forfeit the game

Shikoba

POSTED: Sat Oct 14, 2017 10:08 pm

Mid October, after the caravan raid but before the ambush. Afternoon in Drifter Bay very close to Salsola. [ 444 ]

The war had him busier than he had been in ages. Now more than ever he and the other scouts in the pack were in their highest demand. The security of the borders had become one of the pack's top priorities and Duncan was determined to do his part to ensure no one unwanted was going to get through. With an enemy that knew them better than anyone had before, it was imperative that things were always changing and nothing could be predicted. Shifts, routes, traps, scent trails, everything at and near the border was in constant flux. Nothing could be kept the same for too long or it would become a weakness.

It made the job a little harder but Duncan was never one to back down from a challenge. Although he liked the freedom his job provided -- allowing him to explore beyond the borders and come and go as he pleased -- he found himself rather restricted with the demands of war keeping him relatively close to home. Every now and then he was sent off to do reconnaissance or had taken it upon himself to do some forward scouting, but for the most part he was near the border, checking traps, resetting them, and making sure no foolish coyotes were stupid enough to try something crazy.

That day went on like any other. He began his rounds early along the northern border where there was, in theory, less likely to be an attack. He always started there because the northern border was unpredictable. The mountains provided them cover but it too provided a hide for their enemies, and from the reports coming in they were taking advantage of that more often than not. Once content that the mountainous region was safe he pressed on to the eastern periphery where most of the traps were and for the most part things were fine until an ear shattering squeal jarred him from his routine.

It was distant, coming from where one of the traps were set further out, and he had to pull his horse into a sharp turn to race out toward the sound. It wasn't a rabbit or a fox or something that usually made a sound like that, it sounded luperci, like someone instead of something was caught in their trap. It bothered him to think that it might be an Infernian, that it might be someone he would have to hurt or kill. He wasn't sure if he was ready to do that, but if it had to be done... No. He could reason with them. Free them. Talk it out. There just had to be another way.






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Salsola
The Family (NPC)
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Eve
Luperci Vedetto Macha Tribe King Bee
night gathers
and now my watch begins

POSTED: Sun Oct 22, 2017 4:17 pm

Optime | cNPC: Scuttle; NPC: Wind, Eidolon (+912)

[IF/SL] War

Did a break for Scuttle so I could set the scene for an angry protective Shikoba for ya’ (also to give you stuff to RP to until Shikoba arrives!)! Also, woooo! 100th post on Shikoba! :D

Shikoba had thrown himself headlong into doing his duty in protecting the Clan once more. Even “new” to the pack, the coymutt wasn’t one to let his level of rank stop him. He knew what needed to be done, knew that the Clan needed protecting and whatever information they could get ahold of. Having had the training as a Scout since his youth, it meant patrols and gleaning whatever he could from them; from new trap locations and dismantling them where he could to enemy movements as they passed in the neutral lands of Drifter Bay and the nearby mountain range.

He’d made traveled close to the mountainous area that day, taking his mustang and hawk with him for ease of travel and for having a different point of view on the ground below. The path he’d taken out had, thus far, proven rather uneventful. The Tirones had found a few simple traps and snares that stunk of the work of someone other than Inferni. Notes had been made on the crude map he’d brought with him, and, where he could, he had dismantled the more hazardous ones.

His white bird glided high in the sky above, searching in a way that might have passed for her looking for an easy meal. Beneath him, Wind walked easily along, gait unhurried and ears relaxed, indicating that there was nothing in the immediate area that was cause for alarm. Shikoba sat tall in the saddle, eyes and ears listening and searching for possible traps or a Salsolan. They had drawn pretty close to their enemy’s border now, and he knew his presence there would be asking for trouble.

A sudden, loud squeal amongst the softly blowing autumn wind caused Shikoba to jerk in his seat. His mustang paused too, her head turning and ears pricked and rotating at the alarming sound. It sounded like a Luperci, and, being so close to Salsola’s borders, Shikoba highly doubted that it would have been one of their own. That meant…

With a swift jerk, he turned his horse towards the direction of the sound, not caring about disguising their presence when there was a likelihood that one of the Clan was out there. If he had heard it, so too had probably a wandering Salsolan patrol. And he’d be damned if they hurt another coyote on his watch.




Scuttle jerked on the painful line of barbed wire that had lassoed her about her neck. She whimpered and squeaked as the wire’s points dug into her thin coat. She could feel them puncture when she moved too roughly, however, the fear of what the line meant had been all too present in her thoughts. It was a trap, one specifically targeted for a four-legged form.

She had only meant to follow Shikoba, ever curious to see what he did and wanting to be a part of the war effort just as everyone else was. With a lot to learn still, it had been easy for her to lose the scent trail of her guardian and then subsequently get caught in a trap in her frantic state to find it again. Once caught, she had thrashed about wildly like any panicked animal would. Unfortunately for her, it only made the problem worse.

A paw used to try and free herself had gotten tangled and the trace scent of blood told her that she had cut her neck in her flailing. She needed to get free, she knew, before whoever had set the trap found her. Her thoughts had raced to scream, yell, cry for Shikoba to somehow turn back and find her. Instincts told her to do one thing, but survival told her to remain quiet. The more she called attention to herself, the more likely she was to attracted unwanted company.

The coydog heard hoofbeats, and, for a moment, her heart soared that it might have been her guardian realizing he had been followed. When a dark-haired male with fur of a deep-earth hue came into view though, Scuttle’s ears fell flat against her neck. The hair along her back stood up and her tail tucked beneath her. She jerked harder than before against the snare.

The man, he was not of Inferni.




He caught he scent, and, upon recognizing hit, Shikoba had driven Wind harder. Eidolon wheeled about above, reading alarm in her Luperci partner’s sudden change in pace that he drove the mustang. Something was wrong, and the hawk’s white-gold eyes shifted alertly over the shrub-filled stretch of land. The Infernian trio raced through the underbrush, Shikoba’s eyes peeled and searching.

“Shikoba!” A heart-gripping scream carried out.

Shit!

He knew that scream, knew that voice. Jerking Wind’s reins, he altered their course towards the owner of the cry. The dying brush around them was a blur, and, when two figures came into view, Shikoba’s lips curled into a snarl. The coymutt slowed the mustang down so that he could do a quick dismount, his tomahawk already poised in his hand.

“Leave her alone!” He roared as his feet found the earth. Wind slowed down on her own. Both had an aggressive stance to them, ears pinned, eyes narrowed, and tension ebbing off them in a deadly aura. Shikoba’s weapon was raised, ready to be thrown at the earthen wolf who stood near his coydog charge.

Shikoba Whiplash


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