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While his duty did not require him to scout the borders, Max often trailed those nearest the caves, moving from south to north. He had never run into trouble, but he was frightful now—Halo’s attack had made his aggression all but double, worried that others might now come while their Triarii was wounded. Enkiel had not emerged from his home and Ezekiel was unwilling to speak of the matter yet. With his body tense and his mind a thousand places, Max did the only thing he could do; he ran. It was something Ezekiel had prompted him to focus on when he could not deal with his rather terrible mood swings, and it did help.
Four-legged, he barreled across the landscape and towards the borders, head and tail even with his spine, eyes gleaming with the furious spitz-dog madness. If he had been there, maybe she wouldn’t be hurt. He had wanted to protect this place, and he hadn’t been there…but Myrika and Ithiel had come, and they had saved her, right? What more could be done?
He slowed to a trot and then to a stop, panting. It had been a grueling run, but he was hardly tired. In his chest a powerful heart beat endlessly, heaving against his broad frame. Max was, without a doubt, no longer a child. Almost one-hundred pounds in this form, he was more dog than coyote in body and a formidable opponent…at least he imagined it. Without a true fight to base his skills against, he knew only training. He wanted more.
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ooc: sorry for the awfulness of this! D: wc: 419
your dark nightmare
Fighting with Helotes - more specifically, losing while fighting with Helotes - had brought a renewed sort of madness to the oldest son of Kerberos. His fiery umber eyes, already burning with resentment and disgust, shone with a new sort of anger. Columbine hated himself for being so utterly weak and so incredibly disgusting. No wonder his father had beaten him! No wonder he was scarred, tattered, ugly and useless. If his idiotic brother, his brother who could not realize that Jacinto was bringing shame to their family. Shame! Columbine had worked so hard to be the ideal Lykoi - strong, well maintained, a fine sort of brute - and yet here was his family, consistently showing him that not only was he not good enough, the entire line of Kerberos should have been eliminated at the start. They were disgusting and useless, and the dusky man beat himself upon four paws along the borders, desperate to forget what was happening.
He would have gotten distracted by the scent of another - Max Klein, a member of the warrior class that he had only met in passing - had another, overpowering, and downright seductive scent not floated towards him. The Secui quickly shifted direction, though the move was subtle - this wolf (or so it smelled) was close to both Max and Columbine. Umber eyes narrowed in confusion and slight irritation. What wolf would be idiotic enough to tread upon a land where the markings were skulls of that kind? Columbine couldn't understand. Was he living in a world of idiots?
"Who goes there?" the man barked, soon coming upon a medium sized wolf, nose poking at the fresh carcass of a rabbit that was very much inside Inferni's borders. A snarl lifted at Columbine's lips and his stance became dominant and dangerous. In his Secui form, the Hastati was quite the intimidating brute: his muscles reeked of power, and his aura shone of malevolent viciousness. The wolf did not respond, but instead lifted his eyes and sneered before going back to his stolen meal. "I said - who goes there, wolf? Answer quickly, or I shall kill you where you stand." His voice was loud enough to echo over to Max - the white hybrid was not far away - though the words would not have been discernable.
It is none of your business, coyote, the trespasser answered, pink tongue languidly licking the blood off his lips. And so Columbine's blood boiled, and the man prepared to lunge.
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The internal affairs of the pack were still very much separated from Max. He did not poke his nose in business that was not his own—even when he had helped begin preparations for Halo he had been chased out and left in the dark to the true extend of her injuries. Much in this way he was unaware of the hostility between the two Lykoi brothers, having only seen them separate and oblivious to the hostility brought up by the feminine male and his young bride.
Everything, however, closed into one sudden focus. The bigger man, in his larger Secui form, stiffened. Max froze and dropped low, obscuring himself in the tall grass and the snow-brushed land. He moved low to the ground and with the same tension as he might have encountered during a hunt. Unspoken tactics were clear enough—Columbine’s bellowing voice carried over the land, pinpointing the location of the pair.
A gray wolf, hunched over a carcass, was the cause of the trouble. Max’s fur bristled. A day before he had seen the aftermath of two trespassers, and now a third wished to try them? Anger rose in him, savage, terrible. A monster awoke, brightening his eyes to a terrible burning gold. Without a sound, as he had been taught, the pale hybrid circled. When he was at the side of the male, he waited just long enough to see Columbine’s stance shift…and then there was only the adrenaline pounding in his ears and the silent rush.
Max struck low, slashing at the wolf’s shoulder with his uncut fangs and leapt away as the snarling gray male whipped his head around. He avoided the blow, as he had been trained to do, and tasted blood on his tongue. A peculiar and alien excitement filled him; this was like hunting but somehow different, somehow better.
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ooc: Summary: Columbine gets a hit on the wolf's opposing shoulder, but suffers a superficial wound on his own shoulder (nothing that will hinder his fighting). He backs up, and has the attention of the wolf before moving to seemingly attack head on. wc: 284
your dark nightmare
Before he could release the tension in his muscles, an alabaster blur whirled past his eyes - Columbine committed a grevious mistake and took his attention away from the snarling grey idiot that had decided to trespass upon Inferni. Max slashed at the shoulder and deftly avoided a blow from the retaliating male, angering the wolf and giving Columbine an opportunity to attack. The dusky grey male leaped at the trespassing man, white teeth flashing in the sun as he sprung to latch his teeth into any part of the man he could get. Secui gave him power he appreciated, and he was satisfied to feel flesh on his teeth. Unfortunately, his attack was overwhelmingly obvious, as was Columbine's greatest weakness.
A rather undignified yelp slipped out of his lips when the foreign wolf managed to get a small chunk of Columbine's retreating shoulder, though he supposed it was fair enough. Where Max had gotten a taste of one shoulder, Columbine had gotten the other - it was delicious and refreshing to feel the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. A vicious snarl replaced the yelp, and Col backed away, eyes locked with the grey male. Perhaps he could act as a minor distraction for Max, and Columbine sneered before going for the direct attack on the wolf. The hybrid was larger than the wolf, though he supposed he wouldn't be if he were in his natural form. A head to head battle would be difficult, but winnable - however, it was not what he was aiming for. Hopefully, the wolf would lunge for him and abandon his flank - then, Max would be able to get a solid hit on the male.
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When he trained, Max did not strike with teeth or claws. There was no need for it. He used skills learned in lessons on prey animals, but they instinctively fled versus an opponent who fought. For Max, this was new. He was basing his behavior on his lessons, obeying what he had been taught. To strike as a coyote was one thing, and it often was this method that wolves seemed to forget. While they too were capable of the speedy strike, slash, retreat behavior, it was rarely seen in close combat. Relying on thicker fur and loose skin allowed for them to take bigger risks and go for the throat, as was standard for all predators.
The gray wolf spun on Columbine, forgetting Max as he sunk teeth into the Hastati’s shoulder. A doggish snarl rumbled from the pale hybrid, lips pulling away from heavy-set, Malamute teeth. Ignorant of his heritage he did not know that this blood would too give him an advantage—heavier than a wolf he was capable of dealing a remarkable amount of damage (and take blows on his own loose neck-scruff). Paws spread across the ground, giving him grip, and once more the halfbreed launched himself forward.
Columbine’s behavior was a welcomed distraction. Max sunk his teeth into the wolf’s hind leg and crunched down savagely, shattering the bone. It was enough to break the combatant from the dusky coyote’s attack, earning Max a savage bite across his head. Teeth raked over his skull and closed around his ear, but it gave way and ripped free, leaving him bleeding but not badly so. A challenging snarl came from his chest, well-aware that with one broken leg the fight would not last long. This surprised him—he had always imagined killing a wolf would be somehow more difficult than killing a deer.
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ooc:  wc: 294
your dark nightmare
Naturally, a two pronged attack was better than a one on one fight. Columbine's distracting method appeared to have worked: the strange grey wolf was focused entirely on the dusky hybrid. The Hastati completely ignored the blood that flowed slightly from his shoulder, though the ground around him was tainted not only with the paw-prints of others, but also his own crimson life liquid. It was a fascinating thing, emitting a strange smell that he could not fully enjoy. But this was not the time or place to be distracted, and Columbine focused his entire being on the creature before him. A satisfying crunch of bone marked the success of Max's attack, and the sneer on Columbine's face widened as the grey male staggered, grievously wounded.
The fight could not progress long from here. Though Max had been hit, and received a blow to the head, Columbine could tell his comrade-in-arms was not horribly wounded, though blood did flow rather freely. A dangerous snarl loosed from the dark hybrid's teeth as he bounded forward, taking advantage of the male's distraction and pain to make a move upon the male's neck. The Hastati's aim was not entirely perfect, as he'd often relied on his own brute force to land blows, but his teeth came away with a satisfying tear and blood gushed from the wolf male. A large, likely deadly wound appeared on the grey neck, and Columbine snarled once more: the exhilaration of the kill was something he had not experienced in far too long.
Back-stepping away, the sneer on the male's face deepened, and his unappealing personality surfaced as he taunted the dying creature. "Was that rabbit worth it, wolf?" he spat. How foolish you are, to join your ancestors to mark our lands.
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None of his training had really involved combatants as they were currently behaving. Max had, through time and instinct, learned how to hunt with a group. This was very similar, but they were not after an animal they could eat. Well, he assumed one could eat a wolf, but why do such a thing? He’d make sure the ravens got to eat it at least, and report the kill to Ezekiel. Maybe it would grant him a promotion to the Hastati rank, as he so desired to be. If he had to kill for someone, it would be for Inferni…and what better way to begin than with a wolf that had obviously broken the most primitive law and killed on claimed lands?
He watched as Columbine landed the final blow, striking at the wolf’s exposed neck. Hot blood boiled to the surface and spilled upon the ground. Max, panting, watched as the wolf staggered and collapsed to the taunts of the older man. Unwilling to advance on another’s kill, the younger warrior remained still until the gray wolf gave his final death rattle and stilled. Blood speckled his pelt, and mouth, and a gray-pink tongue rolled out to lick his muzzle.
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ooc: (:wc: 341
your dark nightmare
The sounds of death were not unfamiliar to Columbine, and a grim smile twisted around his lips as he watched the last moments of life cling to existence in the grey man's eyes. The Hastati watched with a sort of morbid fascination as strange golden orbs grew dimmer and proportionately more desperate: the trespasser knew his crime would be his last, and he would be forced to lock eyes with the demon that slayed him. It was a strange sort of injustice mingled with the law, and though the Lykoi knew, by tradition, killing was wrong, he could not help but enjoy the powerful rush of adrenaline that consumed his veins. It did not take long for the grey man to pass, and soon the rattle that marked the passing of life reached Columbine's ears, and that was that.
He stepped quietly to the carcass, prodding it with his Secui nose to ensure it was deceased. The body, of course, was still warm with stilled blood, and Columbine was slightly surprised: this male was not particularly weak, as the form he pressed against appeared to have a decent amount of muscles. Perhaps he'd just grown complacent, or was new to the area and was not aware of the territoriality of Inferni. Regardless, it had cost the man his life. With a subtle start, the Hastati realized he did not even know this creature's name. It did not affect him.
Columbine shifted his gaze to Max, and his expression returned to its natural state: cool, aloof, and slightly disdainful. He was foolish to do such a thing, the dark man remarked, his voice notably quieter than normal. But I am surprised at the amount of trespassers we have had as of late. It is a problem I did not expect here. The dusky man loosed a quiet sigh, though his admittedly sharp mind was whirling with thoughts. How could Ezekiel let Inferni slip slow low? How was it possible that wolves thought it okay to move on the territory of the coyote?
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