK ME

POSTED: Thu Mar 10, 2016 1:15 am

Duncan de le Poer
I see your big reply... AND I RAISE YOU BIGGER REPLY BD Aha~ no, but I did get carried away <<' [ 1144 ]

The mouthy coyote spoke great volumes that flowed in one ear and out the other as the scout stared him down, glacier gaze cold as ice as they pierced through one outsider and then the other, sizing them up and taking stock of their weapons and overall ability to use them. The mangy looking coyote was smaller than the noisy one but looked to be in better shape with a little more muscle on his lanky body than the taller skinnier loudmouth. Separation was their best bet, Duncan had decided in that small instance of calculation, and with a threatening point of his spear at the face of the talkative coyote had only one final command to give when the slave looked for his instruction.

"That one is mine." He said rather grimly, his voice low and gruff as a growl bubbled up from his throat. The loudmouth coyote looked him dead in the eye and then laughed in an overly exaggerated manner, slapping the shoulder of his comrade as if the threat was some kind of joke. "Did yeh 'ear 'im? 'That one is mine'!" The outsider laughed some more, doubling over for a moment before straightening up and running his arm over his nose as if to wipe away sweat. "Dear oh dear, I've never laughed so 'ard in all me life!" Duncan's flews quivered, his glacier gaze hard on the coyote as he suddenly sprang into action.

He took the mocking coyote by surprise but he was still quick enough to pull his dagger from his belt – a long and simple blade, tarnished with age and poor upkeep – and throw an arm up to knock the first jab of Duncan's spear out of the way. The scout reeled back and sprang forward again, testing the coyote, seeing how good his reflexes were, if there were any at all. The male brought his arm up again but was too slow that time, the sharp point of his spear raking across his forearm and digging into his shoulder. "Argh! You feckin' son of a whore!" He backpedaled, clutching his wound. "Drop that feckin' bitch stick and fight me proper yeh coward!"

Duncan took a brief moment to assess the situation. In time with his movements the Trell had sprang into action as well, his first arrow missing in the sudden explosion of action and the second striking the mangy coyote in the thigh, forcing him forward to close the distance between the archer and his knife. He looked like he could handle himself well enough and the loudmouth coyote seemed relentless, his grating voice summoning his attention back as quickly as it drifted away. "Oi! Pretty boy! C'mere so I can carve up that handsome mug o' yers."

The coyote suddenly burst forward and the scout had to drop his spear in favor of his knife, which was pulled from its place strapped to his thigh with one hand while the other threw off his cloak to better his movement. "There we are, now tha's more like it!" The loudmouthed coyote taunted as he thrust his dagger forward, aiming for Duncan's ribs. The young de le Poer hopped to the side and countered with his own jab, narrowly missing the coyote's ribs, but was thwarted by his sporadic movement. He backpedaled a couple of paces to put some space between them and augment his strategy, the coyote bouncing on his feet like he was actually enjoying himself.

"C'mon pretty boy, what ye got, eh? Don't know 'ow t' fight without that bitch stick o' yers?" He tossed his dagger between his hands and then charged again, the loudmouth's jab deflected with an arm and countered with one of his own, landing a solid stab in the coyote's side. The blade stuck a little but eventually slid back out as the trespasser yowled and staggered backward, clutching at his new wound and gasping like he had been winded. Duncan took a few wary steps back, putting some space between them as the coyote took a moment to catch his breath. "Had enough?" He straightened up out of his fighting stance for a moment, staring down the doubled over deadbeat, who glared up at him with a fire in his eyes like he most definitely was not done, but it was clear he did not have the strength to continue while bleeding from two wounds.

"I'll be sure teh ask yer mum when I'm done plowin' 'er tonight." He sneered, spitting in Duncan's general direction as he straightened up with a pained groan, slipping his dagger back into the sheath on his thigh. Holding his side he kept his eyes on the scout and backpedaled toward where he and his friend had left their things, stopping once his foot touched a bag. "Oi! Let's get outta this feckin' place afore I change me mind about killing this'un." He called to his friend, feigning more bravado, but it was more than obvious he was hurt badly and losing blood. "I'm done lookin' at 'is pretty boy mug any'ow." He spat at Duncan again before he reached down and grabbed the bag from the snowy earth and straightened up with another groan.

Duncan released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in a slow and measured exhale, the heated air from his lungs hanging briefly around his face in a silky cloud of condensation before dissipating into the chilly air. Calmly, he bent down and plucked his cloak and spear from the ground and wiped the blood from his knife and spearhead with the bottom edge of it before draping it back around his shoulders and replacing his knife in its sheath. A glance was spared in way of the Trell but only briefly as he kept his gaze leveled on the stranger, who was eventually rejoined by his friend. "Steer clear of these lands from now onward or you won't leave with your lives next time."

His threat hung in the air as if it had fallen upon deaf ears but the interlopers were well within earshot and it was clear they heard him, even if they weren't going to listen. He doubted they would be returning after taking such a beating but they did not deserve to die, even if they were terrible individuals, and even if they did start the fight in the first place by trespassing where they were not wanted. Although he was well within his rights to kill anyone who dared violate the sanctity of Salsola's borders it didn't mean he had to, and though he was more than capable of dispensing such justice it didn't mean he wanted to either. Sighing softly, the scout finally turned his attention fully to the slave, offering him a weak smile. "Not exactly the way you planned on spending the morning, aye?"

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Avatar by San; Siggy by Songbird
Salsola
The Family (NPC)
User avatar
Eve
Luperci Vedetto Macha Tribe King Bee
night gathers
and now my watch begins

POSTED: Tue Apr 05, 2016 2:05 pm

HEINE KAISER
[ 1,005 ]
Sorry for the wait! Dx I forgot we had this one too once the other one was finished! Also, don’t mind Heine x___x I had to give him SOMETHING to do other than just stand there xD As well, I assume you meant evening and not morning? xD

It appeared that Stump-tail, the loud one of the two coyotes, had goaded Duncan enough to warrant him to be chosen for the dark Salsolan’s partner. His stupidity and arrogance would lead to the coyote’s downfall, the slave decided with a decisive nod towards Duncan. It was obvious from his appearance that either one of those flaws were the reason for it. And the fact that the smaller man dared to stand toe-to-toe with the spearman with nothing but a knife? Even Heine, poor as he was at fighting, saw the clear disadvantage.

Oh well, the Trell thought as he adjusted his aim, It’s their funeral.

Duncan struck out and Heine loosened his first arrow. With the spark of energy spurred from the spearman’s first strike, the two coyotes’ coiled reflexes had allowed them to evade their attackers. Tattered-ear rolled out of the way of the arrow, coming to his feet with his dagger poised and ready to strike. He took two steps before the Huntsman had strung another arrow and deftly aimed it into the coyote’s meaty thigh. When the projectile hit home, plunging deeply into the man’s muscle, he was praised with an ear-shattering, yelp-howl combo.

Tattered-ear stumbled forward, trying to catch his balance while not accidentally falling on his own blade or pushing the arrow deeper into his flesh. Another arrow was notched from Heine’s quiver, and the earthen slave took aim. He did not fire immediately, instead, waiting for the trespasser to decide his next move. He could have very well killed the mangy animal with two shots—for good measure—to the heart. However, to take such an action would be overstepping his lowly rank. As much as he might have wished to—especially in light of what had happened to his master, be these filth related to such events or not—the Trell knew very well that if he caused unnecessary troubles for the kingdom, the Queen would likely see that he be put down.

The coyote stumbled to his knees, letting out ragged, pained breaths as if he were trying to psych himself out of the pain likely emanating from his thigh. When it became clear that the coyote was temporarily stunned, the slave strode forward. Sensing Heine’s approach, Tattered-ear’s head shot up. His eyes were wild and ablaze. In an attempt to make the Kaiser back off, the coyote flung his dagger at him. A knee-jerk reaction, his blade was easily evaded, and he was rewarded with an arrow to his shoulder at near-point blank range.

He fell backwards onto his posterior, and was helped the rest of the way by a firm foot belonging to the hybrid. Never before had Heine felt so much power. His vision was practically red in his anger. Many innocent lives had been attacked and ended at Salsola’s borders, and his master had almost been one of them. The coyote pair didn’t look to be affiliated with the man he and Basilaris had mauled, but, their blatant arrogance and refusal to admit to their trespasses made them easy to be lumped in with the dead man all the same.

Heine reached down and ripped his first arrow out from the coyote’s thigh, the action aided by the Outsider’s squirming. Tattered-ear let out a howl as the arrow’s points ripped his flesh as it was forced from his body. Though Heine had arrows by the dozens, he couldn’t very well afford to let these men leave with his handiwork. He tossed the blood-soaked projectile away from them and, while the coyote was howling about his leg, the Trell firmly gripped the one that was lodged in the meat of the man’s shoulder. Heine looked down at the howling mess with fire in his slate gaze. “I may be a slave, but we’re all made of flesh in this world.”

The Rebel pulled the other arrow from the coyote’s shoulder just as mercilessly as the first. The Outsider below him screamed. “And even from my low status, my teeth can still cut you.” Tattered-ear continued to make his godawful racket, but with his blade carelessly thrown away from him and Heine’s arrows retrieved, the Trell felt the man was of little immediate danger to him. The archer backed off, flicking the blood from his newly retrieved arrow as he searched for Duncan.

The spearman seemed to have held his own well enough, as Stump-tail sported a few new wounds that glittered in the retreating sunlight. The coyote had been in the midst of a retreat when Heine had notched his bloody arrow. It was meant to be a persuasion, should the loud-mouthed man have any ideas of deceit. Stump-tail called to his friend who staggered to gain his footing. He reached for his partner in crime, and the pair hobbled off back into unclaimed lands.

Heine let out an irritable snort at their retreat. He continued to watch them, and when Duncan offered a final bid of warning, the archer let loose the blood-coated arrow into a nearby tree, spurring the mongrels to hasten their steps. When they had finally ventured further than Heine could see or hear of them, he casually went to retrieve his three arrows before doubling back to get the game animals he had put aside when he had first seen the two interlopers. The Trell had been in the midst of searching for the discarded knife that Tattered-ear had flung at him when Duncan addressed him.

His chocolate-dipped ears flickered, and Heine stalled his searching to give the Salsolan his attention. Nein, Sir,” he agreed. There was a thoughtful pause before the slave looked away. “Do you think they had anything to do with the bodies?” His voice was low, as if the topic were something of a secret conspiracy.

Template: Hilli / Andi
Heine Kaiser

Salsola
Serf (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird
Luperci Mate to Abeni All Hail the Fallen King
YOU'LL NEVER BREAK ME

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