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 Posted: Mon Jan 17, 2011 3:13 pm
Ingmar was padding around outside of his mother's den, wrapped up in his jackal pelt and rather less than pleased. Tyr had told him how some other cub made fun of him for his jackal pelt, and Ingmar didn't want to go and get made fun of. But his mom wouldn't let him take them off.
His sister and brothers were out somewhere, and his mom was probably off somewhere arguing with someone or being grumpy. So Ingmar was left to himself, bored. He was about to try and sneak away without any one seeing his pelt when he saw his mom's mate coming toward him.
"Hi!" Ingmar started running towards him on baby legs, tumbled over, and ended up at his feet. He looked up at him.
"What are you doing?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 17, 2011 3:41 pm
 Dodonna paced the dark rocks of the pride's territory, contemplative. He was settling into the viking pride pretty well, for the most part. All his life he'd searched for other strong lions to test himself against, and here was a whole group built on the same ideals, the same "might makes right" mentality. What more, he had himself a powerful and dominating mate, very large and very pink, and his own den in the rocky cliffs.
The pretty package came with some drawbacks, however, and one of them was wobbling its way towards him now. He grumbled mentally. It figured his mate would be pregnant when he arrived, with someone else's cubs. Here he'd been looking forward to producing a few offspring of his own and training them up, but instead he had a pack of fuzzies underfoot who very clearly didn't look anything like him. He didn't know what Nymphaea was thinking with those jackal coats, it wasn't fooling anyone.
He stopped to stare down at the collapsed cub. "I was thinking... cub." The name was escaping him. "Shouldn't you be in the den?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 17, 2011 8:54 pm
"I'm Ingmar. I'm the pink one." He knew Dodonna wasn't much good at telling them apart, even if they weren't wearing their coats. Ingmar picked himself up and looked up at Dodonna.
"Mom says we're allowed out when we're wearing these stupid things, but what's the point of wearing them? We look stupid and I don't want to go and get made fun of and not know how to fight and Mom doesn't want us fighting cause our stupid jackal furs will come off and we'll look like lions and not jackals."
Ingmar pawed at his hood, and tried (again) to get it off. It was itchy and tight around his eyes. "Real Stormborn shouldn't have to hide in other thing's fur. Even the Warlord just has that pelt thing over his shoulders, he doesn't wear it like another skin. You don't wear anything like this. Mom's just being weird about it."
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Posted: Tue Jan 18, 2011 10:38 pm
Dodonna tried not to let the cub see him rolling his eyes at the comment. The pink one indeed. Even with that white pelt, it was easy to see his mother's glaring pink poking through. He remembered now, this male looked a great deal like his mother, and not so much like his biological father, aside from some vague markings. Not as blatant as his brown brother and sister.
He couldn't help but smirk at the cub's obvious discomfort in the coat. He had a valid point, for one so young. "Obey your mother and wear your fur," he said gruffly though. "She has her reasons. And if anyone makes fun of you, you learn how to fight them without the fur coming off, and you thump them hard until they stop." He made a mental note to talk to Nymphaea about that. What was she thinking, telling the cubs they couldn't fight? This obsession was clouding her reasoning.
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Posted: Wed Jan 19, 2011 6:21 pm
Ingmar drooped visibly until his little jackal furs.
"I don't know how to fight at all. There isn't any one to teach me except Mom, and she . . . won't." Suddenly he looked very shifty, and started mumbling to himself. "But we're gonna get big soon, and then they won't fit so I won't have to wear it and then I can fight like a real Reaver cause someone will teach me cause I won't look so stupid."
It didn't occur to Ingmar that his mother - who hadn't explained the furs enough for him to understand them - had an actual reason for them aside from Cause-I-Told-You-So. Nor did it occur to him that Dodonna might have an opinion about his mate's cubs and their fluffy little costumes; he assumed Dodonna was in on the jackal fur coats some how. But he would outgrow it and then he'd get to be a real reaver - like his mom, and Dodonna, and Taraxa, and Gunnar, and all of the others.
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Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2011 1:56 pm
Sighing, Dodonna studied the little cub for a long moment, weighing his options. Here was the offspring of another male, and as such he didn't have any obligational investment. What more, having his mate raising another male's cubs, in his den, didn't sit very well with him. He tolerated it on the assumption that, since Nymphaea was very strong and shunned weak partners, the male was probably strong enough that the cubs wouldn't turn out weak and completely worthless.
But to go a step beyond just tolerating, and instead actively train the cubs? He hadn't even considered it before. But this little one's eagerness and zeal were almost... likable. Very viking traits. And with Nymphaea too busy fretting and out on raiding parties to train the cubs, that left... him.
Reluctantly, Dodonna neatly knocked Ingmar over with a light touch. "Well, if you think you want to fight, let's see how you move. Try to attack me."
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Posted: Mon Jan 31, 2011 8:04 pm
Ingmar rolled himself over and tried to get back on his feet quickly. When he saw grown-up lions fighting, they usually reared up on their back paws and whacked each other with their front paws. He was pretty sure that that wouldn't work for him - if Dodonna whacked him with his front paw, Ingmar would go end over end and if Ingmar whacked Dodonna with his front paw, he might reach his knee. So instead, Ingmar dashed around to Dodonna's side and launched himself at his back, trying to cling where Dodonna wouldn't be able to get at him.
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Posted: Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:45 am
Dodonna watched the movements of the little one, noting with approval that it had taken to the idea of a fight without the slightest hesitation. It wasn't just launching at him, either, it seemed to be honestly considering tactics. He bore the brunt of tiny claws on his back with barely a flicker of his eyes, and twisted to try and watch the progress.
"The skin is thicker on the backs, for lions, to ward off bites," he instructed. "You'll want to aim for sensitive regions, like the underside of the belly, and the inside of joints like on the legs." He shifted his seated position so that one of his legs stretched out, offering a tempting target. "Also once you're older, you'll have the strength to sever tendons and break bones, both excellent ways to cripple your opponent. An enemy that can't walk is a defeated enemy. Where would you aim for on my leg if you were to strike it?"
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Posted: Sun Feb 13, 2011 3:08 pm
Ingmar figured he probably shouldn't actually dig his teeth in to Dodonna's leg, so settled for pointing.
"I'd bite it where it bends cause you said you should go after the joints so you couldn't walk away, and then it would be easier to bite out your other joints and steal your women and your herds and come back and be a glorious Reaver. Except that's my mom so I don't want to steal her cause she'd just swat me."
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Posted: Tue Feb 15, 2011 6:07 am
Dodonna snorted, amused. "She'd swat us both if you defeated me and tried to take her. She's not a thrall, you know. She's a Reaver in her own might, and may be a Captain someday. So nobody would be taking her where she didn't want to go." She beat him more often than he beat her in sparring, actually, which was important to him. He insisted his mate be a strong one. But he wasn't going to mention how often he got trounced to his stepson.
"Yes, you can bite near where it bends, but more importantly, you bite on the inside. And here." He ran a talon lightly over where the tendon attached. "Animals and lions have strings inside that connected them all together, like bones only softer. There's a major string right here that connects the leg. If you sever it, the leg is almost as crippled as if you broke the bone." He gave a pointed look. "You stopped attacking."
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Posted: Sun Feb 20, 2011 7:32 pm
Ingmar took that as an invitation, and charged for Dodonna's leg, trying to sink his sharp little fangs into the spots Dodonna had pointed out. He wasn't particularly expecting to succeed in the attack, considering Dodonna's paw was the size of his head, but it was important that he try. He had to learn if he ever wanted to be a good Reaver.
He didn't understand Tyr and his sister - they didn't seem to want to be Reavers, the mightiest of all lions (except the Warlord, but he was more like an extra special Reaver). Practicing fighting was pretty much the most important thing he figured a cub could do.
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 5:58 pm
Blinking a little at the stinging pain of tiny teeth on his leg, Dodonna craned his neck to check the technique. A little low, but tenacious, and the cub was actually breaking the skin a bit, though by no means drawing blood. That would come with size and time. But otherwise it was a decent practice attack, and strong with intent. He let his stepson go at it for awhile to make sure he'd gotten the idea of the maneuver.
He stepped away then and paced backwards to gain room. "A demonstration," he announced. "That tree there is a challenging male, and that branch is its leg, coming up to swipe at me." It was more of a shrub really, barely clinging to life on the rocky cliffside, but it was thick enough for his purpose. With a snarl, he leapt into motion and charged the tree, claws raking the ground as he ran for a little extra push. As he neared the tree, he skidded to a stop, arcing his back around and twisting his neck until he was bent double and tilting sideways. His teeth came up under the offending branch, jerked upwards and snagged the underside of it halfway down, shoving upwards and biting down. With a crunching noise it snapped and tore off the tree in splinters.
He pulled himself back to a standing position and dropped the branch. "Now you," he declared, indicating a smaller, similar shrub nearby.
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 8:37 pm
Ingmar lined himself up with the little shrub and focused on it. He ran toward it, pushing faster, and tried to double over and twist the way Dodonna had done. Unfortunately, his poor coordination caught up with him then and Ingmar doubled over and face planted in the dust.
He chanced a look at his dad, backed up, and tried again. Reavers didn't quit, and neither would he.
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 8:50 pm
Dodonna winced internally at the dramatic faceplant. He remembered plenty of those from his early days, back in his youth. He kept his face stoic and unresponsive as his stepson glanced over; he would show no sympathy, but neither would he offer ridicule for what was simply a common training mistake. The whole point of practice was to make mistakes now, to know how not to make them later.
He was pleased to see the cub going right back to try again. Maybe his mother's blood would take dominance afterall. "No mercy," he rumbled. "That tree has insulted you. Show him who you are."
He watched his stepson train for some time, before finally hustling him back into the den to nap with his siblings. As Dodonna settled down next to them on reluctant babysitting duty, he studied the hints of pink peeking out of the white coat. Well, it wasn't his, but it was daring. That was enough. He settled his head on his paws, content.
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