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 Posted: Wed Apr 13, 2011 9:52 pm
 Though his curiosity was burning concerning affairs with Azalea and their potential spawn, Rorret thought it best to remain close to Brotherhood territory for awhile. For one, he didn't want to invite any attention onto himself with all his late-night wanderings. For another, he knew perfectly well that seeking out Azalea now was pointless. If she was pregnant, neither of them would know so soon.
Rorret may have been raised all his life among males, but he wasn't an idiot.
But, no one in the pack need know that he knew such things. In his heart, Rorret knew that he was working for the good of his pack -- that far from being a traitor, he was slowly proving himself to be the cleverest and most essential member of the entire pack -- but they might not see it that way until his plan had come entirely to fruition. Even then, some members, lacking in a degree of finesse and big-picture thinking, may never understand. He needed to be careful in who he trusted. For the good of them all.
These thoughts weighed heavily on the young wolf's mind as he wandered aimlessly through the shadows. Xiuhitl had taught him well in the arts of concealment, and he had mastered shadow-walking as well as the rest of them. Not a magical ability by any means, but simply a form of self-awareness, a method of traveling in such a way as to keep oneself always obscured, to avoid refracted light and be seen and smelled only when he wished to be. The Brothers were the best hunters in Telk, strong, sure-footed, and always deadly.
And their prey...well, their prey was a bit smarter than that of the average wolf.
Pausing, he inclined his maw to the sky, scenting for another wolf in his midst that didn't bear the Mark of the Brotherhood. There was none that his sensitive nose could detect. And little wonder! The swamp in which the Brothers made their home was considered, by many, to be haunted, or filled with bad omens, or otherwise a place not worth visiting. Wolves tended to give the place a wide berth, though very few knew the secrets of the wolves that lived inside. Certainly, there were rumors here and there of monsters, demons of the night that slipped into packs, tore families apart and ran away with pups...but those were little more than fairytales.
A slow, cold grin spread across Rorret's lips but did not quite meet his eyes, and he lowered his head and crept forward once more through the shadows, sniffing occasionally for any whiff of live prey.
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Posted: Thu Apr 14, 2011 11:36 pm
 This was stupid.
No, this was... a measure BEYOND stupid, and Jasper paused a moment, huddling beneath an overgrowth of fern to consider that for a moment. He was alone. Near predators. In their territory.
...when had this ever been a good idea?
If he'd been in a safe place, he would have taken the moment to discuss this at great length with himself. Debate it, measure it, weigh the pros and cons and lay out a plan of action, complete with alternate paths available should something go not quite according to plan. However, this was not safe territory, and he didn't have the luxury of time to ponder.
The fox sniffed the air carefully, taking a moment to ease his head out of the sheltering fern to peer about. Perhaps he would have been more alert to danger if not for the running commentary in his head. It was destined to be his downfall, this infatuation with his own thoughts, and when the fox crept out of the fern's leaves, all he could do was freeze in terror at the sudden and very prominent scent of a predator.
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Posted: Thu Apr 14, 2011 11:45 pm
Rorret had been on the trail of the fox -- such a brightly colored thing, Rorret wondered if each section of the multi-colored creature was flavored differently -- for some time now. It wasn't his usual prey, but a wolf had to make do with what he was given.
Besides, truth be told, Rorret had never taken much joy in the hunt. When he had the opportunity, he would rely on the kills of the gammas to sustain him. It was not his place as a lowly omega, after all, to hunt for the pack. It was his duty to tend to the little ones, and to keep his eyes sharp for potential additions.
Well. There had been no little ones since Rorret and his brother's own kidnapping. But that was about to change...
In the meanwhile, however, the silvery wolf needed to do something to keep his wits sharp.
"If I were the sporting type," Rorret said, calmly, as he stepped from the shadows, apparently appearing from nothingness, "I would give you a head start."
He grinned, a toothy grin, and looked over the fox.
This was the Shadowclan's way. All prey was to be judged before consumption. Those that cowered -- that fled -- that pleaded...those craven fools were meant only for consumption. But if a beast were to look a Brother in the eye, to hold his ground, then sometimes he might be found worthy of surviving.
Only sometimes.
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Posted: Fri Apr 15, 2011 12:16 am
The only thing that Jasper had ever found reliable was his own quick wit. Running? Not an option. Sobbing hysterically? ...possibly an option, but the wolf didn't look to be the sort who would laugh and pad away in disgust. Drat.
With a decided air of non-chalance, Jasper sat, flicking his bushy tail before curling it catlike around his paws. His pink-furred head tilted as he gave the air a conspicuous sniff, and swiveled his ears towards the wolf. "The sporting type? A head start would hardly cover that."
There was, of course, always a chance the wolf would smell his initial terror. If so, well... It had been a good life, right? ...right? The fox mustered his resources, quietly settling himself by consulting the running monologue in his head, and glanced around casually."Taking a refreshing jaunt, were you? I prefer dusk for such things myself. Everything just smells so... intriguing when the sun's warmth is leaving it and the night hasn't yet taken hold."
The wolf hadn't pounced immediately. This was a hopeful sign.
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Posted: Fri Apr 15, 2011 1:13 am
Rorret's eyes lifted towards the rapidly-sinking sun. It was late afternoon, sundown still some time away. He smirked. "I'm an early-riser," he said, dryly, and it was true. The majority of his brethren were nocturnal -- many feeling pain from daylight upon sensitive eyes and flesh -- but Rorret had not yet adjusted to that lifestyle. He felt, indeed, significantly more productive when he could rise a few hours earlier than all the others.
He could kill the fox in a swipe, he thought, but he had no desire to. Not that Rorret was a bleeding-heart pacifist by any means. He simply enjoyed pursuit of a different variety, pain of another flavor. Hunting and killing was dull, when one could systematically tear something apart mentally...emotionally.
Also, it got one's paws dirty.
"So tell me, little fox. What is it that brings you to this desolate swamp? Haven't you heard the tales?" He arched a brow. "It's haunted, you know."
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Posted: Fri Apr 15, 2011 6:29 am
If Jasper had been the less confident sort, he would have admitted surprise that this little gamble was working. At all. However, he was convinced that the strength of one's power over others consisted entirely of how confident one was. So surprised? Certainly not. Of course the wolf had chosen to talk rather than immediately rend asunder.
His broad, velvety soft ears swung forward, focusing on the wolf's voice, and then flicked about, following the various sounds of the swamp with every visible indication of complete ease. Scent was a dead giveaway, and not for the first time, the wily fox mentally cursed the fact that he couldn't control his own scent, merely the thoughts and emotions which triggered them.
"An early riser? Ah, one who greets the dawn, heralding our sweet sun as it arises to warm our night-chilled fur." Flexing one slender paw, he regarded the pink fur of his forelegs with bland resignation rather than disgust. A more subtle colouring would have been his choice, in truth. This... odd blend of carnation pink, vanilla white and rich chocolate brown was a little too memorable. Ah well, nothing to be done for it.
His eyes lifted from his paw to the silvery wolf, carefully done with casual pacing, and one ear flicked with amusement. "Haunted? Oh my. Well, I'll be perfectly safe from the ghosts with such a noble wolf here to guard me from unseen attacks."
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Posted: Fri Apr 15, 2011 10:18 am
Well...not precisely.
Rorret could not hide the smirk that planted itself so firmly upon his maw. This fox, so misguided, so lost to the truth -- precisely where he should be. Were Rorret wearing his cloak, then it would not be so easy to conceal the truth. But he had not yet received it (though, in his estimation, he had earned it many times over), and the absence of cloak had planted in his heart the feeling that his recklessness was justified.
Until he wore the Mark, Rorret could do as he pleased.
And just now, what he pleased to do what play with this little fox, before he decided whether or not to eat him. "And what makes you think I would protect you?" He said, tilting his head, once more sending his mismatched eyes across the pale body of the other. "What makes you so sure I wouldn't turn you over to the ghouls?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 10:43 pm
Survival instincts didn't dull even when one was slightly above the rest of one's kind when it came to intellect, and those instincts were beginning to tingle a little more loudly than usual.
...all right, well he was mere feet from someone who could tear his throat out, but that wasn't quite why.
Jasper allowed himself to settle a bit more comfortably, showing no tensed muscles as he flicked an ear idly back at the swamp. "And what joy would there be in turning such a tender morsel over to mere ghouls? They could hardly derive the same entertainment from my company as you."
He dropped his head to nibble at an itch on his foreleg, his ears swinging forward towards Rorret. "And what sport would there be in this for you if I merely fled squealing into the night?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 11:19 pm
"Joy enough," Rorret said, and then grinned, a slow, sly look creasing his maw. "But I think I understand your intention, Mr. Fox. What do they call you?"
He glanced around, assuring that they were alone in the ever-deepening twilight. When he spoke again, his tone was low. "A game, then. You seem to be a creature of wits. Perhaps they will save you."
He rolled back to his haunches, idly scratching at his shoulder, where the tattered ribbon he wore was draped over him in loose coils. "It's called Killing Words. Are you familiar with it?"
He suspected he wouldn't be, as Rorret was fairly certain he had made it up to amuse himself in his childhood. Irrational though it was, the wolf had always yearned for someone to play with, but had never found the right partner. He had no high hopes for the fox...but if he lost, he would simply eat him, which would be just as good.
Well, almost.
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 11:56 pm
"An intriguing game name," the fox said, rising to his paws. Boldly, he padded closer before selecting a spot to sit with great deliberation. Settling, he gnawed at an itch on his mahogany-furred tail before lifting his pale pink head to regard Rorret calmly.
"Any prey animal without wits tends to be dinner rather quickly, don't you find? I always have." A smile curled along his muzzle as he flicked his ears forward, idly adjusting his stance to settle comfortably. "While Mr. Fox has a nice ring to it, I answer more readily to Jasper. So what is your Killing Words game, hmmm?"
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Posted: Tue Apr 19, 2011 1:28 am
Any prey animal, indeed. The fox had spunk, and Rorret appreciated that. "Jasper," he nodded in greeting, and added to himself, Repsaj. It had a nice sound to it, a nice mouth-feel. Sly-sounding, slippery. It was superstitious of him to assign judgment to a creature by their name's aesthetic when inverted, but he had never abandoned the practice since his infancy.
"The rules are simple enough. I begin the game by saying a word. You say another word that begins with the last sound of my word. We continue, until one or the other of us cannot think of another word." He considered this for a moment. "To be sporting, we'll do best of three. The killing happens when you lose."
His grin broadened, a flash of teeth and a glimmer of mismatched eyes. "Since you volunteered your name, we'll begin there. Jasper. Persecute."((rules description if that wasn't very clear))
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Posted: Tue Apr 19, 2011 5:54 am
Curious was the wolf's momentary pause after repeating the name the fox had given, and Jasper scrutinized the beast a bit more carefully. It was entirely possible that this was one of those gambles that could pay off in spades, provided one was... cautious. How gambling and caution meshed was something only the fox could truly comprehend, but he nodded slowly as he listened to the rules.
"What a fascinating concept for a game. It seems to be more a measure of the opponent's nerve than of their grasp of language." Jasper's muzzle crinkled in a grin as his ears swung forward, tilting to the wolf. "Does your opponent manage to keep their head long enough to come up with a proper answer, or do they permit the fear of knowing the cost of failure to cloud their thoughts? How utterly charming."
Dropping his head to his foreleg, Jasper gnawed delicately before licking his strawberry-pink fur back into place, idly licking at his short black claws before chuckling. "Cuticle."
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Posted: Tue Apr 19, 2011 11:33 am
He watched the fox, admiring his steadfastness. Perhaps it was fate that brought him here to the swamp. "Culminate," he said, with a challenging brow raise, his expression calm. He hoped -- whatever happened -- that the game was over before the brothers rose for their evening hunt. It would be a shame to lose his prey just when things were getting interesting.
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Posted: Wed Apr 20, 2011 5:43 am
"Attenuate," Jasper replied after an appropriate pause. His ears swung to focus on a rustle in the swamp before turning to focus on the wolf once again.
It was rare- to say the least- to encounter a predator with more than 'rip rend tear kill' on the mind, and while he refused to let his anxiety show, the fox did admit to a touch of relief that the first game proposed was one of wits and not one of physical prowess.
It truly would've been a pity for one foolish decision to end his life so quickly. This, however... Jasper had made it his business to survive by wits, and perhaps that was going to serve him in very good stead indeed. Provided nothing else came trotting by, that is...
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Posted: Wed Apr 20, 2011 11:40 am
Rorret laughed, his eyes shining appreciatively. "Quite a vocabulary you have, little fox." Attenuate, he thought. Indeed -- perhaps you are.
He considered for a moment. Ate. Past tense of, to eat. Which he would be doing now, were it not for this lovely distraction. "Eighty-four," he said, then, somewhat lamely. He wanted to be away from this cursed ate. It was making him hungry.
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