08-26-2009, 12:19 AM
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OMG I SHOULD BE IN BED D: -Tosses something up and promises to go to sleep when she's done!?!-
@&#&$The relative roar of his own movements successfully drowned out any sounds the trailing coyote may have made. Anselm, too, was far stealthier on four legs than two--on four each foot could be placed down one at a time, giving you a stable base as the one tested the waters carefully. Loose rocks that may slip and make noise? Try again. Brushed against a dead leaf and don't want to crunch it? Adjust course a bit. These things could be done without messing up the rhythm of his movement too much. On two legs, trying to feel his way around like that would be impossible. His eyes were further from the ground and it didn't fall into his peripheral as much, for one. Beyond that, one leg that supported half of his mass swinging forward was much harder to stop (gracefully) to back track--and what if the back swing attempt failed, too? The foot would eventually seek to go down by its own volition with gravity beckoning persistently. Like Hezekiah, he could still manage to do a half decent job masking his footsteps were it required, but with the body in tow he didn't really see this as an option. For that to work, he'd have to sling the dead wolf over his back or something, not drag it along the ground, and he didn't want to get that close to it. It already was starting to smell like rot and decay.
@&#&$Still, the winds were changing and his path was non-direct--he could still scent the other male, and increasingly he was growing intrigued as to why he was being pursued, but not confronted. Anselm eventually made it a short ways out of Inferni, pausing at the top of an extremely pitiful "cliff" (more like a random hill-sized mesa) and chucking the dead wolf's body off over the edge. The majority of his burden removed, he now walked lighter, significantly faster, and with substantially less noise. Now he could catch the sound of his own breath and the lone owl hooting in the treetops. As he walked, he bent down to pick up a rock with sharp edges--it would be useful, soon. Slowing again as he tossed it up and down, catching it in his one hand while he walked, the tattooed male eventually tossed the head down to the ground as he reached Inferni's marked borders. It stopped at the base of a maple tree. Placing the carefully selected rock down next to their newest skull (given it still had some other shit on it), Anselm crouched down then leapt, one hand snaking out to grab a small, dead branch that hung overhead. It cracked under his weight--this would be the pike he used.
OMG I SHOULD BE IN BED D: -Tosses something up and promises to go to sleep when she's done!?!-
@&#&$The relative roar of his own movements successfully drowned out any sounds the trailing coyote may have made. Anselm, too, was far stealthier on four legs than two--on four each foot could be placed down one at a time, giving you a stable base as the one tested the waters carefully. Loose rocks that may slip and make noise? Try again. Brushed against a dead leaf and don't want to crunch it? Adjust course a bit. These things could be done without messing up the rhythm of his movement too much. On two legs, trying to feel his way around like that would be impossible. His eyes were further from the ground and it didn't fall into his peripheral as much, for one. Beyond that, one leg that supported half of his mass swinging forward was much harder to stop (gracefully) to back track--and what if the back swing attempt failed, too? The foot would eventually seek to go down by its own volition with gravity beckoning persistently. Like Hezekiah, he could still manage to do a half decent job masking his footsteps were it required, but with the body in tow he didn't really see this as an option. For that to work, he'd have to sling the dead wolf over his back or something, not drag it along the ground, and he didn't want to get that close to it. It already was starting to smell like rot and decay.
@&#&$Still, the winds were changing and his path was non-direct--he could still scent the other male, and increasingly he was growing intrigued as to why he was being pursued, but not confronted. Anselm eventually made it a short ways out of Inferni, pausing at the top of an extremely pitiful "cliff" (more like a random hill-sized mesa) and chucking the dead wolf's body off over the edge. The majority of his burden removed, he now walked lighter, significantly faster, and with substantially less noise. Now he could catch the sound of his own breath and the lone owl hooting in the treetops. As he walked, he bent down to pick up a rock with sharp edges--it would be useful, soon. Slowing again as he tossed it up and down, catching it in his one hand while he walked, the tattooed male eventually tossed the head down to the ground as he reached Inferni's marked borders. It stopped at the base of a maple tree. Placing the carefully selected rock down next to their newest skull (given it still had some other shit on it), Anselm crouched down then leapt, one hand snaking out to grab a small, dead branch that hung overhead. It cracked under his weight--this would be the pike he used.