Shapeshifter
Dog & Brahminy Kite
Fulsi
Delta
INVENTORY Skills Empathy, Touch
Weapons Ice Axe (x2), Hunting Knife(x2)
Items Shift Armor, Chainmail Gloves, Throat Guard, Handcuffs(x3), Stetchbook, Drawing Supplies, Indian Ink
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Post by Tarrik Rosdahl on Jun 15, 2012 0:59:13 GMT -5
MAYBE LIFE DIDN'T WANT THIS PART OF METarrik ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dalton finally, finally looked up, and the relief nearly knocked him into unconsciousness. He was alive for now, not bleeding much, if at all; the knife would have cauterized the wounds. Or maybe it was, and he couldn't tell, not with his own blood thrown across Dalton.
And then he heard it before he felt it. The sizzle of skin, like a hissing animal, and he jerked his head up, alarmed. But Dalton was where he left him. Where is Ann? he thought for one mad moment, before the pain roaring in through the seared nerves. It was immediately too much, and his vision went white, then red, then black. It felt like the was cutting his spine out, slowly, so slowly. The press of unconsciousness that smothered him was a gift when it came for long moments at a time, though it always lifted to let him whimper his way through the next cut. There was always a next cut.
Until she didn't. She was gone, he groggily realized, and forced his eyes open. Overhead, dark wings were retreating with the last fingers of sunlight, and they were left in deafening silence. The pain on his back, shoulders and upper arms hadn't abated, and might have even grown. It felt as though the skin and muscle had been flayed from his bones, and with a certain terror, he wondered if it had been. But how would they be alive, then? They would have bled out, they would have had to.
"....Dal." His voice was gravel on sandpaper, his throat dry and cracked feeling. "Sh...she's gone, for now. I think. Are you... how bad?"
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SHAPESHIFTER
COYOTE
Fulsi
BETA
INVENTORY Skills Electricity, Agility, Speed, Poison, Flux
Weapons Hatchet, Baseball bat, Switchblade, Throwing knife set (x2)
Items Throwing Knife Harness, Fur-lined Jacket
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Post by Dalton Williams on Jun 15, 2012 1:30:27 GMT -5
[bg=000101]
D A L T O N [atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] To hear Tarrik’s voice, so quiet in comparison to before, was a blessing to him; for it to be so quiet in general, though, was far from it, and he lifted his head in wary surprise at his words. Gone? Gone where? He hadn’t seen her go; his vision had been blurring and darkening and at one point he was sure he had been crying. His cheeks were still damp. Dalton sniffed a little, the chains shifting about him as he tried to sit up a bit straighter. He abandoned the effort shortly, though, as fresh pain lanced up his back like a hot poker.
The anger which had boiled within him as he watched her terrorize Tarrik by inches had died down to a feeling of numbness – not quite detachment from the situation, but something like it. Still, the sense of horror remained, making his stomach churn. He could taste the smell of burnt flesh on his tongue, and at that particular moment he was doubtful that it would ever go away.
He opened his mouth to reply, but only a small, pained noise came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again, and this time managed words, “…it hurts. I-I’m…” The man swallowed hard, trying to piece together something of a coherent sentence, though his now-swollen lip marred the words. “…not sure what..how bad. It doesn't ma-matter. Are you....?" Okay? What a ridiculous thing to ask. He switched topics quickly. "Get…” He paused once more, glancing up at the sky. Even in the dim light he could see clouds, swollen to bursting with rain, rolling in. A storm. “Free. We need to get free.” They would get out alive if it killed them.
ooc;; .-. <3
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Shapeshifter
Dog & Brahminy Kite
Fulsi
Delta
INVENTORY Skills Empathy, Touch
Weapons Ice Axe (x2), Hunting Knife(x2)
Items Shift Armor, Chainmail Gloves, Throat Guard, Handcuffs(x3), Stetchbook, Drawing Supplies, Indian Ink
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Post by Tarrik Rosdahl on Jun 15, 2012 12:30:21 GMT -5
MAYBE LIFE DIDN'T WANT THIS PART OF METarrik ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dalton was right, as always. If they stayed here, they'd be dead. Dead dead dead deaddeaddead... he squeezed his eyes shut, stuffing the thought behind a mental door. Steel, folded and folded until it's nigh unbreakable, locked and chained and barred and soldered shut. When he opened his eyes again, the undercurrent of panic was back under control.
But how to get free? He couldn't pick the locks with the state he was in, even if he had anything do do it with. Even if he could actually reach anything. Dalton was slighter than him, and upon closer inspection, the cuff on his left wrist was looser. In fact, it was damn near escapeable. Almost. "Dal? Dalton. Your left hand, if you turn it a bit...?" Dalton tried, but it wasn't working, barely. A sick idea occurred to him. "Listen to me, I need you to close your eyes and count to ten, on ten, pull as hard as you can, alright?! It's gonna hurt, I'm so sorry, just... one. Two, three..." Tarrik wrenched himself around so he legs were in front of him. They were mostly numb, heavy and lethargic, but they moved. Hot embers made the hem of his jeans smoke as he grasped both chains in weak hands, and leaned on them. "Eight, nine.. ten." And he hiked up and swung down his heel, bringing all the force he could muster down on the side of Dalton's hand.
The agony was such that he passed out as the gouges in his back split and opened, and he collapsed back to the side, unknowing if his desperate ploy had worked.
----- ooc; yes Ari, hurt him more. ._.
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SHAPESHIFTER
COYOTE
Fulsi
BETA
INVENTORY Skills Electricity, Agility, Speed, Poison, Flux
Weapons Hatchet, Baseball bat, Switchblade, Throwing knife set (x2)
Items Throwing Knife Harness, Fur-lined Jacket
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Post by Dalton Williams on Jun 15, 2012 14:07:10 GMT -5
[bg=000101]
D A L T O N [atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] He tried, tried to turn it through, but he just couldn’t. Slender though he was, the metal still dug into his wrist with the affirmation that he was caught fast. So when Tarrik began to speak again, Dalton was at first unaware of what his friend was planning on doing. But as he closed his eyes obediently and listened further, the blood drained from his face. Oh, he knew now, and yes it was going to hurt. It was necessary, though, if he was expected to try and slip the cuff, and he braced himself for the blow. Phantom pain was already making his hand tingle, as if it knew what to expect. Taking a deep breath, he started to count down with Ari, focusing on the numbers and clinging to each one as he would a life-boat. Of course, it was over much too soon.
Ten.
As Tarrik’s boot connected with his hand, he heard a sharp, distinct crack at the same time he tugged it through the handcuff with a quick jerk. A cry rose from his throat as a wave of agony hit him, and he bit his lip hard to choke on the sound, eyes opening. They landed on Tarrik, who appeared to be unconscious. Worry immediately joined the pain he was experiencing, but instinct was far stronger, driving him to act. He was free, partially. How to get out of the other cuff, though…
Peering around frantically, his gaze landed on something hanging from the tree on his right, and he frowned. What was that? Closer inspection revealed it to be a key, and he almost laughed. It had been there all along, mocking them both. And the stupid bird had just left it there! – presumably because she’d figured they never could’ve gotten it. Grimacing, he shuffled over to it on his knees, broken hand tucked against his chest, his back aching whenever he twisted ever so slightly. Finally, finally he was close enough, and reached his free hand out to hook the key on a finger. At least he still had some use of it. Shuffling back again, he brought it up to the other cuff. The difficult part, of course, would be opening it. Twice he almost dropped it as he moved it around in his hand, the pain making him pant with effort. Flexing his hand was impossible, and so he held the key pinched between two fingers as he turned it in the lock. There was a glorious click, and the cuff opened, dropping away.
Relieved, he scrambled up, but stood stooping rather than straight, the cuts on his back an ever constant reminder to be careful. Making his way over to Tarrik unsteadily, he kneeled down before him and with his good hand made short work of both cuff locks, so that his friend’s hands fell down as they were released. Once Tarrik was free as well, Dal tried to wake him, voice pleading and coaxing. “Come on, man, come on, get up, we can go…”
ooc;; x.o Sorry for the length, will be shorter next post.
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Shapeshifter
Dog & Brahminy Kite
Fulsi
Delta
INVENTORY Skills Empathy, Touch
Weapons Ice Axe (x2), Hunting Knife(x2)
Items Shift Armor, Chainmail Gloves, Throat Guard, Handcuffs(x3), Stetchbook, Drawing Supplies, Indian Ink
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Post by Tarrik Rosdahl on Jun 17, 2012 22:37:34 GMT -5
MAYBE LIFE DIDN'T WANT THIS PART OF METarrik ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His body didn't want to wake up, and Tarrik couldn't think of many reasons to disagree. But finally Dalton managed to jostle him from unconsciousness, and he awoke to a smokey dusk. It struck him as right odd that he was looking up at Dalton, until he remembered trying to axe-kick his hand to make it fit. There was no way it worked. "Hnn?" His head lolled to the left to appraise his wrist; bloody, torn, bruised, and free. Free.
"You..." He didn't have words. Or need them. In the blink of an eye he was up on four paws, forehead stuffed against Dalton's chest. His legs shook, and his plain didn't feel one of them, but force of will went a long way. For a short time he stayed like that, tucked in against him, just trying to regain feeling to his forelegs, and think of a plan other than running blindly away. As he did, the first few raindrops fell on his back, a promise of the coming storm.
The sun had been in his eyes when he woke up, so that was was East. And then needed to go Northeast, after they went downhill. They'd never be able to climb up the mountains to get over them. Down, down and then Northeast. Don't lose it, rain, storm, no stars. With a strained voice, he told Dalton this, though he was as worried for him as we was for himself, in terms of mobility. "You gotta run, somehow. Your eyes..." Dalton's eyes sucked, they both knew, and rain and night wasn't gonna help. "Bandana or something, around my neck, and hold. I'll watch forward, you listen for behind." She'd come for them, the moment she knew they were free. She might be coming already, he realized, and a stab of fear went through him. Could the storm slow her? If it could, would it come fast enough? Too many 'ifs', far too many.
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SHAPESHIFTER
COYOTE
Fulsi
BETA
INVENTORY Skills Electricity, Agility, Speed, Poison, Flux
Weapons Hatchet, Baseball bat, Switchblade, Throwing knife set (x2)
Items Throwing Knife Harness, Fur-lined Jacket
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Post by Dalton Williams on Jun 17, 2012 23:44:59 GMT -5
[bg=000101]
D A L T O N [atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] As soon as Tarrik opened his eyes, his body almost sagged with relief. He was alright – or alive, at least, and they would make it out of there in one piece. No carrion for the birds, he thought with dark humour. A whuff of breath escaped him a moment later as his friend’s massive dog form suddenly leaned against him, and Dalton shifted his arms underneath to help hold him up, though his own legs threatened to buckle, and he only made use of his good hand. A quick glance revealed to him the horrors of what Tarrik had undergone – and what was mirrored on his own back. There were innumerable cuts burnt raw, and jagged pieces of flesh hanging from where it had torn earlier. He hugged him tighter, if only for a moment, before he was forced to let go. They had to leave.
He listened to Ari’s plan, nodding along in agreeance, because of course he was right. It was suicide to try and climb over the mountains. No one sane would’ve attempted it even on a clear and cloudless day. His eyes…again, his friend was dead on. As he’d gotten older his vision had gotten worse, though he’d never told his parents. At the time, he hadn’t wanted glasses because it hadn’t seemed “cool” to him; now, he would’ve given anything to have a pair if only so he could actually see. If not for his broken hand, his shift would’ve been fully exploited.
“Bandana, yes…” Hunting around, he finally managed to produce one, and it was with some difficulty that he tied it around Ari’s neck. Once finished, he grabbed hold of it with his right hand, using it like a leash given its length. They didn’t wait long after that, Dal trotting next to Ari as they headed down; he trusted Ari’s dog’s sense of direction wholeheartedly. It wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. As it continued to grow darkly, he became essentially blind. His ears, however, were alert, and when he began to pick up a sound other than the scrape of his boots on rock and Ari’s soft footfalls, he frowned. It didn’t sound like wings, or a person. It sounded like…panting? And…
Baying. Yes, the baying of hounds. They were being tracked, and the dogs sounded close.
Voice a terrified whisper, he said, “Ari, dogs. Behind us.”
No more prompting was needed. They ran, his own feet stumbling uncertainly beside Tarrik’s sure-footed ones. The dogs, too, kept pace, though never managed to get close enough to them. He thought he felt hot breath on his leg once or twice, but that might have been the wind for all he knew. They travelled far and fast, slowing when they needed to, but panting from the exertion by the time they managed to get clear of the mountains. They’d lost the dogs a while back. Dal blinked around as the tangy scent of salt hit him like a brick. Carna. Christ, were they ever close to it. They jogged on, wary of ambush, and didn’t stop again until they reached the No-Man’s Lands. The coyote shifter’s back ached fiercely, and he was certain it had started to bleed again. “Tarrik, what…what about the Hospital?” He panted. “Bandages and…stuff.”
ooc;; ...will be shorter -next- post x'D
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Shapeshifter
Dog & Brahminy Kite
Fulsi
Delta
INVENTORY Skills Empathy, Touch
Weapons Ice Axe (x2), Hunting Knife(x2)
Items Shift Armor, Chainmail Gloves, Throat Guard, Handcuffs(x3), Stetchbook, Drawing Supplies, Indian Ink
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Post by Tarrik Rosdahl on Jun 18, 2012 0:57:17 GMT -5
MAYBE LIFE DIDN'T WANT THIS PART OF METarrik ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The pressure on his throat was a comfort, soft against the steady burn of his back, with the reminder of his presence. He had to focus on getting them away, and not the pain, or he'd crumple where he stood. Thirty more strides, he'd promise himself, then after he'd promise thirty more. The counting helped, in it's own way.
They were both stumbling and falling and tripping and bleeding, and before long it was pouring, which did little to improve their travel. Rock turned to moss turned to mud underfoot as they sank back below the treeline, and the world closed in around them. The water was cold on his back, but soothing, as the numbness of endorphins spread. At one point Dalton realized they were being chased, by dogs of all things, and the run they broke into pushed his body to the absolute limit. There was no way he could focus on where they were going and the pursuers, he was scarcely aware of Dalton at this point, and he was only a half-step to the side. But it seemed they lost them after a time, no doubt to the rain, or maybe they just made too awful looking a target. At one point his paws hit sand, and he knew he'd steered them fairly well, though too far North. Carna.
But his brother's ring showed them no interest in the storm, and they slunk through unmolested toward Dalton's target, the hospital. It seemed an eternity away, and more than once they had to stop, either for him or for Dalton. At one point they had to tie strips of his shirt around his forelegs, which were bleeding again in the rain, and another time to help Dalton through a wave of agony when he tore open one shoulder as he tripped. It was slow, grueling progress, and Tarrik barely remembered getting to the ancient hospital.
He straight up collapsed only ten feet inside one of the busted open swing doors in the old emergency bay, and Dalton had to yell at him before he'd shift and get to a dryer spot. There he remained hazy as Dalton looked around a minute -an hour?- before returning with what could only have been a Keeper drop; the supplies they so often hid in the hospital.
"Here, lemme.." His own wrists already rebound and lightly dressed, Tarrik managed to wipe the odd ointment on Dalton's back. It was numbing as well as antibacterial, to his relief. If he heard Dalton scream in pain one more time, he might well have broken down completely. still, as his fingers traced the wounds on his friend's back, he couldn't help but recognize the shapes taking form in his mind's eye.
"It's... wings, Dalton. They're wings."
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SHAPESHIFTER
COYOTE
Fulsi
BETA
INVENTORY Skills Electricity, Agility, Speed, Poison, Flux
Weapons Hatchet, Baseball bat, Switchblade, Throwing knife set (x2)
Items Throwing Knife Harness, Fur-lined Jacket
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Post by Dalton Williams on Jun 18, 2012 2:05:07 GMT -5
[bg=000101]
D A L T O N [atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] Water pooled at his feet as he knelt in front of Tarrik, the picture of solemnity. He reached up and brushed back his drenched hair, his back tingling with pleasant numbness as his friend helped to dress it. The words Tarrik spoke next, however, made him freeze. Wings? His stomach rolled. Of course they were, what else would’ve been appropriate? Her presence would follow them, then, forevermore it seemed. Bile rose in his throat at the notion, but he choked it down and waited for it to pass.
When it did, he found himself quite unable to think any more on it, and for the first time since they’d left the mountains, he allowed himself to close his eyes and relax. The threat of unconsciousness loomed not too far off in the future. He would have embraced it there and then, but instead took the time to repay the favour Ari had just done for him, cleaning his friend’s back with antiseptic and then dressing it. By the time he was finished, he found Tarrik drooping forward, already asleep.
Dalton’s mouth twitched upwards in a faint smile, and tugged him over carefully to lay Tarrik’s head on his chest as he himself curled up on the ground. He was dimly aware that he had a good view of the entrance, if anyone decided to intrude, before he passed out as well.
Time passed, minutes, hours. It was impossible to know how long. All Dalton knew was that it wasn’t enough sleep when he was rudely woken by the crash of thunder followed by the blinding luminescence of lightning. He jerked his head up at the sudden brightness, dizzy and confused, and then frowned when he noticed several shapes outside. Vaguely human forms, he reckoned, as he pushed himself up further with a grunt of pain. Maybe a patrol – he’d brought Fulsi out here before while scouting, and even in this weather it wasn’t too far of a fetch – it’d always been rain or shine. Bandits waited for no sun. If it was, they’d be saved; they’d both go home and that’d be the end of this whole misadventure. Tarrik stirred briefly, and Dal mumbled back that he was going to look outside for just a moment, that he’d seen something. Extracting himself from his friend’s grip, he got to his feet and peered out the door. Nothing – no animals, no people. No sounds except the rain and wind.
The man glanced back over at his sleeping companion, torn. He wanted nothing more than to go back and curl up to him again, but the thought of rescue ultimately outweighed his need for comfort. Besides, it would be helping Tarrik, in the longrun. Grimacing, Dalton prowled back out into the rain, blinking as it slid down his face. As least he was no longer streaked with blood. He spun on his heel, then headed off in another direction, calling out uncertainly. No answer, and yet…there again, he thought he saw something, and he turned once more, his body’s abused adrenaline starting to flare again. Caught in the rain as he was, everything was starting to blur together. Even the hospital was nothing but a mere hazy outline. Frustrated, he headed out further, desperate to find the patrol he hoped to conjure into reality from his mind. Minutes past, and as he began to realize he’d wandered a lot farther than he’d intended, that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, that he no longer recognized which direction the hospital was in, he—the hell?
Raw fear surged through him as he bumped into something decidedly solid, and he stumbled back with a startled noise. The solid-something stared at him, then held up a covered lantern, bringing its face into focus. Fear was instantly replaced by relief. “Ryan?!” Dalton croaked, then flew at him with all the energy he could muster, clinging with one hand. What followed was an exchange of short explanation, Ryan being a fellow Fulsi and scout. Two others were with him, helping Dalton once they realised who it was and just how sorry of a state he was in. Dalton waved them off a moment later. “I’m fine, fine. Tarrik – he’s with me, need to get him. At the hospital.” They exchanged glances, then all four proceeded to pick their way back towards it through the mud and water. Dalton poked his head through the door once they finally got there. “He’s just in…Tarrik?” He slipped back in through the doors, pacing around the area they’d been in and calling his friend’s names as the others shifted about uneasily.
He was called back out a few moments later, his attention being drawn to several bodies strewn on the ground, which had been hidden under the cover of the rain. “What the…” He checked, but thankfully none of them were his friend. Still, they had familiar puncture holes in them, and he pointed this out.
One of the scouts caught his arm, giving him a gentle tug. “Dalton, we have to get you back. He’s obviously not here now, and with this storm…and you hurt like this…”
Dalton tugged his arm again and cast them a filthy look. “He was with me! He’s here, he’s been with me this whole time and he was here, dammit!” His voice cracked, and tears spilled down his cheeks, mingling with the rain. Turning away, he continued to search until they could stand it no longer. In the end, he had to leave, or else they were risking the potential of him dying. The only thought that convinced him to go was the hope that another patrol had found Tarrik and that he was already back at Fulsi, safe and sound. He’s not gone, no... It was a long way back to Fulsi.
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FIN.
ooc;; ...or not. AND WITH THAT, FOLKS, THIS THREAD IS DONE <3 Now use your detective skills and figure out what happened and what we did >83
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