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Post by mule-guts on Jun 20, 2018 0:58:27 GMT -6
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Post by mule-guts on Jun 20, 2018 1:02:21 GMT -6
WolfePost# 1
WC: 211
Tensions had grown and grown quickly. Wolfe frantically gathered his used leather quiver, the straps falling apart and crudely put back together with twine. His wife and kids worried as they watched this normally stoic man stomp around their cottage, gathering all his finest weapons. A prized sword, forged by the infamous Colborn, was pulled from the mantel and sheathed. The action further worried his wife, the weapon was rarely ever touched unless in extreme cases.
He took another quick mental check on his weaponry before looking to his wife with a determined look in his eyes. “Saoirse..” He began before looking to his young children with a softened gaze, then back to to her. The news he needed to tell her ate at the back of his mind. He hated it. He hated her. And, here was his opportunity to do something about it. An extended wing separated Saoirse from the kids, taking her to the living room for a bit of privacy.
“I dont have much time, but Aemon was attacked…” His voice was low and hurried. “He’s fine but it was Inga. I have to go.”
Before she could protest this thoughtless action, Wolfe was out of the home and on his way to the shore. |
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Post by fynli on Jun 20, 2018 1:16:22 GMT -6
= Inga =
1 | 196The bitter taste of another brother’s blood on her tongue was all too rewarding. She’d left this one alive though - Aemon was nothing but a warning, a ruse to draw out her main target. She knew it would work, she knew her brothers all too well. Wolfe wouldn’t miss the chance to meet his sweet baby sister on the battlefield once more.
And so he came.
She was waiting for him there, a malicious grin spread across her scarred face as she watched him gallop over the hill. How heroic. How valiant he was, coming to the rescue of his dear brother. How sickening. Ellie was nearby, waiting for order from her master. The bites covering Aemon were canine, feral - all belonging to the wolf.
“Brother,” Inga drawled out a greeting, her hoarse voice sickly sweet as he drew near. “I see you received my call.” This was nothing but taunts, words meant only to provoke him to knock him off his guard. Inga was never good with words, she preferred to keep conversations short to head straight into the battle.
“You look healthy! These past decades have served you well,” she crooned, circling him slowly.
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Post by mule-guts on Jun 22, 2018 21:37:40 GMT -6
Wolfe Post# 2 WC: 188
Upon arriving at the shore, Wolfe stopped atop a hill, giving him a clear view of the one other equine he hated so deeply. His brows furrowed in disgust as he gave a snort in her direction. “Traitor..” Wolfe replied with a snarl and a flip of his tail. Memories came flooding back as he looked at her. The scent of war and the blood of his brother wafted with a passing breeze. His slain body and the figure of his sister replayed itself behind his green eyes. He raised his head, snapping out of the memories that taunted him. “Little sister, the years haven’t changed how vile you are.” Snark was never really Wolfe’s forte, but it fit here.
His wings began to unfurl, preparing for the battle to come. His green teke clutching the hilt of his sword. “Tell me why, Inga.” Her name was poison on his tongue, he struggled to say it. “Why your own flesh?” The pygmy griffin at his feet kept her eyes locked on the gnarly wolf across the field as he spoke, knowing that was to be her first target.
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Post by fynli on Jun 22, 2018 22:02:28 GMT -6
= Inga =
2 | 259The snark in his voice twitched the edge of her grin wider. The last time they’d had the chance to banter like this was well over 30 years ago. Oh, it was like a breath of fresh air. Little sister, he said. She wasn’t little anymore, in power or status. Why, she was even about his height as well.
“Why?” The question puzzled her, making her stop in her tracks and stare at him with an almost comically confused expression. Men like him could never see the damage they inflicted on their sisters, wives or even daughters. Pushing their potential down and forcing them to believe that they were inferior just because they were women.
She snarled, her feathers puffing up in justified rage. “I had to start somewhere. Our brother, protector of the man who served nothing but the patriarchy. With him gone, I had a chance to be free!”
A curious look passed over her eyes as she observed him, searching for his weakness. Surely a man of his age and rank (she assumed he was someone important, he’d always been) he had a wife. Perhaps children. All of them stuck under his hoof.
“Are you married Elouan? I wonder how your wife feels about being tied to someone like you.” His real name was a power move to her, knowing how much he hated it.
Ellie growled from the background, her defenses trained to attack against her namesake. Her eyes were focused on the bird however, waiting for the feathered beast of the enemy to strike.
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