hardly sportsmanlike

[Skoll]

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Here ya go. My replies will be slow, but I figured we could at least get it started. He had been sleep-deprived for the past two days...the nightmares had grown worse. Phoenix had made him feel better about the Inferni incident, it was good to know that he wasn't alone in that, but the worst nightmares were always about the Shadow War, and none here knew enough about that to console him. Matrix had been too young to see most of it, and their altars...never had he seen something so despicable. He didn't know why he was so bothered recently...whatever the reason for it, he had been tired for a long time. After a particularly grueling hunt, he filled his belly and lounged quietly, drifting in and out of sleep all day, until the sun began to fall, and he rested his head against the snow-covered floor and shut his eyes, off into a sleep deeper than any he had enjoyed in a long time. His vigilance down, his mind deep in the embrace of slumber, he was away from the world, and no sound would wake him. A few hours passed, before two wolves, grey and white mottled, crept silently upon his position. The slightly smaller of the two, the elder, possessed one icy blue eye and one yellow. His fists clenched and his eyes widened as he spotted Skoll's sleeping form, and he held his hand up to stall his brother. The larger wolf, blue in the eyes like their third brother, Urbald, stopped. The fire in his eyes was less in its ire than Glaesring's, but greater in its comprehension and lucidity. They had sought for this wolf by his pack land, but had caught no scent of him. It wasn't long, though, before they caught a new lead, and followed it here, deep into the Moaning Woods. "C'mon, Argus," he beckoned his little brother forward, until they stood only a few yards from their target, one on either side of the sleeping warrior. The elder wolf held his hand up, like an axe, and then cast it down in a chopping motion, giving his little brother the signal to leap into action. Leap he did, and the bronze warrior woke with a start as over two hundred pounds of werewolf landed on him. His first inclination was to rise, which was of course impossible with someone sitting on his chest. Argus reached for his arms, and grabbed one in each hand. The old fighter wrenched and twisted, loosing one arm before grabbing his enemy's wrist. It didn't afford him much, but now he at least had more leverage on his right side. Still, he was trapped underneath the other large were, and he felt hands digging through his pack at his hip. His axe and his knives were all withdrawn from it, before a wolf he recognized in the moonlight stood up, and looked into his eyes. "So much for honor, huh?" he intoned, still working his grip to whatever advantage he could, which wasn't much. Even if he could prevent the first wolf from hurting him, he couldn't push him off from this position...at least not in what time he had, which meant that he couldn't stop the other.. "You sundered Urbald's leg. Now I'll sunder yours," he said with with a feral grimace. "Before I kill you." Skoll's eyes widened, still analytical and in control, though it was dawning on him that this was an impossible situation. Great, I just haaad to injure the reasonable one. Indeed, the brother this mottled wolf had spoken of had been willing to deal, provided that he would still probably win. Glaesring had never liked the idea of dealing or talking in the first place, and had wanted to just stick Skoll with his throwing knives, which he no longer had, since Phoenix took them at the end of their last fight. Glaesring lifted Skoll's own axe, kneeling by his right leg, the axe reached its apex, and the mottled wolf's muscles tensed as he began to bring the axe down... ~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.

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