Many wolves looking for relaxation come to Blossom Field. A gentle breeze vibrating the blossoming flowers is quite a sight to see and it is quite a favourite for wolves to come with their mates.

A recent fire has ruined the scenery, half the field covered with soot and marked with scars of the flames. The other half is untouched, however.

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BIG.BAD.WOLF
IP: 69.58.126.118


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Draven
I'm Your Worst Nightmare Dressed as your Day Dream
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It was like nothing he had ever tasted before, the equivalent of shooting up heroin for the first time, an immediate all time high that could never be reached with any other drug. Only, this particular drug of choice could not kill him in a single blow, but rather made him feel more alive than he had ever been. All of his nerves reacted at the same time in a mixture of ecstasy and rapture, and immediately made him thirst for another sip. His pupils dilated, all of his muscles tensed, and as if that wasn’t enough, his sword unsheathed itself from its scabbard, erupting fully erect and prepared to stab it into anything it managed to get its paws around. Slowly, his nape turned to carry his cranium and his throbbing pools of crimson until they focused upon the rainbow, but it seemed that as soon as the multi skewed vibrant wolf came into his visage, she was ripped from it as something collided with him bluntly. The world around him tumbled, a blur of sharply defined images that nearly made him sick from the whiplash. And when all was said and done, he found himself on his back, staring up at the darkening sky. For a second, he paused, happy if only because he had finally found the one thing his body had been craving for all these long months now, but in the next second, greed and lust took over, and pushed him to live, to survive… no... to thrive. Although other carnivores would still suffice in terms of feeding Draven, it would never be enough anymore. Only would he feel true satiety if he fed upon another these magnificent creatures. Which begged the question - how many of them were there? Were they all hiding within Dierne Hrof, the home of the Tempests?

It was as if he was slowed motion though, or at least everything appeared to be in slow motion. But as he rolled to his paws, he saw in sharp, heightened detail the approach of the Tempest as she barreled at him, her jowls open wise with exposed fangs ready to spill his blood. But it was no longer just his blood, for he had ingested that of the rainbow, and Draven would not stand for a drop of her blood to be wasted to the earth. She lunged at him, low and straight, and Draven could only assume that she was aiming for one of his limbs. He waited until the last moment, and then leapt over her, but even still she grazed at his left hind haunch, her teeth grating across his flesh in a long scrape. His claws skidded sharply on the loose soil as his paws scrambled to get traction, but even still in that turn he was near enough to Adara to try to aim a blow to her abdomen. Again, it was like he was seeing everything that a tenth of its normal time and his bite was aimed in between her strides. It was when her haunches were stretched to their extreme limits of flexion, when her abdomen was the most taut that he tried to strike. Had she been relaxed, a strike may have been less damaging to her belly - the muscles would’ve been fat and happy, providing a thicker barrier, but instead they were thin and elongated. Where his teeth to land, they would pierce through the three muscle bodies with ease, especially given how long his canines were due to his thirst. And were that to be the case, it would not just be her muscles that would be damaged, no, for he had leapt to her right side, and a bite there would likely end up piercing into her spleen, a most unfortunate target considering the amount of blood that pumped through it every second. And then of course, there were her intestines and damage to them, while not immediately fatal, would lead to a septic peritonitis, a slow and painful way to die for sure… If she did not bleed out before then.

Whether or not his first attack landed a blow, he would not dance away, not yet, but rather he would choose to use his proximity to the shewolf to his advantage. He was not a fighter - that much could be stated about Draven. But in the same breath, it could be claimed that there was a very short list of things that he was actually bad at. An expert of nothing, but a proficient in all. Perhaps some wolves would feel that made them unaccomplished in their own right, but it worked just great for Draven… he was a long and lean wolf, not fully muscular like the Tempests … So while his strikes could not ever be as powerful as theirs, it was his speed and his precision that made his fighting style lethal. In the end, a fatal blow was still fatal, no matter how much strength went beyond it, and Draven knew enough about the body to know where its weak points were, especially those that were easily accessible… Such as the stomach. And now, given his proximity, he aimed for another. Releasing the grip of his tightened jowls, whether they held abdominal contents in them or not, he would simply turn his head to the right, his maw agape before clamping down again, not with a powerful hold, but in a tearing motion as he sought to rip apart the delicate fabric of the inside of her back leg. In most places on the body, the vessels that pumped the life blood, the arteries, were well protected especially compared to the veins which merely carried it at a steady pace. But there, the muscle protecting those vessels were thin, thus marking it as a weak point in the body. Draven‘s goal was to grip down on that, either puncturing the vessels or merely encapsulating them in his teeth like prison bars, and then in the next step he aimed to tear back. See, it did not matter his teeth initially hit their goal or not, for if he managed to hit his goal at all, by tearing away instead of nearly gripping, he would shred them. Attacks like this would be nearly impossible to use successfully in a war setting, when there would be multiple attackers and offenders for each side of the battlefield, but in this instance it would work out perfectly… If he hit. Again, whether or not he met his mark, he would continue his plan. Dancing away on light paws, he would keep his eyes on his target, ready to try to evade whatever was going to happen next.

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Ω Draven Ω Untamed Vampire Ω Crith Thalmhainn Ω Azura Ω







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