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Post by Pavane on Apr 21, 2012 17:12:49 GMT -5
Winter. Such an unpleasant time. The square-muzzled dog curls up his lip in a snarl at the uncaring snow. Toby hated the snow nearly so much as he hated the cold. Between the two, his sour mood was guaranteed.
He'd commandeered the second-best spot for himself; a place where a fallen tree made a shelter of bare branches. It barely helped. His short brindle coat was no use against the cold, and for all the boxer's muscle, he couldn't fight winter. The snarl deepened as he looked out across the snowy landscape, dotted with the forms of the less-fortunate dogs sleeping out in the open. At least he wasn't going hungry. Those hunting dogs they'd encountered were good for something.
As if the thought had summoned her, a wire-furred terrier came out of the underbrush and trotted toward him. Such a little thing. He could snap her in two with one bite of his jaws... and yet she'd proved useful before. Perhaps she was about to do so again.
She pauses in front of him, her head lifted fearlessly. Toby dwelt a moment on the white fur of her throat before him, then raised his eyes to hers with something half a glare. "Speak."
"We've got news," she says.
Toby's half-snarl twists further. "I should hope so. You've no prey to show for yourself."
Duhali stands undaunted. No few of the picked-over bones scattered beneath the snow are from her catches, and never mind Toby's mood. "I have more than prey."
"More?" Toby laughs, the sound rough. "Go on. Tell us."
Others of the dogs look toward the conversation, ears perked or bodies turned in that direction. None of them speak, yet; but the white terrier with red spots is becoming the center of attention.
"Prey aplenty," says the terrier. "A den to shelter from the cold. Good land."
"Is that so," says Toby with a smirk.
One of the dogs, a black-furred giant missing one ear, laughs. "No place that good is ever empty. Who claims it?"
Toby scowls at the interruption, but Genghis is too strong for him to pick a fight with. Not over that; so he rounds on Duhali instead. "Well?"
"Sure, it's claimed," answers the terrier, then snorts derisively. "By a bunch of wolf-pups not even grown."
"Wolves can be worthy opponents," come the measured tones of the elegant fawn borzoi, her long fur snarled by branches and thorns.
Toby snarls briefly. "I didn't ask you," he says, and she lowers her head in submission. Good. His eyes look about, and find that the others are listening. A mixed bunch. Carting dogs, like himself, like Rask and Genghis. Hunting dogs, like Duhali and the black and tan coonhound she came with, or like that borzoi. Even a few wolves that had been strong enough to claim a place. He hadn't bothered to learn their names. If wolves even had names... pah.
A motley bunch, but they were tough, or they wouldn't have survived this long. And he the toughest - well. The second toughest. His snarl turns almost to a grin. "Good. We'll take it."
The boxer rises to his feet. "Ghast." The white alsatian looked up alertly. "Go tell Chua, see if he's done with his toy yet. Duhali... with me. Bone will want to hear this."
The red and white mastiff lounges in the best spot; a rough sort of den, scraped out of the earth. Bits of red fur from the foxes they'd taken it from still lingered, as did the pretty tricolor collie the pack's leader had taken for his own. Bone lifts his head from her back, and gave Toby a look and Duhali a briefer one. "What?"
As Toby reports, Bone begins to grin. "Well, then. What are we waiting for?" he asks as he rises to his feet.
"I told the rest to gather," says Toby, his tail wagging with the relief of having guessed correctly.
Bone nods, and lifts up his muzzle in a loud bark. "Come! We move."
So the pack does; over fields crusted by snow and thickets of bare branches. Bone leads them, with Toby at his side, and Duhali ranges forward to show them the way. The others spread out; going in twos and threes past bare ground and thick underbrush until only a half-frozen river keeps them from where wolves dwell. There's a place where something has happened to the ice, and frigid water now flows instead. They turn north along the river until it narrows and seems solid enough. Duhali tests it first, the terrier light on her feet; then Ghast is sent across, and after him Bone and Toby lead the rest. Massive Genghis comes last; and some of the dogs, disinclined to trust the winter ice, slip away and remain behind for now.
The rest of the motley pack spreads out again. They continues on in their twos and threes, toward a hilltop claimed (for now) by wolves.
[This is an open scene. Ute wolves are desired; others also welcome. Post here, or page Pavane for related on-muck RP or with questions.]
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Post by Ahiga on Apr 22, 2012 12:11:05 GMT -5
Something is wrong. There's something rank in the frigid air, a subtle scent that is acidic to the nose. Ahiga is not sure what it is, but it causes the wolf to be on edge as instinct warns him to be aware and be ready. But of what? For what?
The Ute male has emerged from the warmth of the pack den, pulled by an invisible force that beckons him to come out and observe. Paws gently crunch the snow as he walks forth, each step taken slowly, muscles tensed beneath his winter coat of thick fur. His head lightly tilts up, eyes turning to the sky of grey above him. A blanket of clouds, threatening more snow, but even they seem to lie in wait, poised above, waiting and watching, holding their crystalline flakes, unsure. A soft breath is puffed out through the nose as Ahiga looks forward again, jaw tense.
Something is wrong.
He pauses at the hill's crest, just before the slope begins to descend, and he gazes beyond. Beyond the vast frozen lawn that in spring is bloomed with clover. Beyond to the slither of a river that can be seen from this distance. His hackles begin to raise, slowly, as if pulled by an electric force. Something is out there. More than something. Some /things/ are out there. He can see them, not distinctly, but there's movement amongst the sea of white. Small and large. Here and there. On their land, infringing where they do not belong.
The growl that rises from his throat is not like any he has given before. Not one of play. Not one solely of anger. It's a sound that voices rage, threat, fear of the unknown. Whatever they are, they are not prey, for they come to his home as invaders, and even from where he stands he knows that they are not natural.
He is a alone, and to face these trespassers he cannot stay that way. And so, a half step is taken back before he lifts his head, eyes again lifting to the sky. But now his vision his veiled as he inhales a breath, exhaling as a throaty howl that resonates from the chest. No longer is it a pup-ish sound, and his soulful call has but one intent: to call for his pack to gather. Quickly.
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Post by Tala on Apr 22, 2012 16:35:17 GMT -5
Once Ahiga was up and out of the den Tala was not to long to wake and follow after, its how they have done it for moons. One of the three wake and the other two follow at some point in time. The swim in the cold lake is still affecting Tala to some degree. Her muscles ache, a faint cough escapes her at times but she is still moving and getting stronger with each passing day.
As she pauses outside of the den her ears perk, nose twitching and her head tilts letting her gaze following the path of the invisible breeze for a moment as something has caught her attention, something that shouldn't be anywhere this close to the lands. A faint snort escapes her and she is soon following after the fresh tracks that Ahiga has left.
What could it be?.. The scent is still coming to her as she follows along the fresh tracks and then a light bulb goes off. Dogs.. Everything the cat told Ikuna and herself some time ago suddenly comes back to her like a flood and her stomach turns at the thought.
The howl is caught right as she takes off running straight towards where Ahiga is, a deep growl resting in her chest. This isn't good. "Ahiga!!" Soon escapes her the closer she gets until she is able to catch sight of him, which at the moment is a welcoming sight. Little does she knows what he has seen, though the scent lingering across the cool breeze could give her an idea.
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Post by Azoto on Apr 23, 2012 1:16:09 GMT -5
In the hunt for Chua, Ghast would find his way to a broken, leaning tree; a spruce felled by a beaver that in turn was felled by the chow-mix that was currently laying outside it, ripping though the thick, stinky hide of the water rodent caught through sheer luck. Occasionally, he would look over his shoulder, into the shadowy crook created by the evergreen being propped up by two others; where a sheltered 'cranny' has been created, and he would chuckle, darkly, and smile at a creature lingering there within, who whined in multiple pains; hunger at deprevation of food, physical pain felt in the body, keeping it there, and worse pain, the broken spirited pain of having been used, used for games it did not wish to play in.
Chua scolds the creature there. "I told you if you tried to run away again you'd be sorry. You're mine now. You should consider yourself lucky; I'm takin' pity on you. No wolf would ever want you, look at you, ugly, one-eyed, broken leg? And remember, I feed you the scraps, I fed you most of the winter, now didn't I." He grins darkly; baleful, pale eyes staring at him both fearfully and resentfully from within the tree crux. Chua chuckled darkly, and turned to his beaver meal in time for the alsatian to arrive. The barked greeting is short and stuff, and the news is swapped, leaving Chua to send Ghast ahead of him. He smiles darkly. "Wolves, huh? he rumbled to himself delightedly, "Well how do-ya-do."
He ripped the last, best chunk of flesh off the beaver carcass - the tail - and chased it down hungrilly, before he turned to scowl into the treeshelter. "Looks like you getta go free, sweetie, we got more worthy wolves to take down, mewsh into the ground. You stay here a few days, and I'll come back, oh yeah. And then I'll take you to our new home. And if you run away.. well. Huh huh.. I'll find you eventually. After all. We both know you're gonna need someone to hunt for you come spring, I made darn sure of that." A sleazy, sneering grin crossed his beakish face, before the large wolfhound/chow mix turned, and kicked dirt in the direction of the tree, before following after Ghast.
"Hillward, ho!" He bellows with triumphant furvor, disappearing over the horizen.
---
half an hour after his departure, as if afraid he would be back rapidly, the creature to which he had spoken so harshly slowly crawls out of the snow and pine needles, hobbling slightly, but mostly crawling. The she-wolf, once a proud creature of grey and white, is a mottle now; red stains mark her face and neck where she'd been fought back; painful wounds on her shoulders and legs where she'd been attacked and driven down. One foreleg hanging slightly limp; broken by the unkind jaws of some metal monster found in the snow. Once, she danced with laughter, now she is quiet, and, crouching before the remains of the beaver, she is wary, shaking from stress and cold in her fur, stripped here and there in chunks torn by the mouths of others.
Every snap in the woods around her is her attackers returning, every thump of snow falling could be their return. She eats hasily, forcing herself to feed not only her stomach, but the painful reminder. But as she eats, she also remembers what was said. A pack of wolves. And she knows these woods. And as she eats, horror creeps up and then sinks upon her. Wolves on a hill; young wolves with a large den. Suddenly sick, back arching in a seize she vomits up what little meat she'd managed to settle down.. And then she whined painfully. She had to try and get to them. She had to try and get back to them before the Dogs could.
Shaking slowly, painfully, and trembling, the She-wolf shuddered to her feet, and began to force herself, away, away from the place she'd been held captive ever since the pack had found her, by the sadist of red fur. She ached painfully in every movement, but she had to help them.
They were her family. And she had promised she would be home before spring.
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Post by Kvatch on Apr 23, 2012 2:19:54 GMT -5
[Featuring wolves Grim and Brutal, with NPC'd dog Gristle]
Coward? Coward! How dare his brother call him that! All because he wouldn't cross a half-frozen river with melting ice that creaked and groaned with strain? He wasn't a coward, they were just idots, the whole lot of 'em! With no small amount of indignance, Gristle watched his older brother Bone lead the others into the woodland on the opposite bank with little more than a glare sent back in his direction. Not that Gristle would or should expect as much, partly because it was Bone, but mainly because that is just the way of the domestic dog; they bring new meaning to pack mentality- no family unit here, thats for sure. This was survival of the fittest, and under that pretense, he would show them. He would prove to them all that he was just as capable as the next dog, and more so, just as good as the leader they followed!
Good 'ol Gristle boy's chance would come much sooner than the mastiff dog likely hoped for, or for that matter, expected, contemplated, or strained his wee brain at. It has been a long winter, but not a particularly hard one. Because as far as winters go, the wolf Grim has seen much, much worse. Shudder. Yep. Much, much worse. What it has been, however, is a boring one. Unforgettably so, in fact! For the better part of a year, Grim feels like he's been sitting around collecting dust, rotting away like a corpse stuck in thick frozen muck. Or maybe he's just coming to this conclusion now, what with the oh-so inspiring imagery that has been staring back at him, quite literally, for the last few hours. It seemed such a ingenious plan at first, despite his brother's nay-saying. But what did lard butt know about hunting elk? Turns out, he knew enough about it to know that deliberately running a full grown, juicy fat bull into a murky sinkhole wasn't the thing to do. 'But Grim, don't they get stuck?' Why yes, yes they do; right up to their necks! Might as well be feedin' the earth worms! Lesson learned, Grim does wish that the unfortunate beast would shut it's gaping hole of a mouth and stop staring at him like that! Makes it hard to sleep, ya know? With his brother gone hunting for something that is actually edible and not steeped to it's neck in mire mud, a sleepless and bored Grim has been left behind to keep the head of the recently departed company. Not like there is much else to do, anyhow. Well....except that. Looking to the perpetually flabbergasted elk, or maybe just repulsed (hard to say at this point), Grim smirks a touch, "Soooo....ya ever get ta feelin' like you're a corpse just stuck in the mud?"
What started out as a secondary hunt on account of his brilliantly retarded brother's failure to succeed in the first place, a scent in the air and a strange sort of urgent pressing began to lurk in to disrupt Brutal's focus. It was a relentless and unshakable thing, a whispering almost, the kind that creeps unnaturally through the trees and makes the birds stop singing and causes the forest to darken.This would not be the first time Brutal had known such a thing, but he had hoped it would have been the last. Already having flushed and gulped down enough woodland mice to sate his own growling gut, the ridiculously massive black wolf had been in the business of flushing out something substantial to bring back to his special brother when he scented the strangers for the first time. By now, he was used to the sounds and scents of the up-starts from the nearby Ute pack land, on who's borders Grim and himself had taken refuge nearby for most of the winter, mostly due to the good hunting. A risky endeavor perhaps for most lone wolves, but in only a day's time it was easy to ascertain that the existing pack were few in number and even less so in capable adults. But, not looking to infiltrate the ranks despite the obvious opportunity for two full grown seasoned males, the only efforts Brutal and his brother Grim made toward the Ute pack all winter were to go undetected. A successful feat thus far, but one in which the always careful Brutal suddenly becomes willing to sacrifice, giving in to the strange hunch that makes his lips tighten and his hackles stand on end, while a snarl catches in his throat. Lowering his nose down to a heavy paw print, the big wolf inhales, only to snort out sharply with disgust. Dog filth! His prey just got bigger.
It took longer than he had hoped, but Gristle finally found his safe crossing, having followed the river south where the earth rose and met the flowing waters, interrupting the river's course and causing it to spill it's body out upon the land. In the summer, the marsh would have been a treacherous and bothersome road, but with the ground cold and the pockets of water still frozen, it made for a perfectly safe passage. All he would have to do now is head northeast and intercept the others, who in such a direct approach upon wolf territory, might actually appreciate his late arrival. However, it is not long before the mastiff finds his plans disrupted, but not begrudgingly so. The sound of a voice. A voice distracted in conversation. The voice of a wolf. Creeping in close, Gristle stares through the tall reeds with his turbid brown eyes, loose jowls pulling back into a sinister grin at the sight before him. Well well, if this isn't his ticket to glorious recognition right here! Wait..is that wolf talking to a dead elk? No matter, he'll just leave the 'crazy' part out when he tells the story of how he ripped him limb from limb and gained the dog pack a elk kill! Pushing through the reeds, Gristle makes sure he strikes a imposing figure, lips drawn back to reveal his strong teeth and jaws, while his massive muscular shoulders bunch with tension. "Bet you wished you had the pack with you!" he growls out, allowing himself a moment of sadistic humor.
"I know, right! No no, you don't have to give me that look, I feel the same way about it all!" By this time, Grim is in deep philosophical conversation with his ever agreeable companion, the dead elk. Which of course, gives any wolf a plausible excuse for perhaps, say, missing the approach of a dog. Which by Brutal's standards, were suppose to be cumbersome, egotistical, and dumber than Grim, himself. The last concept Grim never quite understood, because well, in his opinion, everyone is dumber than him cause he's the smartest of them all! Well, perhaps other than the recent running of the elk being the exception. And the badger incident. Oh! And that one time with the moose-horse thing. Totally his fault! To get to the point, the grey wolf doesn't take notice of the dog's arrival until the instant that Gristle chooses to reveal himself, startling the wolf indeed, but only to the point in which Grim realizes he doesn't have to save face in front of Brutal. In fact, he hardly seems concerned at all, craning his neck about in order to lift a hind leg to casually scratch at his fleas, perpetual companions which seem to survive even the harshest winters. Nonetheless, he proceeds to regard the dog with nothing short of amusement, his own knowing ears finally working for him, "Pack? I don't need a pack. I have a Brutal."
The great hulking shadow of a wolf wasted no time in following the trail left behind by a fool of a dog. A angry dog, by the way he ripped through the dormant under growth. A big dog, by the way the tall branches snagged at his short coat. A proud dog, by the way he side stepped the sunken places of the marshland. A dead dog, for the way he talked to Brutal's brother. Gristle was hardly afforded the chance to question the itch scratching wolf, his confidence wasted in a single breath in which he asked a simple question. "A brutal what?". Swift was the unseen, black wolf's answer; swift was his example. Merely a short uttered word, snarled out between tooth and retribution. A single word, fraught with vicious intent, "Brother."
Even though it was on his behalf, Grim could not help but flinch away from the violence that ensued, to shut his eyes tight while crimson blood stained clean snow a bright red; the same violence that caused him to turn a deaf ear on the dog who in the end, cried of all things, for him to help. It was enough to make him sit there like a empty shell, to forget his good humor and remember all the ways his brother Brutal came to be the wolf he is today.It wasn't well after Brutal fell into the rhythm of one catching his breath, and more to the point, his sanity, that Grim even attempted conversation. It was hard to focus with chunky dog bits about the ground, but Grim manages to achieve something of a worrisome drowning sound, licking over his muzzle to entice the rest out, but only to pause as the sound of a rally howl echoes from the north. Glancing to Brutal, he watches as his brother advances, body language clear. "Whoa whoa whoa!" he calls out, stumbling after the black wolf, "You..you want to /help/ them? Brute..don't you remember the last thing you saved?"
With his thick muzzle still stained with the blood of the dog, Brutal moves out in a brisk stride, leaving Grim to catch up once he's done standing there with his mouth opened and looking very much like the elk. "Of course I do....I've been stuck with it ever since." comes the burly wolf's retort, his self-humor for the remark lost in the gravity of the situation.
Pause. Mouth open. Mouth close. "I wasn't talkin about me! I was talkin about..oh nevermind! Point is, you'll be makin' a mistake!" Standing there a moment longer, Grim heaves a heavy sigh, giving his head a rueful shake as he starts out after Brutal. Well, on the bright side, it looks like winter just got a bit more interesting.
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Post by Pavane on Apr 23, 2012 14:17:43 GMT -5
As some wolves rise from the den, Ikuna has already been out for a while. The young wolf left early, going to the southern woods in search of game. He's had some success; a white hare dangles from his jaws as he trots toward the hill again. The sound of Ahiga's howl makes his ears prick, and he breaks into a trot. Something's happening... and it doesn't sound like good news. Not with that tone to his friend's voice.
He lopes in, coming up to Ahiga on the opposite side from Tala. It takes a moment for him to realize what it is that has gotten them so riled up, but when he does - when he sees those shapes among the trees, smells that scent - he drops the hare to the ground and takes a step forward, his hackles rising. His tail starts to lift, challenging; but he winces at the feel of it, and his kinked tail remains only level with his body instead.
***
Three wolves. Three measly wolves. Toby curls up his muzzle in a smirk. There are other scents, but as he trots toward the hill at Bone's side, that's all the wolves he sees to defend it. Duhali did pretty good. She'll probably get a swelled head from this - he can already see her self-satisfied grin as she trots along, but... aww, let her have it. He's feeling generous. And look! One of the wolves has even brought them a nice snack for the housewarming party. The boxer's smirk widens.
Bone's expression is distant, barely seeming to register the wolves on the hilltop - though he turns his steps to head straight toward them, head down like a bull intending to headbutt. His pace quickens as he approaches, breaking into a lumbering trot.
Pale against the snow is Ghast, trotting along some distance to the left. He'd be near impossible to spot - if it weren't for massive black Genghis just behind, showing glimpses of the white alsatian in reverse silhouette. Despite his delay in telling Chua, the white dog made good speed; eager, perhaps, for his own share of those rewards Chua has already begun to reap? Regardless of his reason, his gaze seems to linger most on Tala of the three young wolves gathered for their den's defense.
Off to the right, toward the southern edge of the hill, are a pair of young hunting dogs, sticking close together and glancing back and forth. They seem a trifle uncertain of themselves; their tails alternate between eager lifts and tucking halfway between their legs. There's a certain questioning pose to their floppy ears; a bit of 'okay, found the wolves... what now???' Unsure as they may be, they keep approaching, as yet unaware of other wolves coming up from the marshlands.
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Post by Ahiga on Apr 23, 2012 19:22:12 GMT -5
His friends. The call is answered by them, as he knew it would be. At least by them. Though Tala and Ikuna's arrival does little to calm Ahiga's nerves, their presence does soothe something far deeper. Together they are here to defend their home from the looming threat. Without taking his eyes off of the slope of the lawn, he leans towards Tala to brush his nose against her cheek, his expression forming a frown. Is there no one else but them? The others, perhaps, are too far. Too distant to arrive as quickly as they are needed. Skahla. Asku. Shawnee. Where are they?
Well, they'll just have to deal with this themselves.
There are many of them, these intruders. The closer the canines get, the more distinct they become. Three...four five...probably more. As the numbers grow, so does his anxiety. Some of those figures are big. Very big. And their approach doesn't hint at a friendly encounter. He curses beneath his breath. Can't run. /Won't/ run. This is Ute land. Hadir and Althaea won't be able to get away if they did flee. They must stand and...fight these abominations. The faithful three against a seemingly growing number.
"Together," is spoken to his friends, his voice low and intimate, the single word meant just for them. This is how they have always been. Together. From early days, through difficult days, through devastating times, through joyous times. And even now, though a time that he is not willing to label the end of their time, here they are together.. His ears pull forward and lips pull back to reveal fangs in a display that cannot be mistaken: You are on our territory. You are an intruder. And we will drive you out!
The snarl that lifts from his throat is savage in sound, and his golden eyes narrow to near slits of hatred. Those demons aren't stopping, and Ahiga is unwilling to stand there and allow them so near their den and their youth. Like Ikuna, he steps forward, tail lifted (in a much less crooked way!), and his forward step is followed by another, and another, eyes on the monstrosity that is the mastiff, Bone. Take out the big one and the others might scatter, right? Possibly, and that's the gamble Ahiga seems to be taking, though he is not blind to the other, different shaped dog at his side. Teeth remain bared, his meeting approach kept at a rigid gait, though as the ground that distances them lessens, the quicker his paws begin to move.
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Post by Tala on Apr 23, 2012 20:46:54 GMT -5
Indeed the number of dogs is growing, Tala watches, wide eyed at the group that continues to come. An while there may only be three wolves there is nothing measly about them. Tala herself is as big as Ahiga and she’s not even fully an adult yet. She sucks in a breath of air, ears pinning back before her steel gaze snaps towards Ikuna. A very faint wag of her tail is seen proving she is glad to see her brother.
Together indeed.. Tala had no plans of running that is for certain, though she wishes Skhala and Asku was with them. “I wouldn’t think of it any other way.” Is soon offered to Ahiga. The three amigos will face this head on like they have always done things. She takes in a shakey breath, another faint cough escaping her before her jaws tenses, she knows she will not be at full strength but she won’t let that enter her mind now, the pack needs her, Hadir and Althaea’s lives depend on it after all. Her gaze drifts back to Ikuna watching him, worried yes, but at the same time perhaps for another reason an then his stepping forward
At the nosing from Ahiga she tilts her head, leaning into it while pressing her head low enough to rub against the underside of his chin, her eyes closing for just a moment as she takes in his scent an for just a moment she doesn’t think about the incoming issue. With that moment gone she pushes forward following at Ahiga’s side, her shoulder to his but she soon she puts space between them.
Her head is lowered, ears back and her teeth bared while a deep snarl escapes her. Hackles raised and tail flicking high in the air lashing back and forth in the process. She looks over the dogs here, and like Ahiga her gaze turns to the mastiff. “The elk?” Is questioned towards Ahiga wondering if he’ll get what she means, her voice a low hiss, an if that is so maybe he’ll pass the word on to Ikuna so they can do a threesome attack on the same dog?.. It’s a thought, an could just perhaps work.
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One of the dogs with the group is nearly as big as the mastiff, tall at the shoulder, and thick with muscle though with only a medium length coat and yet he manages to deal with the weather with little problem. He looks like an oversized pitbull, and if one didn’t know any better they would call him that. Though Jethro has said before his no stupid pitbull he is in fact an American Bulldog, and his breed is known far and wide for wild hog hunting, along with other ‘vermin’, and that is why he is here now. The massive dog all white save for black mask across his face and ears, spotting of black across his sides and haunches seen, along with scars. A jagged one down across the right side of his neck, thick and old much like the others across his chest and shoulders. He is following along after the two hunting dogs, seems he was scouting along with them, and with a nose like his it’s a good thing to have. Yet even the wind plays tricks on him and he has no idea there are more wolves coming onto the scene. “Come on kiddies.. Get ‘er done and get over to the others. An dammit do as yer told." Snaps of his large jaws are sent towards there tucking tails.
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Post by Azoto on Apr 23, 2012 21:24:11 GMT -5
Chua chuckles darkly as the sight of young wolves ahead comes to his amber brown eyes, curled tail giving an eager wag. He's slightly behind the rest of the pack, but that doesn't keep him from finding this to be even more delightful than before. Look, there's a female among them -- Ghast may be thinking about her, but that doesn't mean he has direct claim on her yet, and he hasn't voiced as much aloud anyway. Chua chuckles darkly. He may have his own prize waiting for him to return for it back at the tree, but who was to say they couldn't share a little, huh? They'd all taken turns ripping into his little plaything before she had to submit for her life.
As he comes even keel with the rest, he rumbles amusedly: "Three young brats. Hell, they can't be more'n two years old. We can take'em. I didn't smell no others comin' along here, but I did notice a sorta familiar scent." He grins amusedly, looking to Bone with a knowing grin. "I think this'us where my little bride came from, Bone; fat and complacent as she was, that's a sure sign this is good grounds for hunting. We'll be fat as pigs by this time next year as long as we clear out the trash." His tongue lolls slightly, before he stiffens and bristles, waiting for word one from Bone to attack. He may not normally 'be' for the subordinate measure; but as long as he lets the 'dog in charge' think he's not a loner, he still gets fed.
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Post by Kvatch on Apr 23, 2012 23:28:32 GMT -5
South in the woodland, the forest resounds with the most vicious, most terrifying, most hair-raising, deep guttural growl ever known to any beast or man, alive or dead. So profound is it, that a group of wintering sparrows take to the wing with fright. Dark brows knit together to furrow in annoyance, a pause given mid step, waiting for the sound to gurgle into silence. It is then, with no small amount of disapproval, that Brutal's big head swiftly swivels on the axis of a thick neck to bring his stout muzzle sharply around, casting a yellow eyed glare over his shoulder with bloody lips that furl up in a silent snarl. With his voice croaking out in a scolding hiss, he reprimands the guilty, "Would you shut up!" Not needing to wait for his brother's response, the massive black wolf presses forward again, carefully maneuvering a unseen path through the wooded acre.
Whoa. That was impressive! Unable to resist the stupid grin that crawls across his pale muzzle, Brutal's accusing glare is meet with a sheepish folding of his ears and Grim takes a indignant step back, his self-delight faltering and causing his lower lip to poke out in a little pout. "Hey! I can't help it..I'm hungry!" comes his defense, voice straining in a hushed whisper. With another gurgling stomach growl, one that sounds very much like 'we're poooor', Grim whines a soft note of his discomfort. Hmph. "Ya know, not everyone has fat reserves like you." he goes on in hushed protest, stepping out once more to follow at Brutal's heels, "I'm withering away here and all you care about is taking out some mangy dogs, on some wolf pack's land, that we ain't even a part of!"
As the denser forest begins to give way to sparely placed cottonwood trees and brush and briar thins into collected patches, Brutal's approach becomes more cautious, with the burly male lifting yellow eyes to the distant hill top. Still to far to see the figures of the three young wolves making a stand at the peak of the rise, he also doesn't know to look for them there. But, what he does intend to look for doesn't take long to find, the movement of two canines loping along in a state of minor confusion and hesitation. Narrowing his eyes down, Brutal squints through the trees some distance behind the hounds, catching sight of the third. A big hog dog, by the boxy shape of his head. "Damn. Hunting dogs." he mutters to himself. Though it is not the dogs that concern Brutal hardly so much as the men that could be pursuing them. Taking a moment longer to survey the battle field, Brutal finally shifts his regards over to Grim, something of a mischievious glint shinning in his eyes now. "You know, dog is a fine meal. Soft, tender flesh the likes of which you've never tasted."
Oh cruel world! Doesn't anyone care about poor starving Grim the wolf? His needs have been discarded, shrugged off even. -GASP- Ignored! And of all creatures, by his own flesh and blood brother! For shame! Shame I say! Oooh look, a butterfly! The grey male watches the insect flutter away over his head, pondering with no small effort, if its a sign that winter will not be much longer. Not that it matters any, he'll be dead from starvation before he sees it come through! Though at the sound of Brutal's gruff mumblings, Grim's attention is summoned back to the massive wall of muscle and fur, his own eyes searching out front to discover the movement of the dogs for himself. As his brother goes on talking, Grim's eyes widen and he shoots Brutal a look of astonishment. "Hell, why didn't you say so!" With excitement reigning in his focus, Grim takes a step forward with anticipation, eyes fixating on his prey. "Dibs on the fat one!." They just became hunted dogs now.
It is usually a wise thing to know all there is to know about your enemy before engaging him in battle. But in this instance, ignorance on Grim's part made for easy provocation. Otherwise, he'd probably still been standing there, complaining about hunger and demanding a good explanation for getting involved with troubles that aren't there own. Well, at least not directly. But who's to say if allowed to go unchecked, it wouldn't get that way? Brutal doesn't intend to test that theory, even if it means telling a bit of a lie. Brutal has his incentive. Grim just needed his. Or at least the thought of it tossed out like a fresh piece of meat. With his brother convincingly baited, Brutal smirks at Grim's enthusiasm, the expression deadly, "Hah! Not before me!" With hulking shoulders rolling forward beneath his thick coat, the massive black wolf breaks from cover to charge silently and head long towards the tall bulldog, who seems busy heckling the tails of the smaller two hounds, who will be dealt with in turn. He knows Grim isn't far behind, heard running fast at his flank, puffs of breath steaming out into the crisp air.
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Post by Pavane on Apr 23, 2012 23:43:29 GMT -5
Ikuna nods to Ahiga's single word. Together. They're still together, and they'll keep right on trying, even when the situation looks grim.
They're Ute, after all.
If there was to be peace here, Ikuna is the one to broker it; between Tala's flaring temper and Ahiga's macho tendencies, he's the closest they've got to a negotiator. Just because someone's a dog doesn't mean they're bad. Just because someone's on his territory doesn't mean they're bad.
Coming toward the den uninvited... well, that's a danger sign. The predatory stares and body language of these dogs finish the picture. These dogs, these dogs are bad. This is not the time for negotiations. It's perhaps lucky that he doesn't catch more than a handful of Chua's words; doesn't put the pieces of those words together. Blind rage makes for a poor fighter.
Even without those words, Ikuna growls at the approaching dogs. He starts into motion with the other two wolves; gaze flicking from one to the next of those who have made themselves his enemies. His ear flicks to Tala's words, and he veers off to the side. These three are familiar with working together... though they've only hunted, before now.
***
Bone discovers an expression as Chua speaks. His blunt muzzle curves in a smile. "I like it here already."
Chua's casual tone makes Toby growl slightly. He's never been fond of the chow-mix's lack of respect... nor of how Bone seems to let him range free despite it; even let him claim that one wolf for his own after they'd all had a turn. Toby's the second in command here, and don't you forget it! So he stiffens up his legs and puffs in his chest. "What should we do, /sir/?" he asks Bone, with an emphasis on that last word and a glare for Chua. Respect, see?
As the young wolves start to run toward him, Bone's grin widens. "We destroy them," he answers Toby, in a tone loud enough to be heard by the rest of the dogs. "If you want prizes, take them quickly." He seems almost bored by that part; but then, his tastes run different than the potential 'prizes' in view. Perhaps that's part of why he's given Chua so much leeway. His voice brightens as he continues. "Kill the rest."
With that, Bone launches himself into motion, heading out to meet Ahiga as the young wolf comes for him. After a moment, Toby follows, a few steps behind the longer-legged dog.
Duhali hangs back; small compared to these barely-grown wolves, she seems inclined to stay out of the fight. She's already done her job by finding the place.
Off to the side, Ghast makes a quick comment back to Genghis, then makes his circle wider - headed for the den itself, around the young defenders. What better chance will he have to stake his own claims than this? The big black dog lumbers after the alsatian, following his lead.
Around the other side, one of the young hunters whines at Jethro's gruff orders, while the other breathes deep and nods. She picks up the pace, and the smaller one hesitates a moment before breaking into a trot as well. Better to run into battle than be left behind with a 'disappointed' bulldog! The two younger dogs are focused now on what's ahead, not behind - too inexperienced to understand that, really, they should be paying attention to _both_ those things. Wolves ahead - and behind!
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Post by Ahiga on Apr 24, 2012 0:39:55 GMT -5
Ahiga heard Tala. The elk. He remembers that hunt and the tactics used that brought them success. That was a prey animal, and solitary at that. There were no thuggish sidekicks to watch its back like this dog has around him, with snarling faces and fangs and soulless intentions, but what other choice do they have? At least it's a plan, and they're pros at working together.
Ikuna is flanking to one side, and his mind can already map out what Tala's next steps will be. And him? He knows his role. He continues head on, an attack from three points, but this is oh so different. There are no panicked hooves to avoid. No kicks to duck. This is not a fleeing animal, but an animal bigger than himself who is meeting him head on with tooth and fang. This isn't a hunt. It's a fight.
Throat. Protect the throat. His throat is life. Do not let the throat get ripped.
Spirits protect his friends and take not their souls with you to your realm this day.
He's not even sure where that thought came from, but it's there and gone in a flash, leaving room only for the present. Dog stench. Bone is near. Very near. And his dog pack? He can't keep track of all of them and can only focus on him, else risk distraction and loss of the soft flesh of his throat. He must rip his before the heavy jaws of the dog does the same to him. There are no words to say. No greeting. No "why are you here"s. They know why they're here, and they must stop them.
His attack comes quick and low, keeping himself as the main frontal focal point. Muscles coil and compact as he ducks his body down closer to the ground to spring him forward in a lunging leap towards the forelegs and chest. Jaw unhinges to snap mercilessly as his snarl intensifies at the start of the brawl. A true Davis vs. Goliath match up, for although Ahiga is by no means small, this gargantuan dog is...just that. Gargantuan.
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Post by Tala on Apr 24, 2012 1:15:47 GMT -5
Tala has little idea that these dogs may know someone from there pack, and what could have happened to Wachiwa because of them. Though when she does fine out there is going to be one very mad she-wolf on someone’s paws..
She keeps pace with Ahiga, kicking up snow as she runs along, her gaze snapping around to the dogs and she soon catches sight of the one that is circling them? For a moment she isn’t sure what to do, but If that dogs gets behind them and to the den?. The puppies will certainly be killed. Her gaze lingers on Ahiga and then Ikuna before she suddenly turns and is running in a beeline right towards Ghast.
Her movements are quick, an soon she is mere yards from Ghast with a thick snarl escaping her, jaws bare and snapping at the air. Oh yes Ikuna was very right about her flaring temper and it is flaring big time right now..
+++
Jethro didn’t pick up onto the scent of wolves coming from a different direction until a breeze rolls through casting the scent from the two brothers his way, and it’s behind him. His large head turns and he catches sight of the one rather large wolf heading towards him.. Though there is something in the air and the movement of this wolf that proves to this old hunter that he knows there is most likely more than just one wolf.
A deep howling bark escapes him to get the attention of the other dogs that are on the way towards the three young wolves, he knows at least some of them will hear his call. An while Jethro is a good hunter, he knows better than go head on into a fight with possible more than one wolf.
He takes off running, moving towards the rest of the pack and even passing the younger dogs in his movement. “Move it kiddies, we get to the rest of the pack then we turn and fight ugly!” They have to fight together in order to win after all.
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Post by Azoto on Apr 24, 2012 16:36:35 GMT -5
Kill the rest. That's something Chua can get behind quite eagerly, and taking note of Ghast's direction - the white alsatian is hard to /ignore/ even in the late winter months with snow still heavy on the ground - he grins darkly. He's already got a prize waiting for him back where the pack was, what matters it to him if Toby wants the she-wolf present now? He chuckles darkly, and then, ears back, charges toward the other young male, Ikuna. Large bulk, thick fur, and a box-like head make him a daunting adversary. He rumbles darkly, "Oh, hey, look, a squirt, how 'bout that." As he stiffens, and half circles the younger wolf with brown eyes narrowed, entire red lank, wolf-like rame bristling.
"You stink with the smell of stupid, boy," Chua observes with a wry, obnoxious grin. "So this is the pack she came from. No wonder she wanted to get away, nothin' but young brats running around, and no real /dogs/ to speak of. Well, we made short work of her, we did... I'll be sure to present her with a gift of your fool head once I've ripped it from your neck." The Chow-wolfhound mix likes to taunt, yes; likes to try and see what his opponant has as far as a weak spot both mentally and physically before he attacks. It is both wise, and also can leave him open to first attacks, but that's okay. First attacks rarely mean the winner is already decided. He grins wickedly at Ikuna.
"What's wrong with your tail, boy? You get it caught in a tree or somethin'?" He jibes, making a feigned lunge for the backside to see how Ikuna reacts, grinning cruelly. "Coulda been worse you know. Get your leg caught in a snare like that dumb b***** did, you're stuck where you are until someone decides to let you out.. or you die." He chuckles darkly.
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Post by Kvatch on Apr 25, 2012 0:52:34 GMT -5
There is a old adage often passed between hunters and those who travel the wilds of the wilderness, a sort of rule of nature. It is a rule that can be applied to many scenarios, but the one most often presented, is that when faced with a charging bear, you don't have to out run the bear, you just have to out run the slowest runner. And with the hulking black wolf charging full tilt towards the three dogs, Brutual makes for a /very/ convincing bear. And while he has his yellow eyes focused on Jethro, the big wolf is not so fixated as to not accept a window of opportunity. Brutal harbors no personal vendetta with the american bulldog, no, he hates all dogs equally. Therefore, as the larger of the three dogs and his initial target bolts ahead, Brutal's gaze follows him only as long as required to note his direction of travel, keen ears picking up on the sounds of more dogs well on the other rise of the hill. Just how big is this mangy pack? Well, no matter, he's about to make it one dog less! "Chasing a different rabbit!" It is a short exchange, but between brothers, hardly needs further elaboration. It is then, without his stride even slowing a fraction, Brutal makes a smooth transition and locks his sight onto one of the smaller hound dogs, the male dog, and the who has just officially become the slowest runner. There are no social preliminaries found here, no stiff legged posturing, no snapping jaws. Hell, not even so much as a snarl! Brutal just barrels chest first into the unfortunate dog, fully intent on driving the creature right into the ground, no matter if he's running away or making a stand. No rolling tumble this will be, no chance to slip a grip. Just strait up doggy snow plowing!
"Awww hell, I hate fast food!" comes Grim's whining protest the instant that the 'fat one' makes a show of beating a hasty retreat. Of course, something about the way the bulldog takes a moment to analyze that the situation has Grim doubting he'll be running far, nor is he as dumb as he looks. Not that Grim couldn't make a stab at successfully running Jethro down, what with being on the lighter side compared to his brother. But then again, just about any wolf is on the light end of the scale when weighed against that furry blob! Not that Grim is exactly smaller by any standards, for he certainly matches his brother in height, just not width. If not perpetually in contrast, Grim might indeed make for a impressive wolf. As it where, the brothers are hardly ever apart and it often keeps the grey coated male from striking that imposing, ominous figure that Brutal achieves without even trying. But in that, it makes the wolf a dangerous opponent, mistaken as a easy fight. Still running adjacent to Brutal's flank, Grim easily captures the words spoken curtly by his brother, causing him to snort a laugh and grin toothily, "Ooooh, they do look tender!" In the same instant that Brutal pulls away to CRASH into the slowest of the three, Grim puts on the speed to run down the second slowest. His approach isn't exactly that of a snarling assailant, though. Its really much worse! Grinning ear to ear, with his tongue flapping out the side of his gaping mouth, he runs, wide eyed and looking every bit like a mad lunatic as his long legged stride eats up the ground between him and his prey. "BWHAHAH! HEHEHE! COME 'ER LITTLE PUPPEEEE!" Ok. Maybe Grim IS scarier than Brutal.
[OOC: Apologize for the delayed posting of this. Had work today. x.O ]
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