[M] but there's dragons out there in the night

to snatch you if you fall

POSTED: Thu Jun 13, 2019 8:41 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.

so I'll sing you no lullaby

She really needed to stop going to Amherst alone. It was becoming too much trouble for what it was worth. Sure, she had traded one of the pelts she skinned with Tamlin for something she figured he'd have use for — she'd never seen the male drink before, but presumably that was because he hadn't the resources to do so — but beyond that it was a day's journey there and back. Though she had made the trek to the village times before, it never got easier.

In fact, she was quite certain this was her last trip to Amherst and Biff's Bar for a while, considering she had gained a follower on her way home.

He was quite visibly drunk, though at first he remained remarkably well-hidden; only when her pale ears happened to hear him fumbling did she notice him, and there was a bit of familiarity to his face. He had been there a time before, when she had met the very unpleasant jackal man; he had tried to make a move on her then, she recalled. She hadn't allowed him the chance to do so then, but this time he seemed to have gained more confidence — or he was just more intoxicated and felt like trying his luck.

Fennore turned on her heel instantly, shooting him a very stern, very uninterested glare. The doggish man held up his hands as he stumbled to a stop, chuckling softly. "Hey, miss, I just wanna talk," he started, his voice sickeningly sweet enough to cause the wolfess's fur to stand on end.

She eyed him suspiciously, taking a few more steps back. They were on the edges of Amherst now, quite a ways from the bar. How had she been so daft to let him trail her this far out? "I don't," was her cold reply, her tail swishing violently behind her. But her apprehension only seemed to fuel his drunken attraction, as made very painfully obvious by the fold in his pants and the carnal glint in his amber eyes.

"Aw, c'mon, honey," he cooed, staggering forward again, and Fennore caught a glimpse of a shiny object that he held with loose fingers; the moonlight glimmered ominously off of the knife, and it caused her eyebrows to raise with a sliver of panic. "What's your name, darlin'?"

The Moonwraith bit her lip, her stoic facade trembling. "I think you are rather drunk and need to get some rest," she offered instead, but he drew closer, easily towering over her with his broad shoulders. "Why don't we return to the bar and we can go to the back room? They have a comfortable couch, you know." If she feigned interest, she could buy more time at Biff's, perhaps disappear into the crowd amongst those willing to help out a pretty face.

But he did not like her suggestion, instead taking another threatening step with a growl. Just as Fennore opened her mouth to speak again, to barter with him, one tan arm lurched forward with all of his immense weight put behind it; she deftly retracted her hand to escape him, but he toppled forward in his drunken stupor, trapping the girl beneath his immovable frame. She yelped as he sent them both to the ground, knocking her bag full of clanking bottles to the dirt.

She should have just ran. She should have just ran.

Angrily, but still grinning, his hand wrapped roughly around her neck, cutting her cry for help short as the knife in his other paw raised in front of her face. "All I wanted to do was talk," he rumbled, his voice low with lust and desire, "But you're really not making this easy for me, honey."

Her violet eyes were full of fear as she struggled against his straddling body, her hands trying in vain to wrench the knife from his hands; but despite his intoxication he was leagues stronger than her, far too monstrous for her to throw off. He shifted his grip, causing her pale pink paws to slip onto the blade, and she stifled a cry against his powerful hand. The edge cut deep into her soft hands, a crimson tendril sprawling from the laceration as soon as it appeared.

All her flailing and kicking and screaming were in vain. With a low growl the fingers at her neck slid down her pristine figure — newly stained red — over her chest and her stomach, inching further and further down as he watched the fear grow in her panicked face.

ooc → Valerian to the rescue ~ sorry this is so long, i'll def go shorter after setting this all up <3

New Caledonia
The Moonwraith
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veldt
Luperci
Songs from the Wood

POSTED: Tue Jun 18, 2019 12:07 am

(416) | NPCs: Wyrm, Fernwisp

Lemme know if roughing up the jackal is no good! ♥

Amherst was a peculiar place, Valerian realized. It was a decrepit city-turned-makeshift-abode for many of those who did not have a creed to adhere to. And what a faithless hoard they were—in the day he saw Luperci laying about flagrantly as if they had nothing better to do than to ferment until they could congeal at the bar. He kept Fernwisp square on the road that was broken with large swathes of grass and shrubbery in case any washed up wolf had funny ideas. Wyrm kept a watchful eye on their backs as he nestled in the dog's hood.

Valerian's travel into the city was one of exploration. He heard offhand remarks about Amherst and figured it might've been the best place to barter his hunts for supplies... Though seeing the rags and lack of materials some of the residents had, undoubtedly having traded to satisfy their thirst, he wondered if it had been a fool's errand. And since he wasn't stupid or desperate enough yet to drink himself in a stupor, there wasn't much for the city to offer him.

The dog aimed Fernwisp back to the edges of the city, to return to the woods from whence he came. Their trip around the city had been peaceful, if pointless. He wasn't a man for sightseeing and having spent time that could've been used more productively felt like time wasted. He thought that if he traveled far enough from the city there'd be good sport to find, perhaps...

But the sudden noise of glass hitting glass made Valerian halt Fernwisp. Wyrm became alert as well and the duo stopped and listened. It was muted by distance but the dog could hear bodies moving. He frowned and drew his bow, dismounting Fernwisp with the instructions of her to stay. The mare stilled obediently as the ranger slipped into the shadows.

In the darkness he traveled and soon enough he came upon the scene. The red of the woman's blood was a violent contrast against her white fur and the struggle the man had with her was bold, dark, and evil.

He loosed an arrow into the meat of the jackal's shoulder, the shaft sinking two inches into his flesh, and Valerian had another arrow already notched as he stalked from the shade. He took angry steps forward. The pink of his gums were visible as he bared his teeth in a snarl.

"Fuck off or the next one will be through y'throat you fuckin' whoreson!"

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Loners
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Shannah
Luperci

POSTED: Wed Jun 19, 2019 9:53 pm

so I'll sing you no lullaby

Something seemed to catch his attention, and the wandering paw traveled up again. "That's one shitty tattoo you got there," he quipped with a snort, tracing the branded rune in her side with a claw. "What's it mean? You part of a cult or something?"

His query went unanswered, for not even a moment later he was howling in pain as an arrow found its way into his shoulder.

Fennore's instincts were ruling her, her mind numb from the assault; instantly she took the chance to wretch the knife from his grip and kick him away, and the she-wolf scrambled away from him, leaving maroon hand prints in her wake. The knife was tossed far away from both of them, the blade tinged with her blood. Her eyes, wild and terrified, searched in the darkness for the source of the arrow — there stood a figure in the brush, his piercing blue eyes aflame with fury. His threat, though tinged with a queer dialect that she almost felt she knew, held quite a bit of influence behind it.

The large man snarled as he backpedaled from his victim, and he tried in vain to pull the shaft from his back. He was rash, he was drunk, but he was not suicidal. "Fuck both of you, I'm too old for this shit," he mumbled, seething and groaning as he fought with the arrow. He spat at Fennore's feet, leaving her with one more hellish glare before he stumbled back into the shadows, though his belabored gait was heard all the way until he returned to the bar.

The woman watched him intently until he disappeared amongst the foliage.

Her staggered breaths started to level out, and with a grimace Fennore held her hands out in front of her, crestfallen at the damage. The cuts were deep, digging into her soft pink flesh and flowing freely with red. Her fear and panic had seemingly spared her from the pain, but now it surged from the wounds in terrible waves, causing her to clench her teeth and stifle a cry.

She almost forgot about her savior.

Tentatively, amethyst irises drifted back to the bowman, and she felt instantly daft and vulnerable; whereas Fennore was used to a position of pride, of power, now she sat broken and bleeding in front of the stranger. But even her arrogance would not brush off his interference.

"... Thank you." It was sincere, breathy between her gasping and deafening heartbeats. She felt another fat drop of blood on her leg and shuttered.

ooc → it's totally fine! :>

New Caledonia
The Moonwraith
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veldt
Luperci
Songs from the Wood

POSTED: Fri Jun 21, 2019 12:30 am

(289) | NPCs: Wyrm, Fernwisp

In his rightful rage, Valerian could not hear the words the jackal was exchanging with the woman. All he could hear were her muffled cries as one hand was on his throat and the other trailing where it ought not to be. Violent thoughts flooded his head and he had half the mind to thread the man's head like a bead.

But after the first arrow was shot it delved into chaos. The jackal howled, the woman writhed again, and within heartbeats the white she-wolf was out from underneath the man. He watched the knife sail out of his vision, catching the light and glinting, but he did not tear his eyes away from the offender. Valerian kept his arrow aimed at the man as he fumbled away with spitting words. The dog did not flinch and did not lower his bow as the man disappeared.

Only when the jackal's footfalls receded into silence did Valerian shift his bow. That was another arrow lost.

He gingerly slipped the second arrow back into the quiver at his side as he turned to assess the woman. The fire that rushed through him left him winded and the wide look in his eyes was evident of that. The woman was looking at him when he turned and she mumbled a "thank you."

"Aye," he acknowledged plainly in comparison to the show he performed moments ago. Valerian stared at her, given she was splashed with blood. A heartbeat later he clicked his teeth and whistled a peculiar short tune before slowly approaching the woman. He shelved the bow on his back and he kept his hands visible, like he was walking towards a spooked creature.

"M'name's Valerian Hollybriar. Where did th'bastard hurt ya?"

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Loners
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Shannah
Luperci

POSTED: Fri Jun 21, 2019 10:38 pm

so I'll sing you no lullaby

She thought it a strange thing, that the drunkard had left his knife behind.

Her glazed-over violet eyes drifted over to it, as if drawn to the blade which had wounded her in a sinister, foreboding way. She'd half a mind to snatch the knife and chase after the dog, teach him what happened when you messed with a proper lady and expected to get away with it

But the ranger's voice, tinged with his foreign flavor and significantly quieter now, reeled her back in. Huge, dilated pupils swept back to him as he cautiously approached, his hands held out non-threateningly and his words careful. Fennore cleared her throat, raw from yelping and gasping, before turning over her ravaged paws again, raising them to his own outstretched paws; she could almost hear the pulsing sensation in her finger tips. "Just here," she answered as she presented the damage, her pitch low, her voice curt, though she immediately pinned her ears against her skull as she realized the shortness was unwarranted; her hands pulled back to her chest as well. "I..." She gave a single disillusioned laugh. "Where are my manners? I am Fennore."

Blood-soaked digits moved to stroke her hair, a nervous tic of hers, though they retracted before dirtying her clementine locks. No sense in spreading crimson everywhere. "I think... I have spare strips of fabric, in my bag there," she told Valerian slowly, gesturing to the messenger bag nearby. They were probably hidden beneath several bottles of whiskey, but they ought to have been there nonetheless — they were for emergencies, and the wolfess was a bit disheartened that she actually had to tap into that section of her stores. "We could use them to wrap my hands. Would you mind terribly, bowman?" There was no malice or much emotion at all in her words now, the colors having drained away almost entirely from her normally stony countenance.

New Caledonia
The Moonwraith
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veldt
Luperci
Songs from the Wood

POSTED: Sat Jun 22, 2019 3:04 pm

(365) | NPCs: Wyrm, Fernwisp

Valerian paid no mind to her dryness; he was used to people being direct, and the situation didn't ask for flowery formalities. He looked at her bloody hands though he refrained from touching her. He blinked when the woman withdrew them against her chest and he looked back at her as she gave her name.

"Fennore," he repeated to taste it on his tongue. Nothing about it sounded familiar and he wondered if she had a house to call her own—if any canine had a house in these lands. He had come far from his homeland... Things worked differently here. And yet some things stayed the same, too.

Valerian glanced over at the bag Fennore pointed out and nodded as he stepped over to pick it up with an "aye." The woman seemed like she was half-present in the conversation, which he didn't hold against her. It was perhaps best not to linger on what happened, and what could've happened. As young as he was, Valerian wasn't stupid to the crimes scavengers would commit.

But to think it would happen so fragrantly, when he was so near—what if he had not heard the struggle... He tried to push the thoughts of his mind.

As he lifted the bag and peered into it, the bottles clinking softly together, his horse strode slowly onto the scene. The chestnut mare stepped up to her rider though she gave Fennore a curious glance. Valerian snuffled, not unlike a horse, like he was saying something and Fernwisp continued to look at the white she-wolf.

"'Ere," he said as he handed the bag to Fennore after he retrieved the fabric that she spoke of. He took a moment to dig around the bags the horse carried on her flank. As he did so, a pine marten appeared from his hood and climbed from his shoulder onto the horse. "I have some herbs that'll keep sickness away—it'll only work fer a bit 'nd you'll have to undress it after a day so it doesn't go sour, but it helps."

He was quiet for a beat but then his curiosity got the better of him. "...So, did ya know th'bastard?"

Last edited by Valerian Hollybriar on Mon Jun 24, 2019 8:29 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Loners
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Shannah
Luperci

POSTED: Sun Jun 23, 2019 8:10 pm

so I'll sing you no lullaby

The scout's movements seemed in slow-motion, as if he were from a dream. The pressure and dripping from her hands felt distant and yet the only thing she could focus on at the same time; it was shock warping her perception, yet she was oblivious to it all the same. Her ears perked as he clanked the bottles around, and her mind wandered to her golden scout. Oh, gods, what was he going to say once he saw her? She would never hear the end of it, he would never let her out of his sight. All of this for some alcohol she wasn't even sure he'd like; but at this point she'd make him drink all of it either way, as much trouble as it caused.

To think about this whole situation lightly and merely surface-level was what kept her grounded. To dwell on the pain or his wandering hands would have broken her.

A mare, presumably Valerian's, meandered over after some time, snorting and watching the woman on the ground with huge black eyes. With careful fingertips she took the bag from him once more, placing it beside her as her gaze wandered to the curious creature that emerged from his hood and migrated to the horse's back. She had never seen another quite like it, and her brow lowered slightly in unfamiliarity. Was it a ferret? Did Luperci keep ferrets? Or did he not realize there was some foreign mustelid crawling around on his shoulders?

These thoughts were cut short as Valerian spoke, and again she bobbed her head numbly, compliantly. "That would be greatly appreciated." A silence befell them as he rummaged around some more in his saddle bag, but soon he presented a rather expected question. Fennore sighed, rolling her shoulders dismissively.

"I might have seen him once or twice before at the bar, but I didn't know him." Her voice seemed hollow — disconnected, even. "Though I suppose if I had known him that would have made this quite a bit worse." Better that it was a nameless stranger she could easily tack hate and loathing onto than someone close; if anyone in New Caledonia had ever been so callous she didn't know what she would have done.

New Caledonia
The Moonwraith
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veldt
Luperci
Songs from the Wood

Sticks and Stones