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[P]  Wild Game

Offline Decha May 8 2020, 7:09 AM
#1
  • Snelandia
  • Age: 33
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Dire
  • Rank: Western Emperor
  • Total Posts: 19
  • Played by: Rosie
230 Mana · View All Items?
He cracks and pulls the sinew of the bone, chewing the thing like tough venison until he comes to the softer fats and fleshy parts that squish like jelly between his teeth. It is savory and the wild thing has some good flavor but his fine Snelandian food culture has him not grudging the thought of salt.

He is chiefly aware of his surroundings, returning his head up high after each chunk he pulls and bites through and occasionally swivelling his head, as he chews and swallows. Before he brings himself down to crunch a joint and snap a limp off, making the next pieces easier to eat. A clean eater- a boy with manners.

The dire had backed himself up into a bit of a cave crevasse that he only need pay attention to the what lays before him. A ship on the thin blue horizon shrinks further, and almost like an insult to him his jaws snap again and this time, bits of bone shatter and fly across the floor.

His eyes linger on the ship again, scrutinisingly like a threat. Before he looks down to see how the cloth the thing has come with is distributed now so he can tear it off before he can retrieve another chunk.

Not many had seen this side of the Emperor. Newly crowned, but almost well past the time of being welcomed and decorated. It stills sour like poison, like the one that his father had suffered through. It hangs in his mouth like a surprising cruel after taste still, he is unsure about what allies he holds in the court now (which ones remain) but that is not what vexes the large patterned dire as he senses something… a smell, a sound a movement. But instead of saying anything his eyes linger and wonder just around the relative area as he snaps and swallows the final remnant of a finger-bone.
Offline Tibor May 13 2020, 2:08 AM
#2
  • Age: 83
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Dire
  • Rank: Soldier
  • Total Posts: 6
  • Played by: Isilzheha
175 Mana · View All Items?
It was always a mistake for the pirates who chose to travel too far inland. Their close proximity with Snelandia and the seemingly age old chase for the indigenous tribes and Dynasty natives made it to where it was nearly impossible to go lengths of time without interruption. So far it was just the Cöryzans who gave them strife outside of what the harsh lands already provided. Tibor had traded sharp teeth for an equally sharp blade, his thick pelt for a heavy shield, and the swiftness of four legs for the sturdy two he stood on now to give him balance on the ice. One of the pirate vessels had pushed through the floating sheets that had broken away, the ship big enough to navigate through it to one of the smaller villages further south. Three of the humans surrounded him now, two of them flanking with one in front of him. The hulking wolf stood as they did, on even ground and yet they could never be considered equal with their attempts to steal their people for their own monetary gain.

Tibor didn't feel hate or rage for them. There was no resentment to fester in his belly or disgust to boil his blood. These pirates were simply perpetrators who needed to be stopped and nothing more. Steel clashed against steel when one of them rushed forward with insults in their native tongue ripping from between chapped lips. Tibor deflected, one with the sword and the other with his shield. His muscles flexed, the wolf towering over them all and with a pointed shove he sent one of them on his back against the ice. The man grunted, blood a heavy scent that was both his own and belonging to the ones who sought to tear him down now. He could hear the distant growls of Hyperion, the kick of snow and the scraping of claws on the heavy sheets of ice. Tibor slashed the sword down, adrenaline spiking as the pirate's weapon was thwarted from biting into his skin beneath his armor.

His elbow broke a nose, blood gushing from the center of the pirate's face and he foolishly dropped his sword to try and cut the flow. Tibor rounded on him, a well-aimed slash splitting the thin skin of his throat. Arterial spray gushed bright red upon the snow in an arcing splash, the human falling to his knees with a prominent thud before pitching forward to sink into the snow. The warrior pulled one of his legs back, then the other in a dance that looked more graceful than it should have been for one of his size. He heard the blade whistle through empty air, just barely dodging the low strike. An opening was given, and it was the only one he needed to drive his sword into the pirate's gut. He grunted and wheezed with the sudden intrusion, choking on blood that filled his lungs and Tibor kicked him off to finish dying where he fell.

One left, and he looked uncertain. Tibor's face was difficult to read, loose strands of long hair falling around to frame his face and he looked every bit as calculated as his movements. Amidst the ones already fallen and strewn about the ice he was alone, dark eyes never leaving the warrior who held his shield aloft and waited. He simply remained, silent and poised, with his chest heaving and sweat collecting beneath his furs. A decision needed to be made, but it wasn't one for him to make. Though when the pirate did finally decide and made a final rush for him, Tibor respected that choice. Ultimately it was one that resulted in an abrupt cessation of his wordless outcry, the soldier separating the pirate's head from his shoulders. A clean cut with a sidestep that carried the freshly made corpse beyond him with the momentum, severed cranium bouncing until it rolled off into the icy depths of the churning water.

The ship was gone now, fading into the distance, and Tibor knew he wasn't the only one who had answered the silent arrival. Those tracks etched themselves in the snow, broken away by the fighting that had been picked up in the absence of the other dire. Tibor could smell him on the breeze, beneath the blood and the turning of the earth. His breath ghosted from his lips and flaring nostrils, yellow eyes finding the dark shape of the saber tooth approaching. There were plenty of corpses now, though they would find their place picked apart by the creatures that dwelled beneath the surface of the murky water still twisting under the ice. The soldier sheathed his weapon, the shield returning to its place at his back for now to free his hands as he no longer looked over the dead and turned to meet Hyperion in the middle. The large beast's fur was matted with crystallizing blood, both along the length of his striped body and around his mouth. Hyperion dipped his head, skull bumping into him and Tibor lifted a hand to push it reassuringly through the big cat's pelt.

The wolf's injuries were slight where they split the skin and bruised the flesh, none of them worrisome. Tibor had already shifted his attention to the dragging slide of crimson smeared along a trail leading further up the incline to where the earth rose up in jagged teeth-like formations. Hyperion trailed behind him as they walked, a comforting presence at his back should there be anymore of the enemy hiding in waiting. Tibor didn't fear an ambush, and unless the pirates had grown desperate for a meal already his acute hearing picking up the crunching of bone indicated that they were all taken care of. The crackling sounded like broken branches, tinier pieces ground down between sharp teeth and it all echoed from a recess in the side of one of the spires. Tibor didn't try to mask his approach, and Hyperion settled himself to sit at the entrance of the small cave.

The sight that greeted him wasn't one that brought up questions right away, especially not with the recognition of the beast's grey and black coat. It was the striping and the curvature of the ears that struck those cords of familiarity. Tibor had never talked to the Aromdee child before, nor had he really spoken with the Emperor himself before his passing, but the soldier had seen them just like the others. Here he laid now, nursing one of the corpses the newly made Emperor created, and Tibor gave him a proper greeting. A subtle bow that was stiff but effective, the soldier looking the other dire over out of habit. "Are you hurt?" he signed as gold eyes locked upon him where he still stood in the entrance.
Offline Decha May 15 2020, 2:27 AM
#3
  • Snelandia
  • Age: 33
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Dire
  • Rank: Western Emperor
  • Total Posts: 19
  • Played by: Rosie
230 Mana · View All Items?
He looks almost the part of a sore loser. The newly crowned Emperor. He does not feel like a King or a someone who rules or reign as some might describe such a thing to be. Such a prize, an honour, an achievement. May be because he is born into it, and he has not really earned or proved anything for his father’s passing except that he is of a bloodline that is still mortal. Instead the more familiar narrative to him is loss. Again, and again, when before he was presented as the thing; time and age that brought gains. He learns instead if is trading one precious thing for another. It was in one last (hopefully) act of vengeance, of curbing the acts of the pirates as they stripped his people away from the shores that he thinks to gain calm. Releasing much more energy and anger than he dared to at court where the steps and hands of the Glass Emperor are weighted, though seeing quite a deal through hidden enemies, where he holds his tongue to continue the use of them to keep the realm well oiled and harmonious. It almost presents itself immaturely as he chews and snaps off bits of one of his enemies when he is the only one left, in the vicinity, as another leaves through magic means.

It had escaped him that there were more, from how they had acted, or maybe he assumes that the rest of the indigenous had made their way further in land. If any more of the sea rogues were to come by to get them, he expects them to instead come through him, the large savage dire chewing a long gone friend. The cold fresh meat and blood that drains itself from the flesh into his mouth don’t taste too different from some other meats he had torn into- not like the fishier tasting seal or penguin however. It should disturb him, but the more occupying sensation is the sound of the bones as they snap in his teeth like driftwood. Perhaps it makes him feel powerful. Perhaps it makes him feel like he has avenged the kidnapped woman when the fight the deceased had put up had not been long or quite as interesting enough to suffice.

Unlike Tibor, the new Emperor does feel something. It is not detached, it burns hot. Even just because it is what a free lamp unattained by a lantern or some other enclosure must do.

He loses the taste of the bones soon, as it sputters into a coarse unfine salt in his teeth, swallowing the bigger bits. Letting it fall as he hears movement again, his eyes resting on the figure. It not unshy; stealthy or trying to make itself unknown, but it is not boldly on the aggressive either in a way that was fast. Because of that, or a possible detachment, the dire does not react instantly or defensive, although it is anyway clear of his allegiance. He does not dress like one of them. He waits until the man bows before he begins to rise from where he laid, he is fluent with the signs also. It is clear that he is of the north. His eyes pull from his hands to the stains of blood and he changes his form from the dire to that of two legs again. Gold eyes meeting the yellow eyes of the Snee’s own, before he signs. ‘Not at all,’ it appears truer now in this form, although there are some small stains of blood on his fur wear it is clear it is not his own. Any cuts or damages on the Emperor were slight enough to only be noticed on later inspection.

There is a small smile, in the corner of his lips and in his eyes as he sees the cat. It is a passing expression.
‘What of the sea rats?’ he signs when the eyes return on the Snee. Although he thinks he already knows the answer, and that is why he smiles. Perhaps it is more of the story of it, and the numbers that he seeks.
Offline Tibor May 29 2020, 11:40 PM
#4
  • Age: 83
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Dire
  • Rank: Soldier
  • Total Posts: 6
  • Played by: Isilzheha
175 Mana · View All Items?
His indifference didn’t extend to the wellbeing of the new Emperor, even if Tibor did not know him personally. The Aromdee descendant had become the figurehead now, the symbol of the West at the helm where his father had once stood. Within the confines of the Kingdom of Glass where the snow hardly touched, it was clear that Tibor allied himself with them by the insignia of his shield and the pommel of his sword. His clothing, however, was fit enough for the Unclaim. Tibor lived just beyond the edges of it, a stalwart to protect the realm he swore fealty to years ago, and so his concerns were genuine as he looked over the wolven Emperor. He chewed and he gnawed, continuing to break the deceased down into so many chunks of meat to be devoured. Tibor let him, showing no signs that he felt anything for the fallen one way or the other. His yellow eyes were fixated upon the Emperor, formalities given and despite the bow he felt a slight sense of shame at not having introduced himself first.

Tibor watched him shift, no shame in the transition as more bones popped and shifted in the echoes of the alcove. The Emperor rose on two legs among the carnage he caused, Tibor’s gaze finding the movement of his hands to answer his question even if his observations had done enough. The soldier nodded his head, Hyperion letting out a yawn with a stretch of a wide maw as he stretched out into the bloodied snow. A small relief, then, that the Emperor at least was not trying to play off a more serious injury. Neither of them left their battles unscathed, but both of them were the least stricken when compared to the pirates who would be returned to the earth. Tibor caught the smile when the Emperor looked past him, hands moving again to speak, ‘What of the sea rats?’ An obvious question to them both considering they were standing here now. Tibor still stood at attention, poised without overconfidence and simply as one would in the company of a superior, though he did turn to glance out towards Hyperion.

There were five. Three fell by my blade and two by Hyperion’s claws,” he answered simply, turning back to the Emperor as his hands moved fluidly. A more somber expression passed across his grizzled features then, shown in the slightest crinkle of his eyebrows where his mouth was hidden in the hair of his beard. “The others made off with a woman from the West, and a young Tanaaki who was with her. Trading, I presume.” A silent prayer was given for them and the lives they might have already lost. The Snees were as difficult to tame as the wilds they lived in. “We can send a vessel after them. Intercept before they reach the mainland.