|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2011 8:50 pm
 Don's time with the Stormborn has thus far proven to be a good turning point in his life, having lived most of his adult life as a rogue he had no reason to involve himself with the lives of others, but has since then begun to turn a new leaf. The lions of his newly adopted pride intrigued him greatly, as they valued strength and battle prowess much like Don himself had done his entire life. And thus, he had gotten it into his head that he should probably get to know them just a little bit better. He had only gotten so far with this idea, having so far spoken to a lawspeaker of the pride and exchanged curt greetings with others. To be honest, Don just wasn't an entirely social lion. He supposed, the rest would come with time.
For now, the muscled pale golden brute made his way around the pride's territory, enjoying the hard terrain against his large paws and feeling the wind whip around his shaggy mane. The wind had gotten much more chill the higher he climbed, and he gazed at way lay ahead of him. He was nearing the cliffs it seemed, and though he had never been a territory such as this, curiosity rather than fear gripped him. What would it be like to look over the top of such structures? A loud growl rumbled and vibrated in his throat as he eagerly picked up the pace to a brisk jog.
Despite how eager Don was to battle and shed blood with his new pride brothers, the large male couldn't help but feel a bit of thrill in this new found discovery. Having grown up on the warm to agonizingly hot savannah, the pride's territory was such a confounding experience and it left him more than eager to explore.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2011 11:02 am
Claws digging deep into the hints of moist loam between the rocks, Flikhamarr bent forward into the spray of wind whipped sea spray that touched even the highest cliffs, and happily let the bitter water soak into her fur. This was home, the crags and crannies of dark stone and the stormy ocean that rocked against them like it wanted to batter them down to rubble. It never did; they stood defiant, and she perched at their top. She'd been doing this ever since her cubhood, daring gravity to take her. In other prides an adult might've frantically stepped in, but here she'd gotten mostly curious glances, to see if she'd survive. She had, and that had been enough for them.
Feeling fully saturated at last, the sting of salt a pleasant familiarity, she turned back and bounded further down the rocks, unafraid of the risk of slipping off the slick ledges to bash her head in far, far below. She could never imagine being afraid of these cliffs. She was no Reaver, no great raider who brought home the thralls and the kills. But in every pulse of her blood as she gleefully challenged nature to give its wrath, she thought she felt what they must.
A hint of pale tawny below, standing out against the stone once she spotted it through the wind. She scrambled, claws turning backwards to seek out purchase, and she managed to pull sharply to a stop on a steep edge, peering downwards. She didn't recognize the pelt, although it bore similarities to her father. She heard no roar over the sound of the surf. That was good, she had no authority to meet a challenge. But it was her duty to watch for intruders nonetheless. "Who's below?!" she called out. "Viking or intruder?" She slid a heavy rock over to her in readiness. If it was an intruder but not a challenger, she might have a go at its head for sport.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2011 7:28 am
Many on the savannah would have found the rocky cliff unpleasant against the pads of their paws, but Don enjoying the rough contact, just as he enjoying battling and battering against opponents in full on conflict. That was life for the used-to-be rogue, one he had accepted and loved. In his opinion, it the only way to truly recognize yourself as alive. An odd way of thinking when the participants are usually attempting to kill each other. Still, practicing in such things made him content, as he considered it unsavory to simply coast through life on this thing that others called 'peace'. The concept alone seemed restricting to the tawny male. If you disagreed with someone, you had the full right to beat the sense into them; that's how he saw it. And if you lost? Well, then perhaps you were wrong to begin with.
These thoughts and more ran through his mind as he stared down at the surf, a healthy distance away from the edge of the rocky overpass he standing on. It wasn't until he heard the scrambling of paws and shouting voices seconds after that the male discovered he was not alone. Magenta eyes narrowed as he twisted his head upwards, attempting to pick out just who had snuck up on on him and from where-... that couldn't be what he was seeing. A lioness clinging to the wall of a cliff, her pale coat easy enough to spot once he knew which direction to look.
The male found himself somewhat baffled as she perched there against the stone, his demeanor still somewhat distant despite this. Now focused on her completely, he did not miss the stone she managed to grab nor the fact that if it came tumbling down, it would likely strike him. To this, the large brute of a lion merely turned to fully face her and sit squarely on his haunches, keeping his ground despite being in the path of potential danger. "Reaver," he called back, correcting the common 'viking' term for his official rank. His voice thick and stern as he stared back up at her. What sort of silliness had her running down the rocks headfirst to begin with? "And you are?" He was not intentionally sounding gruff or rude, but that was how he had always been. Serious business even in play or curiosity.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2011 3:34 pm
Darn, he was Viking afterall. She'd wanted to bludgeon someone. "Freeborn," she called back, pushing the rock aside and settling down to perch on the ledge, toe pads splayed to better grip and keep her in place, one back leg hanging off into open space at an awkward angle. She had no intention of going down below to where the male was, Viking or not. Reavers were prone to fighting at the best of temperaments, and this one seemed stern, and maybe annoyed. She supposed the threat of a rock on his head would do that to any lion. If he decided to consider that a challenge to duel, she'd have to run for it. Honestly, with all the fights she'd fled from it was a surprise she was still even welcome in the pride. Not that she considered herself a coward, far from it. Just smart enough to know when she was outmatched. That was what rocks were for, to even the odds.
"Out for a walk are we? Fine weather for it." Grey, overcast and damp, and the threat of a good raining later on. "I am Flikhamarr. I serve as a sentry when there's need." She left off any mention of family history; her "father" was a thrall, and not even her real father, and her mother, while a Reaver, didn't like to have her name thrown around. Flik would have to handle life on her own merits, not hereditary status.
"I thought I knew all the Reavers, though," she added. "I suppose I overlooked you." She realized that probably sounded like an insult as soon as she said it, and mentally smacked herself. She'd meant it as a slight against her own abilities; a sentry had to be aware of these things. She'd pretty much invented the class of sentry from scratch; if she wanted to hold onto it, she'd have to do better.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2011 6:02 pm
He recognized the term, Freeborn meaning the free members of the pride. That's one thing he had been sure to learn from the start, as the Lawspeaker Skada had been kind enough to instruct him in the basic ways of the pride. The large lion's posture seemed to relax, but whether she saw it from her position on high he couldn't be sure. "A walk and a bit of exploration," he called back, though having to shout over the waves seemed annoying to the pale tawny male. Either she should come down to him, or he should make the climb up to her. To which, both options seemed perilous. His tail flicked and smacked the rock he sat upon, the only indicator of his indecision. Unlike most of the pride, he had not been born to the rocks or the cliff side, so he was not as confident in the scaling of such surfaces.
"Its likely you haven't overlooked me at all, I've recently won my way into the pride," he replied after some consideration. That had been a fun day, after challenging the Reaver Taraxa to battle he had discovered that he had been welcome amongst their ranks. A pleasant affair, for he found that the Stormborn shared many of his ideals. Keeping his mind to the present though, he rose from his haunches and approached the rock face, testing the surface with a massive paw. He had no intention of fighting her or otherwise berating the lioness for threatening him with a rock, but if they were to continue talking it would be better done not shouting over the splash of the waves and possibly having their words drown out by the surf. Still, the large male seemed indecisive about attempting the climb and merely growled out of frustration. Eventually, he may need to learn his way up and down the cold stone, but for now the lion was particularly fond of all four paws on solid ground.
"What do you do as a sentry?" he questioned, settling back onto his haunches, curiosity getting the best of him. As far as he was aware, it was the Reavers who patrolled the border of the pride, meeting challenges and chasing away those who could not win their way in. Skada had made no mention of Sentries, thus his current curiosity.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2011 7:18 pm
Ah, a newcomer. Flikhamarr didn't feel so bad now. It wasn't her attention to detail slipping afterall. "Welcome then, new warrior." she said with a wave of respect. Any Reaver that won in by combat was the same as any Reaver born in, if not more so because they'd not been trained to the life. He certainly looked like he could handle himself. But that settled the question, he wasn't any relation of hers. For the best, probably. That way lay uncomfortableness.
Noticing his frustration at the distance, and trying not to chuckle to herself as he tried to make himself heard over the surf, she slunk to a slightly lower outcropping, that was narrower but still suitable as a temporary perch. It was just within leaping distance if he decided to make a mighty swipe for her, but she thought she could dodge out of the way. She could get a better look at him from here too. He had pink eyes, odd that, and his white face made him look ghostly. She approved.
"I watch for intruders, warn them off if they're not here to challenge, alert the Reavers if they are here for it. I keep track of cubs sometimes so they don't stray, or watch for extreme weather coming in from the sea." She had a high tolerance for what she considered "extreme" though, and had never actually given a warning for it yet. "Reavers keep most of the watch of course. But I'm a good climber. I can patrol the steeper edges of the territory where others can't. Someday I hope to be given permission to go out with raiding parties and do scouting for them." Speaking of which... "Which Reaver did you challenge for your position, if I may ask?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 09, 2011 12:44 am
To his relief, the pale lioness attempted the climb down so he wouldn't have to. The large lion kept his eyes on her though, interested in studying the way her paws maneuvered on the rocks. Perhaps he could take a few tips away from this, but Don wouldn't be trying anything of the sort unless he happened upon a smaller, less steep rock face to practice on. And even then, the prospect did not appeal to him and his sense of gravity. Big and muscled as he was, somehow he doubted he'd be able to get his bulky body to move in the same way she did, as he assumed that to be the only, if not safest technique for the task.
As she stopped no more than a mighty leap away the Reaver once more focused on her eyes, having taken what he could from studying her climb down. The tawny lion remained seated as he listened to her explanation, eventually dipping his maw in approval. "Climbing seems more valuable than I had originally given it credit for", he admitted, though the lion remained somewhat stoic and distant. Still, that did not make him unfriendly. "Also, that explains almost dropping a rock on my head", he mused aloud, little hints of a smirk rather than a snarl exposing the tips of his fangs.
For the most part, Don held himself still as he sat, save for the occasional twitch of a whisker or blink of an eye. It concerned him that she may take any other movement as hostile, and that was one thing the brute wasn't wishing to display. At the moment, anyway, as he was aware that any false move by her may indeed spell danger if she lost her footing. Discipline was one of those things that came with many battle hungry conflicts, and Don had had more than his fair share of those throughout his life. But, he digressed; a question had been posed for him. "That would be the Reaver Taraxa, though I have not seen him since," indeed, he had no idea what the other male was like outside of combat, just that he had been a respectable fighter. "Were you born into the pride?" Curiosity once more dragging out the quick bursts of conversation that he could muster. It had never been his strong point.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 09, 2011 8:33 am
The male hadn't made any sudden movements towards her, and in fact was sitting down now, which was a good sign. Either he was luring her into a false sense of security or he really wasn't looking to fight. Probably the latter, as the first wasn't very Viking. He might consider it beneath his dignity to attack a non fighter anyway. Flikhamarr relaxed and adjusted her paws to get a better grip on her precarious foothold. Claws instinctively traced the stone until they found useful cracks, and then latched into them to secure her to the cliff face. Climbing like this occasionally meant some awkward contortions, but years of experience had limbered her up enough that it rarely bothered her anymore. Here was one advantage she had over the warriors... being smaller meant she put less strain on the rocks, and could maneuver into tighter corners.
"Yeah, tossing rocks is my favorite part of the job," she laughed, flicking a tiny pebble loose to tumble downwards. "That's the advantage of the high ground, I get to mess with someone and they can't do anything about it." And boy had her siblings hated when she'd learned that trick! Made her the quick least favorite, but spared her a lot of play duels.
"I know Reaver Taraxa," she nodded, trying not to smirk. Rather, she know of Taraxa. Rumors circulated, that maybe Reaver Nymphaea - who loathed him - had her last cubs by him. They certainly had born a striking resemblance... hence why she'd made them wear fur pelts to hide their colors, undoubtedly. Not that it mattered to Vikings; freeborn was freeborn, and affairs were trivial. "I was born here, yes, both my parents are here." Well, sort of. "It's a good life. I can imagine no pride that can claim as much might. "We live off other prides because, as the strongest, we have every right to. Our warriors are fearless and powerful, what every lion strives to." Okay, maybe she was a little biased, but that didn't make it any less true. "You made the right choice joining, in my opinion."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
