[html] http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... bott0m.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:240px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#252237"> ┤Check my awesome Zero table XD├
The chill air hung crisp over the stones of myriad graves, and the sounds of songbirds rang out clearly like so many bells over the once desolate place. Green growth had long ago overtaken the serenity of the stones, and concealed their macabre adamant with new life. Jantus, a fighter of too many wars to count, as well as what he sometimes called the real war, turned his gaze up above the stones, and saw a shaft of sunlight peaking out over a grassy ridge in the distance. He breathed deeply, and the place smelled good to him; it felt as if the morning had welcomed him and his company to this place, and he was glad for the good omen. Not that he was particularly superstitious...but one way or the other, it made him feel better, and that was omen enough for his needs!
The giant tried to step lightly through the underbrush, having already nicked his foot on one of the old stones, and jammed a toe against another. Treading softly was not usually his wont, and it didn't come easy for someone of his size. Either way, these accidents were cushioned by the layer of lush green surrounding every obelisk and flatstone, and so he was not terribly bothered yet. The gentle yellow light of dawn filtered down over the landscape and he was glad to be alive, and for a time glad to be away from home. He hadn't been particularly fond of wandering during his brief travels with Mala and Ranya, but now that he was at it again, it did bring back memories. His sisters were with him this time, too, and so they were bonding again, as brother and sisters with their ranks forgotten. Jantus didn't make a fuss about his alphaship back home, but it was difficult to be a family member sometimes when one was directing the affairs of three dozen wolves surrounded (albeit at a safe-distance these days) by hostile packs.
Right now, the big wolf had his bearskin cloak on his shoulders, and his steel club stuck through a loop in his belt, which was--aside from the cloak--the only piece of human clothing he had ever taken to wearing, and that only for its utility. He was scouting the way ahead of his company, a group consistent of several family members and family friends. They were on their way to visit a friend, a friend who had little to do but wait, it occurred to Jantus, but one he didn't want to keep waiting overlong in any case. The emotions from the event had died down somewhat: he had been quite shaken up when he'd first heard the news, and his sisters as well. It was not a thing that any of them believed could happen. They all knew it could happen, of course, but it wasn't anything any of them ever believed in their hearts would.
Now that they had made their way almost to where the old territory lie, Jantus had decided to go traveling alone until such time as he could find where exactly it was they were going. He didn't want his company to get into any trouble while it was here, so it would be better not to wander around and step on too many toes, but to quietly find their destination, get any permission any required to go there, make their visit and leave. As for his own personal safety, he doubted he was in serious danger. He had heard stories of the hybrid coyote pack, Inferni, but felt he had little to fear from them. By Skoll's accounting of the situation, they were a real hazard around the territories, but that was mostly due to the disorganization of the wolf population, and they bore little threat to someone like himself, provided he didn't try to fight all of them at once. Between his size, his experience, and his willingness to get into a scrap, he was confident that he could take care of himself. Then again, he could be overconfident at times. After all, in their friendly tournament, he had thought he had even odds of beating Skoll because of his size. He had been wrong.
The multi-hued werewolf looked down at one of the headstones and studied it for a long moment. He had been stepping over the little things heedlessly, but now that he considered them, they reminded him of the somber import of this journey, and he felt a pang of regret coming on. He should have sent more wolves with Samson; he should have gone himself. He should had confidence that fewer wolves in Snow-Capped Pine could hold down the fort and spared more to search for Asmodai and Soro, as well as sent advance messengers to Skoll. But none of that had happened. His lone eye squinted painfully for a moment, before he shook his head and lumbered on. He'd find directions soon, and they would get this done. Then, hopefully, they would spend a little bit of time here, getting to know the scenery, learning more about the place that Skoll had lived in his final months. Not the place Jantus had heard so much about, unfortunately; they place had burned to the ground; but the people were the same. Maybe he'd be so lucky as to find someone else who knew his old friend.
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[html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... -mab_t.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Sorry, >n<
700+
Already, the earth was dying, falling into that cycle of Death with which the warrior seemed so familiar. She passed through the woods like a silver shadow, fluid, silent. Once she had been running, the heat of her body still hot against the cool, autumn air. It rose from her fur in faint wisps of steam, and she kept her body moving to keep from cooling too swiftly. Her steady breath was lost upon the whisper of the wind, it’s song singing as faintly as hers. It seemed as if the songs grew still to listen to the silence that sang with no voice and with all voices. The golden leaves drifted from the great crowns of kings passing, fading, and found the earth to cloak her beauty in gold. The black fae, her body marked with the woad of a culture long forgotten, was but a mere shadow. She paused beneath a tree, and her white orbs lifted to behold the faint light that filtered through the shade, dappling her coat and causing the woad and her eyes to glow. The air sighed, and the world was at peace. Yet her soul was not yet at peace. The cold hand of one dead, of one who was as Death and yet not, touched it still, stroked it. In the waking hours, ever with the receding calls of the Ravens, did he come to her in the darkness to breathe upon her body, to stroke it. And while it was not the touch of the dead one that the warrior desired, she reveled in it.
Once more the warrior pushed her body into motion. It had been a long time indeed since she had tread upon the unclaimed lands. The lands were the same, one could say, and indeed their song was unchanged. But, nevertheless, the wilder earth felt different beneath her feet. The warrior was not meant to be kept within a cage. She was meant to walk freely, to run as a wild wolf, to dance with war. But she had been fated to bear life, and she had borne the twins and she had felt an unfamiliar love of them. Still, she was no mother. She wondered if her efforts to raise the young creatures that had been wrought from the act of love was sufficient, if she had been successful. And as the black fae watched, she leapt, her foot finding purchase upon the trunk of a tree. With great celerity, she pushed herself from that tree, so that she found another, and another once more, before landing upon the first branch. She climbed the tree then, deftly, silently, the sinew beneath her coat working as it was meant to work. The woad-marked fae carried herself to a great height, and she looked up the world that she had not seen for many moons and greeted it. There she stood a moment longer, lingering to listen and to feel and see. And then she dropped to the earth, her body relaxed and yet straight as she landed silently with a cat’s grace upon the cold earth as a crouched predator.
She found, then, that she was not along within the yard of sepulchers long forgotten. Slowly, the Dahlian wolf rose, the white orbs, tranquil and yet fierce, impassive as they observed the male. He was large, much larger than herself, and thickset. There was a brief flicker of excitement. She wondered if he had brought hostility upon his mind, and she wondered if he would let her test the songs of war that had once sung strongly within her body. Now it was dormant, leaping forth only when she practiced before sleeping again to allow a nurturing mask to come forth. But she had trained hard, pushing herself to regain what had been lost and to gain what had not yet been learned. The wind shifted, moving the feather within her mane and bringing to the woad-bound maw his scent. "You are unfamiliar to these lands," the alto melody called, lifting easily and yet quietly upon the cool air. She spoke as if it were the earth that would know and not the male before her.
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[html] http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... bott0m.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:240px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#252237">┤Is she shifted or not? My guess is unshifted?├
Jantus's thoughts had been elsewhere while the sleek shadow of Cwmfen had been darting through the trees, and he had not noticed her until she landed very close nearby him. Turning his single brown eye towards her, he gave a welcoming smile, unsure of how she would receive him. He knew that, shifted, he posed a menacing figure, but he was unwilling to meet the hidden dangers of Souls without strength in his arms. As the female spoke, he noted that her voice was oddly musical, and it struck him that he liked her already, though time might undo that favor. Jantus was a simple wolf, but often that let him enjoy life despite its hardships.
"That obvious, huh? Yeah, I suppose if I knew them well, I might not be heavin' this thing around." He touched the haft of the bludgeon hanging on his belt. "As it stands, I heard you've got coyote problems, so I came prepared." In truth, it would have mattered very little the species of whoever received Jantus's swing with that weapon; be it coyote, wolf, dog, or something in between, everyone needed to be wary of the brutal steel head. He had known wolves who disdained the club for its simplicity, and for its straightforwardness which generally did not leave much room for technique. Nonetheless, he liked the lack of complication. He had seen Skoll do amazing things with an axe, and had heard from the bronze wolf that a skilled wolf using a sword had more versatility still, but for his part, the club was just fine. He swung it, and broke whatever he hit. It wasn't the fastest weapon, and it tired you out faster than a lot of lighter implements, but its simple mode of attack had endeared the weapon to him. It was slow enough that he might get bogged down by enemies, Skoll had said, but Jantus had yet to meet many people who would willingly enter his range when he could crush their skull with a single strong-armed attack.
"I've got a small company following me; we're looking for Phoenix Valley. We have a friend there. You don't know if I'm going the right direction, do you?" He had been going straight north, keeping the ocean to his left. He didn't think he was going the right way, especially since he had just been walking out far enough to find someone and ask directions. He could find a smell easily enough, but all he had was a name, not a smell; Skoll wasn't even buried in the packland that the original messenger, a wolf named Lubomir, was from, so not even Aivyr would have been able to find the place by smell alone.
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Sorry about the wait… ><
500+
The warrior was weaponless, but she was not concerned. Indeed, had the large male decided to attack her, a weapon would have been optimal upon her part. But she was accustom to using her body, and it hummed now with anticipation, the sinew beneath her coat hungry for what it had not been able to know for so long. But his friendly smile dispelled the possibility of battle, for which she was both content and discontent. Her erected posture doffed the poise of aggression as she turned to fully face the large male, a faint smile dancing upon her quiet lips. She gave a brief dip of her woad-bound maw in greeting.
"It is your scent," the soft melody explained. She did not want him to believe that she had passed judgment upon him, for surely the mere moments of their encounter was not enough to declare such a thing. His immediate segue into the issues of coyotes, however, made the warrior suspicious of his intention. Indeed, she was a warrior and her soul thrilled off the songs of war that were sung within her soul and through her body, but a warrior must not forget Peace. For Cercelee, the warrior sought to preserve such a thing. "We’ve had our conflicts with the clan to the north," the Adonis imparted, the tranquility of her features impassive. "Much has been quiet now." She had heard of conflict between Pheonix Valley and Inferni, but she did not know to what degree such conflict was held. With Dahlia, there was indeed still statures, and she understood more acutely why such things had come to pass. Her knowledge of history long passed within these lands was not well versed, for she did not question others upon the troubles of their pasts. What she learned she had learned through conversations and small information given sparingly throughout her occupation within these particular lands.
It seemed however, that he had more than sparse information. His ‘preparation’ was a strange thing to the warrior. He was so large—she wondered why a weapon was necessary against the smaller species. But she assumed that he must not be accustom to fighting weaponless as she was. "What is your interest in such conflict?" Her curiosity was held openly, for she felt that it was her business to know such a thing.
A friend. This male seemed familiar with these lands despite the novelty of its scent upon his coat. "You are in the general direction," the black fae offered with a faint smile. She had traversed these lands often before; she did not think that they had changed much in her absence. "If you travel east, you will find a city. Pheonix Valley is a little north of that city." She indicated once in the general direction with a woad-bound finger. The Adonis made no comment about Dahlia’s own extensive boarders. She trusted that this wolf, with his knowledge already of the presence of packs, would not make the mistake of crossing the boarders of her pack.
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[html] http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... bott0m.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:240px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#252237">┤It's all good, man, it's going fast enough for me!├
The were nodded his head at her words, closing his lone eye understandingly. His own pack had experienced that cycle many times, where two hostile groups found peace for the sole reason that each side was tired of dying. Sometimes, either side learned how to live uneasily beside its neighbor, but other times the conflict was simply buried until such time as the memory of their pain was more faded than the hatred of their foes. He didn't know the groups involved here, but Skoll had suggested that Inferni was the beneficiary of many truces, in a continuing cycle of murder and inexplicable forgiveness. If that was true, Jantus was glad he wasn't getting involved, for truly that would be maddening. In the meantime, though, he wouldn't assume the worst about these people. He brought his strength for the protection of his hide and those of his company. Any other disputes they would happily stay out of.
"No interest, beyond the safety of my group. I'll be retrieving them once I've found our destination and gotten permission to enter their lands. That friend of mine spoke of Inferni from time to time, and even though I don't think any one or two of them would pose a problem for me, I've heard there's more than one or two, and there's no telling which territory I'll run into first without fore-knowledge of the land's layout." He gave a toothy smile, but it didn't seem to convey anything other than a half-serious, sporting attitude towards violence. "I suspect that anything short of a rabid coyote would think twice before crossing me, but then again, my friend was pretty big, too, and they didn't hesitate against him." He shrugged his massive shoulders, the two of them shifting boulder-like beneath his fur, made larger still by the bear fur resting on top of them in the form of a cape...presumably as a sign of position or for aesthetic value, as it apparently had no purpose: a creature so big would have no trouble keeping warm.
"Ah!" he exclaimed as she gave her instructions. "Then I'm a bit off the mark. Thank you for the help, it's appreciated. Care to come along for a bit? It'll be a lonely enough march by later today, so I'll welcome all the company I can get." His smile was warm and genuine...one eye and scars or not, he had a very honest face. He had no ulterior motive. | [/html]
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Sorry again!
500+
"There will always be those willing to cause conflict," the soft alto explained tranquilly. "It is simply the way of all things." The woad-marked woman wondered if he sought to hold down the conflict that would inevitably arise. She believed such conflict to be inevitable because Peace had long since been characteristic of these lands. The duality of the world did not allow one alone to endure for long. An imperceptible tilt of the black female’s head created hardly a disturbance in the air—like the touch of a black butterfly’s wing. "Will you be joining a pack?" Perhaps her question was one that seemed unconnected with the explanation of the large, one-eyed male. But the warrior had been listening and that was the question that arose upon her curious tongue. The nameless male claimed that he would bring others that he knew with him once a destination was discovered. The warrior wondered what he sought to do with such a group. Already these lands carried many packs; would not one satisfy their needs? Or did they seek another end by another mean?
A faint smile moved across the woad-bound maw, and it seemed, for a brief moment, that the warrior was truly amused. And then the smile faded and grew faint upon the maw that did not share emotions with the word with out. "Size is not everything," the quiet voice countered, a mirth dancing in her voice. Indeed, size was a factor, and it was a factor that one such as she must consider. But size alone could not conquer.
There was a brief pause as silence filled the space that followed his words. The white orbs considered the large male, and then she considered his offer. It was an unlikely thing to occur to the warrior, at least within her mind, but she thought immediately of the pups that waited for her at the den beneath the oak. But they were growing, she knew, and they were old enough now where they were not as vulnerable as they once had been. The warrior did not believe in being over protective. Indeed, a warrior’s life, in addition to the duties as a fighter, was also a protector. And so she protected her young, but she knew that she would allow them to grow also. Time had not been allowed to pass before a soft nod was given in return. "I will accompany you for a good while before I must return," the alto melody sang formally, and she dipped her maw before closing the distance between them with that fluid and ethereal grace. With the proximity, the warrior could hear him better, and she could feel him better as well. He did not seem to create an aura of deception about him, and so the warrior was not troubled. But she was silent as they walked. She was content with the silence and did not seek to fill it. Perhaps, if the giant would wish to speak and converse, to disturb the silence, he would do so. The warrior did not doubt that he would.
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[html] http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... bott0m.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:240px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#252237">┤No worries, you're doing fine, I've got two other threads and loads of homework. I'm in college too XD├
Jantus tilted his head at her blanket statement, before closing his eye and nodding somberly. He was rarely in the mood for sage wisdom or sullen talk, but what she said was true. She struck him as a fighter of some type; he'd certainly met enough to know. He could, of course, be wrong. He didn't have a head for reading people like Skoll or Samson did: he couldn't always find the posers, he usually needed to guess based on the truth of their words and their age. He hadn't been talking to her for very long, so he didn't have much to go on, but she seemed genuine to him.
"Me, join a pack?" he scoffed. "I'd better not, I'm in charge of one back home. Four dozen wolves of the type I definitely wouldn't want to make angry!" he smiled and laughed at this, hoping to lighten the mood a little. She seemed a very serious sort, he wasn't sure she'd be the best of traveling companions, but someone was better than no one, and it was far too early to decide she didn't like to have fun. Though for certain he'd met some wolves that didn't...hell, he lived with some wolves that didn't. Because of this attitude, he was pleased when she decided to join him.
"Well," he continued, after several moments of silence, expecting maybe an introduction or a little more conversation on her end, and eventually deciding he would have to prompt her first to get anything out of her. "Size isn't everything, but it definitely helps. I've found it plenty useful in all of my fights so far!" He shrugged his oversized shoulders, a gesture he'd learned from someone in Snow-Capped Pine long before he'd become the pack's alpha. "Besides, I always thought that size was the biggest element of a fight. Experience helps, and skill does too, but those help offset a disadvantage in strength. I've been lucky to have the strength advantage in most of my fights, but I'm not stupid enough to leave a weapon at home without need." He looked around at the foggy fields and the growing glow as the sun climbed above the horizon. He'd never seen a place quite like this before. He liked it for its novelty, though the valley of his home was more beautiful.
"My name's Jantus, and I'm the alpha of the Snow-Capped Pine pack. Don't let that fool you, though, I'm pretty easy-going, if you haven't guessed already." His face split into a smile again. He did a lot of that, especially around new people who he didn't perceive as a threat. Indeed, he would be surprised if he knew just how dangerous Cwmfen could be, but for now he saw a much slighter, much shorter female with creepy eyes and funny paint on her body, unarmed and alone. That alone made him friendly, and he was glad of her company for the present. | [/html]
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I was going to have this up several hours ago, but then I remembered that I had to go eat lunch before taekwondo so that I wasn’t starving ><
500+
The woman listened to his scoffed comment, seemingly unable to register properly the social cues of such a tone. She considered his words in the most literal sense despite her tendency to view the world within the light of symbolic and archetypal values. "Four dozen wolves is a great number. Your boarders must be vast to accommodate them." She wondered at the stability of such a pack. Wolves did not normally gather in such great numbers, but perhaps these human shapes would allow and accommodate for this concept that was so unfamiliar to the black fae.
She was almost surprised by the comment made, for he believed that experience and skill were less things in the ways of war. Mild amusement, absent of mockery, was characterized upon the black fae’s maw. "Size is an asset," she agreed with soft tones, "but it is most definitely not the element of the fight." It was almost as if the warrior would elaborate upon such a subject, but she did not. Perhaps this large male had won a majority of his fights through his size. She did not doubt that there was skill involved, for if skill had been absent so too would his life from the land of the living. But it was not size that determined the outcome of a battle. It was the same with strength. Strength was perhaps more impressionable than size, but technique mastered all things. Technique and speed were greater assets than size and strength, the warrior had come to understand. While it did not happen often in battles between warriors and other fighters, a single strike should fell the opponent, a single kick, a single punch. Larger creatures were simply higher off the ground, and things that were higher from the ground tended to fall with greater ease.
The warrior expected the stranger to introduce him first, and so she was not disappointed. She paused briefly to greet him formally, facing him directly as she dipped her maw respectfully. This wolf was a leader, an alpha, of another pack. He was her superior. And yet, he was now upon her territory, and she was his host. The respect that she showed him, however, was no greater than the respect that she showed all benign creatures. The warrior did not discriminate upon such things. "Jantus," she greeted tranquilly as she lifted her maw and straightened her posture. "I am Cwmfen nic Graine, and I am Adonis of Dahlia de Mai—the pack whose borders are nearest to us." A faint smile moved across her maw, dancing as the silver light upon the calm surface of a pool. As her body was put forth into that fluid movement once more, her voice was permitted to break through the silence. "Have you traveled far from your pack?" She wondered also why he had come here, why, as leader, he had gone from his pack and had not sent an emissary. But she supposed that different cultures would warrant different customs, and she was not one to question custom.
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[html] http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... bott0m.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:240px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#252237">┤So, for the record, properly spelled it's taekwondo, one word and not three?├
"Yeah, the valley we control is pretty big; just not big enough for everyone that wanted it. Our pack is large because the valley can only really be held by one group, and that group needs to be strong enough to drive away all comers." He looked off into the distance, envisioning his packland, which had also become his homeland over the years. Himself, as well as his sisters Mala and Ranya, had settled down there hoping to find a home. Eventually, it had become that; Mala had found a mate, he had become alpha, and Ranya seemed to be happier here than she had been anywhere else before. It had been a good decision. He doubted things would have worked out so well anywhere else. Maybe not even back in Wintermark.
"Is that so?" he answered her next remark, quirking his eyebrow and looking side-long at her, his expression unreadable before his oft-worn smile spread across his lips again. "I hope you'll forgive me for disagreeing: as you can see, it's been a very important factor in all of mine. I have been beaten by a smaller, more skillful wolf before, but that isn't usual, and even though he was smaller, he still wasn't small, at least not by most wolves' approximations." Skoll had been a fair size, not huge to most, probably, but still bigger than average. Jantus still expected that, had Skoll been smaller, the outcome of their single fight would have been different. That said, it was never as impressive to see a bigger wolf defeating a smaller one. It was intuitive to assume that the larger would win, and that intuition was largely what Jantus went by, even now.
As Cwmfen bid him formal greetings, he shut his one eye and waved his hand dismissively. "Aw, don't bother with all the forms. It's just two wolves out here. Glad to meet you, Cwmfen nic Graine, and glad to know Dahlia by name now, as well as smell. Not that it'll help you up here, but I'm from Snow-Capped Pine, a pack that holds Whitecrest Valley to the west and south of here." Hearing her question, he nodded slightly. "Yeah, we're a fair distance off, a few weeks from here at a leisurely pace. My group and I came to pay respects to a friend who died here. We try to do burials in Pine whenever we can, so we were glad to hear that he'd been buried, but it was some time before all of us could come together. I hope they marked his restin' place..." the big wolf's voice trailed off. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd do once he got there. He doubted if everyone he'd brought along would keep their composure, but he certainly would; not because he was terribly strong against such feelings, but because Skoll was, well...Skoll. He didn't cry about people he respected, he cried about people who he'd cared for, people who he had wanted to protect. He had cried about his mother, but not his father. He loved his father just as much. But it was Crythe, not Hobburn, who he'd thought about protecting. In the end, they'd all needed one another, and none of them had been there. Gypsum and his lackeys had killed them one by one. Life was full of sadness. Jantus was just glad that so far he'd had the strength to face it.
"So," he asked after a few moments of reflection. "I guess an Adonis is some kinda warrior? You seem to know a thing or two about fighting...or say you do." He grinned toothily as he said this, his orneriness getting the better of him. Fighting was a dead serious business, but one thing he liked was when fighters could put the somber nature of their work aside and joke around. Besides, he didn't agree with her anyway!
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It technically doesn’t matter… ^=^ I’ve seen it spelled both ways; I suppose it depends on what phonetic/Romanization system you’re using. I prefer to spell it as one word because it’s one word in Korean. But if you want to spell it in three separate words, it would make sense, too, since there’s hanja behind each syllable... >__>;;
So sorry about the wait >n<
500+
The warrior was silent as she listened. She could understand the advantage of placing a pack within such a location, and she understood as well the need to protect the boarders. Dahlia’s boarders were vast, and the Warrior had been lucky that, while in her time of healing, and of pregnancy and motherhood also, Peace had been maintained and trouble had not found itself upon them. The warrior made a note to visit the leader of Inferni, although she did not know why she must. It was simply something that she felt she should do, especially with the departure of Infern’s golden prince.
"Size and strength are assets," the soft melody reiterated tranquilly, and yet it was not as if she were entirely disagreeing, for she herself knew the importance of strength and the compromises that she must make to compensate for her lack thereof. But her art of war did not put emphasis upon bulk muscle as it did upon lean muscle, speed, and precision within the technique itself. "But skill and technique..." And she allowed her tones to fall into silence. The black fae was not surprised that the large male was of such a mindset. The warrior did not think that she had ever met a large male who thought differently than this male now thought. It was a mistake to rely upon size and strength. But the black fae was silent. This male was a leader of a pack, and she did not doubt that he was accustom to being unquestioned. As of late, the warrior had grown weary of such politics, for she was no politician. She was a warrior, and she was not required to partake in such pointless matters. And yet, because of her rank within the Dahlian pack, the warrior had made an effort to understand the workings of such things, efforts that the Rosea had seen as adequate. It was the Lilium, however, that had shown hostility toward the warrior, and she knew the Lilium well enough to know that, even though anger had not been found to be seething within his words, he had been angry. And she had been angered as well, a rare occasion in which such red emotion was permitted to bleed into her mind. But that had not been about her....
"Was your friend a warrior too?" Perhaps it was an obvious question. The warrior knew that Death was waiting for her, and even in the shape of her Dream did it come nightly. The triple Goddess that moved her and compelled her was Herself a Goddess of War and bore the pied and hooded ravens at her helm. "I hope that you will find his place of rest." Because the large male had only just arrived within the lands within she herself had come to reside, she did not think that the remains of his friend had been found. And she knew how this culture cherished the body of the dead and so understood, perhaps in part, the need to discover such a place.
A quiet, golden smile danced across her lips. "No," the soft melody corrected. "Adonis is the third-ranking wolf." There was a slight pause as if to allow the world to breath for a moment before she continued. "I do hold the leading Warrior’s rank here," she explained, her voice quiet and without arrogance. It had indeed been long since she had truly tasted the song of war, its tones hot upon her tongue and searing through her blood like the rushing torrents of a perilous river. But she had pushed herself to train vigorously so that she may once more be the warrior that she was, and so that she may be a better warrior than she had been. Indeed, she had felt the simple joys of motherhood, but motherhood, just as mateship, would not be able to fetter the warrior whose spirit was as wild as the wind in the heavens.
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[html] http://i950.photobucket.com/albums/ad34 ... bott0m.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:240px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#252237">┤I'm keeping you waiting too XD School is so obnoxious!├
Jantus tilted his head slightly, before closing his lone eye and shrugging. It would be impossible to convince him. Ultimately, size came first, in his view. If someone was naturally bigger, they were naturally the winner unless the smaller fighter compensated in some way. Size was the first thing one noticed when sizing up an opponent, and it was the major factor that instinct told wolves to look for in gauging their chances against one another. He knew there was more to it than that: Skoll had beaten him, and he knew people beat larger opponents all the time, but chances would always be against them unless they had more ferocity, more skill, more experience...something to offset the fact that, naturally, they were weaker.
"Yeah, he was." Jantus's ears fell a little at the change in subject. He'd just been entertaining the idea of starting a debate on the finer points of fighting, but he supposed paying respect to the dead was more important. "The best I've ever seen, actually. He was smaller than me, but bigger than you...maybe in between us. He beat me once with the skill and technique you're talking about." He laughed to this, though it was at his own expense. Somehow, he felt like Skoll would have given the two of them an answer that was inbetween their current positions. Made sense, given that between the two of them, he was a good middle size.
"Did a lot of crazy things. Didn't hesitate to use his size when he had it...you know, half the time I got the idea that he was so far beyond the level of most of us that we couldn't even really appreciate the moves he was using. Mind you, I know a fair deal about fighting; even the skill stuff you're talking about, hah, I know a fair deal of that, even if I count my size as my best asset." He got a contemplative look on his face. "Still, some of it was pretty amazing stuff. A mutual friend got more out of him about his past than I did...from the sounds of it, he'd learned most of it from one wolf, over half a year of training for hours every single day...and he was the Skoll we knew when he came out! Ha...it sounds like it's from a story, but Aivyr--that mutual friend--swears it's true. I guess he probably learned weapons--the war I had with him had a lot of human tools--along the way somewhere." He shook his head.
"One of a kind, or so I thought. I heard the wolf that killed him was every bit as unbelievable. In fact, I saw the wolf that killed him was unbelievable...I just wouldn't have believed that after escaping Pine the bastard could hunt down and take Skoll on alone. I remember he was good...scary good, but I didn't think anyone could fight Skoll alone, not without being bigger even than me, rare as that is." He found himself shaking his head again. He was caught between knowing he should feel sad, and revisiting the awe that had accompanied his early meetings with Skoll, and every time he'd seen the older wolf fight. It didn't look fancy...there were no wasted movements or artful stances, everything had been brutal and practical, and it had all been inexorably effective in every case Jantus had seen it employed. Clearly, the wolf Asmodai had known a comparable fighting style, if not entirely the same one. Jantus still didn't know the fine details behind everything, though he supposed Aivyr did. The white wolf still wasn't completely comfortable on the subject, though, and he felt bad about digging for details.
"That's a pretty impressive title, there. You must be very good at what you do. If it were a different time, and I didn't have a job to do, I might suggest a sparring match, to pit your technique and skill against my size and strength. Still, for the present, I'll simply be glad of the directions you've given me." He smiled down to her, with just enough quirk to his eyebrows to let her know he might still be interested later on once his business was finished. In reality, though, he didn't think he'd come back this way many more times, and the chances of running into Cwmfen when she could be anywhere along the territory's long border seemed unlikely. Besides, she had duties to attend to here, and it wouldn't do if she got hurt fighting him.
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