◊ Rusted copper amulet with a small raw Str/Stam quint
◊ Get good samples of bark from the Mother's Tree ~Reward~ Supposed treasure map
◊ Must be brought back fresh, full, and without scarring
An astute older man dressed in drab colors and tight robes leans over a pair of bowls with indeterminable mixtures. "This isn't an easy task so you better be well traveled. Either lacking superstitions or else wise in the cognitive section would be ideal," Tobias begins, gently wafting a bit of the fumes from his latest concoctions. His lips curled into a smile, though whether it was satisfaction of his brews or his next words cannot be said.
"I need some rare herbs and material for a particularly nasty business; don't want to worry you but if not treated soon there could be a break out. I need haste on this mission should you accept, and if you're not up for it begone and stop wasting my time!" he spoke, waving a hand rapidly as if to shoe you away. Still he hasn't looked up from his table, now scribbling something in a journal sitting nearby. "Roots, from the evergleam in bloom. Small plant, mostly stalk, of which produces a sticky residue along its fine greens that makes it shine gold in the sunlight. Careful though, the stuff can be detrimental to your health if it enters your body." There was a brief pause of consideration before he resumed his messy writing. "Though you'll likely still have time to bring it back to me should that happen; as long as you don't dawdle."
"They need to be full and long. I will need at least enough to fill this bowl here," he stated with a light slap to the nearest bowl on the table. "And uh... if you can handle it," Tobias started in a distinctly different tone as if he was questioning your courage, "A few strips of bark from the Mother's Tree herself if you would. No telling how bad this epidemic could get... This all depends on you. Don't care how you do it just as long as you're back here in a couple weeks."
Maximillion is approached by a mysterious figure, one he has met before, and who seems to have eyes and ears anywhere and everywhere. This fellow - only having given the name "Incognitus" - tells him of the Evergleam Root gathering mission, and assures him that the Mission pays quite well.
Not unaccustomed to this stranger's presence, and their useful advice, Maximillion pays the man the standard 'Informant Fee', then makes his way to Sengraf, where his Mission begins with meeting at the peak of a small rise in the untamed outback:
The Rendezvous Point
Maximillion arrives at the evening time, right around Sunset, where the sun is still peeking out from behind some rises in the horizon, and awaits the 'companion' he was told would be accompanying him on this mission.
Post by Maximillion VonMitternacht on May 26, 2016 10:15:51 GMT -7
"I don't think there is a better time of day," Maximillion said to nobody in particular, standing atop the stony rise that stood about twenty feet up from the ground below, clad in his dark purple leather armors, muscular arms folded over his broad chest. He was oddly afforded the luxury of being able to look directly into the sun without discomfort or risk, but his body still felt warmer than normal - like a human might feel standing in front of a large oven at 450F heat, door open - and he was grateful than the person had not asked him to meet them right at the peak of Noon or something.
"You get to behold the majesty of the sun, but without all the itching, burning and whatnot. Warmer than I'd like it to be, but I guess that cannot be helped."
He reached around to the satchel at his waist, and undid one of the buttons that held it shut, and pulled out a small vial of some fluid that was a strange coppery color, and had a coppery (albeit diluted) taste to it. He downed the contents of the vial in one gulp, made a face, then capped the empty vial again and dropped it into the back, buttoning it back.
"To think, there are humans who fantasize about drinking blood. The stuff tastes like s**t, I would much rather enjoy the brew Markus makes, with the ground beans and the boiling water. Or, hell, even dirt tastes better!"
He didn't actually expect anyone to respond. He had taken to talking to himself, at some point, perhaps as a coping tool for all of the time he spent alone. It was more 'thinking aloud', but it made him feel less lonely when he did it.
"Aaaaand now.." He said, watching as the last bit of sun, the uppermost tip, was fading over the horizon..
The dhampir wouldn't have to wait too long for his ally for the evergleam quest; though once the heavy steps were noticeable it was obvious that the ogre was in no rush to begin with. With the orange glow of the sun sinking below the horizon the grey-ish blue of the oret's skin seemed peachy, but even at the extensive distance the keen senses of Maximillion could perceive his companion his bulk and thick smell clearly marked the approaching individual as an ogre. After another minute of waiting for the oret to approach he was finally within range for casual conversation.
Treg, as he was known and would tell if asked for his name, was a well seasoned ogre. Apparent with the simple fact that part of his face was missing the top layer of skin beyond all of his visible scars, and the sheer number of bone trophies displayed around his neck, piercing his ears, jingling at his waist, or everywhere else he could slip such a thing amongst his mix-matched armor pieces.
But there was also something else about him that Max may have taken note of given his partial vampire lineage. The sunken eyes of Treg possessed the slightest oval shape. Otherwise he looked the part of a battle born oret mercenary that was not to be taken lightly.
The dark shadowed eyes of the ogre looked down on the half-breed before him, giving but a simple quick nod for a hello. Maximimllion was unmistakable to find; his frightening eyes and dark skin putting him as quite the outcast amidst the common people of the Eno region. Not that this appearance was of any bother to Treg. All he cared about was his capability to get the job done.
Post by Maximillion VonMitternacht on May 31, 2016 12:39:50 GMT -7
Maximillion turned to face the new arrival, waiting until he was close enough that the average human might've heard the grass under the ogre ruffle, or a twig snap. He eyed the figure as it approached - male, he assumed, although some of the other races were tougher for him to tell - and he sized Treg up with his heightened sight, from the smell of his blood, the sound of his breathing and heartbeat, and even the subtle vibrations given off by his mere presence. He did it without thinking, at this point in his life, which often helped him gauge the people around him.
Here is what he could tell: the figure had a dense musculature, and from the relaxed heart rate during movement, had quite a bit of stamina and endurance and strength. He couldn't hear that soft, barely audible (to his heightened senses) grind of bones against joints when someone was overdoing it and straining their body, and it was clear that Treg had been walking for quite awhile, a distance that would've caused most to be extremely weary afterwards.
The scars also spoke of the being's lifestyle, and exposure to warfare. Beyond that, Maximillion knew he probably should say something, or be thought of as rude for just staring at him.
"Ah, um.... greetings." He wasn't sure whether to use the High Tongue like the Nobles did, or just speak plainly, like most Common speakers did. In the end, he just figured he would talk as if he were talking to himself.
"My name is.." as an afterthought, he considered using some kind of alias, if for no other reason, than so he could have something to spice up the experience with. "..well, call me 'Max', that'll do."
Ooooh, how imaginative! the thought trickled in from somewhere in the back of his mind, and he could almost hear the laughter from other parts of his brain. Being cerebral as he was, by nature, the various aspects of his personality and nature had been subconsciously compartmentalized, to where they could operate together, as well as separately.
Or, maybe he was just, how might one put it? 'One who has transcended sanity'?
He'd been given a name, Treg, Maximillion realized, the memory drawing itself to the front of his mind, as if trying to grab his attention from whatever tangent he had been mulling over in his head.
"Ah, M-..Treg." He had almost said 'Mister', but again, he didn't want to assume. "I hear you know a thing or two about the tasks ahead. Care to fill me in with what you know, as we walk?"
He spread his arms out, specifically in the way as to tell Treg he was ready to begin walking in the direction of their goal, but was wanting Treg to lead, or at least, walk beside him. If Treg did so, Maximillion would surely follow.
Little did Treg know, although he would soon find out, Maximillion was a talker...
There was a moment of simply blank staring at the overly polite gentlemen standing before the ogre. It was something Treg was unaccustomed to in a genuine fashion, typically only hearing and seeing such gestures from the nobility uncomfortably chattering at him in-between explaining a job they needed doing. This behavior coming from a fellow warrior figuratively raised an eyebrow on the oret's face.
That sort of pondering wasn't something Treg bothered himself long with, proceeding to take the indication of walking offered by Max. "I know of dire beasts," he confirmed after a gruff grumble of his throat. "All over that forest the Mother's Tree borders. Wolves near as big as you, boar skewer men without slowing down, and bear. You don't want to meet dire bear." As he spoke the ogre lifted a hand with clear intention of catching the dhampire's attention. Mentioning the wolves and wild boar Treg brought out his beastial side, the virus flaming up [mostly] along his arm making the appendage thicken with fur; nails thickening and elongating to a menacing size. It was brief, the display returning to normal hairy ogre skin and gnarled hands in a few moments.
Treg was paying rather careful attention, observing if you will, the odd humanoid walking beside him; particularly the eyes. His nostrils flared with a large intake of the air in Maximillion's direction. "Your eyes aren't blue but you smell of blood."
((So there's a buncha ways to get to the Mother's Tree... which way were you intending to go? Can view the map in the nav menu.))
Post by Maximillion VonMitternacht on Jun 11, 2016 8:18:49 GMT -7
"Dire Beasts..." Maximillion was fascinated by the subject, although he wasn't necessarily going out of his way to try and shake paws and make introductions. Out in the wild, there were those creatures who were purely feral, and intelligent - they weren't difficult for Maximillion to 'commune' with, so to speak - and then there were those who were sentient, could speak, and were just as shrewd and cunning and manipulative as humans were known for being - which could be a trifle to deal with, but still within the realm of Maximillion's experience - and were a tricky sort.
He wasn't afraid to show that he didn't know something, in an effort to learn it..
"I have encountered a couple of Dire beasts, long ago, and they seemed to be afflicted with some kind of Curse or Affliction, perhaps Sorcery? They're the only kind of creature I can honestly say I've ever been disconcerted by the sight of, usually due to the sheer volume of bloodlust that seems to rush from them like a series of tidal waves."
Maximillion had an abstract way of speaking, it was difficult for most in High Society to fully get what he meant, if they were more literal-minded. However, for creatures or beings who FELT things, more than RATIONALIZED things, it might make more sense to them...assuming they knew the things he was referring to.
As Treg raised his arm, Maximillion felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and there was a slight falter in his step as the display of claws and fur came and went. A sense of exhilaration came over him then, and he picked up the speed of his steps to once more return to Treg's side.
"Your eyes aren't blue but you smell of blood."
Now, Treg had done it: Maximillion was irreparably *FASCINATED* by him now. Was he a hybrid of some sort? And 'smell of blood'...Maximillion got the impression that Treg must have picked up on something about Maximillion's Vampiric ancestry....he had been uncertain at first, but then the 'blue eyes' comment registered in his mind, and he remembered that Vampires generally had pale blue eyes.
Well, it wasn't the easiest to notice eye color when you're up against a creature who, unlike most things in the world, can fling you around like you weigh no more than a bundle of straw, and cause you to be bedridden for a week or two with broken ribs. However, even as the thought crossed his mind, his mind - with it's selective Photographic Memori - called glowing icy-blue eyes staring at him with rage and loathing. His blood wasn't palatable to Vampires (it probably tasted like the most god-awful spoiled food he could recall having eaten, judging by the look on the creature's face when it had tried to feed from Maximillion's neck at one point), and it seemed most could tell without having their lips to his flesh, and they almost seemed to resent him for it...
..unless there was something else they resented.
"I'm a Dhampir." He said simply. Then, realizing the term wasn't exactly on the tip of everyone's tongue, he decided to elaborate.
"I'm a Hybrid, a mixture of Human and Vampire. And you..." He pointed towards the arm Treg had raised a moment ago. "...are you a Hybrid too? If so, of what?!"
It was like a Science Nerd when he first discovers the Science Class that reveals - like Angels parting the heavenly curtains to a man's long-sought Destiny - his true love in the form of beakers, microscopes and labcoats.
Somehow, he didn't feel on-edge and uncomfortable around Treg, like he might've had his companion been a human. Maximillion knew he was part Human too, but as none of the humans had ever treated him like a Human, he never exactly considered himself one, unless he was really thinking on it.
((Maximillion would suggest that Treg lead the way, and Max will simply follow. Maximillion has always traveled in groups and caravans, all led by someone with far better navigational skills than he himself has. ))
The man's initial matter-of-fact reply caused a cross of confusion to wash over the ogre's face. Though it was brief, Treg's visage being swept away by his usual grumpy gus of squished and wrinkled features as he turned away from his traveling companion. He considered questioning the dhampir of what exactly that was but before he could make a decision Maximillion picked up on the obscurity of the word, or possibly Treg's visual cues of wonder, and provided a more descriptive answer. The ogre's head shifted back down to stare at the dark skinned man while he spoke, eyes breaking from his form to follow the invisible line from Max's pointed finger shortly after.
Once again a flicker of bewilderment sat on his face, the ogre raising his arm to look at as if expecting to find something on it he hadn't noticed before. Treg's head cocked to the side ever so slightly as the utter excitement and genuine ignorance of zofienanthropy. "I would have thought even half human would know of 'feral curse'," Treg began with the faintest hint of a grumbling chuckle behind his voice. "Maybe not as you. You probably only hear of your difference." The ogre paused a second to itch his nose.
"I have zofien blood: wild cat. It was gifted years ago when I slew a dire queen in the mountains. She rewarded my victory by passing me her strength should I survive her final gift. Or, it was her final attempt to kill me beyond the grave and it failed." His half torn mouth curled into satisfied grin. Treg talked very proud of his virus affliction, unlike what most would consider it; a curse. He didn't go on to talk at all about the process the followed, not that he would know any details of what exactly was occurring to even soothe those looking for a scientific angle.
"What about you? How did you become half breed? I've never known a vampire to leave half finished."
It became apparent that his agile companion was allowing Treg to lead them along to where they needed to be. That or just making an effort to ensure the bulky ogre didn't step on him and was too nice to take charge for fear of Treg disagreeing and going off on his own way anyways. Whichever it was it didn't matter as Treg would take advantage of this opportunity. He adjusted the path a little to go closer by Pickernicen on their left straight into the mountains. It was the most direct path, a little slowed by the terrain of course and full of predators, but what part of the wilds wasn't? Plus, it would give one last chance to gather supplies from the near city before they began scaling; should Max decide he needs anything.
Post by Maximillion VonMitternacht on Jul 25, 2016 9:13:17 GMT -7
Maximillion could not remember how he had come to be, eidetic memory be damned. Even he, it would seem, wasn't immune to the irony of only retaining memories after so many years.
"All I know is that my father was a Vampire, and my mother was Human. I cannot remember a time before Alexandreu.." that was the Vampire's name, who had 'raised' him....if you could call such savagery 'raising'.
"And, you're right; I've never heard of a phenomenon like this occurring ever before. I've lived long enough to see a few generations come and go, but never have I met another like myself...or, for that matter, yourself!" He said, eying Treg up and down. It was clear that he was impressed, and he gave an approving nod.
"I can tell, just by looking at you, you could definitely hold your own in a fight with a couple dozen or more human soldiers. I don't know what your experiences are with humans, but while I hold them no ill will, I don't intend to ever let them lay harm upon me unscathed."
He pulled out, from somewhere in his cloaks, a piece of parchment - a flier - and extended it to Treg as they walked.
"One of the Holy Orders was recently launching a crusade against the "Undead and creatures of the night", which I think somehow means 'all races that aren't human', knowing them. I left their company fairly quick, since I knew it was only a matter of time until my heritage became known, and I didn't like the idea of being in a 'kill or be killed' type scenario."
He would let Treg keep the documents, and would navigate the stony expanse alongside Treg. Maximillion moved lithely, as if he expended virtually ZERO effort maneuvering the treacherous terrain. He normally added some 'clumsy' and 'awkward' to his movements, in order to better blend in with humans, but with Treg, he didn't feel that such an asinine gesture was necessary.
"Just, let it be known: I judge individuals based upon their own merits, NOT on the color, texture, or makeup of their skin, teeth, hair, or limbs. I don't know if you have heard of the "Midnight King", or any of his literature, but..." he trailed off, letting Treg come to his own conclusions, just in case he had heard of the Racial Equality literature.
"..I also have a keen interest in uniting individuals of mixed birth, and doing what I can to lessen the divide between the various races. There are powerful, dark forces that would harm US ALL, yet all the in-fighting between races and species is only weakening our respective powers, and making us easy pickings for the more terrifying, lesser-known beings."
Treg listened idly as they traversed the plains southward. With the dhampir's innate speed and the ogre-zofien's large steps they were making rather amazing time in the eyes of the average human. It wouldn't be long before they were watching the growing city of Pickernicen pass them by as they headed into the foot of the mountain range. Some of what Maximillion had said didn't quite make sense to Treg, namely this thing about his mother and father. The human part made sense but something about the dead having a part in providing life didn't sit well with him. Oh well. The noodle of a being nimbly bouncing at his side barely seemed a threat at the moment so it wasn't a worry.
The other part that confused him was this claim of seeing generations, of humans he assumed, go by and yet not notice the zofien affliction that had been around for nearly a hundred years at this point. Maybe it was just the feline aspect of it. Or maybe non-zofien were just really bad at picking up when one of the 'cursed' ferals was in their midst. It wasn't that hard to fool a human, dozens of zofien did it every day. Treg never bothers. The gift of the mountain lion was not something to be ashamed of in his eyes, as would be apparent in the way he described it earlier.
When the flyer was offered Treg looked at it a little bemused, taking up the page and bringing it closer to his face as they continued onward. Most of the scribbles were too flowery for him to understand, but he didn't need to be able to read every word to understand the message. Plus, Max was there to explain the gist anyway. "Human warriors are full of themselves," he replied simply with a grumbling tone. "They like to think they are a pack of wolves when gathered, but very few work together and most with ideas like this..." he waved the parchment in his hand, "... are scavengers that don't want their own hands red."
Treg snorted and crumpled the page, tossing it in disgust to the ground. "It was good you left their group." He added shortly afterward.
As they continued on their path the plains gave way to the pebbled slides of the mountain range. Grass still poked its stubborn blades through the cracks where the occasional tree hadn't already claimed, but the soft dirt was replaced with rock and packed earth. It was time to start scaling upward and over. There was no need to find an actual path, but the terrain already had a natural route that allowed them to weave their way up. And through it all his vocal ally continued his talk, Treg responding when it seemed there was a pause waiting for him to. His grumpy visage remained constant but as Max would probably pick up on that was just the way his battle worn face was set and not a reflection of his feelings toward their travel.
"Midnight King..?" he repeated in a mumble to himself. His jaw shifted to the side in thought, eyes narrowing as he tried to recall where he had heard the name before. Treg's throat crackled as the proverbial gears in his head worked. "Name is familiar," came his confirmation sometime later.
"Are you speaking of what happened to the north human town? Sen-tair..?" He huffed, "Maybe you're right. But ogres already try to help humans, and halflings are very cooperative. If you want to change anything you have to convince them: the humans." He paused to haul himself over a ledge to progress further up the trail. "If they had asked for ogre, or even witch or feral help, then maybe their city wouldn't be broken."
The litter of trees around them was starting to thicken once more as they reached a more forgiving section of the mountain's base. A wind was starting to pick up a bit as the moon hovered brightly in a sea of stars above them. They had been walking for several hours at this point and had made incredible time. Oh the distance you can make without a caravan slowly trudging along a road. Not to mention when both travelers were extraordinary beings comfortable in the dark. Howls and hoo's of other nightly animals rang through the air around them in varying distances but no glimmer of fur or beat of wing were bothering them yet.
Treg took a moment to assess where abouts they were, stopping in the midst of the light forest they'd wandered into. He sniffed the air and stared down a couple routes as he considered the best path to proceed. "Hmmm, I think the spring should be over there," he raised a gnarled finger to the west. "Which means waterfall and rapids ahead of us. Should avoid."
Post by Maximillion VonMitternacht on Nov 22, 2016 8:52:22 GMT -7
(OOC: sorry, for some reason, Proboards doesn't always notify me of replies, and it didn't occur to me to check . Hope you will forgive me for waiting 3 months before a reply >.<)
Maximillion nodded as Treg spoke, legitimately enjoying the company the - man? - provided on this trip. When he actually got to talking, he was very expressive, and his intelligence really shown. When Treg made his statement about human warriors being full of themselves, Maximillion nodded in assent, because, yes... he had noticed that.
They always try and destroy that which they do not understand, he thought to himself during a pause in Treg's responses, and right before they came near the spring, the small ledge overhang Treg climbed up onto and over, Maximillion grinned impishly, bent his knees just a tiny bit, then kicked off the ground. He he seemed to fly (although he didn't) for a brief moment, but his overconfidence nearly cost him his dignity as his feet barely made the lip of the overhang, which would've caused him to land flat on his face. He felt his face grow hot, and he let out a chuckle that probably sounded more like a cough, then moved to catch up with Treg, who had already scaled the overhang, and continued his walking while Maximillion was still recovering from his embarrassment.
Maybe trying to show off isn't a good idea, he thought, as he resumed his position near Treg's side. This fellow means business, and most professionals don't goof off as much as I generally do.
When they stopped, just before the spring, Maximillion tilted his head just a bit, like a curious dog might, and looked at Treg.
"Yes, fast moving water can definitely be troublesome," The ebony Dhampir replied. He knew Vampires couldn't generally cross bodies of moving water, but while he was not affected by that weakness, running water - especially the likes of rapids, and other fast-moving bodies of water - could still risk him having his strength sapped away, not to mention the feeling like boiling water was scalding his flesh (even if the water was cold).
"So, I have asked a lot about you, I'm sure I may occasionally come off as dense, or scatterbrained...guilty as charged. And yes, Midnight King..I don't exactly share this info with many, but I am part of a movement meant at stopping acts of genocide against other, Non-Human races, and representing the interests of beings who wish to live in peace, and civilized society, without being hunted, or abused. With so many religious Orders and the like on their Crusades and whatnot, I'm sure you might see why discretion is important to me."
He then turned back in the direction Treg had indicated with his finger, the area which they should avoid.
"Well, I'm horrible at directions, friend. Where would you recommend going? And how much more walking do you have in you?"
Maximillion's stamina was inhuman, but he didn't know how long Treg could go for without needing (or even wanting) to stop for a bit, whether it was to eat, or to rest, or something else.
((Absolutely no worries. Now is my turn to apologize xP Busy holiday season and I'm the only one in the office))
The werecat's eyes turned down do his midnight ally, the orbs occasionally reflecting the moon's shine like one would expect of an animal. He hmphed, the rumble deep in his throat. His gnarled face kept the grumpy and rough expression, though the keen eyes of his companion would probably note the ever so slight shift in the eyes and fill in the missing lip normally indicative of a smirk.
"Ogres do not tire easy," came his simple reply to Maximillion's last inquiry. He started moving again, knowing the dhampir would follow. Bush and branch got a bit thicker but Treg's bulk easily pushed them aside. It was a little noisy, leaf rustling and branch swishing through the air as he passed, but it would be notable the ogre seemed to be intending to make the slight disturbance as he didn't bother to step around particular patches that were basically effortless to avoid.
As to where he was headed he didn't bother saying. Soon enough the murmur of water would be audible and when it was he adjusted his path to avoid getting immediately closer; running more adjacent. Eventually the rush of the stream crashing down the mountain lowered to a whisper. A large black mirror coming into view in front of them fed by the stream and flowing into another branch of water flow. The trees lightened and would eventually break away into a pleasant glade illuminated in the silver twilight. A couple of deer spooked into the opposite side, a small flock of duck huddled in the shadows by the pond's bank, but otherwise they appeared to be alone.
"This much easier to cross." Treg stated quietly, then added, "When not stalked by great predator." As if on cue a wolf's howl sang out into the night; but it was a fair distance away.
Post by Maximillion VonMitternacht on Dec 19, 2016 14:06:50 GMT -7
When he heard the wolf's howl, a chill went up Maximillion's back. His ears picked up on the sound, and - almost like some kind of machine - would (more or less) triangulate the location of the entity that had howled. Was this one of the wilderness' natural creatures, or something tainted, warped and deformed by darkness, like some of the wretched beings Maximillion had been made to contend with in times past?
He wasn't about to let Treg's apparently enhanced senses go to waste.
"Two with enhanced senses is better than one." He said, raising his purple gauntleted hand in the general direction of the sound.
"Can you tell me about how far away the creature who made that sound is?" He asked. He took a minute to survey his surroundings, size up any possible cover they could take, as well as anything they could use to their advantage in the case of an altercation.
"I don't like to go around killing things, especially if it can be avoided..." he trailed off, a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He could hold his own, but it never got easier when he was looking at having to possibly end a life, whether that life was humanoid or not. The wars he had fought in, in times past, had scarred him deep, and he had always been a sensitive person besides.
"If it comes down to our lives or that of another, however...exceptions can be made."
Treg's gaze dropped to his ally on this mission, soon following along the invisible line toward where the howl had sounded. He wasn't sure if it really was any sort of enhanced sense as Max had commented or just natural experience in the wilds, but he was able to answer either way.
"Rather far that one, I'd say." The ogre paused for a moment and listened, both to the dhampire's further talks and to their surroundings. There wasn't much of a breeze snaking its way through the trees tonight. The night hadn't been too noisy to begin with besides the ogre himself. All other creatures keeping their distance from the hulking racket snapping through the branches for fear of a confrontation, but such a strategy to warn off wild animals also had the drawback of possibly attracting the more territorial. This thought was not lost on the zofien ogre.
"Good to know," grumbled Treg. For a moment he'd been worried this half-creature of the night would faint at the sight of blood with the way he'd uncomfortably rambled about killing things. But the final words from his companion helped assure the werecat he wouldn't be abandoned when things got tough. Another howl sounded, seemingly a little closer now.
"Wolves do not howl to signal an attack. They are stalkers. Quiet. The one you hear is not the one to fear." The ogre took a step and paused, eyes unfocused ahead. The faint brushing of leaf in the bushes, and light-footed padding on the forest floor, barely caught his attention over the rumble of the small water fall feeding the pond.
The dire wolf attacked.
A great shadow swept from the cover of bush, leaping through the air in a deafening snarl. Teeth and claws glimmering in the light with hungry eyes following. It was easily as tall as a man and twice as long; and it was not alone. Thankfully, though, its followers were of the average wolf.
(( ._. much apology for delay. Got sick the day I got back home. All better now though! Hope this is okay ^^ Happy New Year to you
Edit 2: Maximillion VonMitternacht , I saw you on and clicked in to find Treg's images all derp yet! I forgot to fix XD Confirming I'm still around and rarin' to post if you're still interested ^^ ))
Last Edit: Apr 13, 2018 7:27:41 GMT -7 by The Maven