RP Done

The autumn leaves danced around her as they floated down from their perch in the trees. The branches growing barren, as much as her source of food. She was careful to step over the leaves with utmost speed, agility, and attentiveness. Watching as each of the auburn pigmented leaves were crushed under her tiny paws. She was smaller than most of her breed, no bigger than a large dog, but that was considered small. Her coat was solid back, with no pigmentation changes throughout her thick, warm coat. Her tail flowed evenly to the tip, slightly curled up at the end pointing towards the sky that she would normally howl at. With her ears set loosely on her head, occasionally tipping from side to side and rotating to pick up other sounds, she quietly walked through the forest. It wasn't until she heard a gunshot that her fur raised on end and she took off. The sound startled her enough to cause her to stop watching where she was running. A fatal mistake. Soon jaws from below came up and slammed across her bone, ripping into flesh and tendon as it crunched around her thigh. She yelped loudly and tried to pull her leg free, but to no avail, it was stuck fast. She attempted to shift, but given her leg was stuck, it kept her from focusing, the pain radiating up her back into her hip. The pain of her pulling and biting at her leg eventually started to take it's toll on her body as she lay down with her leg outstretched, pulling on every nerve in her body. She started to howl softly, hoping her pack would hear her, but she was too far out. She had broken their rules yet again, never following their codes. This time might be her last mistake.

Her breathing was labored, further proven by her rapid jerks in her chest, and her muzzle agape attempting to calm herself down so she could think. She lifted her head attempting one more go at pulling the contraption off of her, only succeeding in doing further damage as it clung on tightly. It's massive, sharp teeth gripping her and never letting go. Blood soaked the ground under her as she lay against the leaves. Her vision started to dull as she lost a lot of blood from the wound. It was becoming difficult for her to think, let alone stay awake but she knew she had to. The last attempt had moved the metal monster upwards more on her leg, ripping her leg up even higher as it bit into her hip bone causing a pain to shoot up her back as it clamped down tightly on the nerve that controled her motor functions. She panted and her eyes watered, her front paws clawing heavily into the soil as she dug until hitting the moistened ground. Her eyes started to drift closed, and her tail stopped tapping as the world around her started to darken. She couldn't tell if it was from the blood loss, or nightfall. The only thing that reawakened her senses and keen sense of smell was that of a crunch of leaves and sticks, seemingly under the boot of a human. She could hear it's heartbeat, and smell it's scent. It wasn't too close yet, so she couldn't discern it's gender.

Her lips slowly parted to reveal her white fangs that were ready to rip flesh if need be. The figure started to come more into view, she quickly recognized the crossbow handing from the figures hip, instantly assuring her that this was a hunter and he had come to kill her. She opened her maw to snarl but she had lost too much blood to lift her head, completely at his mercy. She wished her healing powers would kick in so she could run, but the foreign body that was latched so tightly to her kept those powers from functioning correctly. All she could do is lay in her crimson pool and await her fate as the figure loomed closer, closing in on her as she realized now it was a male. Her heartbeat raced as she anticipated the figure finishing her off. She couldn't help but flash back to her family, knowing that with her gone they would mourn her loss and she would never return back to those mountains she had learned to call home.

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

Werewolves.

Of all the things to infest his woods, why did it have to be werewolves? He would have preferred killer bees, or fire ants. Even an uptick in the population of bears would have been acceptable. But werewolves? No. With them about, he could not only not feel safe about any dog he came across, but any person either. His hunting coven was understanding, of course, as he would have expected them to be. Traps had been laid, tools polished and sharpened, weapons primed and readied for the coming months of hunting, tracking, and killing. A dozen ore more down, and still they were finding the beasts caught within their traps.

Isaac's frost-blue eyes took careful study of the small clearing the wolf had gone down in. Finger primed on the trigger of the bow, he shouldered it and scanned the woods around him with keen eyes and keener ears, ever grateful for the sensitivity that had been granted to those organs. More than once his hyper-sensitive hearing had gotten him out of what would otherwise have been a lethal situation. But for now, the woods were quiet—save for this mewling, wounded beast a dozen feet ahead of him.

He slipped a tiny black notebook from his pocket, producing a pencil from one of the many pouches across the bandolier spanning his chest. He took notes of her size, barely as tall as a dog at the shoulder; her coloring, dark from head to toe with no discernible color swatches; and her wounds at the time of death, just those inflicted by the trap. The poisons along the teeth of that trap would halt her healing factor, he knew, for the same poisons coated his arrows and the blades of his daggers. It was a simple anti-clotting agent, but made much more potent by the addition of a few chemicals the coven had done testing with. And so far it had proven remarkably effective.

Isaac put up the bow and drew the dagger from his pouch, sidling up behind the downed wolf with great caution. She twitched and struggled and spasmed, but was held tight and weakened by blood loss. He came within arm's reach of the wolf and straddled over its back, holding it down tight with his hips while his free arm gathered the scruff of its neck and heaved its head backwards. It was a slow motion that brought his other hand to bear, lining the edge of his knife against the wolf's throat.

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

Sarence watched as the man pulled out something and started to scratch at the paper with a pencil. She panted and attempted to pull her leg free from the trap, but she wasn't able to. She could now tell that this man was the one to put out this thing. She watched as he pulled a dagger from his holder and then moved ontop of her and pressed the knife into her throat. She whimpered softly and stopped moving as he did that, unsure how to react, if he was going to kill her, at least it would save her from the pain in her leg. She whimpered and raised her paw up to place it against his hand, in a futile attempt to stop him from killing her. She made eye contact with him, the look in her eyes was terror. She was terrified of this man, knowing she would die if he wanted to kill her. She pleaded with her eyes and her paw rested against his hand attempting to stop him.

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

Isaac's hand hovered where it lie against the wolf's throat. The beast's paw had come up to rest on his hand, the typically alarming gesture this time full of desperation. What's more, it was very much a human gesture, far off from the viciousness that he had come to expect from the creatures. Hesitation became pause, pause became pursed lips and strange thoughts. Mercy? Mercy was a concept reserved for mankind and its ilk, not for beasts that hunted that kind.

But was she not mankind? Isaac sighed as his hand fell away from the beast's neck and sheathed away his dagger as a sudden bout of humanity washed over him, bleaching white the bloodlust and dulling his killing edge. He slid off the beast and sat back on his haunches behind it. Bloody hell, this sort of emotional trollop is what gets people killed in this field. The thought slipped into his mind and out without leaving a mark, much to his chagrin. "You better not bite me for this, beast," he muttered bitterly.

It took him but a moment to move to the trap and pull lose the pin that held the springs tight in the housing. The tension left the jaws of the trap and they fell away, leaving the wolf wounded, but free. "Hya! Off with you!" Isaac shouted at the beast, waving his hand away. "Whatever part of you is still human can thank me later." After you've killed all my coven. He didn't say that last thought that slipped through his head. Best leave mercy to be merciful.

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

The man seemed to hesitate as she begged for her life with her paw. Soon, she was unpinned and she heard him shethe his blade, putting it back where it belonged. He unclicked the pin while telling her not to bite him, then he set her leg free. Once her leg was free she jumped up and limped away from him a short distance, dragging her injured leg. she looked back at him as if to say thankyou and quickly as she could, darted off into the woods. She made her way back to her pack where they scolded her for going out like that and also did the best for her leg. The poison however was more lethal than they though, quickly putting the wolfess into a deep sleep while her body struggled to heal the wounds. It took at least a week for the wounds to completely heal, and she still limped slightly. The wound in her human form looked like a giant mal-healed scar. She tried everything to get it to go away, but nothing seemed to help. The area was basically humanized by the witchcraft. With a soft limp she was unable to go out on most hunting missions for a short while, the limp however started to get better towrads the end of the weeks healing period. She was growing stronger once again and her brother had been watching over her and making sure she stayed home until she was ready to go back out. She was thankful for the man that had spared her life, able to live once again in the mountains, and protect all that roamed it.

Meanwhile, in a nearby town there was rumors of killing and woman and children ripped from their bedding to be masacred in the streets. Unlike the creatures responsible, Sarence was a much more kinder breed. Werewolves, as they were called by humans, Wolf-Walkers as they called themselves, were not beasts. Direwolves were responsible for 90% of human deaths, and unlike werewolves, they were blood thirsty, but commonly confussed with wolf-walkers. Sarence banded together with her pack to go search for the dire wolf that was slating their name in blood, even though she wasn't fully recovered. They arrived at the town and the blood tainted their nostrils as their head spun from the insatiable bloodlust that her species hid for so long.

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

Ravendale was hardly the sprawling metropolis he was familiar with working within, a detail that Isaac found himself pleased with. A smaller town meant less space, less time, and less resources wasted. Inn rooms added up quickly for a five person coven, so every day they didn't have to spend in town was a blessing. So they booked their room, spent a day getting the feel of the town, then began their scouting.

The edge of the wood butted right up against the south edge of the town, and that was where they began. Steel traps were not safe in a town where the folk used the woods as means of travel, and therefore had to be abandoned in favor of simple snares. Bell traps were acceptable, but log hoist traps would leave some poor child hanging from branches and also had to be forgone. In place of the missing traps, old fashioned footwork and scouting would be the replacement. Some days passed in quiet; one early morning, though, Horace rapped at Isaac's door with the urgent tapping of alarm.

"Werewolf," was all he said when Isaac cracked his door, and it was all he needed to say. Isaac threw his gear on, snatched up a roll and hunk of salt pork, and fled to the woods.

A bell trap was swinging from its anchor, jingling loudly in the quiet of the morning stillness. Tracks were easy to find, leading Isaac and Horace deep into the woods. Morning light filtered dimly through the cracks afforded by the thick canopy, casting faint shadows into the hollows of trees and bushes as they stealthily made their way through the brush. The telltale signs of a wolf were everywhere; carcasses of small prey, scratch marks at the bases of trees, and the distinctive pattern of prints left by the paws of a wolf that thought like a man.

All at once the morning silence shattered as Horace let out a stressed shout. Isaac barely had time to think about it before he let out his own panicked grunt as snapping jaws flashed past his face; had Horace not called out his warning, those jaws would have stolen his head. The wolf flew past him in its lunge, flopping onto the forest floor at it misjudged its trajectory. Practiced motions brought Isaac's crossbow to bear and loosed the heavy bolt into its flank. The shot struck true and grazed through muscles and organs not designed to be pierced; the wolf fell dead after only a few seconds of writhing. But his victory was short-lived as the sound of another set of pounding paws reached his ears.

But that pounding was less alarming than the sound disappearing. Isaac dove aside as a second wolf launched through the space he so recently occupied. Barely a moment passed before the wolf had corrected its course, giving him only seconds to flip over and draw the shorter blade from his belt before it was on him. A practiced kick as the beast lunged again sent it spinning aside, and he rolled to his feet. Without a bolt in his crossbow, the stout short sword on his hip and the knife he now wielded were his only defense. He drew that sword and shifted it to his strong hand, sheathing the knife in favor of having one free hand.

The wolf circled him slowly, judging, weighing, considering, visibly trying to case his openings. Long hours of training and a dozen or more experiences hunting saw Isaac leave little by way of vulnerability; so caution was thrown to the wind as the wolf decided to instead rely in its regenerative ability. It snarled as it rushed him head on. Isaac tried to pivot aside, but seeing its friend so easily felled, the canine was ready for his dodging. Its rear end swung aside and it checked him with its full weight, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him flopping onto his back. A quick arm bar against the beast's throat kept snapping jaws from closing around his own windpipe. Struggling against the beast was enough of a chore on its own, making escape a grimly dark glimmer of fading hope.

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

still havn't forgotten - power went off for 5 days ._. yay storms. 90mph winds. I'm back now though, will post when I get a chance)

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

Sarence and her pack were investigating the town when she heard a hustle not too far from it. Leaving her pack as she always did, she ran off alone to investigate the new sounds. Her paws were soft against the ground, keeping a weathered eye out for traps as she didn't enjoy having been trapped in one not too long ago. Her foot caught on something but it happened to be a corpse of a man, no, a wolf. A dire wolf. She growled at it, hating it's kind for sullying her name so drastically. Continuing onward, her eyes continued to scan until she heard the crack of bones and the thump of a body against the ground, a struggle. Her legs carried her faster as she came into view of what she was hearing. The man that had saved her not too long ago, only a couple months ago, was being attacked. He was here hunting these things it seemed. She contemplated her options and realized she had two choices, let him die and risk him killing her entire pack, or let him die and risk the dire wolves killing her pack.

She choose him, since she owed him. Mustering all the strength she could in her back legs she lunged and slammed into the large brown dire wolf, dragging it off of the man and slamming it into the ground. The two lunged and leaped at each other, jaws snapping, yelping, whining, snarling. Jaws ripped into her shoulder and she howled in pain as the creature thrashed it's head, ripping flesh from bone as tears came to her eyes, soaking her fur. She manged to build up enough strength to push the wolf off of her for a moment, long enough for her to recover enough to lunge towards the creature and locking her large jaws around it's throat, thrashing and ripping as the creature thrashed attempting to throw her from him, however to no avail, she felled the creature a moment later, dropping the carcass to the ground. Blood dripped from her jaws as she looked over where the man was a moment ago. In the struggle, he had managed to change his position and wasn't where he was originally, in fact, it didn't seem he was even still here.

She blinked and looked around. The motion of looking around caused her to howl painfully resulting in her brothers to come to her aid. She collapsed from the pain in her shoulder which was radiating up and down her back and into her neck and legs. One of her brothers shifted and picked her up. "I smell human here." He said. The wolves looked at each other and took off to attempt to find him. The carcass of the creature had been left in the shadows, so it was immediately assumed that the human had something to do with Sarence's injuries, though, upon closer inspection the way the first creature had been dispatched they suspected a hunter. Either way, it had to be brought in and interrogated.

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

Time was of the essence, Isaac knew, but sprinting through the forest, snapping branches, shuffling the leaves about, and generally making a racket, would do nothing but give the wolves on his heels a direct line to him. He had thought himself dead, in truth, but when the dark blur had slammed the attacking beast off of him and sent it rolling, he hadn't wasted time asking questions. Snatching up his crossbow, he had used the confusion of the moment to run. And now, with some distance between himself and the wolves, he slowed.

Werewolves were an eerie blend between human and wolf, their strange intellect and thought patterns never entirely understood. Some would be more wolf, running off of instincts and senses, while other were more human, thinking and reasoning chief among their processes. It wasn't clear to Isaac which he was dealing with, but regardless, the tiny canister of oil in his belt pouch would do him well. He pulled an arrow from his bow and tied a small strap of cloth around it. Pulling the vial from his belt and unstoppering it, he dripped a generous amount of the pungent liquid onto the cloth. The oil was engineered to smell human, and fearful, and any wild predator would have trouble mistaking it from the real thing. Sending the bottle back to his belt, he nocked the bolt and took careful aim through the woods, finding the longest path of free space he could before loosing the bolt far into the darkness of the trees. As the odor of the pheromones settled on the forest floor, the false trail was set.

And on that same note, Isaac bolted the other direction, moving as quickly through the trees as his legs would take him. He dodged trees, vaulted logs, and spun around saplings, making good time. It would not be long before he broke the treeline and found his way back to Ravendale. And then he would be leaving this bloody strand of country and never looking back. Somewhere in the woods, he knew, Horace would be doing the same thing. It was not abandonment, as each and every one of them knew that in the event of an attack, they did not have the luxury of guarding each other. Issac had some confidence that Horace would escape. And if not...

Isaac tried not to think about that, and ran.

RE: Me and Ryees - Werewolves aren't all the same.

The wolves gave chase, first picking up the fake scent and following it to the end, by the time they realized it was only a scent stabbed into a true to lure them away, they were furious. The pack leader snarled and told his wolves to go off in separate directions, he sent packs of 10 in 4 different directions, one of them would have to find him. Through the brush and over logs and downed trees the wolves ran. They topped speeds of 65 miles an hour, faster even than a cheetah. Their speed was only half of their powers, accompanied by enhanced vision and hearing, not to mention the regenerative powers as well as the strength, they were hard to take down, but still had a weakness.

Thankfully, most hunters these days stuck to the old techniques of silver bullets. Sarence's pack had not exactly grown out of dying by silver, but they had built up a slight tolerance to it. The silver would burn them, it would even poison them and may kill them slowly, but to die to a silver bullet it would have to pierce a vital organ and stay there. The bullet would have to lodge itself in their head and be held in by something, or, it would have to crash into their heart shattering it. That aside, there was still things that were new that could kill and even paralyze a werewolf, and a direwolf all the same. Thankfully, most hunters had yet to figure it out.

The wolves continued to chase, finding a path of downed foliage that smelled human, and it also smelled fresh. They were closing in on him. Quickly they sped up the winding path, the man had clearly hidden himself quite well but it wouldn't stop them from finding him. It was his fault that Sarence had been hurt and her brothers would make sure to it that he died for it, but slowly, and painfully.

RP done.