Kingsfall quid pro quo

"Nothing really lasts forever" ORREN BARANSKI Kjors acknowledged his last comment, golden eye connecting with the boy's persimmon's. Was there a hint of humor in their depths? Perhaps he's not as dry as he seems... In any case, the bistre male seemed to be cool with leaving Orren in charge, and that pleased the proud youth quite a bit. He also didn't waste any time in getting into the battle plans, though when he suddenly mentioned his handicap, the fellow hunter wrinkled his brows; Yeah..? I noticed. He hadn't, however, thought of the possible problems this could entail during a hunt, but once Kjors pointed it out, he nodded in understanding, trying not to stare openly at the dark hollow of the empty socket. He couldn't help but wonder how the older male had come to lose the organ, a shiver running through him as he inevitably imagined how it would feel to  have an eye torn out. But Kjors was rather practical about the situation, stating his disadvantage matter-of-factly and instructing his partner on how to handle it. Orren found himself admiring the one eyed man's casual acceptance of his condition, and her wondered if this might be part of what had drawn @Karina to the stranger. His sister, who had lived her whole life with an affliction that was frequently seen as weakness by the wolves around her; And herself. In this eccentric character, she had found a unique understanding, as well as a new perspective on living with her disability. There was a stab of jealousy in the young Baranski's heart at the realization, but at the same time he felt happy for Karina, if knowing this man could make her feel more confident about herself; She deserves that! Orren returned his attention to the task at hand, tail tip flicking excitedly as he immerged himself in the hunt. He nodded his agreement to Kjors' elaboration, then remembered the demand for spoken orders and quickly said: "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll go for 'is throat once you got 'im slowed down!" His voice was hushed, but the tone was eager, eyes glowing with anticipation. Now that their plan was complete, the young hunter could not wait to get started, and once he was sure Kjors had nothing more to add, he quickly spun around, creping swiftly towards the bushes. When he reached the small thicket, he paused for a second, raising his snout slightly to sniff at the air. The wind was carrying towards them at an angle, bringing with it the fresh scent of deer. Half-turning, the yearling muttered a quick: "Wind." Then started stalking along the wall of bramble, slowly circling the animals beyond it, to reach a completely downwind position. Once he was satisfied, he waited for Kjors to catch up, the carefully poked his head through a small opening in the bushes. Behind them was a relatively open area, a small creek running through a thin belt of lush grass. A herd of about ten deer were grassing at the banks, mostly males it seemed, though it was hard to determine with the youngest individuals, as their antlers might not have started to grow in yet. Orren didn't bother much with them though, as his prize was easy to distinguish from the rest. The buck stood closest to their hiding place in the bushes, his set of antlers already at a good size under the protective, velvet layer that nourished them as they grew. His pelt was darker than the rest, and he was resting one of his hind legs while he ate; Gotcha! With a smile, Orren turned to his hunting partner, swiftly relaying what he had seen and hashing out the situation; "They're about thirty yards up ahead, our target is out on the right, closest to us. If ya' move out a little," Black masked head motioned over his right shoulder to indicate the direction he wanted Kjors to take; "Ya' can flank 'em on the right, that way ya' won't have anything to watch out for on your own right. I'll follow on 'is left and make sure the others keep running away once ya' get between 'em, then you can go in for 'is leg?" He looked expectantly at the other, waiting for his approval of the plan. Then, once Kjors was in position, he would give a sharp bark as signal, and then spring from the bushes to race towards their prey; Let the chase begin! Word count: 743 Thoughts ”Speech”

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PLOT WITH ME!

Orren, it turned out, was much more clever than he'd initially let on. While the boy had bolstered forward with only wounded pride and a chip the size of a mountain on his shoulder, it seemed that given an inch of trust, he returned it with a mile. A prince or no, someone had clearly trained the young lad, and when his ego didn't blind him, they were lessons clearly well learned. As their brief conversation concluded, he gave the youth a small nod in acknowledgement It was clearly satisfactory, as the lead hunter turned and began to trail the small herd once more – dutifully, the elder wolf fell in line. Like a shadow, he slunk, a picture of grace and elegance as they began on their noble task. One ear tipped at the single word command, but he did not stray otherwise from the path set. Like his packmate, he drifted downwind, always two steps behind the young prince. Where the lad settled, so did he, dark body disappearing against the earth as Orren noted the numbers and location of the bachelor herd. Ears rotated behind him as he waited for the signal, bright eye studying the young male instead of the herd he could not see. The plan formed quickly, and he gave another sharp nod. "Understood," he rasped, voice little more than the scratch of sand over gravel. Once he was certain the ruddy male had nothing else to say, he slunk from his hiding spot and into the grass of the meadow the deer had selected as a resting spot. For one buck, it would become his tomb. The injured ungulate was selected quickly – close, right, Orren had said, but the favored limb was a dead giveaway. Allowing himself a small smile, the dragon continued his shimmy, keeping the prey within his vision always. He sprung! Like a shock of dark lightning across a clear sky, he bolted towards the startled animal with a snarl and snap of wicked teeth. Ailing or otherwise, the buck still wheeled and began his run, tail flagged high as he desperately thought to escape what he thought was a single wolf.

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"Nothing really lasts forever" ORREN BARANSKI He waited, knowing that his size and the bright orangey hue of his coat would not allow him to sneak up elegantly in the way his hunting partner was. Instead he kept a broad view from his hide in the bushes, watching the herd closely while Kjors got into position. A few moments passed in almost eerie silence, the two hunters positioning themselves in the best possible way to achieve a successful outcome. Then in an instant, they were in motion, Orren jumping from his cover only a millisecond after the older male. As the murky man flanked their prize, the younger hunter focused on the group as a whole, driving them forwards in a wild panic, distracting them all from what was about to happen. His legs pumped underneath him, body lying low, belly kissing the grass as he flew over the ground, crossing the clearing at top speed. Soon his breathing grew heavy, but he kept pushing, knowing how imperative it was that the deer kept fleeing mindlessly while Kjors circled in their prize. Once the brown male came between the limb deer and the rest of the group, Orren pushed even harder, snarling loudly to scare of the other beasts. The plan seemed to be working, while their chosen prey swerved left to try and escape his pursuer, the herd continued onward, their focus only on escaping into the trees, and the larger, louder wolf serving as a main point to get away from. But now came the real challenge, and it was time for the elder man to show his worth; If he can't keep up on the outside, it might turn again and get away! Of course the bull was showing the injury that had made him their target in the first place, his lope was uneven, and slower than the rest of his herd, whom had already disappeared in the woods. He was making it easy for the one eyed wolf to catch up and grip onto his leg; Or EASIER at least..! An advantage they would need, to take down this bull between just the two of them. Orren was turning too now, following the line of the limping bull to flank him on the inside. His main objective now was to keep the direction on the animal, make sure it couldn't swerve again to get away from Kjors' snapping jaws. He could feel his throat start to burn though, tongue hanging out while he gasped for breath. He wouldn't be able to keep up with the bull for long, limp or not, adrenaline was making him race to stay alive. Unless the other man got it slowed down, the deer would manage to outrun him, opening up the left side to escape. Just a little more, just a little more! The young hunter chanted mentally as he pushed on, waiting for Kjors to make his move; Just a little... Word count: 487 Thoughts ”Speech”

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(This post was last modified: Aug 04, 2015, 11:46 PM by Orren.)

PLOT WITH ME!

No sooner had the hunt truly begun than it did explode into a fast and furious chase. There was a certain thrill associated with a flat-out sprint, the scream of muscles, and the strain of joints as a wolf careened after his intended prize. Thought he could not see Orren nearby, he knew well enough that the younger male was but a thought behind him – the crash and rumble of several other sets of hooves informed him the entire herd was on the move. Now came the true test of talent – any wolf with a mouth full of teeth could set a deer into flight. It took a hunter to keep his prey from escaping into the flush forest with the rest of his family. A litany of low growls fell from his lips, Kjors pushing himself to run faster and maintain his position along the buck's right side. Fortunate indeed was he that the young prince understood his disability and allowed compensation, with his left eye he kept the frightened ungulate within view. A flurry of motion behind him registered as the other hunter, taking his position up at the bull's flank – the rest of the herd disappeared. They must take the animal down now, or risk being outrun. Without warning, the older wolf lunged for the buck's shoulder, his teeth flashing as he grappled for flesh. It would be virtually impossible for the smaller male to take down the animal in a single blow, even with the blessing of the Mother, but he could certainly cripple it further. Hanging off the animal's right elbow, he twisted his body, growing as heavy as he possibly could. The angle was awkward at best, and Kjors knew he couldn't maintain it for long, but the surprise and the sudden stumble in the animal's stride should have been enough for Orren to make a move of his own, and slow the creature further. Were the prince successful, Kjors might be able to go for a killing blow – or at least one to still the animal, at the least.

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Keeping the end a little vague so you have room to maneuver Kjo some ;)

"Nothing really lasts forever" ORREN BARANSKI Loud growls sounded through the forest, copper tipped ears twisting as his hunting partner made his move. The bull was still speeding onwards, wild eyes bulging while he tried to save his feeble life; if the audacious hunters didn't get him today, surely a more lucky predator would tomorrow. Regardless, the beast was prepared to put up a fight, kicking out with his hind legs to try and ward off the pursuers. Orren jumped sideways, snarling furiously as the kicking hooves missed his skull, returning to the ground to continue to propel the deer forwards. He was drawing further ahead, the sidestep bringing the coppery wolf level with his prey's hips as he continued the chase; Come on, come ON! He was panting, legs aching from the strain, this couldn't draw out much longer. Then a streak of murky brown flashed behind the bull's legs, jaws snapping as Kjors latched onto their prize's shoulder. The animal stumbled, a roar of pain emitted from its maw as it tried to continue forwards. Now or never! With a grunt of effort, the young Argonaut pushed forwards, calling upon hidden energy reserves to catch up with the staggering bull. In a few leaps, he passed the animal's flank, baring his teeth in a silent snarl when he leveled with the unscathed shoulder. He wasted no time, pressing of against the ground and jumping for the exposed jugular. Teeth met flesh, sharp canines piercing the skin and boring deep into their target, strong jaws clamping down hard. While Kjors' smaller weight was not enough to bring down their prey, the added mass of his younger companion's bulky body was too much for the deep. Losing his balance from the drag on his neck, the bull tumbled to the ground, roaring again in enraged panic. The training hunter's hit had been off center, clinging on to thick muscle rather than tearing into the vulnerable larynx. Even as he dragged the animal down, Orren knew this, the strength in the bulls roar showing that his windpipe was still intact. But the Baranski kept his grip, twisting his body to further put off the deer's balance and avoid bringing its weight down on top of him. Even when the bull hit the ground, he would keep his hold, making sure it stayed down, continuing to tear at its neck. Even if it was not exactly a clean kill, it was only a matter of time before the beast would bleed out. They had won the fight. Word count: 419 Thoughts ”Speech”

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PLOT WITH ME!

The entire event seemed to slow down around him as the male all but dangled from the bull's shoulder. His body twisted and writhed, tail thrashing behind him as he sought to make each step more difficult than the last. Kjors was well aware that his assault on the animal's shoulder was not a killing blow, but it was one that would hinder it greatly, and leave it open for another strike. He could no longer see his hunting partner – the young prince had drifted to the deer's other side. Even if the swarthy male still retained both eyes, he'd not be able to see the other wolf through the ungulate's bulk or through the blur of its legs. All he could do was hope – no, that was wrong. All he could do was play his part in slowing the massive beast, allowing the reddish youth the best opportunity to do his job. It all happened in a breath – Orren lunged and caught the bull around the throat, signaled by a pained bugle. A moment later, the deer went tumbling down, throwing the older wolf from its shoulder in the turmoil. The subordinate bounced against the hard ground, rolling over quickly as he struggled for his feet. Being on the ground near antlers was possibly the worst position to be in, and the mentor had no interest in opening himself to grievous injury. The kill had not but clean or instant, but as Kjors rounded on their prize once more, he recognized the animal's death throes. It would not matter if he added to the efforts now – the prince had made the kill successfully. Panting hard, he bobbed his head as his tongue lolled out to the side, single eye sparkling like the north star against his dark face. "Good," he panted, watching the light fade out of the bull's eye. "S'gone, now. He's gone, back t' th' Mother's side. An' we thank her, fer this kill, fer us, an' fer Hearthwood River." The short prayer of gratitude was side between pants as the male stepped forward, eye falling back to his hunting partner. He had no intention of asking Orren to give thanks as well – if he wished to, than he'd help the yearling, but otherwise, he would not steal the boy's thunder of such a kill. "First bite s'yers, then. We eat, an' bring th' rest back t' th' pack's cache?"

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You can wrap up in your next post if it fits ^^

"Nothing really lasts forever" ORREN BARANSKI He had eyes only for his prize, a low, primal growl emitted from his throat as he clenched down hard, wiggling his head to tear at the flesh. He could feel blood fill his mouth, the sweet warmth sizzling on his tongue, while he breathed as deeply as he could through his nose. Slowly, the struggle of his prey lessened, eventually dying out completely, and the young hunter felt the thrill of victory rush through him. Only when he heard Kjors approach, panting heavily, did the Baranski boy release his grip, pulling back from the dead bull, his own mouth falling open as he gasped for air himself. The one eyed man was nodding his approval, slowly starting to speak through his panting. Orren watched him, his own, blood stained tongue slipping out, running over bloody lips to try and clean the fur a bit, before simply falling tiredly, twitching lightly with every quick breath. The murky man looked at their prey while the last life left it, speaking in a strangely solemn tone, his words mostly lost on the fellow hunter. Orren was a highly practical wolf, born into a pack with absolutely no spirituality, he had grown up learning the values of family and hard work. And while he had been more than eager to rebel against both, no one had ever introduced him to any idea of a higher power that he could seek out. In fact the very concept of religion was completely unknown to the lad, so when he heard Kjors talking of a mother, all he could think of was his own; And the similar relationship other creatures might have with their dam's. Therefore, he assumed the devout wolf was talking about the bulls ancestor, and absently wondered what made him think the doe was also dead. He didn't waste much time on philosophy though, more caught up in his own feelings of victory. So Kjors' next words struck much closer to home, a wide smile of blood stained ivories appearing on the copper boy's face. "Yeah." He uttered breathlessly, swallowing hard in between gasps; "For the pack, that was the plan." Yellow-orange eyes drifted back down to the carcass, narrowing slightly. The point all along had been to replenish the caches, but after the exertion of taking down the bull, and with the taste of its blood still fresh in his mouth, he was starting to feel rather hungry. Looking back up at his partner, the yearling's smile grew a little sheepish, but then he released a short, breathy laugh. "Let's eat!" He proclaimed, after all, the bull was more than large enough to fill both their stomachs and still have plenty left over from the pack, and there was no sweeter meat than that of your own, fresh kill. Eager to accept the older wolves offer of recognition, he moved to tear open the animals stomach, ripping through the skin to find the delicious goods that hid beneath it. And once he'd filled his own maw, he stepped to the side, to allow the other hunter to do the same. Chewing contently, he looked at the clearing around them, strangely peaceful now that the battle was over. Once he'd swallowed, he glanced back over at the other wolf, smiling merrily; "We did that rather well, di'n't we?!" Word count: 555 Thoughts ”Speech”

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PLOT WITH ME!

Finally, the older male allowed himself a smile, dipping his head in recognition of the lead hunter's prowess. Even if the meal was meant for the cache, two well-fed wolves would hardly make a den in the bull's weight. They would replenish the energy spent catching the beast, perhaps with a little extra to return to the pack's cache with their prize in tow, but neither man was of the greedy sort. Kjors waited patiently while the prince had his fill – his own mouth began to water at the sight of the kill, the blood on the hunter's muzzle. The scent of a fresh kill was absolutely tantalizing, but he knew how important a yearling's first kill as the lead was. He did not move a muscle, not until he was invited. Even then, he made doubly sure the other wolf was done before slithering towards the carcass, eagerly taking part in the softest bits left to him. They would not survive travel or storage, he reasoned, and happily ate his fill. Only once he was done did he pull back, licking his lips as he regarded the younger prince. For a moment, he did not speak, lifting a fat paw to wipe at his muzzle and remove some of the sticky blood. A proper bath would have to wait – they still had dirty work ahead of them. "We did," he agreed, glancing back at there kill. "Ought t' be proud. Much better than Ah did with yer brother." Kjors paused, wondering how much information to offer Orren. Deciding he liked the dragonling's spirit, he pressed on. "He wasn' th' lead hunter. We took a fawn t'gether. Y' ought t' be proud, mhm?" he hummed, gathering himself as he turned back towards their prize. "Now, let's get this back t' Hearthwood River." Exit.

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