06-28-2010, 09:47 PM
(ooc-Since Saluce isn't apart of this pact wasn't sure if I should break protocal and make it private. So I just tagged the two players I've involved in this plot.)
There he was standing on the western edge of the Whisper Beach just to the north of Dahlia Lands (although he just knows that he’s north of a pack land ic). With quiet resignation he studied the ocean quietly knowing he wasn’t seeing the pacific but it still didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine for a second that he had journeyed all the way across North America. The thought was pleasant as he considered the stories he would return back to England with. He could be thought of as a hero, the wolf equivalent of Marco Polo. But as was the case such dreams where shattered with the sudden realization that he had only traveled a very small percentage of the continent and was very aware that he was going to have to turn north into the lands called the wastes before too long to continue westward. With no boat this ocean inlet blocked a straight approach so he would have to take a detour.
With a resigned sigh he strapped his bag across his heavily muscled back, checked to see if his swords where nestled securely in their sheaths and started out. He was in a more care free mood today; the scenery brought back pleasant memories of Normandy. His nose inhaled deeply letting the salty ocean scent fill his nostrils all the while closing his eyes to take it all in. Loosing himself for a moment he took an awkward step forward his eyes only half open as the shock and realization of his folly hit him. The cliff wasn’t too high but the disturbed pebbles under his foot rocketed down the cliff. Franticly he fought to keep his balance under shifting ground before his massive frame teetered off balance toward the cliff. His form stood perfectly still as if resigning him to the coming fall before the loose footing he found himself on gave way sending him plummeting downward. His claws flayed around at the cliff wall trying to find something to grab a hold of, his legs franticly kicking for hold as he slid further downward picking up steam. Somewhere on the way to the bottom his leg caught a hold but he was going too fast and with no other hold to grab onto his shin turned in an awkward way as the bone broke outward and pierced through his fur. Pain seared through the wolfs mind as he for the first time let out an awkward yelp, the yelp though was quickly subdued as his form hit the sand with a thud. The force of which causing his head to fly backward against a sharp rock cutting open the back of his head.
The world faded to black as he laid there his body resetting itself. Some few moments later the rushing noise of the ocean flooded his ears causing him to awaken suddenly unsure of where he was. “Normandy?” his voice cracked as he tried to sit up but the pounding in his head told him to just wait a moment. For a minute he was content to sit there letting his senses come pounding to him. With a stubborn deep inhale his frame lifted up in a sitting posture and immediately his paw came up to hold his head, eyes finding his leg in horrible shape. The wolf was filled with a mixture of rage and pain, quickly blaming himself for his foolishness. “For the love Nature what in the world was I thinking” he repeated to himself. Soon his mind started working on how to fix his leg, being wounded was the worst possible scenario for him, especially a broken leg.
He slowly brought his leg to him in an Indian style jester his lips curling back in a snarl of pain as his eyes looked for anything to fashion a stint, and something to use as a bandage to help cull the bleeding.
There he was standing on the western edge of the Whisper Beach just to the north of Dahlia Lands (although he just knows that he’s north of a pack land ic). With quiet resignation he studied the ocean quietly knowing he wasn’t seeing the pacific but it still didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine for a second that he had journeyed all the way across North America. The thought was pleasant as he considered the stories he would return back to England with. He could be thought of as a hero, the wolf equivalent of Marco Polo. But as was the case such dreams where shattered with the sudden realization that he had only traveled a very small percentage of the continent and was very aware that he was going to have to turn north into the lands called the wastes before too long to continue westward. With no boat this ocean inlet blocked a straight approach so he would have to take a detour.
With a resigned sigh he strapped his bag across his heavily muscled back, checked to see if his swords where nestled securely in their sheaths and started out. He was in a more care free mood today; the scenery brought back pleasant memories of Normandy. His nose inhaled deeply letting the salty ocean scent fill his nostrils all the while closing his eyes to take it all in. Loosing himself for a moment he took an awkward step forward his eyes only half open as the shock and realization of his folly hit him. The cliff wasn’t too high but the disturbed pebbles under his foot rocketed down the cliff. Franticly he fought to keep his balance under shifting ground before his massive frame teetered off balance toward the cliff. His form stood perfectly still as if resigning him to the coming fall before the loose footing he found himself on gave way sending him plummeting downward. His claws flayed around at the cliff wall trying to find something to grab a hold of, his legs franticly kicking for hold as he slid further downward picking up steam. Somewhere on the way to the bottom his leg caught a hold but he was going too fast and with no other hold to grab onto his shin turned in an awkward way as the bone broke outward and pierced through his fur. Pain seared through the wolfs mind as he for the first time let out an awkward yelp, the yelp though was quickly subdued as his form hit the sand with a thud. The force of which causing his head to fly backward against a sharp rock cutting open the back of his head.
The world faded to black as he laid there his body resetting itself. Some few moments later the rushing noise of the ocean flooded his ears causing him to awaken suddenly unsure of where he was. “Normandy?” his voice cracked as he tried to sit up but the pounding in his head told him to just wait a moment. For a minute he was content to sit there letting his senses come pounding to him. With a stubborn deep inhale his frame lifted up in a sitting posture and immediately his paw came up to hold his head, eyes finding his leg in horrible shape. The wolf was filled with a mixture of rage and pain, quickly blaming himself for his foolishness. “For the love Nature what in the world was I thinking” he repeated to himself. Soon his mind started working on how to fix his leg, being wounded was the worst possible scenario for him, especially a broken leg.
He slowly brought his leg to him in an Indian style jester his lips curling back in a snarl of pain as his eyes looked for anything to fashion a stint, and something to use as a bandage to help cull the bleeding.