Silent Moon Plateau bottom of the river

@Erebos eyyyy! let's see how this goes ye??? @Gilligan recommend you join to but feel free to do whatever! Anyone else may join, but keep in mind this is a rank challenge so.... interruptions will not be taken lightly xD This takes place before Aponi and Aesire's fight because... shit's gunna be crazy there. So this is backdated to August 4th, which would be the same day Datura joined.

It was not Datura to sit at the bottom of the heirarchy. Sure, he knew there was at least Gilligan to pad him from the bottom of the barrel, but was not sure of anything else. All he knew was that there were many scents laced along the border as he had followed the white leader past them, towing along his collared ruffian. He had every intention of putting his knightly plans into action, but felt that somethings came first. Namely: a position of power. He didn't need to be at the top necessarily — not just yet anyway— but he most certainly would not be caught floundering around the bottom. How would he be able to show his face to the wolves who had taken over Poison Path if he were merely some lowly subordinate? Nope. Definitely not.

He stood directly in the center of the main area. He had met no one yet besides the one leader who had wandered off for now it appeared. Datura did not wish to waste time meeting all the wolves in order to track down the one just above him. Boldly he raised his tail, not even sure if anyone was around in this dusky hour. "Silent Moon Plateau!" he declared, "Who among you is the lowest? Speak now, or your rank will be taken from you." His chest puffed out. The next words slipped out of his mouse like molasses, "Come out, and it will be taken from you anyway."

He hoped Gilligan was watching. This boy needed to see how these things were done.

(This post was last modified: Aug 09, 2015, 12:05 AM by Datura.)

As was usual for the aging man these days, Erebos found himself on the outskirts of the pack, undergoing border patrol. He was no longer emaciated, and had regained his body from the crippling fingers of early advanced aging thanks to the new life breathed into him by familial purpose. Yet he had not been able to build anything more than that, the sole guardian of the pack having proven elusive thus far. Erebos chalked it up to the man avoiding all of the blood that he had betrayed when he'd bred with the whore queen. It wasn't quite a concern, not yet. While he wanted to work his way up the ranks, to eventually topple the Caravello man and protect Phineas' throne, he knew that this needed time to achieve and being at the lowest rank, he wasn't concerned with anyone coming to him to pick a fight.

He had been wrong. As the Argyris brother crested a hill, an updraft brought the scent of a foreigner into his nostrils. Alarms sounded in his head, the only thing keeping him from calling out a warning to the pack being Phineas' own faint scent accompanying this stranger's. As he stormed closer, he pieced it together that this surely must be a new recruit, yet just as he began to calm himself a brusque voice entered the air.

By the time Datura was in sight, Erebos' tail was high above him and his fur was bristled fiercely out from his lanky flame. Orange eyes blazed as he wondered who the hell this character thought he was.

"Can' even be bothered ta learn the roster first?"

(This post was last modified: Aug 12, 2015, 02:04 AM by Erebos.)

@Erebos, @Gilligan just...assuming gilligan is like, present but this in no way obligates you to post. Just figured he would have followed daddy into the pack right after they were accepted... cause o_o. Let me know if I need to change this.

It was a bristling old man that greeted him. Charming. The odds seemed to be tipping in his favor, and he could feel his ego swelling. Though this man had the well-fed weight of a pack wolf on his bones, his black-phase coat had turned pale with age. He could have easily been twice Datura's age. Anyone else might have been more wary of the experience that years brought to the battle field. But not Datura, the untried golden man with an ego that challenged even the Mountain of Dire. His ugly smile widened. The words of the stranger bounced off of him. It was just the old man's way of trying to dismiss him, to talk him down. But Datura would not but talked down.

"What better way to learn my pack mates than to test their strength?" he drawled easily, his head flipping back over his shoulder towards his son. What a cad, the golden man commented wordlessly to his son. His precious metal eyes flicked back towards the stranger. His eyes roamed lazily over the frame of the man he would beat, as if he owned him, as if he could look at whatever as long as he pleased. The pale man was larger than the average to be sure, but Datura was still taller and larger. Eagerly, the challenger's eyes settled on those of the stranger. In the orange, bitter gaze he thought he caught a glimpse of victory. "I think I'll learn the ranks better this way, anyway."

"Datura Aquila," he offered, falling into a defensive crouch. So bold was he, he offered the first move to the old man. It was only polite, after all.

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If Datura had given his son even a handful of minutes to wander off, he probably would have.  Newly accepted to Silent Moon Plateau, the yearling wanted to see everything.  They hadn't lived among a group since he'd been collared, since the wolves before--  Since the wolves before.  It hadn't really sunk in yet, and excitement still rattled around the youth's bones as he dogged after his sire, pausing only for a moment to nose at a particularly interesting patch of grass.  Interesting, as one of his new pack mates had marked it relatively recently, and he was halfway through his investigation when he realized the golden wolf had almost vanished from sight.
 
With an agitated bark, the subordinate bounded after his father, arriving just in time to realize another, elderly wolf was approaching.  Ears flicked back almost immediately, fur bristling as his posture became defensive – but even Gilligan could realize the challenge had come from the Aquila lord, and took a few steps back to give the older wolves some space.  Had this been what his father had meant, when he said they'd be fine knights?  Seemed a weird way to prove valor, but the lad supposed this would certainly prove what a strong, capable male Datura was.  After their scuffle, well…he actually had a notion how agile his father could be, despite his bulk.
 
The lad settled in silently, knowing that his father would not appreciate any manner of distraction.  Instead, he would watch, and he would learn, and his father would understand he was not some stupid, foolish boy anymore.  He would learn, he would be a knight, and Datura would be proud of him.

Just establishing Gilly is, in fact, here!

#R28-9

Despite the embers that lived within his skull, Erebos' gaze was nothing but icey as they bore down upon Datura. As the gold-gilded man answered him, it was made clear that he would not be dissuaded from going through with this challenge. A soft but derisive snort issued from his nostrils as he watched the boy settle into form, preparing himself for a physical altercation. For a moment, his sights transferred to an even younger whelp, clearly some sort of lackey of this pompous brat. The Argyris man began to feel unnerved, though he refused to let such emotions be witnessed by his opponent. Who the hell were these strangers, and how much did anyone know about them? How could he trust that if things turned sour for the pretentious one, the other wouldn't launch in? Erebos certainly wouldn't be able to hand them both.

Equally foreboding was this Datura's choice of action. This did not need to be a fight, the other man simply needed to assert himself and attempt to persuade Erebos to lower himself and concede to his dominance. Whether this was done by towering over him, bowling him over, or even a muzzle grab or scruffing, the extent of aggression needed was short. And yet here he was, bracing himself as if for a brawl, awaiting Erebos to attack him. Perhaps the traditions were a bit different where this boy was raised from, but Erebos didn't like it one bit regardless.

For a moment, here merely stood there, allowing the other man to sit in his coiled pose and wait for his decision. A very large part of him wanted to simply relinquish his position in the ranks, and walk away. There wasn't any of him that trusted these boys as pack mates should, and he couldn't afford any injuries. He had finally regained his strength, rebuilding himself from the ground up, but one good twist or gouge could be the end of all his progress given his advanced age. Still, this entire occasion also served to remind him that, after all this time, he was still on the bottom. He had joined with the intentions of healing the many wounds that separated him from his brother. Upon hearing of the drama that had infiltrated the pack, Erebos had sworn to himself that he would protect Phineas and his children from any and all threats. How could he do that if he remained the wolf farthest from the king?

Once more, he leveled his gaze upon Gilligan and commanded him to, "Back up." If the boy was going to attempt and jump in, Erebos wanted at least some distance to be between them so that he would have time to react.

Then, after a mere nod to Datura, Erebos launched forward. His intentions were not to harm the younger man. Instead, he confronted him head on, waiting until the final moment to hoist his front end up into the air before attempting to slam his weight down upon Datura. If able to achieve the vantage point wanted, of having some kind of grasp atop of his opponent, he would aim to latch onto his scruff for extra measure. All he wanted was to force the boy into the dirt, and assert himself.

(This post was last modified: Aug 17, 2015, 12:14 AM by Erebos.)

@Erebos. Total fighting posts: 3. Datura's attack is a miss.

Datura grumbled in assent, nodding to Gilligan to heed the man's words. It was unlikely that their tussle would be viscous or drawn out — Datura did not intend to hurt a packmate after all— but two large men such as themselves would require an ample arena in order to maneuver. He did not want to worry about Gilligan getting in the way as the boy was like to do. He was sure Gilligan would understand and would not, under any circumstances jump into the fray in order to protect or aid his father. This was just one of those things a wolf had to do alone.


His eyes swung back to his opponent just to see him leap from the ground toward him, his weight carried toward him like a freight train by those long grey legs. Datura was, by no means, a fast wolf. He also struggled with timing, sensing the intentions of other wolves. Though he had already fallen into a defensive pose, with his weight shifted onto his back paws so that he might be able to shove off in whatever direction necessary, he was not ready when the grey opponent eventually came crashing down upon his shoulders. With all his weight on his hind-quarters, there was little to balance him up front and he buckled quite suddenly. Shit. The impact was enough to knock the wind from him.


Before the grey wolf could seize the opportunity to take his muzzle, Datura rolled himself sideways. The movement was slow, like a barrel, and he did not move far. Throwing his weight behind him, he sprung upwards to the shoulder of his elder, hoping to bowl him over in much the same way the man had done to him.

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It had to be admitted that Erebos was even doubting himself. After all, his opponent was far younger and healthier, with a wealth of muscle upon his frame. And what could the old man assume of his training? Nothing. His whole existence could have been built around fighting, for all the Argyris brother knew. Still, he had thrown himself at this and there was no backing down, not until this Datura had proven himself indomitable.

Thus, when the golden giant's frame actually gave some under the force of Erebos' charge, the ember-sighted wolf was perhaps the most surprised of them all. Yet of course, the strike hadn't been perfect, and before he could secure his advantage by clamping the other man's thick scruff between his fangs, his target had moved. Unrelenting, Erebos swiftly dug in his paws, lowering to his hocks to give his base more surface and thus more stability. He moved with his challenger, and soon they were locked in, the older man leaning into the other, one limb out to better brace himself as he attempted to heave all of his weight upward and over.

What he most wanted was to cause Datura to stagger, but he would settle for either the autumnal foreigner pushing too far and taking out his own legs from under himself with Erebos' unbudging form, or simply backing off to break the deadlock.

They locked like rutting elk. Datura snorted against the weight of the silver male. Having been the attacker rather than the defender, Datura's stance was much less grounded than his opponent's. He had nearly lost his balance against the force of hitting a well anchored brick wall. But Datura trusted that his own weight, much more than the older man's, would hold and prevent him from being forced away.

He could feel the man shove against him, but Datura did not relinquish any ground. He surveyed their position. With their shoulders forced up against each other in this way, the only way to gain extra force was to use their necks as well. This left no vulnerabilities at their throats.He weighed his otpions. The silver man, it turned out, was at least larger on one dimension. Datura could not reach the man's muzzle if he tried. Grabbing his scruff was probably a worthless move considering the way their weight was distributed. There would be no way for Datura to force him to the ground from this angle. And there was no point grabbing a hold of anything just for the sake of it. He did not wish to hurt the man merely to cause pain. That was chivalrous.

Snorting once more with effort, Datura took a chance. Making sure the hind leg farthest from his opponent was firmly planted, he swiftly lifted the other one and kicked out hard, hoping to sweep a leg out from underneath the silver man.

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The old man gritted his fangs together and held in tight, unrelenting as they both muscled against one another to try and gain ground with neither of the large animals giving. Frustration mounted within the grayscale wolf as his muscles began to tire. He was far too out of shape for this, but the fact alone that he was actually holding his ground against this youth had him holding on, determined to push himself even harder and surprise himself more. If it was at all possible, he was going to acheive it.

Erebos shifted his legs, trying to regather his hold upon the ground, but just as he did Datura struck out, catching the older man's wiry limb and pulling out from under him. Shock hit him first before the dirt did, and as much as his body wanted to embrace the cool earth and give up, Erebos refused. He chose to tumble rather than drop, rolling from his side onto his back and striking out at  the self-titled knight with heavy, clawed paws. A snap of his jaws was also sent up to aim at Datura's shoulder and chest, but any attacks fallen would only be felt and not seen by the man as he was still turning, onto his other side to give himself some space away from his opponent.

If successful in rolling back onto his stomach a foot or two away from Datura, he would swiftly launch himself back onto his feet and away in order to be able to reassess the situation without the other man knocking him down again.

@Erebos okay so this accounts for Erebos' second hit, all of Datura's misses up until Erebos' third hit. So the next post with be Erebos' third hit....and uhh...yeap. One confusing fight :x

After dealing the swift kick to his opponent's support, Datura lurched back as quickly as he could. He had, of course, been using the man as his own pillar to lean on. And if the old man went down, Datura did not want to go down with him. His movements were, rough, lurching. But when the old man fell and, in turn, kicked out, the golden man was not far enough away to escape the blunt nails and teeth of his elder. The scrapes of the nails were painful but did not break skin, as the edges of the nails were rounded. He was grateful that Erebos was not a cougar. He would have been in trouble then. But the teeth —they broke skin as they scraped down his forepaw. He retracted it as quickly as he could. Blood dripped to the ground.


The first casualty.

As he watched player number two roll away neatly, he saw the years of practice in the man's move. He wonder if perhaps he had misjudged the value of time in one's battle readiness. Could it be that maybe Datura's girth, the sheer force his mass carried with him, were worth less when pitted up against training and practice? Datura fell into an offensive stance, ready to close the distance between the man and himself. He considered all his victories. They had been granted under very specific circumstances. He had preyed upon the weak, the smaller, the younger. And he realized that he fell short. Quite short.

But it did not matter, for he would not concede until there was no dignity left to him. He threw himself directly at the older man.

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