and then it falls.
#1
Private for Anatole.
[html]
[/html]He knew, with undeniable certainty, that his home would not survive. It made him sad to think that all of the effort he'd put into making it his home after he had claimed it from his family would be for nought. It made him sad to think that if Tayui, Attila, or Océane ever came back, their family's safest place would be no more. It wasn't just the memories of the place that made it difficult for him to let go, but also all of the items he had stored in it. He had started moving some of his things the day before, but there was still more he needed to get.

With the basket he had made with Saqui, he took trip after trip in his two-legged form taking as much as he could carry from his den back to the village. Now, he had crawled into the farthest part of his den searching for the small things his siblings had given him over the years. He had a few toys that Attila no longer used and gifts from Noir and Océane. He couldn't just leave them there. His eyes began to well up as he thought about Toefur, Noir's most prized possession. He couldn't leave all of this behind.

He brought out the last few items to his basket before he remembered there was one last thing. He returned to the cave and reached out with his left hand to grab one last item. That was when he felt the cave shake and the rocks start to fall.[html]
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QUOTE (Total points for this thread)
5: Start a thread
10: A character has their home destroyed
3: A spirit guide involves itself in someone's struggle for safety
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18 points total[/quote]
#2
[html]


(411)



art by crypsis

A deep instinct had warned him that outside was dangerous. He had smelt the rain and felt the wind, watched it with fear deep in his heart. Anatole had seen storms before—he had lost his brother to one, though this memory was ingrained into older fears that trailed back to true wolves and he was not willing to make the connection to that lost thing that had once been his blood. Fear had driven him underground to wait, listening, until finally he slept.

Water woke him. An unholy fear filled him to the point of panic and he scrambled for the entrance, nearly hysterical. Even the calming voice of that invisible guide could not calm him, so deeply ingrained was his fear. He wheeled and stared, wide-eyed, at the mouth of his home. It was apparent now why the water had begun to flood in—the uppermost lip of the mouth had been worn by the sheer quantity of the storm’s wrath. Even as he watched, horror-stricken, mud and twigs and gallons upon gallons of the rain sloshed into what was—or had been—his home.

Then he finally heard Donoma. He heard her but did not hear words, only felt that he must go. He trusted his instincts, her guidance, and he trusted these things because the message was too terrible to ignore even in the wake of his own loss.

So he thundered through the forest even as the storm thundered ahead, slipped in a muddy mass that had not been there before and rose half-covered in the stuff. He pushed himself to his feet and focused, with desperate need, on gaining hands. They would need them to face this storm, and like it or not, he would need them. Black fur spilled from his shoulders as the water soaked him, as his bones cracked and ached, and as the mud dripped from his body.

Then he was running again, following her voice. He burst through the treeline in time to see the grayish mass of his cousin enter the place and feel all the ancient fear rise up in one terrible cry. It bellowed forth from his mouth even as he rushed forward, even as he saw the stones and earth collapse. White hands turned black as he scrambled, frantically, to shove aside the wet ground and stones. He was calling his cousin’s name the whole time, though his voice was lost in the storm’s howling gale.

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#3
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[/html]Claudius could feel the soft fabric against his fingerpads. He tried to stretch farther to grasp the toy, but the weight of the rocks kept his left arm pinned down. He remembered that he had chosen to reach with his left hand instead of his right because he had climbed up on one of his dirt shelves and used his right arm to steady himself, while reaching with his left. Although his right arm was free, it felt as though it was floating or distant in some way. His entire right arm felt numb, while his whole left arm felt like it was consumed in pain. His fingers tingled and when he tried to move his left arm, he touched a rock the wrong way with one of his fingers, which sent a spike of pain through his arm. Claudius cried out and lowered his head slightly and instantly regretted it when this left a rock that had been resting near his head fall and strike his on the left shoulder. Claudius whimpered this time, now unwilling to move. If he moved, it would just mean more pain.

In the distance, he could hear a voice shouting. At first, he thought it was Gerenuk, but then, he realized that Gerenuk never sounded like that. As he considered this, he noticed Gerenuk standing off to one side, partially obscured by the rocks.

"Ger," he whispered. Gerenuk shook his head.

"My name is Iman," Gerenuk replied. Claudius nodded dumbly. He wondered why Gerenuk had never told him before. He closed his eyes for a moment and then heard the noise grow louder.

"Your cousin is looking for you," Iman said. Claudius nodded again and opened his eyes to see Iman had left.

"Anatole?" he asked. [html]
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#4
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art by crypsis

With each passing moment a sense of dread filled him. It wasn’t until Claudius’ voice rose from the rubble that his heart slowed some. Rain pelted on his back, his ears, filled his head with white noise. Only the ache of muscles as they ripped aside rocks and earth helped to ground him. Finally, his hand collided with a warm body and wet fur. A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding escaped him in a great rush.

“I’m here,” he called, and worked quickly to try and dig him out. “Can you move?”

As loud as he was, the storm was louder. Water filled his world and with it brought panic. Anatole had never been truly frightened of water, or swimming, but subconsciously the lessons of his mother had grown into a terror that would not be quelled. He had to get Claudius out and get them both somewhere safe. And the others—a pang of guilt struck him, recalling that he had more than just his blood to watch out for. Anatole was not just a lowly member of this Tribe; he was a part of it and needed to fill his role.

Despite the frigid air howling at his back, he was certain that something warm brushed against him. It helped to settle his heart, though his work was tireless and endless yet.

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#5
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[/html]With the thundering in his ears, it was difficult to focus on anything else. He very much wanted to sit down or lay down and just sleep for a very long time. As he felt his eyes begin to droop, he was startled back into a form of consciousness when he felt something touch him. He flinched slightly, enough to make his left wrist jar in pain, but not so much that it shifted the rocks. He heard someone--Anatole, that was who Gerenuk said was here--ask him if he could move. He tried to wiggle out from under the rocks, but couldn't move his left wrist. His right shoulder was also pinned, but his legs were free.

"Suh-suh-suh..." he began, but realized that in his panic, he couldn't speak. "Luh-legs, yuh-yes. A-a-a-arms... nuh-no," he replied, trying to use sounds that he would make anyways if he panicked.

He realized that something was moving, somewhere, when he felt a gust of wind blow raindrops on the back of his neck. Anatole must have been trying to dig him out. He latched on to this thought and tried not to panic anymore, but somehow, he realized he felt very calm. There was a hurricane raging outside and he was trapped in his den, but the familiar feeling of panic wasn't as sharp or terrifying as before. [html]
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#6
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(300) If you want, PP Anatole helping pull him out. :3



art by crypsis

There was a need for discipline within his life. Anatole was a capable man and excelled at physical work, and was fast enough to think on his feet and adapt to situations as they came. What he lacked was the drive of leadership. His position in life was best defined by boundaries, for when he had none he had lost sight of his path. By following others he lessened his own responsibility and instead found worth in elevating leaders. His was the life of a pack wolf, not its alpha. As long as there was work, as long as he was given what he needed, he would grind through life with the same headstrong attitude that had carried him thus far.

Large as he was, Anatole tried his best to be careful around his cousin. His muscles strained as larger stones were pulled away, tossed into the storm where they landed with muddy WHUMPS behind the pair. His hair clung to his face and his ears were pinned flat against his skull. Instinct told him to flee this storm for safety, but he had a duty now.

After when felt like an eternity, he finally made enough progress to see that Claudius’ arm was pinned. He hunched over the man, oblivious to personal space at the moment, and eyed it warily. Tabarnak,” he cursed, slipping into his native tongue without realizing it. “I might hurt you more trying to move it,” Anatole growled, frustrated. His green eyes fell to Claudius, full of worry but asking him silently for permission to do such a thing. He feared more what would happen if he left the gray wolf alone to go get help, and hoped that this might be apparent. Exposure was twice as deadly as the debris being whipped around them.

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#7
Okay, I PP'd a bit, feel free to have Anatole pull Claudius out in your next post! And sorry for the wait (WC: 237)
[html]
[/html] Slowly, he could feel the wind grow stronger at his back. He could only assume that this was because Anatole was moving rocks away in an attempt to free him in his den. These lands were decidedly very rocky; but also sandy and full of dirt and grit, too, given the proximity of his den to the river. He could feel dirt slowly trickling from above him onto his back, making it itch fiercely. It was not a sensation of which Claudius was very fond.

Claudius hadn't realized that he was zoning in and out, not of consciousness but simply awareness, because Anatole's sudden curse surprised him enough to make him jerk in response. He whimpered quietly as it jarred his wrist and shoulder again, though, the pressure on his right shoulder was less now that Anatole had removed some of the rocks and pushed back some of the dirt.

When Anatole spoke, Claudius grunted in reply. Realizing it wasn't much of an answer, he vocalized his thoughts: "duh-do i-it. If yuh-you duh-don't... I'll buh-be... buried... alive," he replied, trying not to let the panic creep into his voice.

Don't panic, he told himself even as Anatole moved more and more rocks. Don't panic, he said even as he felt the wind and rain at his back. Don't panic, he thought as he felt Anatole's body heat, Anatole's body heat, his cousin's hands pushing more debris aside. [html]
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#8
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Also slight pp! Maybe have them start moving and get to just outside town so the tree can fall and almost kill them? Big Grin



art by crypsis

His body worked without cognitive thought. It was as if he were a machine, focused only on the task at hand. Drowned out in the wind and rain he could not hear his thoughts and doubts and more importantly, his fears. Fear would make him hesitate and there was no room for such a thing. This was the life of a warrior—he was not a true fighter, not a man who would raise up arms, but life was war and so all men became warriors in order to live.

So he fought off the stones and dug through until he saw wet fur. Then he was atop him, grabbing him, and with one deep rumbling growl that was lost in the thunder he yanked hard. The force of it drove them back as the mass of rubble that had once formed the roof of Claudius’ den down after them. Anatole slipped in the muddy grass and stumbled. He hit the ground and slid, but rose moments later and groped towards his cousin.We have to go! The big wolf screamed, and gestured towards the Hall.

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