Fimbulvetr

Nevermore

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Arête & Tywin

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SWP A Hunter's Moon

#1

be swift!


Gods are not born gods. The universe does not magically consummate from nothing and create a creature so powerful it holds dominion over all there after. Nay, there is a ladder one must climb to achieve such greatness, such totality that they reach existence in higher planes of being. While it is a subjective basis whether you believe in the one or many, there is a single certainty: there is always a precursor. A climatic event must unfold for the celestial mantle to set itself upon a pair of shoulders and unlock abilities once thought unobtainable. All one had to do was take the first step…

Fenrir was far past this first step. Long ago the shroud of tool had been cast away, revealing a totalitarian monster who wished only to consume, gnaw, claw, and kill. While his children may have fallen to the hooves of the damned mortals his harks had turned to a far bigger challenge; one that echoed across the mountains directly to him. One that provoked the blood thirsty beast… one that thought he could save this Valley from the likes of Fenrir's wrath.

Behind he had left the equines, bloodied and injured, and to the North he disappeared through the trees. Fenrir’s strides were great and all-consuming. He phased betwixt their trunks, gaining ground far quicker than his children, ultimately leaving them behind with no master. But it was of no consequence to the hungry wolf spirit. Tongue lapping at his jowls, the obsidian lupine raced towards the snowy peaks, past the peaceful stretches of Dael, and to the north eastern realm beyond. He climbed, gaining grounds the equine couldn’t have traversed in one day in a fraction - nay, sliver - of the time.

To the windswept and frozen peaks he clamored over, slipping down the glacier mounts of a shore long forgotten. In the twilight beneath his blood moon the ice seemed pregnant with amethyst, bathed in the sinister light of his reckoning. Bloodstained paws destroyed the untouched, virgin snow of the shore and dyed it with red. His crimson eyes peeled as the dire wolf father prowled. Fangs discolored from all those he’s slaughtered winked in the sullied moonlight, revealed in a half-snarl-half-pant. As the lazy drifts of ice jostled in the silent sea Fenrir marched eastward, gaze unrelenting and his trail vanishing as high winds swept down snow into the mighty prints left behind.

Somewhere… yes… somewhere he’d awakened. Somewhere, a beast greater than he had forced itself from its sleep to challenge the black wolf. Fenrir’s eyes trailed towards the icy wall - a great, jutting precipice of the Valley threatening the volcanic mountains that separated it from the wastes behind, and it was then he spotted him.

Espen.

He was high upon that wall of ice, but Fenrir could feel the warmth of his glare upon him. The great dire wolf came to a halt, his squinting glare piercing through the white of the oncoming snowstorm. The white bear-god reared to his hinds on his high plinth and let out another earth quaking roar and Fenrir responded with an equally bone chilling howl. Both surged forward; Fenrir from the depths of the snowy shore and Espen from the height of his cliff. Unburdened by the weather and cold they galloped, froth on their lips and columns of hot steam rising from their asunder maws. Fenrir, the pristine and blemishless hunter, and Espen, the grizzled and scarred guardian. Their weight shook the ice. New cracks spiraled from their paws, casting new ice flow into the sea and tumbling breaks that had collected on shore.

Closer, closer, and closer they came, until finally Fenrir leapt at Espen, now in range.

And they both disappeared.

Near to a month passed in the realm of mortals, but for the ascendent beings? Time was a fickle construct that meant nothing. Their claws reaped at each others’ hides and their fangs buried themselves into the contrasting pelts in a realm unperceivable by the equine of the Valley. At least, at first…

In time, the power that the two clashing spirits create will tug on the denizens of the Valley. Not in one flooding, suffocating call, no, but ebbs and flows much like the north easterly shore that  the gods quarrel upon. The first to feel the call of the gods, more specifically Fenrir, are those tainted by his infection. The equine with lycan blood feel themselves compelled to the distant ice flow shores. And when they question it? There is no concrete manifestation to sate their curiosity, just an overwhelming desire to go. They will ultimately find themselves unbridled and trapped in their own minds - for their body is no longer theres both physically and figuratively: the moon and their father call the werewolves. Next the survivors of the Blood Moon, those who had witnessed the return of the great and hungry wolf spirit and his kin, their souls are touched by the celestial grasp of the one who wishes to save… then the rest of the Valley.

They all feel it. A great disturbance. A great unbalance in the order of the valley. Every inch of flora seems oddly quiet, still, and shy. Fauna scurry to their burrows and even the predators take to their caves. Change is afoot.

At the pit of this pulsing call? Just as a confused but clearly sensitive crowd will come to see on the horizon? Espen and Fenrir will burst in a sharp, blinding flash of light that dances across the sapphire ice, tumbling over one another and demolishing pillars of freeze as their brawl continues. But each god’s will seeks aid - seeks the help of the Valley.

Will you answer?

Something is happening! Fenrir and Espen are battling! Fenrir calls to those infected with lycanthrophy, transforming them into dire wolves to aid him in battle. Espen calls for those who once stood to fight, hoping they may answer. To those who respond who hold House banners: Espen's presence buffers you against harm. All are welcome, including Exiles, to take part in this incredible, once-in-a-lifetime fight between an old god and new.

For those participating, please post the following in your post with a selected option:

I [USERNAME] hereby [consent / do not consent] to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.

All participants have until the 5th of November to respond! The next act will begin shortly thereafter.

Tag: @[Storyteller]

#2
N A T S I L A N E

"Wolf of the Sea"

After what felt like an eternity trapped in the lake, Nat was able to find his way back home.

He had missed the sea, it's icy constructs, the way the water refused to be stagnant. The depths and the shallows, the sea-lions and the whales; he had not been happier to return. But all was not well here in the icy far-reaches of the Valley. At first, he could see nothing. The stallion had waded to the shallows and observed the shore, as if something was there disturbing the black sands. Fish scurried and kept their distance, birds then too fled and had yet to return. It was peculiar behavior, for many even stayed during the harshest of snow storms. Occasionally Natsilane would witness what he could have sworn were ethereal bodies--but bodies only, for no detail could be made out from where he resided. 

And then, it had happened. The Flickering lights of ethereal energy clashing across the ice and snow--cracking that which blanketed most of the north. The wall that kept the Valley at bay was chipped away by claws unseen and the cursed man could only guess at who was responsible. His sister had told him stories of gods and monsters, of beings beyond comprehension to the denizens of the Valley; but beings who nonetheless had protected and guided them, or sought their own demise. He recalls a tale of the Great Bear, and wonders that if this was indeed Espen clashing with a devil he couldn't see. He feels a faint pull deep within, as if this being was calling out to the part of him who still took pride in the long forgotten bloodline he had hailed from. 

He grit his teeth, the old leather bindings attached to his front legs as if the man had planned to go to war. A glare creased his brow, making stark contrast to the pale color of his eyes. Using the telekinetic power's he'd been granted, Nat called to the sharpened spear he'd discovered not long after his initial transformation as a bow int he bowels of some sunken vessel. Under the water they were bullets, leaving behind a trail of bubbles and displaced distortion in their wake--spear zooming next to his body as an extension of himself. With strength  befitting a warrior of the sea, Nat hurled himself from the water and onto a plateau of ice atop the waters, using his hooves to keep from sliding back into the water. 

"Hey!" he found himself calling out, baritone voice echoing out across the barren north. "Hvorfor går du ikke tilbake til gropendyret!" The snarl on his Frisian exposed the unnatural teeth that called pink gums home--the teeth of a predator. Reaching with the same power that held the crude-spear, a few chunks of ice now hovered near his body as if ready to propel themselves at the wolf. Natsilane knew that the Bear was a symbol to the people who long ago had hunted and killed the lineage of his mother, and of his father; but as a boy, he had only heard stories of how powerful he was. Who did this challenger thing he fucking was? Espen couldn't fall, could he?

template by soupiTranslate: 'go back to the pits beast!' Storyteller


I [NAKI] hereby [consent ] to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.
Tag: @[Natsilane]

#3
we are the wild ones, the savages

She'd woken with a start one night, a deep itch unable to be scratched gnawing at the back of her mind. To seek peace, the Jenny had headed to the resting place of her mother, but even the company of the dead couldn't settle her restless soul. Try as Aishe might, even as she slept her body felt feverish and uneasy. Muscles tensed beneath her beaten and bruised skin, as if readying her for a battle she could not yet see. Tossing and turning in the dust, nightmares began to creep into her subconscious mind; beasts of black, the direwolf, the bite--

When vibrant eyes burst open, Aishe was no more.

Something deeper, darker had taken her place. A creature unlike the exiles had ever encountered before. Towering over the place in which she slept, claws of obsidian digging into the dust of the Oasis, a snarl pulled back to reveal a mouth of razor canines. Fur covered her in thick locks and the Wiley tail that once hung between her hind legs was plush with the same pelt that now grew over her frame like moss. In fact, the only feature that remained was the color of her eyes--the vibrant pink of the setting sun's sky. With foaming jowls, the beast lifts her head to the reddened moon and unleashes a howl unto the desert.

Legs propel her forward at insane speed, and the itch within her soul is pulled North--of all places-- demanding that she seek out the source of this ghostly calling, the voice that isn't a voice but is. A song, a thrumming of drums that only she can hear, drowning out all reason and logic. The creature is faster than Aishe ever was, lanky legs carrying her over great distances with little effort. Fur slick with the spittle from her open mouth and languid tongue, the creature loped her way to the edge of the wastes, and while no equine was able to climb the ravine with out trouble, it would seem the creature had memorized it's secrets. Rocks cut into her hide but the creature didn't seem to care--on the calling droned and pounded in her skull demanding she push fast, farther, to go to unhinged heights never before seen by her eyes. 

And when the creature did arrive, pink was met with the flashes of spirits--the bear and the wolf, ripping the flesh of each other in an eternal struggle. Aishe had no care for gods. They had never been there to save her, nor had they ever done anything that she considered noteworthy. A heathen, atheist, if you will; it had been this way since as far back as she could remember. Her mother, though, had spoken of the bear Espen--but the creature was no servant of the bear god. If anything, the god of the northern realms had turned his back on things like her--how fitting for an exile--and she was the servant of none other than Fenrir; father of wolves and the devil. And it was this realization that struck a chord of sorrow somewhere in the recesses of the creatures mind--the part that was still Aishe--but it was swallowed by blackness and snuffed out. 

The first to arrive in such a state, the creature bellows out a bark-yap-yowl, readying itself to defend the wolf-devil. 

Evandr Storyteller I NAKI hereby consent  to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.
Tag: @[Aishe]

#4

EVANDR



It had been a day of fevers, despite the oncoming cold of winter’s first nightly caresses. There was little salvation found in the waters of the Frekr Oasis or the shade of its palm fronds. Evandr, sweat riddled (a unique and disturbing sight upon their leader Warden) and panting, had elected it best to keep at a distance from his kin. Whatever plagued him, be it infection or illness, he did not wish for others to catch it. Stumbling into the higher plateaus Evandr set himself to rest in the early evening. The heart in his chest beat so furiously he thought he may quickly pass out if he didn’t consciously seek the quiet oblivion of sleep and the scars that had freshly healed from the dire wolf’s attack prickled with inferno.

Collapsing, the beast of a stallion sought his solitude to recuperate. All he needed was some rest, just some sleep, and he’d be fine…

Twilight fell and the stars began their twinkle high within the sky and it was not Evandr who woke to the deafening cadence of war drums, no… a creature far more savage, a beast that only obeyed its father, parted its sapphire eyes in the starlight. Spiked hackles rose along his back and saliva dripped from a maw parted with a vibrating, guttural growl. The were heaved once, its body still settling from the unconscious transformation, before finally snapping its eyes in the direction where the devil called for him – where his father called for him. A hulking dire wolf to equal the behemoth of his equine size, Evandr thrust forward to follow the invisible pull of a thread – one meant only for him.
Fenrir sought his children’s aid, both old and new.

Black claws ripped through the vulkan sands of the Vetr Wasteland, drawing him northwest, towards the crag mountains that no equine could pass. But he was no longer equine… he was lupine, a son of the Wolf Spirit, the consumer. Globs of saliva spotted his wake, betraying his path not only by scent but the harsh disturbance of the sands. When the great mountain walls threatened to deter the beast, it paused for naught but threw itself upon the crags. His legs ran red with cuts and minor lacerations from the jutting stones, but higher and higher he climbed to his father’s call, until the moon painted him across the snow tipped summits. Down he clamored, still as resilient and determined as before, until he spied another. Some distance down the mighty wall of ice, down below where the ice flows bobbed eerily in the sea, another dire wolf was galloping to the same drums as he. A growl erupted in his throat, and a paw stamped into the ice bitten snow.

But downwards he followed, an obsidian beast against the virgin cloth of snowfall. Within the true Evandr reeled – never had he seen such cold, such vast amounts of water, nor did he think again he’d witness it. But the blackness that consumed him via the black seed sewn by the dire wolf bite snuffed out his consciousness. He was only beast, a werewolf, a son of the god Fenrir. Though his paw pads screamed with protest as he hurtled across the icy shore, the were-Evandr paused for nothing. When the sharp, blinding light of planes’ break ushered in the flurry of the battling gods, Evandr’s howling cry rose with his kin.

He knew what he must do.

Snout down, ears peeled back into the hackles along his dorsal, the great dire beast tore through the snows with his eyes set upon one thing – the grizzled Espen.


W C: 607
T A G: Aishe for mention
M U S E: 3.5/5
O O C: BEWARE THE WERE


I Soupi hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.




powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.
@[Evandr]

Tag: @[Evandr]

#5
I KNOW THERE'S BEEN STIGMA 'ROUND ME,
I KNOW YOU HEARD THINGS ABOUT ME ―
There was something odd about the valley, something that the young king could not quite place. Yet it was a pulsing, a yearning, a call that he'd felt once before. It reminded him of the time the moss ridden nymph of Tryggr revealed herself to him and Hel. But now, this time around it was far stronger and it was urging him to just go. Far toward the north, a place he would have wanted to steer clear of at all costs. The feeling alone left him anxious, causing him to pace to and fro upon his throne, leonine tail whipping vigorously from side to side. Yet despite all this he could not allow himself to relent to this tug of the valley.

That is until he heard a soft voice ebb from the flora gently swaying around him. He is here young king, Fenrir the wolf god is back... Halting dead in his tracks the hellhound whips his visage in the direction of the north, snake like pupils shrinking in size. That overgrown mutt is back?! He seethed, growling as the words fell from his maw. Phantom pangs from his now healed wounds seemed to ache all over again but it gave him the resolve to want to settle the score with the large dire wolf. Another fights against him, what will you do boy king? The whisper of the flora and fauna uttered leaving him to contemplate his options.

But of course, the boy had instantly made up his mind. He was off to snatch his revenge. He dare not tell Ezera nor Iracebeth where he would headed for fear of them trying to accompany him. However, he did take the time to speak briefly with Zuriel. The weathered, elderly man that had seen his own side of a battlefield or two. If Andante recalled correctly the veteran had killed dire wolves in the past. Hopefully the new Tryggr denizen would help him accomplish that feat again tonight and then some.

Gritting his fangs, Andante took to the wind, galloping as fast as his cloven hooves would allow. With each stride he created more distance between himself and the holds of his house. But he gained more ground towards the virgin powdered snow of the frozen shore. He personally did not know where he was going but the pull of the valley gave him a path to follow. He only looked back once to see if the veteran shroud in his bear cloak was following. But his gaze did not stay long as he turned to look ahead again and witness a bright flash. Tumbling out of the light was a massive ivory bear and the infamous Fenrir tripping over themselves locked in combat.

A snarl ripped from his parted silver maw as he raced straight for the ebony furred god. Fenrir! He growled, developing tunnel vision whilst completely missing the sight of two dire wolves standing frothing at the mouth in the wolf god's corner.

ooc: I Kagome hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.
000 words. tagged.  Zuriel
Tag: @[Andante]

#6
EZERA


Silence is our Fate

The feeling in the mute's gut had been there for a while but she hadn't been able to understand it until just now. Dread joined in with the pull and she considered just ignoring it. The injuries from the last time she had investigated something were just barely healed over despite it having been a month or two. They still stung whenever they were stretched but pain was familiar to her. But the memory of how they had been obtained was still fresh. Shadows within the trees turned into the shape of wolves at the corners of her vision, the wind rustling through the leaves was the sound of paws along the ground, and the smell of the woods became a bit more sinister. A place she had started to call her home was now keeping her from relaxing enough to heal properly. Ezera moved around constantly, unable to find a place that didn't turn into a nightmare while she slept. She used the excuse of not being able to communicate efficiently to keep from talking about it but that would only work for so long. 
So when the feeling became a soft tug the desperate part of her mind won over the common sense and she followed it. Letting anyone know where she was going wasn't an option due to the simple fact that they would stop her. Being denied the escape would end in something unpleasant and she didn't want that. Instead she left while her daughter was busy with something else and Andante was no where to be found. In a small part of her mind she wondered if the young king had also felt the pull. The unicorn couldn't know the answer to that but wouldn't be surprised if it were true. The protective instinct within her urged to go looking for him, and if she had been thinking clearly she might have. But her mind was focused more on escape and it pushed her forward. 
The scenery around Ezera blurred as she moved, turning into a whirlwind of colors that didn't stop until the pull was gone. The cold that washed over her had nothing to do with the temperature of the shore when the mare noticed where she had stopped. An icy wave of anxiety and fear flowed through her veins despite her best efforts to push them away. Thankfully the current environment only had a few similarities to the other snowy place that rested in her nightmares and she was able to keep the memories at bay. With a soft shake of her head the unicorn forced herself to pay attention to the figures that had appeared as she approached. Out of the four already there only one was familiar. A feeling not unlike the one she had felt before settled into her heart as she watched her young king run straight at the large wolf she somehow hadn't noticed yet as it fought with a large bear. 
The words she wanted to yell stuck in her head, both from panic and an inability to figure out just what she wanted to yell at him. So instead she just stood there and watched with wide eyes, unsure what to do other than charge at the wolf as well. The common sense part of her mind had returned at this point though and kept her from doing that. Golden eyes forced themselves from staring at Andante and looked around the area for any other threats. Despite the fact that the bear was fighting Fenrir the unicorn wasn't quite sure what side it was on so she stood trying to figure out what to do. 


Ezera's Thoughts


 
OOC Andante Storyteller | Notes


I Arabella hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.
Tag: @[Ezera]

#7





TELL THE WOLVES I'M HOME





















Vladius licked his lips, blood stained tongue rolling over pink flesh and jutting fangs. He hummed in appreciation, a deep sound vibrating from the back of his throat. It’d only been a few nights since he and the boy had abandoned the limelight of House Ambrosius’ festivities for a midnight hunt, but his eternal thirst for blood was never sated. Rose opals descending to the carcass resting between blush hooves, he reached out with a draconian appendage, pushing at the body with his claw and rolling it onto its opposite side. He eyed the drained bobcat admiringly before allowing a small, lopsided smirk to pull at his velvets.

The wildcat, however small, had put up a hell of a fight. But the vampire desired challenges; lived for them. For, where was the fun in dining on a tamed animal? He was a predator after all.

Harks standing alert at the crown of his head, Vlad straightened when a silent cry being carried in on the northern wind reached him. He felt oddly on edge as the call bled into his skin and entered his bones. Something was amiss, and for whatever reason, his attendance appeared necessary. In a moment, he was stretching pale-pink wings and climbing the sky, following wherever the strange ethereal pull ordained. Draconian wings creating a thunderous ruckus, rolling green hills were quickly turned to barren, snow-covered dales beneath him. He was right and proper lost by this point, but the unnatural force still drove him on.

By the looks of things from his aerial view, he was about the third or fourth equine to arrive on the icy shore. Colored with confusion as to what each was racing towards, the vampire ducked in closer. With a blinding flash, everything was made clear, and Vlad was left in awe and astonishment as he witnessed a battle of gargantuan proportion. A grizzled bear that would surely tower over his own considerable height, and what he believed to be a dire wolf, were locked in a deadly duel. He was resolved to watch, as he knew nothing of this world and its gods, but a familiar voice pulled rosegold eyes from the fight.

Vlad swore under his breath. How had the kid found his way all the way out here? Perhaps he too felt this odd pull in his gut. Either way, Vlad was undecided now. He couldn't just abandon his new acquaintance, could he? Well, not without amounting a bit of guilt in the process.

Circling around, Vlad dove nearer to the phantom colt as he streaked across the shoreline, calling out a warning when he was in earshot. ”Careful, boy. There are others closing in fast and they look hungry.” Despite the nervous energy and infectious rage building on the air, the man still wore an expression of arid charm as he tilted his head to the side, fangs winking dangerously in the moonlight.


Andante for mention • I'm sure this is awful, but I wanted to get in here with Vlad!

I EDEN hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.





















art by crystaluniicorn





Tag: @[Vladius]

#8
Higurashi Kagura woke that bleak morning drenched in a cold sweat. The river plains of the south looked no different than they always had, but every sense she possessed, preternatural or otherwise, was screaming as though tortured. She could put no name or emotion to the sensation, but it twisted in her gut like fear and hammered in her heart like foreboding dread. Something was not right with the world - both worlds, she realized with dismay. Something dire had slipped from the spirit world into the material, and the strength of its power was wreaking havoc on the mortal residents of this plane. Even the beasts of the land were being affected, nervously seeking their shelters as though to wait out some impending storm, but for a priestess trained to be sensitive to spiritual disturbances, the silent din was nigh unbearable. Trying to hide like the animals was not an option. Even if the dreadful feeling hadn't compelled her to go, she knew that her duty lay at the source of the corruption. What demons she might face in this strange, foreign land she could not even guess, and yet she must go.

Swift as an arrow loosed from its bow the priestess flew, reciting prayers in her mind all the while in a valiant effort to calm her mind from that buzzing, deafening roar of silent noise. Her heart hammered and her vibrantly-colored hide was drenched in sweat from more than just exertion, though she pushed a punishing pace in her path to the north, where the unmistakable summons drew her. All around her, she saw more of the same - birds and beasts petrified into stunned silence, the more spiritually aware equines torn between the compelling call to go and the fear of almost certain danger. Higurashi's misgivings deepened with every passing mile. Although one would never have guessed it by how swiftly and unerringly her racer's legs carried her, the priestess was becoming certain that a spirit - or spirits - with power strong enough to affect such a large region would be well beyond what she was equipped to deal with. And what spiritual power she possessed was still being suppressed, far from its full strength. She would almost certainly come to regret this, Kagura thought grimly, but she knew she would have regretted cowering in fear even more.

Resting only briefly along the way, it was already twilight by the time her footing became slippery with ice and her breath steamed in the frigid air, blood running hot in her veins. Even the moon that rose over the eastern mountains had her lovely face tainted with red, an ominously bloody sign from the celestial gods that Higurashi regarded with great foreboding. Suddenly, she was shaken from her thoughts by a thundering crash from not far in the distance, followed by a bone-shivering howl. The noise brought an involuntary shudder ripping down her spine that even the frigid cold had not managed to elicit. Certainly that was no wolf of normal proportions. Dreading to find what lay ahead, at last Higurashi crested the last ridge, steeling herself for the worst. But nothing could have prepared her for the awful sight of the great bear and enormous direwolf locked in fierce battle on the blood-stained ice, flanked by at least two other horse-sized, slavering wolves with bloodlust in their eyes. Perhaps she would have cried out in fear, or prayed to her gods, but all the breath was stolen from her throat and she could only stare in mute horror.


[ tags ] Storyteller | @Everyone
[ words ] 590
[ ooc ] I, Raven, hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby affect the outcome of this SWP.

Photomanipulation: magtox
Stock: Malleni-Stock
Table and Coding: Raven
日暮神楽
ひ ぐ ら し か ぐ ら
Tag: @[Higurashi Kagura]

#9




god damn right you should be scared of me

Discomfort wasn’t an affliction that the touched witch had ever quite experienced. But since being ravaged by the shadow enveloped dire wolves? Since feeling the prickle of inferno in her flesh from an infection that spoiled her body? Discomfort was all Maren ever felt.

Lacerations had ripped the virgin skin of her back asunder. They’d lain in flaps, slowly drying before flaking off entirely. The lupine’s claws had torn through the gunmetal hide and snow-capped rear until dark, pitch scars remained. Despite poultices and aid, they still puckered and healed strangely. Bubbled cysts irregulated the lay of her skin, marring her once otherworldly but enrapturing image. It was still some time after that the night sweats ceased, leaving her shaking and cold in the blistering autumnal nights.

She had finally thought it over. The Women Within had finally considered that Maren very well may see through this trial. But when her guard had finally lowered, when the twitching, chattering girl had finally felt normal (as normal as she could ever possibly feel), it struck.

Sucker punched from her dreamless sleep, Maren jolted awake so harshly she almost hadn’t the balance or consciousness to steady herself from falling. Columns of saturated slate billowed from her nostrils, and her ghostly vision cast itself to the darkness of the wood. The insects had long fallen dormant or dead from the cold so there was no twilight chorus. Nocturnal mammals seemed distant, leaving but the wind rattling through the twisted fingers of the trees of offer any semblance of sound.

Save the beating of her heart – it felt as if it had leapt to her brain cavity and resonated betwixt her ears. At first she thought it a simple night terror she could not recall. That was what woke her – yes, simply a bad dream… But then again, another punch, or was it a pull, that seemed to pierce her like a hardpoint arrow through the chest and into her gut. The scars along her back bristled, itching and stinging like they had when her scabs had started to flake.

“Maren what is it?”, “Do you feel it?”
“Of course, she feels it don’t be stupid!”

A snap of a twig and Maren’s visage draws its attention, audits flicked forward, and her breath labored. The air suddenly felt tense, and her mind clouded and dizzy (“Maren? Maren!”). Another pulse, and the young witch could only stagger forward to catch herself. The air in her lungs ebbed and flowed more rapidly with the quickening panic settling upon her. (“What’s happening?","Do you see it?”) “See it?” the succubus whispered, scanning the phantasmal tree line. “See?” (“MAREN DO YOU SEE IT?!”, “MAREN RUN!”)

Whirling around in drapery of slate blue and obsidian threads the panic had all but suffocated the dizzying mare. There was nothing to garnish from the shadows, no leads or no movement until – wait, yes there!- “NO!”

Gunmetal and alabaster hair fell away in weightless rain as the horrified scream of a young woman twisted into the guttural bellow of a beast. Before her eyes, but not to others, her true self was torn away into the shadows, grappling and fighting away a black daemon until she was no more. All that remained was an obsidian monster. It’s breathes were ragged and shuddering, and with each exhale slate blue smoke billowed from the revealed, growling teeth in its maw. Eyes of the same hue snapped to the north, where it felt it’s father calling. The wiry, nimble creature staggered forward, unfamiliar in its new form, until it loosed like the arrow that had pierced its chest prior.

---

From the mountains she descended, a damaged dire if there ever was one. With thin conformation she was built for stalking and striking more so than brute combat. But whatever Fenrir called his daughter for, the midnight pelted werewolf would obey if it ultimately cost her the only unholy possession she had: her life. As delicate snowflakes fell from the heavens and a chilled mist rolled in from the sea Maren’s – or what was left of her – strides carried her through the stinging snow until her pads felt numb. When the first curl of doubt sprouted within her mind’s eye, the first grasp of sentience in the beast that had been unleashed from her depths, a new voice, male and whispering, suffocated the already dampened Women Within.

“Do not question, child of the wolf.”

Stirring in the dire’s mind the soul of the witch could only ambient confusion, loss, discomfort.

“To live is to listen to the guidance of your father.”

Maren’s soul ebbed away. Father? She’d never had a father…

“Oh, but you do now, child.” It whispered into her metaphysical ears, lulling and incapacitating her. A father… a real father…

A new burst entered the wolf’s gallop, her ears pinning to her skull as she raced along the invisible path that pulled her to Fenrir – to her father. Black-grey tongue lapped out of her opened maw as the first of the opposition flew into vision. A blush stag rode the icy winds, disappearing through the gathering fog.
She could feel it now. She was close. So very close. The hackles along her dorsal rose like spines as her eldritch claws tore through the snow, disrupting the tracks already left behind by equine. A flash of light, and the silhouette of a great bear – a beast so tall she thought him the father of mountains – and her father, jaws locked, and snarling appeared. They rolled through the ice, colliding into pillars so that they toppled. Their weight cracked the thick flow beneath them, and salt water spit through the new seams. Through the fray the howl of her kin rises, and she lets her own haunted lament struggle from her labored breaths.

The time was nigh.

Past a sunset mare she jettisoned, a quick snap of her saliva webbed fangs bid in her direction, before she too shot past a chrome-horned colt (another snap her greeting), but she raced forward towards the bear. The target. The reason she was awakened. But her path is thwarted by a low flying peg of draconian influence with words of warning on his lips. "Kill it." With a snarl the wiry dire skitters, gathering her tension in her hinds, and leaps after him with wide and consuming jaws.


Word Count: 1079 | Tagged: Vladius | OOC: ...


I Soupi hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.




powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.
@[Maren]

Tag: @[Maren]

#10
The itching had kept her up again. Another night lost to a countless tally of sleeplessness. Yet, Antiope could not find the energy within her to muster an ounce of ire. If it had not been the itching, it would have been the night terrors that had plagued her dreams for so many years. This time, instead of lying awake for hours on end and staring up at the starry night sky, the golden pegasus was on the move. Something wasn't right. A strange sensation had roused her from her hiding hole, calling to her like a siren's song. It calls her north with a great sense of urgency that Antiope has not felt in a very long time.

The silence that surrounds her is unnerving, causing the hairs along her neck to stand. She knows the feeling. The compulsion of magic, that tang of a looming threat upon the horizon. Those that cannot or will not face the danger had long since fled, hiding in the cover of darkness. Silence buys them time, but it will not save them; Antiope knows this too well. What would have driven away those of a weaker disposition only steeled Antiope's decision to answer whatever beckoned those who would listen. Pressing her lips into a grimace, the golden pegasus slipped her steel helm on before taking to the sky. Under the cover of darkness, she would have been able to see what was afoot without alerting...whatever it was to her presence.

Despite all her years in battle, her travels, the horrors she had faced - Antiope was not prepared for the monstrous battle taking place beneath her.

A gargantuan wolf and bear facing off in the icy wasteland below, while other equines had dotted the tundra out of the monsters reach. A closer inspection only revealed that the others were watching the scene unfold, not yet lending their aide to one monster or the other. The call is strong, though, and the weathered mare finds herself slowly descending to land gracefully among the crowd that had slowly begun to trickle in. They seemed split amongst themselves, one even snarling a monster's name like a curse. Others appeared fevered and dazed, as though not quite themselves. Uncertain of the divide among them, Antiope stands off to the side. Instead, she focuses her burning gaze upon the warring beasts as she waited for...well, whatever it was that had called her here in the first place.

tagged: none
notes: none
"Speech!" Thoughts!

I MALLORY hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.

image | coding
Tag: @[Antiope]

#11

    

Brynja Sheildbreaker

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old


She knew the call. It had awoken her from a deep slumber; the first untroubled sleep Brynja had had in many moons. Initially agitated, the striped mare paced about cursing at first...then she paused. She listened. Then, she knew. She knew exactly why she had been awoken so abruptly. The silence was deafening, yet it also spoke volumes.

The Gods needed her now more than ever.

Hardly healed from the last fight, the striped mare limped her way north. She ignored the other souls who were fleeing southward, running away from the danger that undoubtedly lay in wait to the north. Brynja's icy blues remained trained north-bound, ignoring the cowards that darted around her. Even as the ground gave way to the icy tundra, she did not waver. Oh yes, Brynja knew that she was in no true shape to fight once again - but when had that ever stopped her? She had barely finished healing from fighting the monsters Fenrir had called in the woods a month ago. Certain spots, mostly the more significant wounds done to her rear leg, were still scabbed. Fresh pink scars puckered along her skin, pulled tight with each step she took. Brynja's limp had grown more pronounced with the newest damage done to her rear limb, but she did not let it hinder her. A notch left in her nostril from a wolf's bite, though it was the least significant injury Brynja had systained in the battle. 

She had carried on from the carnage that had occurred int he forest a month ago...yet it seemed as though it was not quite done with her.

Her icy gaze recognized Fenrir first. How could she not? Her dreams had been plagued by the direwolf and his peons. Dreams of vengeance, dreams of justice, dreams of blood. The beast Fenrir was locked in combat with was none other than the great bear, Espen. The sight of the bear-god caused a stutter in Brynja's determined step, awe blooming in her chest momentarily. She had heard grand legends of the god, but to see him with her own eyes...To see Espen locked in a fatal dance with Fenrir caused her awe to give way to rage. How dare he, the vile demon!

A snarl curled Brynja's lips in disgust, ears pressed back into her ink-black mane. A quick cursory glance tells her others had also felt the pull. Some faces were new, some were not. Some did not look like they were entirely in control of their own minds. The crowd is clearly divided among themselves and Brynja wonders with repulsion if some of the horses that had come actually supported the foul beast that was Fenrir. The mere idea only deepens Brynja's disgust, forcing her to instead turn away and find a very familiar face among the split crowd.

"Boy-king." A simple greeting with a nickname that had long lost its bite...and perhaps sounded somewhat affectionate to those who knew the former Tryggr Queen. The boy had grown on her and had continued to prove his worth, lessening the sting of resentment with time and his shows of valor. A quick, icy glance was spared for the pale pink stallion at Andante's side.



tagged: Andante and Vladius for mentions!
notes: none
"Speech!" Thoughts!
Tag: @[Brynja]

#12



halani











The fevers had not subsided. Not since that infernal creature had taken her face in it's jaws and tried to shake her to death. She'd gotten her revenge, impaled upon the spiraling horn that extended from her forehead. But at what cost? Each morning she woke up drenched in a cold sweat, beads rolling down the curves of her body. Her coat stained and dark from her profuse sweating. There were moments of reprieve, of course-- but they were few and far between. Even now Halani could feel another fever creeping up on her. 

Something called to her.

Halani stopped her stepping through the forest, turning her head toward the north. She shuddered, spotted flesh twitching as she did. Suddenly and without warning Halani fell to her knees, a cry rumbling in her throat and falling from her openly stretched lips. She grunted, groaning as an unfamiliar pain seared through her. Within her, bones began to break and change altering her outward appearance. Her coat grew denser and more coarse as she continued to shift. Another cry drowned in her throat as it was replaced by a feral growl.

Halani looked up, eyes of startling blue recognizable though the rest of her was not. Her coat, thought still rusty and orange, was now stretched across that of a wolf. With a sharp growl she leaped forward, paws thudding across the dirt beneath her. Eventually the ground changed to ice and snow as Halani neared the fighting. She slowed upon reaching the group, dropping her head and observing. Saliva dripped from her open maw, tinged red with blood from the fresh change within her. Once a hunter, always a hunter-- Halani was prepared for whatever might come her way.

Slinking around the outskirts of the ensuing battle, she caught sight of a fellow dire going after a winged stallion. Her tongue rolled across her lips and she shivered in anticipation. Her mind was not entirely her own right now. All she could do was fight. Something seared within her veins telling her to kill everything that posed a threat to the even larger wolf. Halani threw back her head, howling into the cold air and charging toward Maren to aid her fellow canine. Opening her fang lined mouth, Halani jumped up and attempted to snag the sensitive membrane of his wings.

  Maren  Vladius  
ooc: halani coming in for the woof assist

I KIWI hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.
Tag: @[Halani]

#13
Something shifted in the wind. Bones lifted his head from the ground where he was attempting to graze. The strands of salty swamp grass falling from the opening at the base of his skull. The orb that rested within the cavern of his head glowed strongly, illuminating the cracks and crevices. "Something...something," the eerie sovereign murmured, his bones trembling slightly as his own magic twirled around him, though invisible to the naked eye. Bones could not understand what was drawing him toward the north but he felt something tugging him. "I am coming." His voice rattled and rumbled as he leaped forward, pedal bones propelling him forward. 

Eventually he reached the group, watching them fighting each other in the ice. "My friends...join me," he hissed, "Stand with me." The orb began to glow brighter as the ice around the Vromme leader began to crack. A hollow laugh fell from his parted jaws. "Come to meee," his stringy tail snapped against the bones of his haunches. With a bellow the first mammoth crested the frozen wasteland, pulling itself up from the depths where it had recently frozen. Barely picked over by scavengers, the creature stood proudly. Though there were knots in it's thick hair and some exposed muscle along it's face, it seemed almost alive. It's movements were slightly slowed, sluggish almost. 

Soon the second pulled itself up as well. Slightly smaller and slightly more decomposed, it trumpeted out a greeting to it's master. "Friends, take a knee...fight for me!" The sovereign reared up, the orb now blazing extremely bright as he sent off his two minions. They moved away from him, lowering their tusks as they approached some of the warring wolves. "Take them out!" One veered off toward one grouping of wolves while they other broke off to apprehend the others. Bones lowered himself back to the ground below, though raised his gaze to the two fighting gods. He hummed thoughtfully as he observed them, keeping his distance from the actual fighting.

I KIWI hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.
Tag: @[Bones]

#14

Fenrir's wicked fangs arched through the air, led by a forepaw aiming to strike the great bear, continuing the titan clash. Espen, unafraid, surged into Fenrir's attack with his own ursine jowls ripped back to reveal fangs stained with the blood of those who he reaped so many centuries ago. The dire wolf god's claws met their mark, sucker punching the god bear across the visage. Could a god bleed? If any mortals wondered, the answer was painted across Espen's visage in a sputtering stain as the talons ripped through his brow, lid, eye, and cheek. But the onslaught was not done, no, for cries of pain were not enough to deter or satisfy the hungry wolf spirit Fenrir. With wicked grin, his jaws clasped around the loose fur of Espen's neck. The obsidian wold thrusted from his haunches, his claws reeling through the ice to push back the mighty god-bear as both monsters rose in a rear above the oncoming tide of denizens.

Like spirits beckoned from the afterlife the armies of the god's appeared. A collective of equine had managed the climb and journey, some caught with awe while others readied for the impending war to claim them. Others still came, transformed and twisted by the beckon of the wolf god, conformed into beasts that would forever haunt the nightmares of their kin. But it was the initial howl, Evandr's howl, that drew and audit back to listen upon the crownless visage of Fenrir. The wicked green curling his vile lips broadened, and with both forepaws he shoved the great bear back - who took the chance to escape, his throat bloodied and dripping. A responding howl rose from Fenrir's drenched lips and the war commenced.

As the lupine's mournful lament rose across the icy shores, pillars of ice exploded across the expanse. From the depths dire wolves manifested - their pelts of white or black whipped in the harsh Frozen Shore winds - with nothing but death found in their crimson gaze and snarling maws. They recognized the werewolves as their kin, the swarming pack of Fenrir sweeping onto the ice arena with their own heart reeling cries thrown to the winds with columns of steam. From behind the equine more hooves thundered - those late to wake or hesitant to leave their homes for the unknown pull born from Espen's desperation. Behind their sovereign Bones old guards of Vromme did collect, invigorated by the rise of the necrotic mammoths. They surged forward, meeting the first onslaught of dire wolves as they invaded the Slidr River Valley denizens like locusts. More still bearing the Tryggr banner tore through the snow, mist, and winds, following their leader Andante by example.

Tooth met claw met hoof met fang as the opposing forces clashed along the snowy shores. Cracks of armor rose through the deafening winds, joined by the brutish war cries of the valiant and the daring cadence of snarls. While not the first to fall in battle, as the chaos of war quickly consumed the battle field, Natsilane was the first to receive retaliation. Exposing himself above the frigid touch of the sea's flow, two dire wolves darted towards the offender though a crude spear and clumps of ice threatened their advance. One leapt to the ice flow, nearly upturning it if it hadn't been for the hippocampus' weight upon the other side. Unafraid of falling to his death in the waters it snapped out at the aquatic stallion, grasping onto his finned tail for purchase and to pull himself up. But his eager and impatient kin leapt upon the flow as well, toppling the already compromised ground. Ripped from the appendage both dires yelped as the sapphire flow rolled, tossing all three of them into the salty sea.

Aishe and Evandr were met by House denizens, their hooves rising high as they intercepted their approach towards the gods. First at the pink eyed were a dapple stallion rose, dark slate flints rolling forward with a barrage of attacks. Having manifested from the disorder of the erupting fray, not one, but three blows landed upon the miniature werewolf before she was given the chance to retaliate. The stallion's counterpart, a pale gold stag, surged bravely towards the massive werewolf that had followed his companion. This new stallion pivoted around, swinging his weight into his hind ends as they clipped beneath his jaw, disorienting the wolf before the stallion scrambled upon the ice to lurch again.

Fenrir was not to be reached easily as Andante intended. Another dire wolf rushed along the outer skirts of the god's battle - now interlocked again with might bellows rising from their god's-blood stained maws - chasing a Vromme guard as he fled for higher ground. The guard managed to get passed the Tryggr sovereign but the dire wolf collided with the young king, toppling them both towards the cracked ice floor. In a desperate grasp for purchase the dire's paws raked superficial wounds along Andante to prevent upheaval, but it was a fruitless effort. Both lupine and equine crashed into the snow downed terra, tossed from each other like rag dolls. Slowly the dire wolf shook itself, clamoring to its paws with savage growls cursing Andante on its breath. But it hadn't the chance to go for the crimson haired lad; the Vromme guard clamped the dire wolf's neck scruff and yanked it away, re-engaging their personal battle and leaving Andante, for the moment, opponent less.

Ezera proved an easy target. As Tryggr guards swept by the silent mare, dire wolves swarmed in from behind. While many pursued the purple bannered kingsmen, one remained behind with lashing trail and wrinkled, snarling maw. It circled Ezera from behind wanting to be found before it struck. A tell-tale limp graced the beast's gait, betraying to it's chosen opponent that it remembered her from the last fray. It's fangs snapped in a wordless threat, the wolf pausing once with a wide, strong posture. It's shoulders rolled through the loose fur at it's back, before it lurched forward in attack. But its irregular stride thwarted its desire for vengeance. It came upon the mare, paws sweeping out with their claws to catch at her legs, other attempts towards her face. But each strike was an opening that the dire wolf seemed willing to accept. It would yelp, recollecting its balance betwixt each attack, but was unrelenting.

And Vladius? Well, two weres had already set their eyes upon this blushed warrior. It was Maren who had pursued him initially, her fangs eager and gaping. But she could only clip him - grabbing at the tender membrane of the vampire's wings to disorient his flight pattern before she fell back to the icy flows - there the werewolf was met with an opponent, a robust equine who charged her, toppling her over and continued to try and trample her as they rolled away. But the rose gold pegasus wasn't finished yet - another shot to intercept him and did so more deftly. Halani managed to leap into his path, bringing both to an immediate halt with flailing limbs. The speckled werewolf managed to stick her target, grasping one of the draconian wings betwixt her pearly fangs. But surely retaliation will come her way - whatever Vladius' intended counter to this disruption will meet it's mark upon Halani albeit barely, if he so chooses that path.

Other Vromme bannersmen (and women) raced passed Higurashi Kagura who remained enraptured in awe. They met the risen dire wolves with fearless hearts and intention of saving their valley - all bolstered by the tempered Espen. Opponents fell on either side, felled effectively and swiftly by their enemies. As the bodies began littering the battlefield it opened opportunities for those who fell their challengers to find new game - such was the decision of the dire wolf who set its eyes upon the sunset Kagura. Climbing over the horse he had overcome in battle, the beast bore its fangs at her upon a slow approach. But the pace increased as the bloodlust in the lupine's eyes grew, and it leapt upon the mesmerized mare too quickly for her to completely evade him. The beast, easily the mare's size, used it's brutish breadth to body slam her, upturning her balance. While she recovered, it snapped out with it's fangs, clipping a hind enough to draw blood before she slipped away.

Antiope's armored appearance and veteran aura drew attention from not one but two dire wolves. They sought her through the disorder of the onslaught, charging at her without remorse or fear of her otherwise intimidating nature. While she seemed adept with war, the wolves were equally as cunning. They came to her abreast, attacking from opposite sides so that there was no escape from them. Their leaps arched their white pelted bodies through the sky as both clamped their jaws down upon her wings - the right to the shoulder and the left further down towards the tender joint. To take a pegasus' wings was to take its freedom after all. With daemon's growls upon their lips the wolves shook their heads back and forth, ripping at the mare's golden feathers.

But Ezera was not the only Tryggr present that the wounded dires recognized. Brynja's return was met with another obsidian wolf who had witnessed her valiance upon their return to the Valley. His own gait was marked with a limp to match her own. He charged towards her from the front, abandoning cunning for sheer brute strength and willful desire. They collided chest to chest, the dire finding a weak latch with it's teeth at the striped mare's withers.

Perhaps the one to draw the most attention was the Vromme sovereign and his mammoth minions. As the two elephantine beasts swept their tusks through the waves of dire wolves who sought to fight them, one wolf in particular attempted to evade them and push forward towards the skeletal king. It galloped, tongue lapping and teeth bore with rage at the skeleton. As it leapt at the undead creature, the lupine's paw could only strike the skull's maw before the whisking tusks of a mammoth pierced it's chest and ripped it away with a trumpet of victory. But Fenrir's children learned via defeat. They turned most of their advances upon the mammoth's clamoring at their legs and jumping at their faces. They may be large, but they could be slowly beat down by the masses.

The fray continued, a chaotic and nebulous mess of bodies fighting or supporting the gods whose will had brought them here. With every bit of intensity that bred on the battlefield the zephyrs seemed to grow. The winds howled with pain, as if the very lands themselves wept with every soul reaped in war. Fenrir and Espen once again disengaged via natural courses of combat. Both stepped back from one another, panting. Thick columns of steam rose from their maws, the heat fighting the cold atmosphere. "What possible end do you seek, Fenrir?" the grizzle bear asked through it's half-blinded mess of a face. "Nothing can be gained from ruin save more ruin. I've seen it before. Do not repeat past mistakes." The bear's voice seemed as if it came from an entirely different plane despite it standing upon the battlefield, echoing in a chamber unseen by mortal eyes. The ursine reared back upon it's hinds, dark eyes slits upon his alabaster and crimson visage. Fenrir only smiled devilishly at his opponent, a cock of his head the silent answer to the elder god's query.

"So be it." Espen murmured at first, before his voice rose in another thunderous roar that shook the icy flows and sea of the Frozen Shore. He surged forward towards Fenrir who old stood planted in his place, willing to accept whatever fate may come his way.

Something is happening! The Battle of the Bear and Wolf has begun! Fight off your opponents in this thread, or you have the choice to break off into separate. NPCs are open for role play by the members. To those who choose to break off: please abide by the details posted here by the Storyteller and know not all items of your threads will be touched on in this main event. The next reply comes on the 11th of November, where the next major plot development will drop. Participation is still open and if side threads open please respond to those first! Furthermore, mark all side threads with "Event" as the thread prefix.

Tag: @[Storyteller]

#15





TELL THE WOLVES I'M HOME





















The field of ice and freshly fallen, loose snow was soon upturned as chaos reigned all around them, and Vlad felt sour for having swept in so quickly without first taking the time to observe the goings on. Reconnaissance was always his strong suit, but how quickly he’d thrown caution to the wind. This world, whatever and wherever it was, appeared to have that sort of effect on him somehow, or maybe it was the absence of his family that now dictated his actions. Either way, he was in the thick of it now, and there was no escape. Not that he’d run regardless. He was many things, but a coward was not one.

Taken by surprise as bodies began to erupt from below snow drifts, invading what now stood as a battlefield, the vampire could only look on with widening rose opals as wolves broke the surface of the frozen water, responding to the massive dire wolf’s call. Vlad had seen his fair share of war, had faced monsters far bigger and far scarier than this (one particular rogue griffin coming to mind), but never had he paid witness to gods and their minions as they clashed in such ferocity that the ground shook, threatening to break apart beneath them all, with each new blow. Wolves were baying in all directions now, surrounding them with yipping cries and baleful howls, but for every wolf, there stood an equine. Vlad scarcely knew where these soldiers poured in from, but he dared not questions their arrival.

As the two sides met, he sought purchase, hoping to settle down beside his acquaintance, but when he looked back, searching for a chrome crown, he found only fangs and claws. A curse on his tongue, the rosegold pegasus banked into a barrel roll, but the wolf, larger than the rest, but now quite as big as the dire wolf who yet remained locked in combat with the alabaster bear, was already upon him. It managed to clip his wing, sending him askew, right into the awaiting jowls of another. The two collided in a great clap that sent air rushing from his lungs. Sharp canines tearing at the sensitive membrane of his wing, Vlad reeled his neck back as the two tumbled through the air. His legs were kicking out desperate to meet the soft flesh of the wolf’s underbelly, but it was his fangs that struck true. He grasped at the wolf’s temple, his elongated wolf teeth tearing easily, but his grip was fleeting as they both struggled against one another.

The ground came swiftly and painfully. With effort, Vladius tried to manipulate his body above the dire wolf’s with his untouched draconian wing, but his attempt might have come too late.

Both wolf and equine were wrenched apart as their bodies collided with cold, hard ice. His wing was shredded if the pain was any evidence, but his fangs had torn across the wolf’s face as they were forcefully separated. An eye for an eye. He thought wickedly as pain shot through the fringes of his wing up into the elbow-like joint, settling at his shoulder.

Gasping for breath, Vlad immediately fought to stand, dragging himself up and away from the wolf. It was an odd color, one he’d never observed in the wild before. Earthly and speckled, reminding him of a fawn. "Bitch," he spat, its blood flying from his lips, but he was smiling and there was a breathy chuckle in between gulps of air that soon turned manic as he stood straighter.

Mangled wing left to drape the cool ground beside him as it was far too painful to fold, he antagonized the dire with it, jostling it slightly as he said, "Come then, we’re mortal enemies are we not? The vampire and the wolf. Let us settle an ancient feud, shall we?" He swallowed down a wince as his eyes darkened and bloodstained lips stretched ever wider. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this.

I’m sorry Vitaliya, but war calls and I must answer.

Maren Halani Andante for mention • I'm horrible at this sort of thing so here goes a summary? Basically, his wings pretty shredded, literally in ribbons. He does kick at Halani but his fangs are what really dig in. He aims for her temple and when they hit the ground, they tear across her face as they seperate.

I EDEN hereby consent to harm befalling my character in the A Hunter's Moon SWP. I understand my requests hereby effect the outcome of this SWP.





















art by crystaluniicorn





Tag: @[Vladius]