05-28-2008, 10:54 AM
[html]
http://avatars.ourdarkarts.net/souls/ot ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat; background-position: center bottom; width: 400px;" align="center">
OOC: Don't mind if I do!
Lubomir growled low, in the back of his throat. He'd just had a narrow brush with death, his side was bleeding and all of a sudden this wolf, this scrawny rude puppy (in his mind, the word rang with contempt) was teasing him. Normally, Lubomir would have walked away, muttering to himself about how education was not what it used to be, but this was different. He'd been mauled by that shifter and now insulted so blatantly by a pup. The anger rose in his again and his rational side cowered once more. His gaze darkened and his breath came in quick, rapid breaths. He let out the growl again. Here was a change to vent the frustration of being defeated and in such a humiliating manner (and perhaps prove to himself he was not a coward?) and Lubomir was not about to forgo it.
Shifting was a complete process for the grey wolf. He enjoyed the four-legged state and the more childish things he could do, but his ability to write in his Optime form would sometimes push him to shift. Very rarely had he half-shifted, considering his weakness as a wolf even more apparent in halfling form. But now, now this was different. The pain became a dull white flash, easily ignored by the animal in him. In this half-way form, he growled louder and called after the black insolent one, 'My kind? My kind, huh? You are not a wolf, then. You are an insolent creature and I have no intention of being polite any longer.' With that, he crouched and pounced Umbra, his body tense, his wound raw and open once more. Lubomir the thinker withdrew, letting this primeval side of him take care of things. The black one had not answered to polite discussion, perhaps he would answer to mindless violence.
[/html]
Lubomir growled low, in the back of his throat. He'd just had a narrow brush with death, his side was bleeding and all of a sudden this wolf, this scrawny rude puppy (in his mind, the word rang with contempt) was teasing him. Normally, Lubomir would have walked away, muttering to himself about how education was not what it used to be, but this was different. He'd been mauled by that shifter and now insulted so blatantly by a pup. The anger rose in his again and his rational side cowered once more. His gaze darkened and his breath came in quick, rapid breaths. He let out the growl again. Here was a change to vent the frustration of being defeated and in such a humiliating manner (and perhaps prove to himself he was not a coward?) and Lubomir was not about to forgo it.
Shifting was a complete process for the grey wolf. He enjoyed the four-legged state and the more childish things he could do, but his ability to write in his Optime form would sometimes push him to shift. Very rarely had he half-shifted, considering his weakness as a wolf even more apparent in halfling form. But now, now this was different. The pain became a dull white flash, easily ignored by the animal in him. In this half-way form, he growled louder and called after the black insolent one, 'My kind? My kind, huh? You are not a wolf, then. You are an insolent creature and I have no intention of being polite any longer.' With that, he crouched and pounced Umbra, his body tense, his wound raw and open once more. Lubomir the thinker withdrew, letting this primeval side of him take care of things. The black one had not answered to polite discussion, perhaps he would answer to mindless violence.