08-23-2009, 11:27 PM
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@ the forest 4 hezekiah; italics = thoughts in case it's not clear :o
@&#&$The sun was just settling below the horizon, though it had already been dark for nearly an hour. The storm that inspired this premature darkness seemed to be on its last wind. The lightning bolts that had lit up the sky hours before now flitted by only on occasion; the deafening booms of the thunder now only grumbled in the distance. Though it was still drizzling lightly, it was hardly enough to notice--one could probably cover the expanse of Inferni's territory and still be dry, assuming they had begun in such a state.
@&#&$Evidence of the departing storm was still strong; the rivers surged and threatened to overflow their banks, and thick clumps of mud clung to the feet and legs of the golden hybrid that paced near their shore. Less than an hour ago, he'd caught a strange, fresh scent lingering near the south-east border. It had cut off into the forest, weaving this way and that, occasionally getting stuck in broad circles. It seemed likely that whoever it was had been lost, but after the incident with Bastardo, Anselm wasn't taking any chances.
@&#&$The trail lead him to the river, where the intruder's paw prints were still visible in the mud. They held tight to the bank of the river, right up until a part where the slope was a little steeper. Twin garnet eyes observed the claw marks he found here with interest--they had fallen in. Frowning, he padded further along down stream. Very near where the trees began to thin, he spotted the unfortunate animal half-submerged in a riffle.
@&#&$Shifting easily to his bipedal form, Anselm eased himself down the bank and grabbed hold of the young wolf by the scruff. The body was cold and already stiff with death, and he deposited it as soon as it was convenient. Well, no use letting it go to waste--his claws dug steadily into the dead yearling's neck like knives, stopping only when he gained some leverage. When he did, he forced his two hands apart, tearing through flesh and ripping the throat open. Some blood drained out, but the wolf ignored it. Placing his foot on the back of the thing's neck, he now grabbed his prize firmly and yanked. The spine gave and the head detached, leaving him holding it rather unceremoniously by the snout. Didn't think you'd be needing this any more... he mused, as he contemplated what to do with the rest of the body. He didn't really want it to rot there and stink up the place, after all.
@ the forest 4 hezekiah; italics = thoughts in case it's not clear :o
@&#&$The sun was just settling below the horizon, though it had already been dark for nearly an hour. The storm that inspired this premature darkness seemed to be on its last wind. The lightning bolts that had lit up the sky hours before now flitted by only on occasion; the deafening booms of the thunder now only grumbled in the distance. Though it was still drizzling lightly, it was hardly enough to notice--one could probably cover the expanse of Inferni's territory and still be dry, assuming they had begun in such a state.
@&#&$Evidence of the departing storm was still strong; the rivers surged and threatened to overflow their banks, and thick clumps of mud clung to the feet and legs of the golden hybrid that paced near their shore. Less than an hour ago, he'd caught a strange, fresh scent lingering near the south-east border. It had cut off into the forest, weaving this way and that, occasionally getting stuck in broad circles. It seemed likely that whoever it was had been lost, but after the incident with Bastardo, Anselm wasn't taking any chances.
@&#&$The trail lead him to the river, where the intruder's paw prints were still visible in the mud. They held tight to the bank of the river, right up until a part where the slope was a little steeper. Twin garnet eyes observed the claw marks he found here with interest--they had fallen in. Frowning, he padded further along down stream. Very near where the trees began to thin, he spotted the unfortunate animal half-submerged in a riffle.
@&#&$Shifting easily to his bipedal form, Anselm eased himself down the bank and grabbed hold of the young wolf by the scruff. The body was cold and already stiff with death, and he deposited it as soon as it was convenient. Well, no use letting it go to waste--his claws dug steadily into the dead yearling's neck like knives, stopping only when he gained some leverage. When he did, he forced his two hands apart, tearing through flesh and ripping the throat open. Some blood drained out, but the wolf ignored it. Placing his foot on the back of the thing's neck, he now grabbed his prize firmly and yanked. The spine gave and the head detached, leaving him holding it rather unceremoniously by the snout. Didn't think you'd be needing this any more... he mused, as he contemplated what to do with the rest of the body. He didn't really want it to rot there and stink up the place, after all.