cut down to size - 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: cut down to size (/showthread.php?tid=25831) |
- Alma - 03-05-2012 [html] They said the best time to cut down a tree is in the winter time. Alma wasn't sure if that old advice was true or not, but she found herself doing much of it this winter. It wasn't entirely born out of a desire to make bows, or help her clan. No, the compulsion was caused by something much more bizarre: the little ball of white something that appeared when she did so. It seldom appeared in anything but the corner of her eye, and disappeared when she turned to look at it. No one else appeared to notice it. For these reasons, the coyote had at first assumed it was all in her head. After more than a month of bow-crafting, it was now appearing so often that she couldn't deny that it existed. Sometimes, if she turned her head just right, she could see it before it disappeared. It was in the corner of her eye now, while she was carrying an axe and sizing up trees - or rather, that was what she was supposed to be doing. She had wandered more than a mile just trying to catch a glimpse at it; very little attention was paid to her surroundings. That is, until some new scent reached her nose - something or someone unfamiliar - that made her realize that she had wandered a little too far. The trees around her no longer looked familiar, and the deer path she'd been treading on had long since turned to grass and thick underbrush. [/html] - Amy Sunders - 03-05-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 Amy was burning with fury. She was just setting off to dispose of the pups when Raoth had decided to try and be a hero, grabbing the pups and setting off at a run. Bellowing Amy had quickly shifted into secui form. The sight of the monstrous beast thundering behind him had inspired Raoth to hit speeds that wouldn't have been possible without it. Amy tore through the underbrush, anything that got in her way uprooted and destroyed. Nothing slowed her down, while Raoth was forced to be more careful, carrying the satchel with the pups and trying to find ways to stop Amy from following. Amy caught sight of her prey darting before her, and launched herself at him. Unable to dodge Raoth found him squashed beneath her.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Alma - 03-05-2012 ((OOC: feel free to wound her on her arms, chest or back/sides. Maybe her face, as long as it doesn't make her blind. I'm not sure about her legs, as she'll have to walk back to her clan somehow.)) The sound of running made Alma's ears swivel, and her head turned just in time to see a coyote carrying a satchel full of squealing puppies. A four-legged beast followed him, which Alma recognized vaguely as a luperci in seculi form. It tore the screaming pups from the coyote, and mauled him. It reminded her very much of the time a coyote had infiltrated their clan, intent of killing Inferni's puppies. Except now, there was no one for Alma to run to get help - her clan's territory was too far away. If she waited, the coyote and his puppies (for she had assumed they were his) might be dead. She could rescue the pups and bring them back to her clan, but that meant leaving the coyote-father there to die. Fury and guilt rose in her chest, recalling how she had failed to help last time and two coyotes had died defending the clan's pups. She wasn't going to let this attacker get away. The coywolf made a split-second decision to attack. Axe raised high, she ran to the attacking beast, intent on catching her off-guard and unawares while she was sinking her teeth into the coyote's leg. Unfortunately, Alma didn't know a thing about fighting with an axe. Her arms were strong from a lifetime of cutting, chopping and shaping wood, but she had never fought with it. Her specialty was in bows, and she never took her bow with her when she chopped down wood, as it would be an inconvenience to carry it when she was already weighed down. - Amy Sunders - 03-07-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 Raoth twisted beneath her, doing his best to escape. His form was so much smaller than hers, the secui form mountainous over top of him. Teeth bared she pinned his throat with her jaws. His claws scratched uselessly at her neck. Thin lines of blood formed before her paws moved, pinning him down so all he could do was kick frantically at her stomach. Her muscles were firm, and while Raoth was fairly strong from the requests she asked of him, Amy trained hard in battle, working to not lose the assassin skills she had, working so that she would never be beaten in battle again like she had been. It was nothing to her.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Alma - 03-08-2012 Adrenaline coursed through Alma. She didn't reply to the dog's comment; she was never very good at speaking even when she wasn't in battle. The poor wounded coyote reminded Alma so intensely of her father that she imagined he was still alive, and she was fighting his killer. It didn't matter whether the dog attacking him looked like her Uncle Aden or not - all she knew was that it was attacking something that looked like her father and that it had to be stopped. The white light that always lurked into the corner of her eye was growing bigger, almost spitting off sparks. The coyote was far too busy to pay any attention to it, however, and it was not yet visible to anyone else but her. She was disappointed that her axe had caused minimal damage, but she wasn't deterred. The sight of the coyote's head being slammed into the ground fueled her rage. He couldn't defend himself, now. She raised her axe up once more to attack, but then the dog lunged and took hold of her the hand that held the axe. Pain shot up through her wrist, and a loud yelp echoed through the forest. The axe was dropped. Automatically, she extended the claws in her other paw so she could rake them across the dog's face in an attempt to force her to let go. Her claws were seldom used, but sharp because of it; in the way that a pup's teeth might be sharp because it had never been dulled from wear. - Amy Sunders - 03-08-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 Her strike hit, and the ax was dropped. Amy prepared to crush the bone in her mouth, but sharp claws slashed across her face. It dug in, thin pearls of blood forming through the thin cuts across her muzzle. Releasing her grip Amy backed up. The injury stung slightly, but she had faced worse. Pacing Amy moved around the smaller coyote, measuring where she could attack to take her down. She was halfway around when she lunged, aiming for the female's arm.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Alma - 03-10-2012 ((OOC: Sorry for taking a while, I keep rewriting this.)) When the dog pulled away, Alma realized how close she had almost been to losing the use of her hands. A shudder ran through her when she imagined that she would never be able to use a bow, or carve wood. She retracted her claws and balled her hands into fists, so that it would be harder for her attacker to break the bones in her hands, should she try that again. Instinctively, Alma took a defensive stance, spreading her feet apart and bending her knees so she would be harder to knock over. Her fur stood on end. Her tail was tucked between her legs - not in submission, but to protect her belly and everything below it. She had hunted enough to know that an attack to the stomach was a slow and painful death. Her arms rose up to protect her chest. Her thoughts racing, the coyote's mind went through her options: Running away alone, without either saving the coyote or his puppies was out of the question. The sound of the pups' whining alone had ruled out that idea; she couldn't leave them alone with this monster. She could continue to fight and hope that she would somehow kill or knock her opponent out so she could drag the poor coyote-father away to her clan's grounds. Or, perhaps, she could pick up the pups and -then- run away. However, Alma already knew from experience that a wolf in its four-legged form was faster than one on two-legs, and she had no time to shift. The weight of her adversary's body caused the her stance to waver. She dug her hindclaws into the ground, somehow managing to maintain her balance. Her reflexes were not quick enough to prevent her arm being caught. Teeth dug past her fur and into her skin. The coyote yelped once more, then ground her own teeth together to stifle her cries. Without thinking of whether it would cause her opponent to clamp down harder, Alma tried to wrest her arm out of her assailant's grip. - Amy Sunders - 03-10-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 The coyote she was fighting had taken on a stronger stance once she had released her. Amy's expert eyes scanned for weakness, flaws. She wasn't just a natural killer with the lust for blood, she was trained so that it was honed to a razor sharp edge. The coyote was lighter than her still, allowing Amy's weight to cause the other to stagger. The cry as she bit through to flesh was satisfying. With her teeth dug in Amy slowly tightened her grip, allowing herself to go deeper.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Alma - 03-13-2012 When pulling away did not go as expected and the dog dug her teeth further into her arm, Alma forced herself not to whimper and give her opponent the satisfaction of a response. She bit her tongue until it was bleeding. Still, some noise did escape her mouth: hissing as she inhaled, and a low, pained growl when she couldn't make herself be silent any longer. Her stance was sturdy enough to prevent her from being thrown about when her opponent decided to shake her arm as if it were a pup's toy, but unfortunately she was not strong enough to prevent her arm being pulled from its socket. A sharp pain tore through her, and the coyote's growling turned into a sharp howl. The pain so consumed her mind that she no longer paid any attention to making sure she maintained her balance, and was thrown against a tree. With the wind knocked out of lungs, the coywolf did not move. Her yellows eyes simply stared at the approaching attacker, then fell to the unconscious male coyote that reminded her of her father. She wondered if he was dead, and if he was, whether she could have prevented it at all. She could not move her arm - although she could still move her fingers - and it was unlikely that she'd be able to drag him and the pups to the safety of Inferni's territory. If he was dead, was the fight pointless? Should she just pick the pups up and run? Anger seeped into her mind, at herself - for failing to prevent it - and her attacker - for causing it all. Her eyes rose to look at the approaching canine once more. If he was dead, and she was about to be as well, it would do the puppies no good. She had to fight back, or at least distract the dog until she could grab the puppies and run away. The coywolf's unwounded arm felt around for something she could use as a weapon, and found a fallen branch. This she used to try to block the incoming canine's attacks, and to make a swipe at any part of her that came close. Fighting left her at a distinct disadvantage, but Alma thought she could overcome it with rage. - Amy Sunders - 03-13-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 A snarl of satisfaction slipped between Amy's lips at the pained growl that escaped from the coyote. She was in pain, with little chance of winning against a killer like Amy. When she shook the arm an even more pleasing howl tore through the air, scattering what few animals had been stupid enough to stick around after hearing Amy rampaging through the woods. Amy strode to stand above the weak girl, a satisfied smirk on her lips. She was so weakened, it was pathetic.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Alma - 03-18-2012 ((Last week was exam week, sorry. Two exams on one day. asdfllkajsdf. I'm assuming Amy wouldn't suddenly attack her while Alma's busy staring/talking to her mother. PM me if I should change it/cut it off somewhere so Amy can do that.)) Her problem had solved itself, it seemed. The dog had found her attempts at defending herself laughable, and so had turned her attention elsewhere. She was too relieved to be insulted. The only problem with this situation was that her opponent had turned her attention to the puppies instead. The coywolf stiffened, holding her breath. Her mind raced, trying to gauge whether she could get up fast enough to stop her should she try to kill them. Her expression turned to surprise when the dog seemed to be showing them affection. Had she misjudged the situation? Perhaps the puppies were hers, and the coyote had stol- no, wait. Why she placing them beside him? A frown creased Alma's snout. The situation was making her head hurt, and the loss of blood wasn't helping her any. When her assailant turned her attention to her and asked her to leave, her immediate instinct was to voice a stubborn 'no' - despite not knowing what was going on with the situation, she sensed something was very wrong and it didn't feel right just to leave right then. But before she could open her mouth and say this, a familiar voice registered in her mind. "Alma." The coyote turned her head in the direction of the voice. The light that was always in the corner of her eyes was gone. In its place stood a wolf with a coat of brown, grays and whites; though the colors were faded from what she had been in life. Alma recognized the wolf immediately as her mother. This rendered her completely speechless. She simply stared at her mother's spirit, not able to form a coherent thought. "Come back to your clan." The wolf said. The gears in her head started to turn once again. She opened her mouth to object, but her mother silenced her. "I can't lose another child. Come home." Grudgingly, the coyote pulled herself up on to her feet. "Fine." "Follow me." The wolf turned and retreated into the forest. She gave her assailant a quick glance to be sure she wasn't going to be attacked, before follwing her mother. "What do you mean by 'lose another child'?" The coyote held her wounded arm while she walked. There was no reply. Unbeknownst to Alma, her mother's spirit had neither the inclination nor energy to show herself to anyone but her yet. Neither could she be heard by anyone but Alma - so very likely, the coyote had made herself look even more foolish, as if she were talking to herself. - Amy Sunders - 03-19-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 Amy stood, her hackles raised, ready to kill the foolish coyote if she decided not to take up Amy's generous offer and leave. It seemed she was foolish enough, but suddenly turned her head, as if hearing something. Amy swung her head as well, growling. She expected something to be there, another threat. Perhaps something she could tear apart, watch their blood fly everywhere. The space was empty though. Stepping forward she sniffed the air, searching for a hidden presence. Still nothing. The girl agreed to leave though.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Alma - 03-19-2012 The coywolf's ears flicked backwards at the dog's words. Anger rose in her throat. She saw what appeared to be a wolf bullying a coyote and taking its pups - how could she not intervene? The situation was more complicated than it first appeared, and though she still didn't understand it, she would do the same thing if something similar should happen again. Next time, however, she was going to be prepared - and this arrogant dog would be shown the same mistreatment as she had inflicted on that poor coyote. "Don't answer that. Come on." The wolf said, glancing behind her impatiently. Alma ground her teeth, choking back a growl. She clamped her mouth tightly shut. She wanted to voice her anger, but knew her mother was right. She couldn't respond to that negatively, as that might cause her to attack. She didn't want another broken, useless arm and she wasn't sure if this one would heal. Nor could she pretend to agree with her - she might see through it. So, Alma gave her opponent a very slight glance to show she had heard her, and then continued onward. As she walked, it occurred to her that her assailant hadn't commented on her mother's sudden appearance, which meant... The coyote twitched. A thousand questions surfaced in her mind, most of them centered on what exactly her mother was and how she had gotten there. "How...?" The coyote began, and then trailed off. Maybe it was best she didn't know for now. - Amy Sunders - 03-19-2012 [html] OOC Amy is a dog, pure dog Word Count → 000 The coyote acknowledged her words with a glance, one full of suppressed anger. Amy smiled coldly before turning back to her property. Sighing she shifted into optime form, and grabbed the satchel. Slinging it over one shoulder she gripped Raoth and began to drag him back to the wagon, not bothering to fully pick him up. If he was injured this way, so be it. He was the one to cause so much trouble in the first place. Amy wasn't even finished with him yet.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] |