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| --- When Titans Clash ---; For Talon | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 15 2008, 10:57 AM (610 Views) | |
| Catatonic | Aug 15 2008, 10:57 AM Post #1 |
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[size=0]"Sister, I beg you. Ple-" "No. Too long has he ignored me. He would even go so far as to desecrate a priestess of my own temple! Offspring of the mortal Emperor or not, he will pay by my hand!" "Lower your voice, Diana. You will upset Egeria again. Listen to me for once; Father will not tolerate your temper any longer, not after what you did to that mortal man who caught you bathing. You know I cannot lie." "Dearest brother." Raising a hand, the goddess ran her fingertips over her brother's jaw as her voice quieted. Diana watched as her pastel skin glided over the Sun God's golden glow. "You may speak truths, but you also know what is right and fair. I may bear Jupiter's wrath, but I will have justice to my name. I wish you not to be a part of this." Her touch reached Apollo's hair – brown and luscious as her own – and paused. It had grown long, now passing past his shoulders. Diana's own extended past her waist, even loosely plaited and bound as it was. While the divine twins shared many physical features, their personalities could not be more opposed. They were, after all, the masters of converse celestial bodies: he governed the sun as it rose and fell each day, while she ruled the night and the moon that lit the dark sky. With a resigned sigh, Apollo stepped away from the antechamber's entrance and his sister's touch so that she could pass into the Pantheon. For an instant, his yellow gaze met with her olive one as he searched the woman's face. The determination he saw that was almost frightening and he knew that even he would never be able to dissuade his sister from her folly. Dropping his eyes to the marble floor, the god silently promised to watch over Diana no matter the outcome, as was his duty as a brother. A grim line on her lips, the Huntress nodded and walked past her twin, preparing every fibre of her immortal being for a duel of wills with the king of the gods. As she moved, the soft padding of her bare feet down the hallway and the whisper of her white stola were the only sounds in her ears. Lifting her head high, Diana summoned her bow to hand, needing to feel the sturdy wood in her hand. Although she had all the courage and audacity in the heavens, confronting her royal father was a daunting task and one not to be taken lightly or with hesitation. Entering the Pantheon's chamber, she greeted the watchful eye of her half-brother, Mars, with a curt nod. She was obliged to respect him for he was the legitimate child of Jupiter, not she. No, she and her twin were the bastard offspring of the Sky God's past deviation. And, by the heavens themselves, did he flaunt the fact – making her resent him all the more. Moving past the various reclining idols, she stopped before her father and his wife, heart quailing just a little. "Great father, I come before you with a request that I may seek retribution for a misdeed done unto me." Her words rang in the enclave as she gracefully knelt before the throne and laid her weapon before her prone form. There was no fear in those words although her previous acts of reprisal had caused her much grief and punishment. It was these prior dealings that had made it a condition to testify directly to Jupiter. The last time she had carried out vengeance without first making such a testimony she had been excluded from any company like a naughty child sent to its room. The Huntress would not let herself be humiliated like that again, not at this was much better. "My child, I know of the retribution you seek and do not grant it. I am ashamed to see that you have fallen so far to act on petty spite." Upon the thunderous accusation, the goddess's head shot up and she was barely able to contain her fury. Never before had she been denied something that she wanted so whole-heartedly. By her own sire, no less. Not only had her plea been pushed aside, but she had also been disgraced before several of the major gods within the Pantheon. Behind her, Diana practically felt the War God's sneer and she fought to keep her composure. "I do, however acknowledge that you have been wronged and punishment will be assigned by Apollo as is appropriate for the mortal's rank. If you disobey me, you shall be punished for this and all past retribution exacted without my consent. Do you acknowledge?" Silently fuming, Jupiter's daughter nodded – as she was unable to speak through such a clenched jaw. The worst knowledge of all was that what the king had ordained was just. Picking herself up, the woman forced herself to exit the room calm and poised and remained thus until she was safely in her quarters. Once there, all pretence of serenity was shattered as she screamed out her frustration, vines growing at her command to shatter vases and destroy paintings. Raw power whipping up around her, the Huntress stalked over to a ruined depiction of a stag and tore it down, shredding it with her hands as easily as her arrows pierced the air in flight. How dare he humiliate her yet again? She would get her revenge. The son of the Emperor would suffer under her temper. The thought slowly stilled her violent outburst and the power returned to her body as she settled onto a single untouched stool and turned her mind to the object of her abhorrence. Reaching out with her will, Diana crushed the seed that lay in his body, rendering him unable to produce any offspring form his vile body. Satisfaction licked at her heart at the act, reassuring the fertility goddess that no child of his could ever be created to do her more injustice. Now she moved higher and… Nothing. In a blaze of light, the King of the Gods appeared before her in all his fearsome glory and wrath. He was so enraged, it seemed, that tiny bolts of lightning flickered over his form as he clasped down on her powers and will. "HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME!" In her rooms, his voice echoed like thunder in the mountains as it bared down on the goddess all but sending her to the floor. She had never seen him so incensed, not even before Rome was built and the Pantheon was founded on mortal soil. For a moment, she was terrified out of her wits. Cringing away from the colossal force, Diana backed into a corner and tripped on a vine. She was sent sprawling on the ground as Jupiter advanced, one hand stretched before him. "I had hoped you would heed my warning, my daughter. But as you have defied me, you must be disciplined. You are henceforth cast out of this house and I send you to dwell in the mortal realm until you can truly repent and accept my judgement. Furthermore, you will retain no memory of whom or what you are so that you may suffer as a mortal might. That it my word" "Father, I-I beg of you…" As his hand reached down to touch her head, the humbled Huntress swore she saw a tear run down the immortal man's chiseled cheek before a great surge of power stripped her mind of consciousness and split the heavens open for her decent.[/size] |
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---------------------------[size=0]Yell all you like[/size] --------------------------------- [size=0]I stopped listening[/size] [size=14]the night I died[/size] --------------------------------------------- | |
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| Talon | Aug 15 2008, 02:16 PM Post #2 |
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Marcus Ferox had never been ‘normal,’ not by a long shot. At extremely young age, he was taken from his mother by the imperial army for he was ‘marked’; at least, that’s what the captain had told his parents. Not only had he been born in March, the month of Mars, but one of the god’s emblems had formed on the left side of babe’s chest as a birthmark. The imperials found this to be too much of a coincidence or more of act of fate. A boy of the month of Mars with his mark had to be a sign of this boys greatness. They could not have been more correct if Jupiter had come to the Emperor and told them Marcus was destined to glory. He had always possessed greater speed and strength than those of his age. Different styles of combat seemed to lay themselves at his feet; he learned how to use different weapons almost faster than his trainers could bring them to him. By the age of seventeen, no one could best him in combat except by sheer luck; by the age twenty, he had taken luck out of the equation. By twenty-two, he learned he had an affinity for fire and, more importantly, controlling it. He was a warrior of warriors and utterly destructive on his own. In his first campaign, Marcus earned his nickname “Lupus Belli.” His prowess in combat was nearly rivaled by his ability to find where that combat would take place. The man could hunt war like a wolf would hunt prey. He was more ferocious than a hungry wolf backed into a corner by fur trappers. And his cunning...no man could hope match him in a test of wits during combat. Marcus was born of Mars, and Mars had chosen him. Now Marcus was on the way home from his third campaign with a legion. He was now part of the third legion, but that would undoubtedly change as soon as they reached Rome. The Lupus Belli rarely stayed in a legion for long. They soon came near a small village when the legion’s commander summoned Marcus. As a soldier, Marcus went to him immediately. The commander smiled at the sight of Marcus. “Ah, Marcus Ferox, there you are. You arrived awfully quickly; I am quite impressed.” He tossed his cape over his shoulder and indicated the town. “We have just received words from our scouts that the village just there is infested with bandits and is a haven criminals. My advisors and I feel that eradicating the problem before it escalates is in the best interest of the empire. However, rather the send in the entire legion, I wonder if you could possibly take care of the issue alone? Not only would it save the lives of some of our men, but seeing the powerful Lupus Belli in action would bolster morale and give the troops something to be proud of. Will you accept this charge and raze the village until nothing is left?” In truth, the village was nothing more than that: a village. It was no place of refuge for the criminals of the area; the commander just wished to witness the carnage that only one of Marcus’ talents could wrought. Sadly, Marcus could not perceive this falsehood as what it was. “I accept, commander. I shall depart for the village as soon as I am armored.” The soldier bowed and left the commander’s presence, heading for his horses. Even though he held no rank, Ferox still was given a pair of horses: one to ride and to carry his belongings for the campaign. He quickly donned the bronze armor he wore in battle. Plated greaves protected his shins and extended over his feet by way of narrow bands of bronze laced together. Hip plates were strapped around his muscular thighs. A heavy breastplate was emblazoned with the image of a wolf howling to the sky, and shoulder pauldrons were carefully attached by leather thongs. Small armguards were tied to his upper arms, armoring the area between pauldron and elbow. His forearms were laden with vambraces that flared outwards at the sides, forming make-shift shields. The sheaths of his twin swords were actually part of his backplate, and Marcus carefully slid his “fangs” into their homes. His scarlet tunic would soon be drenched with sweat beneath the bronze armor, but that was of no concern - a fight was near at hand. Taking a spear in his left hand and hefting his helmet in his right, Lupus Belli began the jog through the camp and across the wide plain to the village. Soon the chant of “Lu-pus, lu-pus, lu-pus” was taken up by the troops, and it grew to a near deafening roar as Marcus exited the camp. Accelerating into a sprint and inciting the blood rage that made him such a brutal warrior, Marcus slammed his bronze helmet upon his head. It was quite ornate; it had been a gift from the Emperor himself after His Highness had learned of Marcus’ nickname. A ruby had been embedded upon the helmet above each of Marcus’ temples. Angles of bronze of stuck up from the main plate. The cheek and nose guards had been extended forward and widened. The overall effect gave Marcus the appearance of having a wolf’s head with eyes of fire. The power of Mars now filled the great warrior, and Marcus raised his spear above his head, roaring as he did so. The fires of war had fallen upon the helpless village, and none could stop let alone delay the Lupus Belli. Within three quarters of an hour, Marcus had slain everyone in the village, and the entire area was ablaze. No one would know that one man did this; it looked as if an army had marched through it. The drive of combat was now gone, and Marcus saw his handiwork with a smile upon his face. He wandered about the village, entering the burning buildings even as they fell apart around him. Marcus knew in his soul that Mars would protect him. However in the fourth building, he discovered something that shocked him: a young woman. One who had survived his onslaught; one who had been hidden from his vision. ‘But I checked every building room by room...there’s no way I could have missed her. Perhaps...the gods...they are the only explanation.’ Marcus briefly returned to the army camp where he respectfully took leave of the legion to hunt down a few bandits who had escaped their meeting with him. The commander could only laugh and agree to Marcus’ hunt. He was soon back at the woman’s side, his horses tied to a tree safe from the burning debris of the village. A small camp was set up, and Marcus laid the unconscious woman in his tent. All he could do now was wait for her to awaken. |
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| Catatonic | Aug 16 2008, 05:08 AM Post #3 |
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[size=0]All her conscious memory trickled her mind like water down the great marble pillars of the Pantheon as she fell. Everything left Diana, until she was the Huntress no more. --- Floundering in the total and despairing darkness, the woman weeped and knew not why she did so. She wept until all that was left was an hollowness and desolation. Deserted, she wandered around for hours in the black, looking for something she would never find until tiniest flicker of light drew her eye. With a desperate cry, the woman ran towards the scintillating hope but the more she ran, the more she came to realise that she was not any closer. But still she ran on, never daring to stop even for a moment lest the light and hope disappear from sight. Her body felt heavy, awkward. Although she did not awaken, she knew something wasn't as it should be. Stirring slightly, the woman wrapped her arms about her and curled into a ball before slipping into a humanly real dream of monstrous and terrifying storms. Alone the nameless outcast stood on the cliff's only purchase and shielded her eyes from the slicing wind as it bit into her tall body, pushing her into the jagged rock face. Thunder boomed overhead and deafened the woman for an instant as a bolt of lightning stuck the cliff below her feet and the ledge began to crumble away into the raging ocean far below where she would surely follow. Spinning around, she tried to cling to the rock but found that it only cut her hands raw as her feet began to slip. The wind shifted and ripped her from her precarious hold, pulling her away from the savage stone and taking her down to the cold embrace of the water as she screamed. "No!" She awoke on the yell, a mix of salt, blood and smoke lingering in her nose. Tears streaming down her face she launched to her feet, her clothes flying with the movement. The woman only remained upright for a moment, her body toppling back to the ground as it failed to cope with the very real force of gravity and the need to balance. Breathing in the air almost desperately, she was vaguely aware that there was another presence not a few feet from her. She stilled. As the irrational panic gradually receded from her mind, the outcast forced her gasping to slow until it was normal. "W-whe.." Trying to speak hurt, her throat raw as if she has swallowed molten iron. Unaccustomed to pain, she grasped gingerly at her neck before managing to roll up into a sit, legs tucked up under her body. The woman blinked and noticed her surroundings for the first time. Some kind of shelter, small and dim. As her eyes wandered, they fell of the form of the Wolf of War and stopped. "You?"[/size] |
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---------------------------[size=0]Yell all you like[/size] --------------------------------- [size=0]I stopped listening[/size] [size=14]the night I died[/size] --------------------------------------------- | |
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| Talon | Aug 16 2008, 06:28 AM Post #4 |
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"Sum Lupus Belli." I am the Wolf of War. The man sat at the entrance to the tent, half inside half out. After settling the woman in the tent, he had stripped down to his cloth breeches and begun washing his other clothing and keeping his bronze armor in good condition. They lay out in the sun drying at the time, and Marcus was now working on craving a temporary bow. The tool only needed to last for a handful of shots. "Although, you may call me Marcus. I found you in a nearby village that had just been burned. Surely it was an act of the gods that kept you alive in that building..." So it wasn't the whole truth, but Marcus so no reason to inform her that it was he who had destroyed what was likely her home. "If you're hungry, I have soldier's rations of vension and hard bread near the fire. I also have a flagon of cold water; you sound like you need a drink." He passed the water to her, watching her carefully. Never before had Marcus seen a woman of this age seem so uncomfortable with her body. It was almost as if she wasn't human and was just temporarily using this form. He toyed with the notion of her being a goddess sent to teach him something, but a goddess would still possess all her grace. This woman seemed as if she were drunk. |
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| Catatonic | Aug 20 2008, 05:15 AM Post #5 |
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[size=0]The woman remained silent as Marcus spoke, somewhat perturbed by his forthrightness. For some reason, she felt like he should be bowing in her presence, but that was absurd. He looked to be a great warrior and she was… well, what was she, exactly? Who was she? Searching her mind, she found no clues to those questions, not even a name. She did not even remember how she came to be where-ever he had found her. Why couldn't she remember? Instead of getting flustered over the issue, she looked curiously over to the fire where the Wolf had said there was food. She wasn't hungry, and so her attention reverted to the human as he held out the flagon. All but snatching the thing, the woman guzzled back its contents, suddenly swamped by the urge to drink. Having satisfied that little need, she turned to her guardian, wiping her mouth dry with the back of her free hand. "I should thank you, but I'm not sure how. May I ask why you did not leave me?" It was rude of her to ask such a question, as an act like that was compassionate. However, not knowing anything about whom or where she was left her questioning everything. Setting aside the clay jug, the outcast stood – steady on her feet now – and slipped out from the tent towards to fire. Quickly adjusting her stola so it hung better on her strong frame before she knelt, the woman watched the hypnotic flames dance. She was not cold by any means, just fascinated. Her mind wandered again and she mused under her breath. "Who am I?"[/size] |
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| Talon | Aug 22 2008, 10:10 PM Post #6 |
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Marcus reclaimed his now empty water vessel with the intent to refill it later. The woman was either unfamiliar with rationing food or drink or much more thirsty than he originally thought. Either way, he didn't mind; there was a stream not far off that he had already filled the flagon with once. Setting it down near his other travelling things, Marcus lifted his wolfhead-like helmet and began shining the metal and polishing the round, eye shaped rubies. The dust and smoke from destroying the village had left all of his gear rather dirty, and the appearance of ferocity would be dulled because of it. The Lupus Belli wouldn't have that. He desired his image to stir feelings of terror and despair in those he faced in combat, or even just on the street of a city. "As for your first question, I removed you from the burning building simply because only the gods could have saved you from the force that fell upon the village. I could not in good conscience leave you there if They went through the effort of protecting you, even if the effort on their part was nothing more than breathing. "Sadly, I have no answer for your second question. I merely happened to find you. Perhaps with time your memories of your past will come back, and you will know your identity then. Until that happens, if it ever does, you may feel free to travel with me, although I will rarely slow my pace much to accomodate another person. You might prove to be the exception, however," Marcus said. He tossed another piece of wood onto the fire, sending a shower of sparks into the air. His hand shot out, his power of war grabbing the sparks in mid air and pulling them toward him. "Fire...it's beautiful, isn't it? It often reminds me of a woman. Nothing in the world more beautiful, nothing more desirable, nothing more...well, nothing more. But at the same time, it's deadly, destructive force that can destroy all but the most sturdy things, such as rock." Marcus grew quiet, and let the sparks fade to nothing in his hand. |
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| Catatonic | Aug 26 2008, 04:36 PM Post #7 |
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[size=0]As Marcus cleaned his armour, the woman watched – fascinated – as the sun glinted on the metal and gems. He must be very powerful and wealthy to afford such artworks just to wear into battle. The helmet in his hands bore his namesake: the likeness of a wolf with bloody red eyes. It would have taken many months to make, even with the best human artisans. But why bother with such an ornament if it was only used for fighting. This male must enjoy instilling fear in his foe. It reminded her of… something. She looked back to she fire with a sharp twist of her head, frustration mounting at her inability to remember anything from before the terrifying dream. Forcing herself to put the matter aside yet again, the female sighed heavily, staring blankly into the flame until she realised that the warrior was speaking to her again. "… if They went through the effort of protecting you…" Whoever They were, they should have stayed out of whatever life she must have once had. Better to die than to have no memory of living, no notion of where to go or who you are. But somehow she was alive for better or worse, and it was to stay that way. Perhaps she would one day find purpose and remembrance. Until then, she would just have to make do with what was given. As the man concluded his answers, she nodded her thanks, somehow grateful for his charity without questioning it. "I would like to stay in your company and will try not to slow you up. If I can be of help, do not hesitate to ask, although I do not know what service I could offer to one such as yourself." Eyes drifting to the half-carved bow that lay on the ground, she felt her palms itch as if they needed to feel the wood under them. What her mind forgot, her body would always retain. Reaching out, the woman picked up both bow and carving knife. The tingling stopped with the partly formed weapon within her fist. It was where it belonged. "May I?"[/size] |
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| Talon | Aug 29 2008, 02:04 AM Post #8 |
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Marcus nodded his head to her request. "You may. I'm horrible at bow shaping. That thing will get a single pull, maybe two if I'm lucky, before it breaks. You might even have more talent with a bow than I do, so by all means, do as you wish with it." For years Marcus had regretted not spending more time learning how to shape, string, and properly fire a bow. Even now he regretted it, but still he knew he would never take the time to begin learning the trade of it. He much preferred being close and feeling the warm spray of blood from his victims as his blade cleaved their flesh. "We'll stay here for the night, I think. No point in moving this close to dark anyway. I'd rather not put up with the nuisance of a band of raiders striking at us in the night." The truth of it was Marcus didn't care if they were attacked by raiders. But at night, however, the darkness would make it nearly impossible to distinguish his companion from the raiders. He could easily mistake her for one of them, and well...that would be the end of that, protection of the Gods or not. The helmet was removed from his lap and placed near the rest of his gear before Marcus stood, stretching his arms and leg. A simple spear was lifted from the ground, and the warrior played with it in his hands for a moment. "I shouldn't be gone long. I'm going to look for a bird or something for dinner. I'm rather hungry, and fresh meat is appealing to my appetite at the moment. If you have any idea how to move quietly, possibly even silently, you're welcome to join me on the hunt." He shrugged, checking the dagger he kept at his waist before rolling his head with satisfying pop of the joints. Grinning, he flexed a few muscles in preparation of a hunt; even when hunting some creature just for a meal, Marcus took great pleasure from the task of hunting. |
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| Catatonic | Aug 30 2008, 09:01 AM Post #9 |
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"This does feel familiar to me, even if it isn't shaped yet. I must have used one before. Perhaps it will help." As she spoke, the woman set to work with the knife, deftly shaving the branch. It slowly began to take shape, nothing complex, the branch was too weak to hold up to any real work. Perhaps, she would ask for a better piece later, if she stayed with him. At the moment, that was her best option. When the warrior mentioned the possibility of raiders, something clicked in her mind. He wouldn't go alone to a decimated village to fight brigands for no reason other than to kill. Marcus must be either a mercenary or a soldier, not that there was much distinction between the two. If he was the latter, shouldn't he be camped with his fellow combatants? She would ask tomorrow. The woman watched as her saviour rose, noting just how powerful his body was. He must truly be fearsome on the battlefield. "I will stay here. Before you leave, do you have a bowstring for when this," she hoisted up the bow stave a little, "is finished?" At the rate she was working, the weapon would be finished before the Wolf returned with whatever kill he made. If he did have the missing component, it would give her time to see what skill she had. Perhaps the next time the man hunted, she would accompany him. But first, she needed a little time to gather thoughts. Just as she started with the knife again, the pops and crackles of Marcus' spine made her wince. If she had her memories, the outcast would have recognised a connection between this man and the deity whose power he delighted in. ooc: well that was the most un-epic reply I've written in a while. I sorry. -winces- |
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| Talon | Aug 31 2008, 02:28 AM Post #10 |
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"Bowstring...I better have some or I wasted a good part of the evening beginning on that bow. I'll check my pack; I'm sure there is some in there." Marcus lifted his pack for a moment and began sifting through the contents with his free hand. Some hard bread, an empty waterskin, another short knife, oils for keeping his equipment clean, and various other items were seen before he spotted the small pouch he had been searching for. "Here we are...bowstring." He tossed the small pouch to her. "Feel free to use as much as you need. I can get more later; it's rather inexpensive for me to requisition supplies." He set the pack down in favor of his two spears. "But now, I must hunt. Fresh food tonight will be wonderful for my travel worn self. Give a shout if you need anything. See you in a while." Marcus took off at a lope into the woods with the memory of deer living in the area brought to mind from the maps he had studied several weeks ago. He was silent as he feet lightly pushed off from the ground, never breaking a twig and barely bruising any leaves. Smaller bushes were simply leaped over, while larger bodies such as trees were simply avoided. Trained eyes soon spotted a doe grazing nearby. The hunter ducked behind a tree as he calculated the distance and strength needed for the throw. A twig snapped. Marcus tensed, and his eyes raced across the expanse of woods before him. He saw nothing but the doe with her head raised at the sound. Something was amiss; both Marcus and the deer could feel it. The doe took off, bounding away from Marcus' position and the location of the sound. Another twig snapped. 'Damnit, something is out here with me, and I haven't a clue where or what it is. I really don't like this...' Marcus thought he crouched down. He heard the thing again before he saw it. Branches were being snapped and the underbrush was bing trampled beneath the powerful hooves of what had to be the largest stag Marcus had ever seen. It lowered its head, slamming into Marcus and sending him crashing into a tree. He had only managed to pick himself up as it lowered its antlers and charged again. This time the Wolf was ready though. Each of his hands grasped the base of an antler, and he leaned back with his body, lifting with his strong arms at the same time. The stag was lifted clear off the ground; its momentum along with the Lupus Belli's strength enabled the man to lift the beast over his head before returning the favor and slamming the deer into a tree. The tree won that encounter, unlike Marcus' meeting. "Mmm, dinner. Perfect." He tied the stag's legs together with a length of rope he had brought along and began the walk back to his camp, dragging the carcass behind him. After about twenty minutes, he spotted his fire and came strolling into his camp with the large deer behind him. Marcus smiled at his female companion. "The hunt was successful, obviously." ooc: Pfft. Unepic or epic, it's perfectly alright with me. At least you're responding. Oh, and the last line of your previous post made me smile. I thought it was cool. |
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| Catatonic | Aug 31 2008, 03:47 PM Post #11 |
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The woman smiled grimly as Marcus hunted through his pack for the requested item. She caught it deftly in one hand when he threw the little leather pouch at her and set it aside along with the knife as the Wolf addressed her. As he spoke of fresh meat, the outcast's stomach gave an audible growl. It obviously agreed with the man's statement. She glanced at her complaining stomach with a glare set into her strong features before watching the warrior head off. She called out to him. "Luck!" Now having all the equipment she needed to complete the weapon, she set about doing so. The stave took its completed form quickly and reached out to fill its maker's combined arm span. There was little structure to the curve, but it would be powerful enough to take down a small animal with ease. It would still only last a short time, though, until it snapped from the strain or it lost its elasticity. Having the main component completed, the woman strung the bow carefully, cutting and tying the bowstring where it needed it. She stood swiftly and drew her weapon, testing the draw length automatically although her mind had forgotten. All was good, so now for the arrows. These she found in a quiver among the equipment beside the tent, fletched and tipped perfectly. Too bad there were only a few. Pulling one from its resting place, she started to set it but paused as the instinctual memory lapsed for a moment. When it returned, she was intently focused a raven eyeing the campfire and her with interest. The bird bobbed as it hopped along the branch, shaking a large leaf from its resting place. She lifted the bow and fired. The arrow split the air silently as it shot towards its target, spearing it dead center. It continued on its arched path until it landed solidly in the ground, leaf still attached to the shaft. The raven must have startled as it took to the air with a 'GAAK' and disappeared into the darkening forest. Gripping her weapon tightly, the woman marched over to where the arrow stuck out of the dirt. Her eyes widened as she realised that she had hit a tiny moving target with pinpoint accuracy. Pulling the arrow from its resting place, the outcast headed for the camp just as the Lupus Belli emerged with his kill. A beautiful brown stag with antlers like bone branches. She glanced at the man's spears and found them to be clean as when he had left. This was no hunting kill. The poor creature had been bashed to death. The woman was almost rendered speechless as Marcus spoke. "This was no hunting kill. You killed the poor beast with your bare hands." Her voice was quiet, but filled with disgust and barely concealed anger at the atrocity. She had no notion of why the act had her so worked up, but by the gods, it did. Dropping weapon and projectile where she stood, the woman walked over to the still-warm carcass and knelt beside its head, caressing the fur. After a moment, she calmed down and realised just how impolite she had just been. "Forgive my outburst; that was wrong of me. This kill is splendid indeed." No matter how unacceptable in my eyes. But she refrained from adding the thought. ooc: Well here's something slightly less unepic. ^^ |
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---------------------------[size=0]Yell all you like[/size] --------------------------------- [size=0]I stopped listening[/size] [size=14]the night I died[/size] --------------------------------------------- | |
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| Talon | Sep 1 2008, 04:17 AM Post #12 |
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"It's alright. You're correct about it not being a hunting kill, actually. I didn't even see the thing until the moment before it rammed me. I'm honestly lucky to be alive, let alone have killed the beast. Blindsided me from some brush while I was stalking a doe, actually. That's why the stag died by my hands, rather than my spears. I dropped them when it hit me. It charged again while I was standing up; I barely managed to avoid another collision by grabbing its antlers, lifting it off the ground, and slamming it into a tree." Marcus rubbed the spot on his chest where the impact had occurred. He was hoping nothing was cracked. A few of the muscles in his back and arms were raging with heat from the exertion of lifting the massive animal; hopefully that would pass soon. "If you don't object to it, would you mind cleaning the kill? I have no problem cooking it, but at the moment I'm a bit roughed up from the past day or so." That was the truth. The fighting in the village and the conflict with the stag had left his body exhausted. Muscles in his back, chest, arms, legs...pretty much everywhere were drained of energy. He needed rest, and several hours of it would do him good. "I'm going to lay down. You can clean it, cook it, leave it alone and do something else, anything really. Just don't let it get stolen and don't dispose of it. You clearly don't like that I brought a stag back; it was all over your expression when you saw me with it." Marcus headed for the tent and threw back a flap to enter it. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he gazed at the woman for a moment. His thoughts wandered about her, mostly focusing on why she had escaped his wrath in the village. Only the Gods could have made him miss her. There was no other explanation. But now Marcus wanted to know why. He frowned slightly then entered the tent without another backward glance. |
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| Catatonic | Sep 3 2008, 02:12 PM Post #13 |
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Although she could not find it in her heart to forgive the man, the woman nodded and acknowledged the effort he had gone to so as to provide the both of them with fresh and plentiful meat. The kill would surely last many days if they stored it right and she could use the antlers to begin creating a new bow for herself before the one laying neglected on the forest floor gave way. This way, it would not be such a shame to kill the magnificent creature. Surely she could find a use for the hide even if they lacked the ability to cure it properly. Standing up, the outcast nodded silently as Marcus asked her to clean the creature for eating. It was only after he had left that she realized that she didn't know (or remember) how to do such a thing. Well, no harm in trying. Gathering the knife she had used earlier to carve the weapon, the woman walked steadily back to the carcass and tried to decide what should be done first. She had been the goddess of hunting, not food preparation so her natural skill could not help here. Atleast she could take logical steps. Shifting around, she dug a small pit in the ground near the stag's neck using her hands. It was obviously not a clever idea to dull such a sharp blade by using it in menial work. With a quick slash, the deer's throat was severed and its blood drained slowly into the hole where the soil soaked up the red liquid like water evaporating in the harsh sunlight. That done and knife dripping, the woman headed quietly back to where the warrior's provisions lay and searched for the venison he had mentioned earlier in a bid to decide what should be done with the drained carcass. Most of the salted meat was strips (so little help there) but one piece was part of a cooked leg. So she would slice off one of the deer's hind legs and skin it. But that was not as easy as it seemed, it still oozed blood even after the neck wound had stopped flowing and there was little she could do to prevent it getting on her white stola. Nevertheless, she hacked away at the limb, cutting off the lower leg before doing so. The meat from the single piece should be enough to fee the both of them tonight. Finally it was severed from it's resting place and the woman struggled to skin it, not too happy about getting the mix of slowly congealing blood and fur over her hands and arms in the process. What a sight she would have made! It took the female almost two hours to finish the chore, softly muttering under her breath as she complained about the way the beast was killed, her lack of memory, and the lack of a place within view of the camp for a place to wash away the smeared blood from her hands. |
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---------------------------[size=0]Yell all you like[/size] --------------------------------- [size=0]I stopped listening[/size] [size=14]the night I died[/size] --------------------------------------------- | |
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| Talon | Sep 4 2008, 04:19 AM Post #14 |
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After the short nap, Marcus felt both refreshed and exhausted. It was a strange sensation, mostly stemming from the fatigue of his muscles. His body's energy stores had replenished, but the lactic acid that had built up in his muscles had not yet diminished a great amount. 'Whatever. I'll get up and stretch. That should help things...' He left the tent, exiting into the cool, fresh air of the evening. He nodded to the woman, taking note of the bloody mess she had become, then began to stretch his arms, legs, and back in an attempt to loosen up. The wear and tear of this little trip was almost surprising; the dark bruise on the right side of his chest was testament to that. Marcus took a seat near the fire, slightly massaging the purplish blue mark on his chest before moving on to the other sore muscles plaguing him. "So," he said, breaking the silence, "what would you like me to call you? I know you can't remember much from your past, but I still need to call you something other than woman." His eyes fell upon the stag he had killed earlier that day during his sentence. "And another thing, I'll need to teach a few things about skinning and preparing a kill. No offense intended, but neither you nor the product of your attempt show any sign of previous experience with the sort of thing." He chuckled a bit; it was his own fault after all. He hadn't even asked if she knew how to do it before asking her to do it. "Anyway, there's a stream nearby in that direction," Marcus informed her, nodding his head in the direction of the stream. "It should be of use to you in cleaning yourself and your clothing. I have a spare tunic if you need one though." |
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| Catatonic | Sep 11 2008, 04:24 AM Post #15 |
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For a moment, the woman had been taking in the peaceful quiet of the evening, eyes closed and silent as she listened to the forest. The rustle of the tent's flap startled her quickly out of her reverie and she glanced around but only saw her companion stretching slowly. As the woman saw that Marcus had perceived the blood that coated a large portion of her arms and clothing, she blushed looked away into the failing light. She had made quite a mess of her self during the bloody process but atleast none of the blood was her own. The outcast gazed up again as the warrior spoke, flush gone from her cheeks as she set aside her discomfort. His question set her thinking. She knew nothing of any names for one such as herself. Stating blandly so, the female followed Marcus' eyes to the cooling carcass and she raised a nonchalant eyebrow at his statement, refraining from retorting coldly. Instead, she kept her temper at bay. "I didn't wish to wake you after your hunting effort, so I did my best with what was at hand." The Wolf gave her directions to the tributary and she smiled and nodded gratefully as he offered to lend some clothing. Surely one of the man's tunics would be long enough – even on her tall frame – to act sufficiently until her stola dried. Not bothering to wait for him to get the garment, she wiped her palms on a relatively clean space on her stola and rummaged around in the pack until she found the spare. It was certainly huge enough. Standing gracefully, the woman offered another smile and headed in the direction of the stream before pausing. "The meat will need turning shortly, I think." Setting the haunch on the cooking tine and associated equipment had been simple once she had figured out what went where and the meat had been roasting for a time on the open flame. Turning back around, the woman found the brook with ease. Hardly bothering to check around, she untied her bloodied dress and stripped off. Stifling a yelp, the woman washed quickly in the cold water, scrubbing the gore from the material. It would never be quite white again, but that didn't bother her much. What did bother her was the weight of her mass of drenched hair as it floated around her body pulled by the stream's gentle current once she had released it from it's binding. Perhaps she aught to cut it off. By the time she had returned to camp – the warrior's tunic still clinging to her a little from the damp and bound by the ribbon she had salvaged from what she was wearing before – the woman had yet to come up with a name for herself, and was musing over the dilemma as she combed her fingers through her hip-length hair. Perhaps Marcus had better luck. Unfortunately, the thought was banished from her mind as the delicious scent of the cooking venison reached her and her stomach let out a particularly loud (and embarrassing) rumble. "That smells delicious." |
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---------------------------[size=0]Yell all you like[/size] --------------------------------- [size=0]I stopped listening[/size] [size=14]the night I died[/size] --------------------------------------------- | |
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8:58 AM Jul 11