|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2011 2:37 pm
God. A god alpha. A beast that cared and killed, though where the line was drawn still seemed a bit foggy.
Traitors and a triumphant fight…
And then, of course, the brotherhood. Brothers. Family.
Though the words of the story had faded long before the little pup was urged to his paws, they still played on and on in his head. Like a mantra, or perhaps just a series of sounds that echoed about, stuck where they had perfect business to be, working to become Soren’s first clear, permanent memory. Everything else up until that point had been fuzzy and vague, before turning black and endless in a way that made him unwilling to pursue them any further. The fact that he still thought of the story of Danel meant it had imparted a kind of importantness, and therefore should probably be preserved to the best of the pup’s abilities.
Still. He had more pressing things to attend to, though the way he acted made it seem more like a casual outing than anything of actual importance. For whatever reason, the blue wolf thought it prudent to teach Soren something - or perhaps Soren felt he could learn something just by following the older wolf, whichever fit the situation best.. Tutelage was useful, and a good direction for the little pup, who still had little idea as to what he was supposed to be doing; he was hardly certain of when to listen versus when to follow, though at least for the moment he had an immediate goal. Keep up, follow, learn. Learn what? He looked to Arkadios, noticing the way he held himself, as though he knew things that should be imparted and made clear; he had called on Soren, and Soren had answered, which was how those sorts of things normally went.
He was still unclear as to what he should do, however, and was quiet, though not nervous; he was okay with whatever Arkadios would do to him, or for him, or with him. He probably should have felt a touch of fear for the great warmaster, and yet, he was passive as a stone.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2011 5:10 pm
 Dios glanced back at the pup following close by, wondering what had possessed him. He had never bothered with pups before. Of course, he had already gone over all of the reasons that he should do this – to improve the pack, to make certain that the omegas were not the only ones who shaped the early development of those who would become Brothers, because this pup had potential – yet, he could not help but to wonder. Why now? Was it because the god-alpha had been so long away and he knew that the pups could easily be led astray without his influence? Was he simply bored? Lonely? God forbid, was he getting old? Well, perhaps nothing that drastic, but it was still a rather sudden change in his life. But enough of that.
Soren was following him quietly. That was good. He also appeared to be patient, waiting without complaint for Dios to give him further instructions. Even better. The pup seemed inclined to obey, and from what Dio could tell, his temperament suggested he could become a good warrior. After all, it took more than brute strength and bloodlust to win a war. Patience and intelligence and keen observation skills were also necessary. Time would tell if Soren had those traits and more. The temperament and physical abilities to become a true warrior. Best start with the basics.
Arkadios glanced around and came to a stop, satisfied with the small clearing they had reached. Slabs of stone peaked out between the fallen trees and scraggly brush. Dead grass littered the area, making silent movement difficult to achieve. A few small animals were hidden nearby. It was a good place to learn whatever skill they decided on.
Dios settled on his haunches and focused on the pup before him. “Tell me, pup. What skills have you learned so far? What has Rorret taught you?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2011 6:41 pm
Though Arkadios sat, Soren remained on his paws, frozen - more to avoid the sound of crinkling grass than anything, really, which was perhaps the most bothersome sound he’d heard to date. It was nails on rock, or a pebble between the teeth, and he came to the conclusion that it was a very terrible thing that did not need to have itself perpetuated. He was still only mildly annoyed, however, and was conscious enough of Arkadios’s words that, though he hadn’t looked at the older wolf as he spoke, he still caught the question.
It was a very good question, too, one that ticked back his ears a bit and brought a cloudy thoughtfullness to his eyes. Just what had he learned thus far? Had it been anything? Conceal your scent, Rorret’s fox had said. Trust in the Brotherhood, and you will be strong… but none of those seemed to give way to any actual skills, no matter which way he tried to twist them about. To put those realizations to word was just as difficult, if not a bit harder, and so when he finally did summon a decent sentence, it was with a steady, carefully-enunciated voice that he hardly recognized as his own. He looked to Arkadios with a candid frankness.
“Skills… I have none,” he said honestly, quietly, in a way that was nearly a whisper if it weren’t quite so raspy. “I was taught how to - to conceal oneself, perhaps.”
To not die. That had been taught, too. Don’t do these things, or you would be killed.
Most of Rorret’s lessons had not been quite so geared toward actual training as it was in the learning of pack lore, stories of origin and alliance, how to be a beast of the shadows. And that was about silence, carefullness, a measure of ingenuity. It wasn’t in Soren’s nature to be as Rorret was, with his veiled comments and tricky character, so perhaps it wasn’t a surprise he’d learned next to nothing.
Though that wasn’t quite right, either. Rorret had taught Soren more than he could account for, even if it wasn’t something he could mention at the drop of a paw. That was all he could say on the matter, and briefly, he wondered if it had been enough.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2011 7:09 pm
Honesty. Good. Dios had not thought that this pup was one to bend truth, but this confirmed it. It was better this way. The twisting of words was best left to others, not warriors. That the pup had not learned very many practical skills was not entirely surprising, either. That sort of thing was often left for later, but the Warmaster was of the opinion that it was best to start early. The sooner you learn, the harder it is to forget.
“To conceal yourself?” He asked. “You have been taught to cloak yourself in the shadows?” That was usually one of the first things that any pup learned, but he wanted to be certain. It was a rudimentary skill and should not be neglected – useful for adults and sometimes the difference between life and death for pups. If the pup had learned that much, they would move on to other things.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2011 8:33 pm
Cloak. To be cloaked in the shadows… well, that seemed appropriate. And accurate enough, if he really thought about it; how often had it been that Rorret, or his handy fox, had ghosted themselves into a scene without Soren hearing, or seeing, or hardly even scenting their arrivals? Oh, it was often enough, and always with a bit of darkness and careful movement. He had yet to draw the connection between such actions and the tendancy of the Brothers to wear cloaks, though he did favor the idea in being so hidden as to become a shadow himself. It was his unconscious tendancy to melt away from a situation, to make himself less seen, if not only because he wasn’t really needed at that moment and had no other activity in mind that might urge him to move from his spot.
To the great wolf before him, he nodded, lowering himself to the ground slowly in a half-crouch. “Concealment, and silence. They are both good things,” he replied, not truly conveying a question, and yet mostly speaking to confirm the connection. "What else is there?"
Because certainly, there was more to being a wolf than just those two abstract thoughts. Other words needed to root themselves into the outline his mind had sketched up for the actions and behaviours of the other pack members, so that he might have something to go off of if only to understand them a little better.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2011 9:23 pm
Hmm…the pup seemed to be more interested in grasping the concepts before trying anything himself. That was well enough. An understanding of the act was often necessary to properly appreciate the act itself. Anyway,
“Silence. Concealment. Observation. Patience. Skill and the wisdom to use it well. All of these are necessary to becoming a useful warrior, and useful in becoming anything else.” There was more to it, of course, but he would save the in-depth explanations for later, when they were focusing on each of the practical elements.
“Show me what you know, so far. We will start there and then I will teach you more.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 2:27 pm
He had the idea now, and it stayed. It didn’t scurry away when he mulled it over in a moment of complete silence, and actually presented itself as a force that wasn’t so hard to grasp. He needed to be a warrior. That was his lot in life. In order to be a warrior, the blue one had given him a set of keys that would, eventually, unlock anything in his way to being used at full potential. Which was probably what he had to look forward to in life, and so long as it remained constant and unchanging, Soren thought having such a current pushing him along might not be so bad.
The wisdom to use it well…
The mild flux of interest as, with a sense of undeserved attention, Soren was asked to demonstrate.
How?
He looked over the field before him and thought, silence. Already a trait he unconsciously embraced, both in voice and movement. He was being quiet enough. Concealment and observation were two totally different beasts, however, and with eyes that squinted slightly, he thought of his noisy enemy - the grass. The grass was not silent. The grass did nothing to conceal him, and would only serve as a great honking annoyance if he didn’t pick his path carefully. It was important in some cranny of his brain to only move when the opportunity was at its best, to not go against the doctrines the patient blue warmaster had given him. To impress? No, not really. He didn’t want to disappoint.
Not grass. Between blades, maybe, to the rocks. He was gray, a nondescript paleness that might match the shale that jutted from the earth like broken teeth, and so far as he could gather, rocks were quiet. He was no shadowbeast, no cloaked creature of skill and meaning, and would not be one for a long time; so perhaps this would be like starting at a level as low as himself. He was not wise, and yet he could see where the wind brushed against the dead grass, moving it apart so that perhaps a tiny thing such as himself might slip through unnoticed. He didn’t have to be smart to know that much.
It would be an easy thing to move toward the rocks through there.
And so, after a period of thought that probably lasted far too long, Soren climbed to his feet. He didn’t look at the wolf behind him, squaring his shoulders and taking a tiny breath. He moved forward and felt how the sand fit between his toes, how in places the grass still reached above his head - grimaced as his back paw hit a pebble. He ducked down a bit further and remembered thinking, like cloaks…
And then, he was gone. Or at least, it certainly felt as if he was. Through tall grass and under the taller brush, over sharp stone and between the valleys they created. He felt like a ghost, and when he felt he had gone far enough, he sat; in an alcove of rock, overhung by brush, in a soft patch of dusty earth.
He wondered if he had done well.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 6:47 pm
Arkadios waited with seemingly endless patience for the pup to make his move. He watched him study his surroundings, clearly racking his brain for an answer to the question posed to him until, at last, hehe rose and tried to lose himself in the landscape.
Slow. Careful. Good. He slowly lost sight of Soren. Dio's ears flicked forward at the unnatural sound of a pebble skittering across stone. Then, there was a distinct stillness that suggested the pup had stopped, perhaps cursing his mistake. It was only due to his own skills, and because he knew what was happening, that he was able to tell that much. A lesser creature might think nothing of it, though particularly skittish prey would have run off at that first noise. Still, it was not a terrible first attempt.
The pup had good instincts, moving and thinking how he had; avoiding most of the noise-makers and using the tall grass to his advantage. Certainly, the pup had taken too long to make his plan, but he was new to this. With practice and training, Dios was certain they could break him of it. Make him faster, better.
Overall, he was pleased. Soren was no shadow warrior, but he may yet become one.
"Very well. You will need to work on being more aware of your surroundings, but you understand the basic idea of concealment. You will practice in your free time." After all, Dios had many duties keeping him busy. He would not be able to watch over the pup all of the time. If Soren waited for him before practicing every time, his progress would be very slow.
"Eventually, that awareness will become natural, and you will not have to think of it as you pursue your goal." A goal...
"Try again. There is a rabbit in the brush. Kill it."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 7:52 pm
Soren listened, and it almost hurt. From silence to the tenor of a voice that corrected him, commented on his attempts, gave him food for thought; a wealth spoken in few words, a goal given to Soren in the act of stating - not suggesting - he would practice on his own. He would. He had been told to, and so he would. What else could he do in the time he had been given? Purpose had a strange presence, but not an unwelcome one, and it felt as though a weight had been removed from his shoulders. Ah, it said, no more figuring out how to while away your life! Good.
A goal.
A goal.
He would work with what he was told, and look deeper into his surroundings. He widened his eyes, but that felt silly and ineffective; his ears twitched, and he began to hear subtleties, but that didn’t seem to complete what was expected of him. His nose lifted to the air, searching out the rabbit he had been given as a goal, tried to see it and hear it, maybe feel it if he could. Something gamey on the wind, before it turned. Brown amidst brown, close to the earth and huddling where it was nearly invisible. A rabbit, small, but still nearly half as big as the pup and already wise to the world and its whiles.
He’d have to kill it, it was his goal. Briefly, he recalled the meaning of the word - kill. But it was a darkness in his mind that could not be touched, except through mechanical excerpts told to him by his murderer-gatherer, Rorret. He could remember blood on his fur, but nothing else. Words on how Rorret took a pup and snapped the life from its body quainty suggested that he had once seen death, had seen a kill being made, but damned if he could remember it. He’d have to make his own decisions now, as the thought of asking how never once flitted across his mind.
Again, he took to the grass and the shade. He moved, and this time kept half an eye on the ground where he tread, taking deep, quiet breaths that filtered the scent of warm life through his nostrils. Kill it. Kill the warmth, make it cold. He crept slowly, nearly frozen, eyes only for the little animal that now rose on its back legs and swept dainty paws across its twitching muzzle. Don’t move, not now…
The rabbit settled, and Soren slunk forward. It rose an ear, and he paused; it blinked, and he took a step.
And then, when he felt himself close enough to his quarry, he ran his tongue over his teeth - small teeth, hardly the fangs of a killer. He didn’t care. Didn’t even notice. He waited, and calculated in his mind, how the wind is blowing in my face. I can smell it, and well…
And then, he leapt.
So did the rabbit.
Something warm filled his mouth, something soft and plush, and he felt the sting of a thick back paw smacking into his head, his eyes, but he did not let go.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 10:35 pm
Yes, he thought, observing Soren's progress. The pup has good instincts. Minding his paws, the grass, the wind, his prey. He was solely focused on his goal, but awareness of the rest of the world, while necessary for a warrior, would come later. Practice, practice. One step at a time for the pup. He was young, yet, but he would learn.
Ah. And thus he strikes. It was not a perfect kill, nor would it be a clean one - not with the rabbit squealing like that, Soren's teeth in a haunch rather than its throat or belly. Still, it was not a bad first attempt. At least he had gotten close enough not to let it escape. He had sunk fang into flesh. That was more than many first hunts could boast.
Resilient, too. No matter how the rabbit struggled, the pup did not let go. Not even as it lashed out with its powerful hind leg, the one not rendered useless by Soren's attack.
"Kill it, or let it go, pup. It will do you no good to be blinded by your prey."
What would he decide? How would he do it? He may have proven that he could catch a rabbit, but how did he think? To let it go while it was thus wounded would not only be cruel, even to so lowly a life-form as a rabbit, but it would be a waste of food. Not that he particularly cared about cruelty one way or the other, but it was unnecessary.
Regardless, the creature's leg was mangled enough now that it would probably die anyway, from blood loss or infection. There were precious few other predators in Shadowclan territory. So, would he let it go to waste? Or would he keep it? How would he decide to kill it, with his fangs already occupied?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 11:02 pm
Oh, how hard it was to receive instruction while the beast in his grasp screamed! It was a bucking thing of fright and fury, injuring itself almost more than any effort he put in with its mad thrashing and desperate attempts to fight back - it took all his strength, and a great deal more, just to hold on. Still, he could feel flesh shredding and blood beginning to pool in his cheeks, the pain of a wounded face hardly a thing to consider when all his mind was hard at work trying to figure out the best way to kill this beast. Kill it or let it go…
He didn’t want to do the latter. Coherently, he reasoned letting go would be akin to giving up, proving himself as much a waste of the warmaster’s time as he himself thought he was. What would it prove? Very little. Being merciful didn’t yet register as a thing to add to consideration, only the concept of failure and disability. He would be disabled, though, if he didn’t find something better to hold on to. Some part of the rabbit that wasn’t so close to flailing danger and sharp claws.
He didn’t have to ruminate on it any longer. The rabbit’s leg was twisted, bleeding, perhaps not so broken as it was dislocated, or its tendons torn in its attempts to get away. But he would have to move quickly, and with a precision that was difficult for one who had barely grown out of his milk fangs; he pulled on the rabbit’s leg sharply, with as much might as he could muster, and then unhinged his iron jaw.
The rabbit rolled, shrieking, and Soren heaved forward, grabbing on to the next section of living flesh that was within striking distance. Bellyfurs, yes, that would open to an array of coiling innards, but it was only with a great deal of force that he was even able to gain access to a mouthful, feeling the needlesharp pinprick of rabbit fangs in his ear as he did so. A bit of blood dribbled to the top of his head, but he didn’t notice. He was only aware of the neck now pressed against his muzzle, where the rabbit had placed it in its desperation for retaliation as it kicked Soren in the gut.
A neck. He knew about open necks.
This time, with his paws wrapped around the rabbit’s body to keep it from prolonging the fight and flopping away, Soren twisted his head and shoulders, and bit down on exposed jugular.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 11:20 pm
Oh? So that is how he wanted to do it. He had the will to follow through, and whatever he yet lacked in skill, he made up for in determination. Well, as resilient as the pup was proving to be, Dios should not have expected any different. The pup had successfully completed his first kill, though he had a few wounds to show for it.
"You may keep it," he said after the rabbit had breathed its last. It was a bit of a tradition. The pup had earned it, so he could do with it as he pleased. Keep it all for himself, or share it with others. Whatever he wanted.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 11:41 pm
It struggled, and it struggled, and it continued to struggle… until Soren came to realize that in his mouth he held a limp thing that no longer fought. It was strange, to think that he had taken a life. Strange, and yet for all the struggling, hardly an achievement that seemed momentous. Life had been there, and then it was gone.
And he was covered in blood again, a mess that might bring him scolding from a fox that had at least attempted to instill the vague notion of cleanliness on a pup who had hardly any interest for the subject. For now, he was completely given to a peculiar feeling - a tingling - a catch in his throat that he could not explain. There was an expression on his maw that twisted his lips in some strange way that he wasn’t even aware of, as with a bit of tugging he laid the rabbit out and looked at it oddly.
It was brief, but he knew it had been real. His mother’s throat had been torn in just this way, and he could almost remember what it looked like.
He was hardly very hungry, though, and looked to the warmaster with blank eyes, panting and flicking his wounded ear as he did so. He spoke, and it was with a voice somewhat stronger than before - not louder, rather, it had been replaced with something of a confidence that he hadn’t known he was lacking. “I don’t need it,” he murmured solemnly, licking a patch of fuzz from his lips.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2012 12:10 am
"Then give it to someone who does," he said, studying the changes in the pup. Yes. The kill had done something to him. Given him something. It did that for some. Often it was a benign thing, but sometimes it could get out of paw, poisoning a wolf with blood-lust.
That was not really a terrible thing in a pack such as the Shadowclan, so long as the wolf remembered where his loyalties lie and obeyed his superiors, but once in a while, a wolf would lose himself. It was a rare thing, for one to go so mad, but it happened. Dios had seen it with his own two eyes. The stump of his tail twinged as he remembered the sheer, overwhelming strength that came with such madness.
He was not afraid of it. No. He knew how to deal with it. He had before and would again, if the need arose. It would simply be a shame to lose one with as much potential as Soren was showing to something like that.
Well. It hadn't happened yet, and might never occur. He would simply keep an eye on the pup and try to guide him away from it, if need be.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2012 9:59 am
Very few names came to mind when it was suggested he give the rabbit away. Who would need it? Most of the beasts he had encountered within the pack were already stellar hunters that might not profit as much from such a relatively small kill. So…
His brother, then. His brother might need it, if he hadn’t already been taught how to rend a life from its body. He was mildly made aware of Llikmeht’s overwhelming desire to hunt and to kill, how it was like a burning desire that he inquired about as often as he possibly could when allowed to get a word in toward older wolves in conversation. It was bemusing, how Llik was almost controlled by that hunger - how he saught after it in a way almost mirroring desperation.
Soren gave a final nod, and the decision was made. He almost tenderly lifted the rabbit from its resting place, and though it was ungainly, managed to gain a grip that would let him drag it away from the training field.
He was ready for whatever else his mentor might concoct for him, not yet drawing the line between whatever strangness he had felt with the act of killing the rabbit. But it felt right, and he wanted to do it agin.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
