I will not forgive
#1
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for Drizzt, back dated to May 21st.
Sorry for the blah starter, so not worthy of the wait I put you through<3

Keese was definitely out of his element in this savage land. Far from the wolf built town he called home. In his homeland anything, anything at all that silver male had wanted would have been given to him freely. He need only ask or in some other way express his desire and it was his. Here though, nothing came easily and he found he was struggling, quite pathetically, to claim what had been rightfully his in the first place. Oh Anann, he had known the woman to have a stubborn will, but it he had underestimated just how so. Eventually the woman would come around, the silvered male convinced that she was only playing hard to get as punishment for his taking so long to follow her here in the first place.

Frustrated, beaten, and bruised Keese had left the packlands a few days ago. The most damage had been done only to his pride. His bouts of wandering outside the lands had become more frequent. Just for a brief respite every now and again to clear his head and perhaps rethink his approach with Anann. He hadn't known where he was headed only that it was away from that cur stench. What the hell she saw in that place he would never understand and he was beginning to think that the only reason she had joined their ranks was to drive him mad. They had made him the lowest of the low and it was more than the arrogant male could stand to bow his head to a fucking dog.

Somewhere along his way he had come across a smooth round stone. A clay brown in color, it was nothing special but it was large enough to fit comfortably in his hand and it seemed to have a nice weight to it. He would tossing the stone in the air a few inches, letting it fall heavily back to his palm only to repeat the cycle as he went. He had become so focused on his thoughts, as well as the common stone, that he had made his way well into the rotting suburbs before he became conscientiously aware of how close he was coming to the rundown city he had first met that Russian.

Anatoliy. Just the though of the hybrid male sent his hackles twitching as his face twisted in a raging snarl. Eyeing a glass pane still most intact Keese let the stone his fly at it in his rage. The shattering sound was pleasing, but it was not enough to sooth his anger. Gathering what he could find from the streets, he pelted the assortment of objects at the decaying house. "Son of a bitch!" He roared in his fury. Hate for that Russian cur burning in his chest. Though it was not just him, but also that hi-colored do-gooder that was responsible for his most current thumpings. He hated them all. Every last one of them. It didn't matter why.

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#2
OOc: I'm so sorry I took so long! >< I've been dealing with some issues irl. I'll be better about responses now, promise! ^^

Drizzt moved as silently as his shadow as he wandered aimlessly through the old human settlement. He had spent nearly two hours using his natural talent at with stealth to scan the city for any sign of a settled pack. He hadn't found any, and as such, had allowed himself to explore the city, finding a few items worth scavenging, but nothing other than that. In all, he would leave with a few 'new' whetstones, and a wickedly edged three inch combat knife. He had strapped the knife to his belt, and placed the whetstones in his pack.

Currently, the Russian wolf walked calmly down the street, weaving around cars and skeletons. While he walked, he continued reading a book he owned called, "The Art of War". He had already finished reading it, but found the references to old battles he had never heard of outside of the book intriguing, painting pictures of hundreds of humans throwing themselves at each other. And for what? For some small piece of land, barely four miles at some times? He shook his head, realizing that wolves weren't so different with territory disputes. He was beginning to ponder this when he heard a series of sounds, of breaking glass and denting metal.

Drawing his right blade from its sheath, Drizzt rushed towards the source of the disturbances and sudden curse. He slowed as he turned a corner and saw another dark male chucking rocks at a building. The Assassin Prince walked till he was only ten feet from the other male. He cleared his throat loudly, pulling his cowl lower. "I beg your pardon sir, but is this really necessary? I doubt the buildings truly deserve your ire." He said calmly. His blade was still in his hand, but was being held at a low and nonthreatening angle.
#3
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Pssh that wasn't much of a wait at all, but I am sorry for the wait.

Gravel. Chunks and pieces of the deteriorating concrete sidewalks and streets. It didn't matter what it was so long as it had enough mass to be effectively thrown at the rotting building that had become the recipient of the silvered male's wrath. Each object was thrown with all his might and many with a poorly aimed trajectory that left them bouncing rather harmlessly off the wood siding. Occasionally they would create a shower of paint chips on impact, though it was not nearly as satisfying as when his projectiles hit their mark, shattering whatever glass still remained within the windows.

The pent up frustration and anger that had accumulated over the passing weeks was full unleashed on the inanimate object. Projectiles were thrown with such force that it the muscles in his shoulders quickly began to ache. His white chest heaving as he panted, putting everything into his assault of the decaying structure. He was completely oblivious to the cloaked figured that had approached from behind.

His venting barrage had already brought his hackles to a full rise. Thinking of all the indignities he had suffered in the passing weeks at the hands of the pack of mutts. The sudden realization that he was no longer alone was enough to the wolf on edge as a strange voice cut through the air, but it was its accent that sent a chill up his spine and fueled his fury even further. He arm stopped right were it was, drawn back to launch another sizeable piece of concrete. Fist clenching tightly around it his arm dropped to his side as he turned to face the stranger with a snarl curling his lips. His other hand instinctively reaching for the buck knife at the back of his belt, but paused not seeing the earthen hued face he had expected. The drawn blade quickly caught his attention and his hand finished wrapping around the handle of short blade, not yet drawing it. "Too much a coward to deal with me himself, huh? So he sent you instead." He snarled, his stance defensive as he waited for the attack that was sure to come. "Get it over with, come on!" He knew he wouldn't stand much of a chance against a sword with a knife, but all be damned if he wasn't going to go down fighting. He'd at least cut the bastard.

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#4
The Russian glanced at the building the man had been venting on, raising an eyebrow for a moment at the obvious marks of abuse. His eye drifted back towards the other male just as he was noticed. Lavender eyes narrowed as the ruffled male reached behind his back, speaking something about a coward and dealing with the stranger. Drizzt wasn't sure what to make of the angry man, but he certainly wasn't going to be mistaken for an assassin. Not anymore. "Be at ease, stranger." He said, flourishing a bow. "I am Drizzt, a wandering swordsman. Know that I am not working for anyone wishing you harm, and only came here by coincidence. The sounds led me to believe there was a fight happening here." As he finished speaking, he slowly placed his scimitar back into its scabbard, then rested one hand on his thigh while the other held a strap of his back pack. He waited calmly for the man to respond.

This man was obviously distressed by something. Or someone. As Drizzt eyed him over, he noticed the man appeared... beaten. Besides his general appearance, it was the way he moved. The tone of his voice. He was distressed in more ways than one.
#5
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so I've been trying to get this wrote up since like ohhh Sunday. Damn writers block.

Fingers loosed around the dagger as the other man bowed. Still he was suspicious of the stranger, eyes narrowing as gave the man a good look. ”I do not trust you. You’re unusual accent, it is the same as his.” For Keese, it was reason enough not to trust this stranger and given that he seemed rather well armed only furthered his caution. It seemed only likely that only two he had heard speak such an accent would be cohorts, it was not as if the Russian accent was a common one in these parts. The sword was sheathed and Keese considered removing his hand from his own knife but he was still too on edge to leave himself feeling too vulnerable. For all he knew this other wolf was just trying to get his guard down before drawing his sword again to remove head from body.

As sceptical as he was of this new stranger, Keese had to admit there was quite the difference between this man and Anatoliy. Breed was the most note worthy, at least in Keese's mind, for this fellow appeared to be wolf, unlike the mixed heritage of the other foreign male. This fellow also dressed in far more than just a rough pair of old shorts and spoke with more dignity as well. Although he did seem a little over dressed considering the season, but then it seemed his apparel was more functional than fashionable. It impressed Keese, some what as he looked the stranger over, his hackles deflating slightly as he caught his breath.

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#6
OOc: I'm sorry for the sucky post >< I'll try to lengthen them

Tilting his head, Drizzt's face scrunched up in confusion as he pondered the other man's accusation. 'My accent is the same as his? Does he mean...?' Stiffening slightly, he looked straight into the other mans eyes as his hand once again found his sword's hilt. "Fiul lui a... What do you mean? Who do I share an accent with?" He questioned, his voice gaining a low, icy tone. "I assure you, I am, and have been, alone since arriving here. But I must know of who it is you speak. I have a group of... fanatics stalking me from time to time. I must know if they are here."

It was probably just another random Russian wolf who had made residence here in Nova Scotia, but the run away prince needed to be certain, needed to know if he had been found.
#7
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sorry for the wait

Keese’s claim seemed to confuse the other man. Pale eyes watching as the nameless man face furrowed in his confusion before he stiffened and his hand once again reached for one of the blades at his side. Keese’s own ivory hand tightened once again on the knife at his back, preparing for the worst. Foreign words left the other man’s tongue and Keese took a step back, unsure of the meaning and his guard, and hackles, started to rise again. Though the stranger seemed to catch himself and once again spoke in the language the both seemed to understand.

He was quick to doubt the other’s claims of solitude. Though his scent provided no proof otherwise. Sniffing rather blatantly at the other he tried to find the scent of the Russian male he knew on this one. His skepticism took a dive as the cloaked man mentioned fanatics stalking him and he finally let his hand fall from the dagger as he gave an exaggerated huff. ”Oh, he is a fanatic sure enough. Though I’d imagine not one you’d have anything to fear from.” It was clear to Keese that the large man had an infatuation with his Anann. As there was little reason for the man to otherwise be so defensive of the woman. Despite the aggression he had shown, it appeared the big man had little real bite and Keese found his threats to be as meaningless as the barking from a chained dog. Though the same could not be said for all members of the cur pack. ”He is in the pack that lays just south and west of here. He attempts to keep me from my mate and has convinced the pack to make me their omega so that he might freely see me beat.” His forked tongue twisted the truth into something he saw more fitting to the situation. Perhaps if he spun his story right he might find an ally in this warrior.

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