[M] Who knows where I'll be tomorrow... - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: [M] Who knows where I'll be tomorrow... (/showthread.php?tid=24461) |
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- Matteo Trovato - 01-17-2012 [html]
[/html] - Anatole Aston - 01-18-2012 [html]
The winter wore on and with it prey began to weaken. Anatole was thrilled with such developments. Since his…encounter with the woman, his blood had run hot. While not a man who sought out such evils as his father, he carried the shadow in his blood. Simple desires fueled him as they did all primal things; he desired sex and food and desired to find both in the easiest way possible. Dried meat was available for such things, but he wanted hot flesh and hot blood to fill his need. Alone, he could not handle the wapiti. This was true only when he was a wolf; in the larger Secui form his weight made up for this. So he went to hunt. Muscles rippled under his hide, a shade of black and rust that merged with his mother’s pale tan. He had often asked her about why he was so dark when she was white, and he had learned that his father was a tar-black thing. His mother had not spoken much of the man, and avoided the question as to where he was. She was blunt about all things; either dead, she had said, or gone. It did not matter. Anatole was her son and he did not need a father. As long as he remembered that then there was no need for him to go on brooding over such things. It was not the way of the wolf. This was; to hunt and kill with tooth and claw. He traveled through the terrain as if it was his own and not that of the Tribe. He was the Tribe. Born into it, raised in the wilderness yet, but oh how he had made this home his. Anatole did not hold rank here, but in his mind and his behavior, he answered to no one. Ulilohi alone held his respect, for she reminded him of his mother and she was the leader of this place now. She carried herself well and this alone was what he admired. For now, though, this land was his. The massive wolf slunk through the brush and began seeking the trail of the migratory herd. His pace slowed only as he spotted a pale shape moving towards him from the village. Well, not towards him, but in his direction. Anatole stilled and lifted his head, nose twitching. The air around the coyote radiated with aggression, and his own testosterone rose to meet it. Yet he kept himself still and calm; it would do no good to attack a fellow member for no reason. #anatole-sun { font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:14px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #anatole-sun p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #anatole-sun p.anatole-img { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:right; margin:5px; } #anatole-sun .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #anatole-sun .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #anatole-sun b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #anatole-sun u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; } #anatole-sun b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Matteo Trovato - 01-18-2012 [html] [/html] - Gemma Rhiannon Sawtooth - 01-18-2012 drama tiimmee Why? Why was she always punished for things she couldn't control, couldn't keep track of. Why? Her sapphires took in the broken window, the blood on the snow and it reminded her so much of herself. There had been so much violence within her life but then it had gotten calm when she had come to AniWaya, she had known peace and serenity outside of the mauling paws of those ones that hurt her only now.. now it was coming back again. It was building not within herself but within Matteo. The way he looked at her sometimes it was like when they had been enemies back in Anathema. Sometimes she caught him muttering words to himself, vile, unneeded words. Didn't she have enough of them carved into her body? The woman had been reduced to a nervous twitching shell again, and once more the bones of her body began to push out underneath her skin from a lack of food and proper care. Why was he doing this? They had been happy, they were happy.. at least she thought he had been happy. Maybe not. Heat clawed its way up her throat and she whimpered, pulling on her ears with her hands until blood welled up and stained her fur. The pain was dull as though a far away feeling. She could make this right, right? It wasn't so broken that it was ruined. It wasn't like her. Gathering herself up the woman pulled herself to her feet, not even noticing the fall to her knees in the first place and followed the blood, the trail of coybrid smell. It didn't take her long to find him, it was taking a while but she was slowly becoming familiar with Aniwaya's territory. She was near a man she didn't know, he was on all fours. This wasn't strange to Gemma who often took to her four legged forms when she felt threatened or scared. Her voice shook unmercifully, and so all her fear, her quiet pathetic flinching tones, were clear to hear, "Teo?" The woman struck a sad sight stood there, trembling slightly with her ears flush against her head and tail as low as it could go. The abused and cowed look of her had increased in recent days. - Anatole Aston - 01-18-2012 [html]
While AniWaya valued the skills of the two-legged shape, Anatole saw no reason why his talent should be given less quarter. He therefore did not recognize the subconscious claim of the coyote before him, and his muzzle crinkled in an unfriendly display. They were both apprentices, regardless, and he had seen no use in the crying man since that first meeting. He had tried; he had spoken to many and even returned his kills to the Tribe. Why then, did this blood-traitor think he had any right to appear in such a manner? Despite the rising tension between them, Anatole remained locked solidly where he was. If this newcomer wanted to test him, he would strike him down; and he would not be the aggressor. Yet before he had a chance to open his mouth another figure appeared. She too was white, skinny, clad in clothing. The wind told him all he needed to know; this was Matteo’s woman. A weak, beaten woman. His mind instantly assumed such thing by her posture in reference to her mate, and the fur along his spine bristled. Green eyes blazed against a black mask, furious because of this assumption. Why else would any free woman behave in such a manner? It baffled him to even consider an option beyond what he now imagined lay out before him. Anatole pulled his lips back from his teeth, but he did not yet advance. “You alright, woman?” He did not remove his eyes from the coyote, but his attention was torn. What had happened to her? #anatole-sun { font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:14px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #anatole-sun p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #anatole-sun p.anatole-img { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:right; margin:5px; } #anatole-sun .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #anatole-sun .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #anatole-sun b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #anatole-sun u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; } #anatole-sun b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Matteo Trovato - 01-18-2012 [html] [/html] - Gemma Rhiannon Sawtooth - 01-18-2012 Pathetic Gemma be pathetic 314 She paused in her steps as both of them turned to look at her and took an involuntary step backwards as intense green and the blue and pink combo flashed to her like spotlights and she felt herself rooted to the ground, unable to move. Blue eyes were wide and jerked panicked from left to right. The two of them seemed to be on the edge of violence that her appearance only escalated. What was she supposed to do now? The other man, the one she didn't know asked something of her and she caught a flash of teeth from the corner of her eye and flinched visibly, "Y...y..yes." Even to herself her voice was weak and unconvincing making her words seem like an outright lie. Was she alright? Had she even stopped to consider the question before answering it automatically. Her attention switched to Matteo, stuttering her words so much that was hard to force them out, "I..i f..f..found blood.. I w...w...was worr..rried." The tilt of her head was inquisitive even through her fear. There wasn't anything apparently wrong with him, no wound to leak crimson upon his pale fur unlike her own clawed ears that steadily pulsed out life blood. It was obvious however that her own bleeding injuries were of her own creation from the red stained ends of her fingers and also her repetition of the action now, hands inching up to grip the already gouged audits and pull at them fitfully in distraught worry. Bile worked its way up her throat and acid burned, she could almost feel it, the sickly feeling, the predecessor to violence. Extremely unequipped to deal with this having become so used to her gentle, calm life within AniWaya's borders her mind so fragile and easily broken akin to a spider's web in a heavy breeze, so easily torn was reeling, slowly becoming more and more hysterical. - Light Goldenfeather - 01-18-2012 The sight before him as he finished collecting his traps was beyond anything he could have imagined for such a calm night. His pack-mates were in a heated test of dominance and he knew he couldn’t just stand by. From his angle in the distance many thoughts ran through his mind unwillingly. Was Gemma using someone to attack Teo? No that couldn’t be it… Teo looks strange; he had never seen him in his secui form and sensed something was terribly out of sorts. What was he to do? He decided he would take the side of the one he knew more. He dropped his traps that were in much need of repair and took off running in his two legged form. He just hoped his feet would do him justice as he leapt over fallen branches and snow drifts. He didn’t know if he would make it before things would escalate beyond the breaking point but hoped he would. It would be far easier to diffuse the situation through words rather than having to resort to his muscle. The hunter never liked breaking up fights, he often ended up as the more injured with gashes or bite marks to show. Sometimes he would often let youth settle their differences let them blow off steam but something about this seemed menacing and strange like a dark spirit had covered the land. Had this tainted his friend as so and had his own spirit feeling drained? He would need to speak to the leaders. This land needed to be cleansed he believed, its poison of war still running thick within it he was sure. He wondered if anyone would even see him coming, their heated glares sparking like a thick flame as his feet crunched through snow. Wing beats could be heard behind him as Makade tried desperately to change his mind. Her desperate pleas unheard though, his friend needed him, his pack-mates needed him. - Anatole Aston - 01-19-2012 [html]
Along his spine the muscles and skin contracted, making his plush fur rise in savage, black points. Anatole could see that something was wrong. More than that, he could sense it. Instinctively he recognized there was something wrong with the coyote, and he (being a creature of such instincts) felt the urge to cast it out. His ancestors had done such things, turning on those of different pelts, turning on the strange and the uncommon because they were different and this made them somehow wrong. He did not know of madness, or the illnesses of the mind. He only recognized the challenge and came to meet it as his blood demanded. Another deep growl rippled from his throat. He outweighed and outstood the coyote in this form, and he doubted the scarred, scraggly man knew anything about fighting. Stiff-legged, his tail flagged up in a show of dominance. Rank did not matter at this point; between the two of them now there was a need for control and he would obey his blood. The woman was frantic. Perhaps she did not wish to make herself known, but her fear-scent mingled with the cold air and like that of a drug filled him with fury. Adrenaline and testosterone boiled in his blood, rushing from his heart to all the endings of his body that crackled and responded with fervor. A wordless snarl demanded that the coyote stand down. Anatole knew he could kill him, and would do so if the need came. AniWaya had no room for madness, especially when it was still reeling from the aftereffects of war. Especially now they did not need some outsider coming to be a priest. Esepcially one who beat his woman and showed dangerous signs of aggression that were (at least this time) unfounded. #anatole-sun { font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:14px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #anatole-sun p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #anatole-sun p.anatole-img { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:right; margin:5px; } #anatole-sun .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #anatole-sun .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #anatole-sun b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #anatole-sun u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; } #anatole-sun b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Matteo Trovato - 01-19-2012 [html] [/html] - Light Goldenfeather - 01-19-2012 [html] Word Count → 300+ :: Feel free to PP when he joins and if he succeeds or not XD... also feel free to bite or claw him, he can take it.
Light knew Matteo could hold his own for a while, their training had only proven the coydog a survivor with a strong will. He had made sure to give him the skills needed to uphold a battle such as this. But Anatole as he sure his name was, was still a larger wolf one built for battle and Light feared for his friend. As their hackles rose Light forced his feet to run faster but he was too late the battle commenced before him and he didn’t know what he would get into when he did make it. He didn’t give Gemma a second glance his worry purely upon Teo in that moment, his mind focused on ending their bloodshed. In his erratic thought he couldn’t help but feel excited to join, it had been so long since any form of battle had been waged for the hunter and though his joining may prove a swift end given his experience. His growls started to rise and his hands began to reach nonetheless. He had hoped to grab each by the scruff to pull them apart but if he failed he knew he would join the chaos sucked in like a whirlpool in the icy waters of his homeland. Sure to get injured but he would do what he could not to injure his pack-mates for he had his hands to the advantage and wouldn’t have to resort to his jaws. He growled teeth exposed as his lips pulled back and in a booming voice hoping the power of his authority would end things as he reached for their fur. ENOUGH! The demand was powerful firm that of the Beta that he had been for years before arriving to this strange world. If they adhered to his will he would stand between them facing Anatole unaware of his friend’s insanity unaware that his blind trust in him could be possibly tested. If not he was sure things would go down very heavily and very swiftly. <style type="text/css"> .polarlightwide b {font-weight:bold; color:#e1e3e5; letter-spacing:1px;} .polarlightwide p.ooc {font-size: 11px; text-align:left; padding:0px 30px;} .polarlightwide p.ooc + p {padding:0px 5px;} .polarlightwide .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold; color:#e1e3e5;} .polarlightwide p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 20px; margin:0px;} .polarlightwide {width:95%; margin:0 auto; max-width:800px; min-width:500px; background-color:#9e8460; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/NV9Dv.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding:300px 0px 5px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#3e3426; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Gemma Rhiannon Sawtooth - 01-22-2012 WC: 223 She descended, falling into a world of her own delusions and madness. Limps trembled and paws shivered and they pulled at long coyote ears, damaging them all the more and drawing copious amounts of blood from the fragile audits. Terrified sapphire orbs flitted this way and that as she saw demons and monsters that the others could not. The female hardly noticed the appearance of Light or the actual beginnings of the fight, she was far too gone for that. she was in her desert world and her tormentor laughed cruelly in her mind. Quiet hysterical sobs came from the woman's chest as she slowly sunk to the floor, first to her knees and then falling off to the side, shaking violently in the snow, staining it with crimson. She drew her knees closer to her chest, curling up into a ball as her cries continued to pour forth from chilled lips. The snow melted and sunk into her fur tinging her torment with sharp icicles of cold provoking her shuddering to increase. The culmination of everything, the death of her children yet again, the flight from Anathema and death threat from Alaki, becoming lost in the wilderness and meeting strange new people all battered at her sanity like waves against the earth, chipping and smashing away great chunks of what remained. - Anatole Aston - 01-24-2012 [html]
There was a pale flash of pink against white, and here he knew that there would be blood. Anatole’s ears pinned against his head as the coyote lunged. He had been in fights before and knew the way to approach such things—he rushed in low, his bulky body made for combat. With his head low, there was no way the airborne coyote could even come close to his throat. In contrast, however, he was given the advantage of reacting. With a single burst of speed he snapped for the approaching leg; if he could break the coyote’s bone (as he knew himself capable of; their bones were not half as strong as moose) then this fight would be over. They collided and he felt teeth scrape against the thick plush of his neck. His fur was too winter-heavy for it to pierce skin, and there was no way he would slow to allow the coyote to grasp him. His own teeth flashed, snapping wildly for the leg and the exposed throat. Suddenly, someone grappled at his hackles. Anatole roared and ripped free, his weight alone enough to break the hold. He staggered backwards quickly, fur bristled and eyes blazing. Though he recognized and understood the command, his body urged him to continue. It was the new idea that two wolves instead of one that caused him to pause. His feet paces, steadfast and agitated, ready for the coyote to break through. A low rumbling growl reverberated yet from his body. “He’s mad!” the wolf snarled. #anatole-sun { font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:14px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #anatole-sun p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #anatole-sun p.anatole-img { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:right; margin:5px; } #anatole-sun .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #anatole-sun .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #anatole-sun b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #anatole-sun u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; } #anatole-sun b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Matteo Trovato - 01-25-2012 [html] [/html] - Light Goldenfeather - 01-27-2012 WC: 529 Ooc: Jace said I can post before her again >.> Light couldn’t imagine why Anatole thought his friend to be crazy as he stood before him claws drawn and his face contorted into a powerful sneer until the male finally spoke. He growled his words just slightly but not in an aggressive manner. It was just to show his displeasure in the weak explanation for this attack upon one another. Matteo had never seemed mad as the brown male had put, never shown him such a terrible thing at all in their time together. What do you mean?... He said his voice filled with disbelief and scoff. He crossed his arms before Anatole unaware of what was conspiring behind him until he glanced back for a brief moment. He was going to look back to Anatole to further defend his friend but his face paused halfway. Quickly his head snapped back to set his gaze upon the albino. The sight he saw was strange and almost a possible proof of the brown male’s words. Matteo? He asked his voice almost shaken at just how still he seemed how frozen his muscles were. The only time he ever saw such a similar display was when a prey’s heart exploded from exhaustion. His group had run the creature (that had already been quite ill) to a point of pure exhaustion. Though, the creature had been swift and smart keeping them at a distance all in the hopes for survival. His will had been his downfall it had suddenly stopped dead in its tracks and fell over in a stiff spasm. Fearful of the same fate for his best friend the male threw down all barriers and rushed to his Matteo’s side dropping to his knees. He was uncaring of his image that he portrayed upon his face no longer filled with only fear for his friends. His hand reached to Gemma’s shoulder to assure her he was there for her as well. What’s happening? His worried gaze as his weathered face seemed to fill with a strange fear. And his brown eyes fell on the only person who could possibly answer to his woes, Anatole. His anger quickly shifting to compassion toward the instinctive wolf, he had not been there for what had conspired… But if he believed Teo had gone crazy then maybe it was possible. But even still Matteo was his friend and the instinct to protect him remained with full force and always would. He carefully stroked the slightly raised hackles upon the albino’s back. Teo? What spirit could do this to his friends, his pack mates, to throw everything so out of place only to fill him with questions and painful worry? Gemma? He said seeing her so lost in her sadness as well and her cries that seemed to pain her. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Internally he begged for the Great Spirit to show his friends mercy to heal their ailments enough to at least speak to him. Makade suddenly appeared to them and landed upon Light’s shoulder rubbing her tiny head against her child’s face and sighed heavily. It was why she didn’t want him to go, want him to feel such a sorrow. - Gemma Rhiannon Sawtooth - 02-05-2012 short post because im holding everything up. 367 Her ears throbbed painfully but still her clawed fingers did not let the large appendages go nor did she move from her fetal position, oblivious to the world around herself for the most part with her mind focused only on her internal demons and the terror that swept her fragile form. Shivers that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the monsters in her subconscious wracked her body. And when the man, Light touched her body, the girl seized up as though caught within a death grip before a frightened cry left her muzzle and she somehow flung herself away from him, rolling for several feet within the icy snow, pitiful sobs coming from her heaving chest in shallow breaths. At that moment a guide from the spirits faded into the mortal world, the magnificent white buffalo observed the scene of the three males with an angry gleam to his eyes. Wolves.. always fighting like barbarians, scaring his student. He snorted and a torrent of warm air misted into the chilly morning. His horned head, of which even these bony spikes were purest of white, tossed irritably and his form swung away from them, blocking the view of Gemma with his body and turning his back to them he refocused his attention upon the damaged ivory girl and spoke in a voice only she could hear, "Child.. calm yourself. No harm is here for you." Still shivering and whimpering the girl at least managed to cease her loud dry eyed sobbing although she could not reduce the harshness of her breaths and the high pitched whines that now took the place of sobbing. He could not offer her much in the way of comfort for her inner demons were her own to face but at least she had been drawn from her cracked and jagged mind to interact with the real world again. Taima Waki was rough looking on the outside with a sharp mind and sharper tongue but on the inside he was as soft as the crisp white flakes that fell from the sky, especially when it came to individuals as broken as the woman now under his guidance. - Claudius Aston - 02-25-2012 [html] [/html] Claudius arrived to chaos, blood, and the scent of fear heavy in the air. Claudius came in time to see Anatole and Matteo engaged in a vicious fight, with Gemma standing near the side and another wolf, pale and scarred, unknown to Claudius, standing nearby. Claudius couldn't tell what was happening, but the scene terrified him. What in the world was Matteo doing to his cousin? Matteo had promised him he would not make trouble and this was clearly violating this promise. Gemma looked terrified and afraid with her knees pulled up to her chest. |