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The Beast Within
Angwe
I'm the dog that ate yr birthday cakeBedford, VA
Context: After struggling with the Bahkatu form (which had been rejecting him,) Angwe managed to receive the necessary training to take the werewolf form! Being a new wolf outside of the Rout, his actual training in dealing with the foreign mindset are few and far between. Arbre expresses surprise and interest when she finds out that there's a new wolf in Duiran and Angwe sees an opportunity there to learn from an experienced wolf.
[spoiler]You tell Arbre, "Are you wakeful?"
Arbre tells you, "I am."
You tell Arbre, "Willing to teach?"
Arbre tells you, "Shortly, yes."
Soon...
(Duiran): Arbre says, "I take your words as solemn oath and welcome you back to the Council, Suri."
(Duiran): Elwyn says, "Welcome, Suri."
(Duiran): Suri says, "Thank you."
(Duiran): Gabriele says, "Welcome Home Suri."
Suri's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
Arbre says to Suri, "You can begin with GHELP DISCIPLE in the guild."
Suri says, "My next question."
"Heh heh heh," Suri chuckles.
You smile and say to Suri, "Blessings of the Heartwood 'pon ye, Councilor."
Arbre says, "Any immediate questions?"
A flash of russet catches your eye as a snake vanishes into a pile of rubble.
You follow Arbre to the west.
Stone bridge over a spring. (road)
---------- v43846 -----------
/
/
/
[ ]
| /
| /
| /
-[+]- - -[ ]
| \
| \
| \
[ ]
\
\
\
---------- -16:0:1 ----------
A natural stone bridge crosses over the mountain spring running just beneath. The clear waters of the pool offer visibility straight down into its pebbly bottom, a variety of glittering stones reflecting through the waters in the presence of direct light. The rocky grey facade of the cavern rises up directly to the west, its bulky surface jutting out as an overhang in places to shade the pool. The bridge squeezes through a narrow gap in the western Hollow's face, leading through to what appears to be forest beyond. A camel awaits its rider here, snorting irritably. There are 2 monolith sigils here. A burly centaur stands sentinel, his hefty crossbow at the ready. Torrents of water twist and shift around the watery form of an undine aquacaster here, masterfully manipulating her element. Blending in nearly perfectly with her environs, a cloaked wilderness warden waits here for potential trouble. Prowling about the area is a feral bahkatu predator. A viridian satyr stamps his hooves over the ground, muttering shamanic curses to himself here. Arbre is here. She is riding on a large snow leopard. She wields a wolven quarterstaff of pale oak in her hands. Kog is here, covered in silver fur. Suri is here.
You see exits leading north, east, south, and west.
Suri says, "No."
He is a dexterous Lupine, standing at roughly four and a half feet tall when on all fours. A thick coat of silver fur covers his entire body, muscles visible beneath it when he moves. His shoulders are broad but his build is on the light side, his muscles wiry instead of thick, and very little fat present at all. His right eye is a dull, dark grey-brown while his left is a brilliant emerald green that glows with a life of its own. Emerging from his back are a pair of thin silver wings, held somewhat awkwardly. He is wearing:
a Heartstring Bow
a bone claw necklace of endurance
a worn leather pack
a black and gold silk loincloth
Suri says to Arbre, "I'll get reading."
Arbre says, "Let me know if you need anything then."
Arbre closes her eyes and begins to focus.
Suri's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
Suri nods her head emphatically.
A look of rapture fills Arbre's face as a white nimbus encompasses her body. When the light fades Arbre can no longer be found.
You follow Arbre to the ether.
The edge of a jungle clearing.
---------- v33213 -----------
[>]
[+]
----------- 0:0:0 -----------
Moving out of a thick, vibrant dream of green vines and strong, dark trunks, this area slowly begins to rise out of the cloying, close darkness. It thins out, into a clearing where sunlight filters through a tangle of vegetation, to a floor padded with the debris of an ancient jungle. Off into the distance, a hill of sharp rock rises from the soft loam. Large and foreboding, it stands feet taller than the average house, a wide cavern opening in the front. A severed head is being presented here inside a large glass jar. A steel chainmail sits here, twined with leather and tiny idols. Collecting dirt, and likely disease, on the floor is a small piercing needle.
You see a single exit leading in.
You grin mischievously at a severed head in a glass jar.
Arbre shakes her hair out behind her, pushing it out of her face with both hands. "Now then," she says with a laugh and a huff of breath.
Arbre ceases to wield a wolven quarterstaff of pale oak.
Arbre puts a cast-iron cooking pot into a durable kitbag of fiery hues.
Arbre takes a solid obsidian tankard from a durable kitbag of fiery hues.
With acrobatic grace, you quickly hop off of a roan brumby stallion.
You begin to raise your fingers to your mouth to whistle for your mount before realising it's already with you!
You slap a roan brumby stallion on the rump and send it cantering off towards 'An open paddock'.
Arbre gracefully hops off of a large snow leopard.
Arbre slaps a large snow leopard on the rump and sends it cantering off.
Moving over to a nearby tree and taking a seat at its base, Arbre looks up to you, focusing on examining you for a minute. "Why the change?"
You have emoted: Angwe glances off into the jungle and scents the air, lifting his ridged nose slightly. "This place feels..." he pauses as Arbre speaks up.
Arbre says, "Feels?"
At length, you say to Arbre, "...Real."
Arbre gives a faint grin. "Should it not?"
You have emoted: "Mine doesn't," Angwe answers. "Terrible place. It's a bad dream, and that's 'xactly how it feels."
"It used to be sire's house," Arbre says, flicking her eyes around, "All warped and distorted. But when I accepted everything, it faded away."
You have emoted: Something changes within the emerald storm that resides where Angwe's eyes perhaps once where, though the faun shows no outward emotion.
Arbre says to you, "You still show signs of pain when you mutate."
You have emoted: Angwe pastes a rueful smile on his face, glancing off into the darkness of the jungle. "Aye... hurts a lil' bit every time."
You say, "Something told me that wasn't gonna change."
You have emoted: Angwe's hands wander, here stroking the fur of his cloak, there resting by the thumbs in the belt of a runed loincloth of rich, brown leather.
"Likely because you do not embrace it," Arbre says with a shrug of her shoulders. She stretches out her legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankle. "I have found, over time, that most of the problems people have with mutating is that they try to keep too much mortal and embrace too little wolf.
You have emoted: This catches Angwe's attention.
Turning his gaze back to Arbre, you ask, "How do you mean?"
"Who are you?" Arbre counters instead.
You pause for a second in contemplation.
Arbre cocks her head to the side, watching you expectantly.
Firmly, you say, "The Scout Master of the Sentinel Pride. The Claw of the Bear, the exemplar of Severity."
A hesitation, then, you say, "A work in progress."
"That last bit is the only statement carrying truth," Arbre says, "If you do not know what is inside you, how do you expect to find your wolf there?"
It is now the 20th of Chakros, year 389 of the Midnight Age.
You have emoted: Angwe makes a grinding noise in the back of his throat as he considers Arbre's words.
Arbre watches you patiently as you processes her words, not pressing you.
You have emoted: "I know -what- I am," Angwe reasons. "But who am I?" He shakes his head slightly. "For so long, there was no true answer to that question."
"Why did you decide to gain claws in the first place?" Arbre questions, stretching her arms up above her head.
You furrow your brow and say, "I am a scholar in part. A beast, still, in ways."
You say to Arbre, "Originally? Fear."
Arbre tilts her head curiously at you.
Arbre says, "Explain."
Crossing his arms, you say, "A foe hunted me, and I feared that the dhurive would not be enough. My skill is small, continues to be..."
Shaking his head, you say, "I viewed the change as a weapon... something I could control."
"And you cannot," Arbre replies.
You have emoted: Angwe grimaces. "No," he answers. "Not at first."
You say, "You saw the results of that mindset."
You say to Arbre, "The bear fought back. Asserted itself."
"I am not a wolf and an Azudim," Arbre says, pulling her legs to her so she can push herself to all fours, "I am wolf. Whether I have fur or not, I am wolf. I do not -have- a wolf, I -am- her, and she is me. I hold her instincts when I am unmutated - I smell everything around me, I go into heat in the spring, I am wolf before Azudim, before even woman."
You have emoted: Angwe watches Arbre silently, his thoughts hidden behind an impassive, observant face. "Two forms," he muses. "But one mind."
Nodding slightly, you say, "The beast. You have it, too."
You furrow your brow and say, "And you embrace it."
You squat on your haunches comfortably.
Your pose is now set as: Angwe is here, squatting on his haunches.
Arbre gives you a slow nod before very slowly beginning to mutate. She shows no signs of pain, simply pulling her clothing off, allowing her bones to shift, fur to sprout, face to reform. When she finishes, she turns those same green eyes to look at you again.
Arbre reaches around behind her, untying the knot to let the chiffon fall free from her chest
Arbre removes a feral chiffon skirt.
Arbre sneers and her eyes lose focus for a moment. Curving almost in pain, she grows a thick pelt of fur, and the muscles on her body snap and re-grow larger in size. Shaking her head, Arbre straightens herself, fully transformed into her Werewolf self.
Arbre yelps and snarls in a primitive form of language.
You have emoted: Angwe places his claws out before him, bracing himself. As he furrows his brows in concentration, the light of his eyes blinks out.
You remove a runed loincloth of rich, brown leather.
After pulling the hood down, you release the strap and shrug the cloak off your shoulders.
A feral sneer passes your lips as you lapse from concentrating on your Yeleni self, and allow your true nature to take hold. Your back curves, and thick fur grows forth from your skin, covering every inch of you. The curves of your muscles snap and grow, and your face loses all semblance of your former self as you fully transform into a Werewolf. Shaking your head comfortably, you stand erect and aware.
You have emoted: Angwe comes through the change panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Snapping his jaws, he barks out something of a lupine cuss.
Arbre turns on you the moment you mutates, her fur puffing up, a snarl coming to her lips. Her tail is flagged and ears forward in a sign of dominance as she leaps forward to land in front of you.
You have emoted: Angwe reacts immediately, his paw swiping out at Arbre before his mind has time to process. Still, there is hesitation in his movements, something too human.
Years of practice allows Arbre to easily dodge the attack. Twisting her head around she emits two snarling barks before aiming her jaws toward the tender flesh of your neck.
You have emoted: Angwe yelps in pain as Arbre's fangs find little resistance from the ethereal fur of his pelt and dig into a tough, barklike skin. Some familiarity with his new form can be observed as he manages to stagger with it, barely keeping his feet.
Arbre clamps down hard enough to draw blood, shaking her head roughly a few times before releasing and snarling again at you.
You have emoted: Whether by bravery, stupidity or outright stubbornness, Angwe advances as Arbre withdraws, pressing her space. Snarling, he swipes a paw at the elder wolf's forepaws.
Arbre isn't expecting the attack and barely has time to dodge it, her front paws going into the air in a half leap. Coming back down, she hefts her body weight into you with as much force as she can manage.
You have emoted: So commited was Angwe to his attack that he has no time to dodge Arbre. Instead, moves with his momentum, slamming into Arbre with enough force to leave him dazed.
She is a wise Lupine standing chest level with the average human when on all fours and well over when upright. Her frame is trim and lean, clearly built for speed over strength. Grey fur covers the majority of her body with an insulating black undercoat, the grey guard hairs coarse to the touch while the black fur beneath is downy and fine. Shining through like lava beneath cracked rock, a network of fiery tattoos cut artful swaths through her fur, an occasional prominence arching between designs. Her legs and muzzle are a warm cream color fading to white on her belly. Bright green eyes are set an elegantly tapered muzzle and gold flecks in the iris are evident as they catch and reflect even the slightest light. Hard grey claws tip each of the digits on her massive paws and a thick bottle-brush tail sways back and forth behind her to aid in balance when she moves. The aroma of scintilily flowers hanging about her is overwhelming, though not quite strong enough to overcome the stench of dirt, blood, and wet dog. She is wearing:
a cold butterfly pendant
wings of undulating strands
a carven charm of bone
a kidskin pouch
a disc-adorned black ribbon choker
a black-gold anklet of charms
a hand-knitted fiery scarf
an elegant mithril circlet set with emberite
a pair of djerite claws
Arbre has about the same reaction, shaking her head roughly when she hits her feet again to clear her head. After a moment or two she turns to face you again, baring her teeth in a snarl that shows no human emotion and takes a single step toward you.
The adumbrative night stretches onward, ever elusive of dawn's grasp.
You have emoted: Angwe stands his ground, lowering his front portion as though to submit. The lashing tail and the set of his ears would give the gathered spring away, even against an opponent as inexperienced as he.
A distant keening howl seizes your attention, and you stop to listen. It is the sound of some creature, somewhere, experiencing inutterable sorrow. A chill ripples down your spine as the sound trails off, but you remember...
Arbre waits until she sees you twitch and, assuming that is your attack, she leaps to the left.
You have emoted: A fake out! Angwe leaps straight into the air, a hind paw swishing past Arbre's face. As he lands, he charges blindly into Arbre's perimeter, snarling as he launches an overwhelming, if largely random flurry of clawing swipes.
Arbre gives a slight yip of surprise, tripping over her own feet to land on her side, clawing awkwardly at the grass as she tries unsuccessfully to push herself away from your attacks so she can get to her feet.
You relax your pose and return to a normal position.
The deepening night provides hope for the coming of the dawn as the moon traces its path across the sky.
It is now the 21st of Chakros, year 389 of the Midnight Age.
You have emoted: Angwe springs forth and falls upon Arbre with a howl of triumph rearing up, he cuffs her face with his paws in a lightening fast combo.
In this close proximity to Arbre, a strange scent is decipherable on her. It's not anything recognizable but it feels somewhat familiar to the wolf's mind as she struggles, twisting herself underneath you. She puts herself at the disadvantage of being on her back, though it allows her to kick her legs furiously at your chest and stomach.
Somewhere within you, the Beast stirs.
You have emoted: Angwe absorbs two kicks to the midsection, enough to drive back somewhat. Still, he comes at Arbre with the tenacity of a creature possessed, bright red blood gushing from the wound on his neck.
The more comfortable you becomes with the nature of the beast, the stronger the scent coming from Arbre seems to become, something feral and primal, unintentionally encouraging the attack. She kicks her limbs wildly but with the surprising precision that decades of practice has given. Her eyes are wide and her ears have flattened themselves against her skull.
You have emoted: Angwe's eyes have changed, a ravenous hunger within them that devours everything before them, echoing nothing to the world but green flame and a predator's will. His lips curled into a snarl around more teeth than a natural creature has any business having in it's mouth, he seems to hesitate only a moment before he darts forward, pressing his body against Arbre's as he presses into her guard, his jaws seeking her neck.
Angwe isn't home right now.
Arbre continues fighting for a moment later before going completely still, submitting. With the embrace, the scent becomes startlingly clear - she's in heat and the domination has only served to excite the emotions. Her eyes are wide and panicky, looking at you in something that almost resembles fear.
You have emoted: Angwe remains locked on Arbre's neck for a few moments even after she ceases her struggling, his snarls never quite ceasing but changing in timbre.[/spoiler]
And then some other, boring stuff happened.
[spoiler]You tell Arbre, "Are you wakeful?"
Arbre tells you, "I am."
You tell Arbre, "Willing to teach?"
Arbre tells you, "Shortly, yes."
Soon...
(Duiran): Arbre says, "I take your words as solemn oath and welcome you back to the Council, Suri."
(Duiran): Elwyn says, "Welcome, Suri."
(Duiran): Suri says, "Thank you."
(Duiran): Gabriele says, "Welcome Home Suri."
Suri's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
Arbre says to Suri, "You can begin with GHELP DISCIPLE in the guild."
Suri says, "My next question."
"Heh heh heh," Suri chuckles.
You smile and say to Suri, "Blessings of the Heartwood 'pon ye, Councilor."
Arbre says, "Any immediate questions?"
A flash of russet catches your eye as a snake vanishes into a pile of rubble.
You follow Arbre to the west.
Stone bridge over a spring. (road)
---------- v43846 -----------
/
/
/
[ ]
| /
| /
| /
-[+]- - -[ ]
| \
| \
| \
[ ]
\
\
\
---------- -16:0:1 ----------
A natural stone bridge crosses over the mountain spring running just beneath. The clear waters of the pool offer visibility straight down into its pebbly bottom, a variety of glittering stones reflecting through the waters in the presence of direct light. The rocky grey facade of the cavern rises up directly to the west, its bulky surface jutting out as an overhang in places to shade the pool. The bridge squeezes through a narrow gap in the western Hollow's face, leading through to what appears to be forest beyond. A camel awaits its rider here, snorting irritably. There are 2 monolith sigils here. A burly centaur stands sentinel, his hefty crossbow at the ready. Torrents of water twist and shift around the watery form of an undine aquacaster here, masterfully manipulating her element. Blending in nearly perfectly with her environs, a cloaked wilderness warden waits here for potential trouble. Prowling about the area is a feral bahkatu predator. A viridian satyr stamps his hooves over the ground, muttering shamanic curses to himself here. Arbre is here. She is riding on a large snow leopard. She wields a wolven quarterstaff of pale oak in her hands. Kog is here, covered in silver fur. Suri is here.
You see exits leading north, east, south, and west.
Suri says, "No."
He is a dexterous Lupine, standing at roughly four and a half feet tall when on all fours. A thick coat of silver fur covers his entire body, muscles visible beneath it when he moves. His shoulders are broad but his build is on the light side, his muscles wiry instead of thick, and very little fat present at all. His right eye is a dull, dark grey-brown while his left is a brilliant emerald green that glows with a life of its own. Emerging from his back are a pair of thin silver wings, held somewhat awkwardly. He is wearing:
a Heartstring Bow
a bone claw necklace of endurance
a worn leather pack
a black and gold silk loincloth
Suri says to Arbre, "I'll get reading."
Arbre says, "Let me know if you need anything then."
Arbre closes her eyes and begins to focus.
Suri's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
Suri nods her head emphatically.
A look of rapture fills Arbre's face as a white nimbus encompasses her body. When the light fades Arbre can no longer be found.
You follow Arbre to the ether.
The edge of a jungle clearing.
---------- v33213 -----------
[>]
[+]
----------- 0:0:0 -----------
Moving out of a thick, vibrant dream of green vines and strong, dark trunks, this area slowly begins to rise out of the cloying, close darkness. It thins out, into a clearing where sunlight filters through a tangle of vegetation, to a floor padded with the debris of an ancient jungle. Off into the distance, a hill of sharp rock rises from the soft loam. Large and foreboding, it stands feet taller than the average house, a wide cavern opening in the front. A severed head is being presented here inside a large glass jar. A steel chainmail sits here, twined with leather and tiny idols. Collecting dirt, and likely disease, on the floor is a small piercing needle.
You see a single exit leading in.
You grin mischievously at a severed head in a glass jar.
Arbre shakes her hair out behind her, pushing it out of her face with both hands. "Now then," she says with a laugh and a huff of breath.
Arbre ceases to wield a wolven quarterstaff of pale oak.
Arbre puts a cast-iron cooking pot into a durable kitbag of fiery hues.
Arbre takes a solid obsidian tankard from a durable kitbag of fiery hues.
With acrobatic grace, you quickly hop off of a roan brumby stallion.
You begin to raise your fingers to your mouth to whistle for your mount before realising it's already with you!
You slap a roan brumby stallion on the rump and send it cantering off towards 'An open paddock'.
Arbre gracefully hops off of a large snow leopard.
Arbre slaps a large snow leopard on the rump and sends it cantering off.
Moving over to a nearby tree and taking a seat at its base, Arbre looks up to you, focusing on examining you for a minute. "Why the change?"
You have emoted: Angwe glances off into the jungle and scents the air, lifting his ridged nose slightly. "This place feels..." he pauses as Arbre speaks up.
Arbre says, "Feels?"
At length, you say to Arbre, "...Real."
Arbre gives a faint grin. "Should it not?"
You have emoted: "Mine doesn't," Angwe answers. "Terrible place. It's a bad dream, and that's 'xactly how it feels."
"It used to be sire's house," Arbre says, flicking her eyes around, "All warped and distorted. But when I accepted everything, it faded away."
You have emoted: Something changes within the emerald storm that resides where Angwe's eyes perhaps once where, though the faun shows no outward emotion.
Arbre says to you, "You still show signs of pain when you mutate."
You have emoted: Angwe pastes a rueful smile on his face, glancing off into the darkness of the jungle. "Aye... hurts a lil' bit every time."
You say, "Something told me that wasn't gonna change."
You have emoted: Angwe's hands wander, here stroking the fur of his cloak, there resting by the thumbs in the belt of a runed loincloth of rich, brown leather.
"Likely because you do not embrace it," Arbre says with a shrug of her shoulders. She stretches out her legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankle. "I have found, over time, that most of the problems people have with mutating is that they try to keep too much mortal and embrace too little wolf.
You have emoted: This catches Angwe's attention.
Turning his gaze back to Arbre, you ask, "How do you mean?"
"Who are you?" Arbre counters instead.
You pause for a second in contemplation.
Arbre cocks her head to the side, watching you expectantly.
Firmly, you say, "The Scout Master of the Sentinel Pride. The Claw of the Bear, the exemplar of Severity."
A hesitation, then, you say, "A work in progress."
"That last bit is the only statement carrying truth," Arbre says, "If you do not know what is inside you, how do you expect to find your wolf there?"
It is now the 20th of Chakros, year 389 of the Midnight Age.
You have emoted: Angwe makes a grinding noise in the back of his throat as he considers Arbre's words.
Arbre watches you patiently as you processes her words, not pressing you.
You have emoted: "I know -what- I am," Angwe reasons. "But who am I?" He shakes his head slightly. "For so long, there was no true answer to that question."
"Why did you decide to gain claws in the first place?" Arbre questions, stretching her arms up above her head.
You furrow your brow and say, "I am a scholar in part. A beast, still, in ways."
You say to Arbre, "Originally? Fear."
Arbre tilts her head curiously at you.
Arbre says, "Explain."
Crossing his arms, you say, "A foe hunted me, and I feared that the dhurive would not be enough. My skill is small, continues to be..."
Shaking his head, you say, "I viewed the change as a weapon... something I could control."
"And you cannot," Arbre replies.
You have emoted: Angwe grimaces. "No," he answers. "Not at first."
You say, "You saw the results of that mindset."
You say to Arbre, "The bear fought back. Asserted itself."
"I am not a wolf and an Azudim," Arbre says, pulling her legs to her so she can push herself to all fours, "I am wolf. Whether I have fur or not, I am wolf. I do not -have- a wolf, I -am- her, and she is me. I hold her instincts when I am unmutated - I smell everything around me, I go into heat in the spring, I am wolf before Azudim, before even woman."
You have emoted: Angwe watches Arbre silently, his thoughts hidden behind an impassive, observant face. "Two forms," he muses. "But one mind."
Nodding slightly, you say, "The beast. You have it, too."
You furrow your brow and say, "And you embrace it."
You squat on your haunches comfortably.
Your pose is now set as: Angwe is here, squatting on his haunches.
Arbre gives you a slow nod before very slowly beginning to mutate. She shows no signs of pain, simply pulling her clothing off, allowing her bones to shift, fur to sprout, face to reform. When she finishes, she turns those same green eyes to look at you again.
Arbre reaches around behind her, untying the knot to let the chiffon fall free from her chest
Arbre removes a feral chiffon skirt.
Arbre sneers and her eyes lose focus for a moment. Curving almost in pain, she grows a thick pelt of fur, and the muscles on her body snap and re-grow larger in size. Shaking her head, Arbre straightens herself, fully transformed into her Werewolf self.
Arbre yelps and snarls in a primitive form of language.
You have emoted: Angwe places his claws out before him, bracing himself. As he furrows his brows in concentration, the light of his eyes blinks out.
You remove a runed loincloth of rich, brown leather.
After pulling the hood down, you release the strap and shrug the cloak off your shoulders.
A feral sneer passes your lips as you lapse from concentrating on your Yeleni self, and allow your true nature to take hold. Your back curves, and thick fur grows forth from your skin, covering every inch of you. The curves of your muscles snap and grow, and your face loses all semblance of your former self as you fully transform into a Werewolf. Shaking your head comfortably, you stand erect and aware.
You have emoted: Angwe comes through the change panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Snapping his jaws, he barks out something of a lupine cuss.
Arbre turns on you the moment you mutates, her fur puffing up, a snarl coming to her lips. Her tail is flagged and ears forward in a sign of dominance as she leaps forward to land in front of you.
You have emoted: Angwe reacts immediately, his paw swiping out at Arbre before his mind has time to process. Still, there is hesitation in his movements, something too human.
Years of practice allows Arbre to easily dodge the attack. Twisting her head around she emits two snarling barks before aiming her jaws toward the tender flesh of your neck.
You have emoted: Angwe yelps in pain as Arbre's fangs find little resistance from the ethereal fur of his pelt and dig into a tough, barklike skin. Some familiarity with his new form can be observed as he manages to stagger with it, barely keeping his feet.
Arbre clamps down hard enough to draw blood, shaking her head roughly a few times before releasing and snarling again at you.
You have emoted: Whether by bravery, stupidity or outright stubbornness, Angwe advances as Arbre withdraws, pressing her space. Snarling, he swipes a paw at the elder wolf's forepaws.
Arbre isn't expecting the attack and barely has time to dodge it, her front paws going into the air in a half leap. Coming back down, she hefts her body weight into you with as much force as she can manage.
You have emoted: So commited was Angwe to his attack that he has no time to dodge Arbre. Instead, moves with his momentum, slamming into Arbre with enough force to leave him dazed.
She is a wise Lupine standing chest level with the average human when on all fours and well over when upright. Her frame is trim and lean, clearly built for speed over strength. Grey fur covers the majority of her body with an insulating black undercoat, the grey guard hairs coarse to the touch while the black fur beneath is downy and fine. Shining through like lava beneath cracked rock, a network of fiery tattoos cut artful swaths through her fur, an occasional prominence arching between designs. Her legs and muzzle are a warm cream color fading to white on her belly. Bright green eyes are set an elegantly tapered muzzle and gold flecks in the iris are evident as they catch and reflect even the slightest light. Hard grey claws tip each of the digits on her massive paws and a thick bottle-brush tail sways back and forth behind her to aid in balance when she moves. The aroma of scintilily flowers hanging about her is overwhelming, though not quite strong enough to overcome the stench of dirt, blood, and wet dog. She is wearing:
a cold butterfly pendant
wings of undulating strands
a carven charm of bone
a kidskin pouch
a disc-adorned black ribbon choker
a black-gold anklet of charms
a hand-knitted fiery scarf
an elegant mithril circlet set with emberite
a pair of djerite claws
Arbre has about the same reaction, shaking her head roughly when she hits her feet again to clear her head. After a moment or two she turns to face you again, baring her teeth in a snarl that shows no human emotion and takes a single step toward you.
The adumbrative night stretches onward, ever elusive of dawn's grasp.
You have emoted: Angwe stands his ground, lowering his front portion as though to submit. The lashing tail and the set of his ears would give the gathered spring away, even against an opponent as inexperienced as he.
A distant keening howl seizes your attention, and you stop to listen. It is the sound of some creature, somewhere, experiencing inutterable sorrow. A chill ripples down your spine as the sound trails off, but you remember...
Arbre waits until she sees you twitch and, assuming that is your attack, she leaps to the left.
You have emoted: A fake out! Angwe leaps straight into the air, a hind paw swishing past Arbre's face. As he lands, he charges blindly into Arbre's perimeter, snarling as he launches an overwhelming, if largely random flurry of clawing swipes.
Arbre gives a slight yip of surprise, tripping over her own feet to land on her side, clawing awkwardly at the grass as she tries unsuccessfully to push herself away from your attacks so she can get to her feet.
You relax your pose and return to a normal position.
The deepening night provides hope for the coming of the dawn as the moon traces its path across the sky.
It is now the 21st of Chakros, year 389 of the Midnight Age.
You have emoted: Angwe springs forth and falls upon Arbre with a howl of triumph rearing up, he cuffs her face with his paws in a lightening fast combo.
In this close proximity to Arbre, a strange scent is decipherable on her. It's not anything recognizable but it feels somewhat familiar to the wolf's mind as she struggles, twisting herself underneath you. She puts herself at the disadvantage of being on her back, though it allows her to kick her legs furiously at your chest and stomach.
Somewhere within you, the Beast stirs.
You have emoted: Angwe absorbs two kicks to the midsection, enough to drive back somewhat. Still, he comes at Arbre with the tenacity of a creature possessed, bright red blood gushing from the wound on his neck.
The more comfortable you becomes with the nature of the beast, the stronger the scent coming from Arbre seems to become, something feral and primal, unintentionally encouraging the attack. She kicks her limbs wildly but with the surprising precision that decades of practice has given. Her eyes are wide and her ears have flattened themselves against her skull.
You have emoted: Angwe's eyes have changed, a ravenous hunger within them that devours everything before them, echoing nothing to the world but green flame and a predator's will. His lips curled into a snarl around more teeth than a natural creature has any business having in it's mouth, he seems to hesitate only a moment before he darts forward, pressing his body against Arbre's as he presses into her guard, his jaws seeking her neck.
Angwe isn't home right now.
Arbre continues fighting for a moment later before going completely still, submitting. With the embrace, the scent becomes startlingly clear - she's in heat and the domination has only served to excite the emotions. Her eyes are wide and panicky, looking at you in something that almost resembles fear.
You have emoted: Angwe remains locked on Arbre's neck for a few moments even after she ceases her struggling, his snarls never quite ceasing but changing in timbre.[/spoiler]
And then some other, boring stuff happened.
2
Comments
@Alexina: I have no idea about the gestational period of werewolves versus real wolves.
Though, in all honesty, I didn't think Arbre got pregnant. I figured she just went out there and snatched someone elses baby.
I've been wondering if atavian/xoran/horkval lay eggs and if rajamala have litters of babies, but I'm guessing that they're all producing babies sort of like humans.
Can I just have Arbre be pregnant for like four years? Because that's the most fun part of it anyways.
Groinrip at least three men
Skullwhack Seir to death again
Snatch babies and eat them
"A copy of Midwifery", Page 1, by Theragil air Aibheis Dailgneachd Luis.
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Midwifery
first edition
written by Chef Theragil Starion
in the 138th year of the Midnight Age
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
What Is Midwifery? ........................... 2
Becoming Pregnant ............................ 3
Avoiding Pregnancy ........................... 6
Detecting Pregnancy .......................... 7
Terminating Pregnancy ........................ 8
Dealing With Pregnancy ....................... 9
Identifying Readiness for Childbirth ......... 11
Delaying Childbirth .......................... 12
Inducing Childbirth .......................... 13
Preparing for Childbirth ..................... 14
The Normal Birth Process ..................... 15
Water Birthing ............................... 17
Breached Birth ............................... 18
Trapped Birth ................................ 20
Looped Cord .................................. 21
Widening the Canal ........................... 22
Stillbirths and Miscarriages ................. 23
Dangers for the Mother ....................... 24
Twins ........................................ 25
Premature Birth .............................. 26
After the Childbirth ......................... 27
Nursing ...................................... 28
Early Childcare .............................. 29
Collected Recipes ............................ 30
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"A copy of Midwifery", Page 9, by Theragil air Aibheis Dailgneachd Luis.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Dealing With Pregnancy
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Gestation takes about nine months for most races. This includes Atavian,
Dwarf, Human, Imp, Kelki, Mhun, and Troll. Grook gestation runs from
seven to eight months, and is more variable than other races. Rajamalans
take twelve months. Tsol'aa gestation is the longest, at a bit longer
than thirteen months.
... Even more so that it was written by a Sentinel.
Please mail me a copy of this book. >.>
The receipes section needs to be sent to @Jensen.