t h r o w d o w n ( adam! )

[Tain Rosdahl]

[bg=010102][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] Tain was sulking. After scaring off game for the fourth time, the hunting patrol he'd been assigned to had finally lost their patience with his utter inability to move quietly through the forest. Even in dog form, he was, apparently, intolerably loud. He was fairly sure they were nuts, pitching a minor fit over a broken stick or ten. It was the bloody forest, there were sticks. They'd had none of it though, and when they'd passed the ramshackle inn, Tain had been informed he was being put on 'time out' until they came back to collect him. All of it was giving him a bit of a complex. He couldn't be near the hunting party or he'd scare off the game, but by being separate, he couldn't do his job, the one thing it seemed he was useful for, either. It was wholly frustrating, and he had to resist the urge to kick something as he prowled up the inn's stairs, which creaked and groaned with alarming volume. In fact, the entire place looked ready to come down around his ears if he yelled loud enough. It smelled of decay and smoke, though he couldn't see any campfires or the like burning in the flat, gray light of the afternoon. It hadn't rained, but the clouds that had swallowed the sky at mid-morning had done nothing but grow darker and deeper. Much like the mood of his companions, which had visibly brightened once the suggestion was made to ditch him and get some real hunting done. Tain would have argued more if it weren't so glaringly obvious that he was the one spoiling their chances, however much being left behind like a child irked him. Now out of sight of the hunters, however, he was quickly cooling off. The second story of the inn was dark and wholly uninteresting as far as creepy abandoned buildings went, and Tain found himself irrationally disappointed. And bored, mostly bored. He poked around a bit, even found a place where someone was apparently living, or at least sleeping occasionally. After a quick investigation he left the room alone and continued down the hallway, rubbing dust from ancient paintings and mirrors. The second he regarded with a wince, taking in his rough appearance. He'd been picturing himself as he'd last seen himself back in the Gospel Complex, healthy and clean shaven. Now his cheekbones stood out sharply, as did his collarbone, and he was in dire need of a shave. Or two. He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully and turned away from the mirror, readjusting the coiled rope that was slung over one shoulder with his free hand. More spare hunting gear was attached to his Many-Pocketed Belt of Medical Things and Snacks, which hung a good two inches lower than his pants belt under the additional weight. Part medic, part pack mule. They could have at least left him food along with the gear; he was about ready to try eating his shoe at this point. He was making his way across the main room when the floor simply fell away under his feet with the shrieking of strained and breaking wood, and Tain crashed through the first floor ceiling with a veritable explosion of splintered wood and plaster. The rope caught on the board, wrenched it's way free of his shoulder with a wet snap, tangled itself tight around his left ankle, and with a jerk, he suddenly wasn't falling anymore. Coughing madly, he spun hopelessly in the air, clutching his right shoulder. His shoulder had popped back into joint when the rope snapped tight, but it burned as though on fire as he poured healing energy into it. A moment later, he opened his eyes to investigate the pieces of wood that most resembled javelins instead of splinters, if the pain was any indication. The first thing to catch the attention of his eyes was someone elses; a gray far darker than his own, and mere inches from his nose. The aching familiar reek of Fulsi suddenly registered, and his eyes widened. "Aw, hell. Um. Hello?" ----- words; 686 ooc; Smooth >.>

[adam]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][bg=d6eaf3] Ven was still sick and unfortunately that wasn’t enough of a reason for him to be allowed to spend every day by his mentor’s side, making sure all his needs were cratered for. So he’d been sent out to take over the duties of another scout who’d apparently been hassled by a Carna and was now missing a good part of his hand. Adam was torn between feeling pity for the man and being unforgivably pissed at him for tearing him away from Ven. Every step he took towards the rundown building, called up another worry. He knew that his mentor was far from helpless but that didn’t mean he could take on a Virus in his condition. So what if while Adam was away, Ven happened to get caught during a lockdown and was assaulted by a Virus? Would he die and be cursing Adam for breaking his promise and leaving him alone? Shaking his head, Adam couldn’t bear the thought. The grass’ flute music didn’t help improve his mood, it still reminded him of something to play at a funeral and it seemed like Ven would be having one of those soon if Adam didn’t get back. Sighing he wondered why the Fulsi even bothered to steal such a fragile looking building, what was it worth? Certainly not his mentor's life. On the outside such a thing would have been bull dozed down into a pile of rubble already. But it wasn’t like telling that to Damian or Star would change anything, nope, they’d listen but he knew it would be out of kindness rather than actual consideration. Territory must just be territory to them. Adam on the other hand only believe in stealing things that interested him or could be used to get something that interested him. He wasn’t above trading stolen goods. Opening the door to the Inn, Adam was greeted by a shower of plaster and what he thought might just be mold. He was too annoyed to be really that grossed out, brushing the pieces off his shoulders with a sullen pout. Adam just wanted to get back already but he tried his best to go on. Giving the main hallway a quick once over, he simply plopped down onto the floor with a sigh. Arranging himself so that he was cross-legged, with each elbow resting on a knee, Adam figured that being in the middle of the only semi-safe entrance and exit was his best bet. That way if some crazy murderer ambled through the front door, Adam would be the first to see him coming and if he wasn’t quick enough, most likely the first to die. That thought made him wince, which in turn caused him to fidget. Rocking in place, Adam’s thoughts once again wondered back to Ven, he wanted so badly to be at the blonde’s side. For some reason he’d developed a bad habit of thinking about his mentor during idle moments, especially now that the Russian was sick, now he had a real reason to worry and Adam thought it might give him a heart attack just to come home and see Ven safe. It seemed lately that the Russian got in more trouble than Adam did, or at least he didn’t come home half drowned like Ven had. Shaking his head and scrambling to his feet, Adam decided that sitting was a no go, it just made him fret even more. He had to keep himself busy somehow. Luckily for him, the answer to his problem came crashing down, inches from his widen eyes. “T-Tarrik?” He muttered in surprise before noticing the blue hair. He was pretty sure that this morning when he’d left, that his fellow Tenderfoot had much more natural colored hair. For a brief moment he figured that Tarrik had dyed it sometime while he was gone but then it clicked, the man dangling before him, he’s voice brought a peppermint taste to his mouth not a blueberry one. Wide eyes narrowed and he knew, there was a pod person before him! This thing was trying to steal his friend’s body! It had done a good job, minus the blue hair but it couldn’t fool him! Adam had to destroy it before the monster could go after Tarrik and so, hand immediately wrenching free a knife from his back pocket, Adam launched the blade up and despite the awkward angle his closeness to the man provided, he sliced through the rope holding the man aloft. His knife embedded itself on the far wall but Adam wasn’t too worried about it, he could collect the blade later and he was sure that the pod person didn’t have the years of training needed to wield the weapon anyways. “I…I w-w-won’t let you..you k-kill Tarrik, y-you vile m-monster!” Words: 803 Ooc: THIS IS BEFORE ADAM BECAME HOBP

[/blockquote][/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Tain Rosdahl]

[bg=010102][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] Before Tain got a chance to ask the Fulsi if he was high, he flung something up and suddenly, Tain wasn't attached to the ceiling anymore. Four feet and a broken coffee table later, he pushed himself to his feet with an uncharitable growl and glared daggers at the brunette, rubbing the bruise he could feel forming on the back of his head. The man looked around his age, and would have been attractive had his expression not been a strange mix of emotions Tain could only guess at. And had he called him Tarrik? It wasn't uncommon for people to assume Tain and his brother were the same person suffering a hair color crisis until they actually saw both of them together, and it looked like it had happened again. At least until he babbled out some nonsense about him stopping Tain from killing Tarrik, which drew a skeptical look from the ex-medic. "Kill him? With what, my shoelaces? I'd need a power drill and a chainsaw to get through that thick skull of his and do any real damage," he said, then put on a grave tone as he continued. "Although I am going to beat him senseless for not inviting me to his wedding, seriously." Tarrik was just asking for it, marrying who he could only presume was Dalton. Why Tarrik and Dalton would have gotten married was a mystery to him, last time he'd checked they'd both been straight. But Ari wouldn't have given one of his rings away arbitrarily, even to his oldest friend in the Menagerie. Guilt flickered over Tain’s expression as he recalled Dalton, unconscious on the floor of the Speakeasy. He didn't think the coyote shifter was going to forget that betrayal for a long time. Swallowing hard, he put on a carefully neutral expression and examined the man before him in a quick up and down glance, taking note of his body structure and muscle tone. He didn't look like much of a brawler, with his nose and knuckles in good shape, but who knew, medicine was amazing these days. He himself could heal people with a touch, and he forced himself to reserve judgment at to the man's past. While the scars on the inside of his forearms did not escape Tain's notice, he dismissed them. His brother was a walking example that those were not always self inflicted. Overall the man, while a little bizarre, didn't seem like a threat. Not that he didn't look like he could rain down ten kinds of hell should he choose -was he carrying a shovel?-, but rather Tain assumed a friend of Tarrik's would be disinclined to attack him. After all, they shared the same face. Mind made up, he held out his hand and tried to be friendly. "You can call me T." The nickname he shared with Tarrik should be easy enough for the man to remember, and he frankly wasn't sure which full name he should give if he were to give one. "You seen that bastard recently? I want to pick his brains on something." It was rather too much to hope for that Tarrik might actually be with this man, but hell, he could ask. ----- words; 538 ooc; BRAAAAINS owo

[adam]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][bg=d6eaf3] He stepped back a few steps to allow the pod person to fall, it was a rather muscled pod person after all and Adam didn’t want it falling on him. In fact he felt a bit bad for the table that the vile monster had landed on, it must have suffered quite a bit of pain but he then he saw someone, something else rather that had gone through much more. A small wolf pup, reddish brown in color with darker spots of something he didn't like to think about, was lurking in the corners of the room half buried in the shadows. Adam’s attention was drawn to it like a magnet and he missed the blue haired pod person’s words because of it, the puppy was just more important. Something about it was important! He just couldn’t recall. The memory was clouded and distorted and when he tried to bring in up from the depths of his mind, all that he could think of was screams and eyes that stared but didn’t because whatever had made them a human’s eyes had long gone away. Dead eyes, dead men that looked like fishes with their bulging eyes and puffed up faces floating in a pond of dark pink water. He cringed at the thought, it didn’t seem like his own, bringing an increasingly worse headache on and making him want to curl up into a tiny ball and cry. It wasn’t his fault, he knew those faces and he had wished them all dead. But he hadn’t done it, had he? The little canine in the corner let out a whine, drawing Adam blissfully away from his thoughts. His gaze slid from the pod person and it’s attempts to communicate, settling on the cub as he bite his lip in nervousness. Tock, that was the pup’s name he thought, rarely showed up. The wolf usually came when he was sleeping, always snuggling up to him under the cover of the darkness. It only showed up in the daylight during bad times, like when the guard had decided that knives were not only for cutting or stabbing but for much, much worse things. Tock had been there then. That meant that there was danger here, that the muscled alien was dangerous! Clenching his fists, the Fulsi Tenderfoot snapped his attention back to the monster, Tock was important yes, but he was also scary, covered in wounds that Adam didn’t want to see any longer. They were from being bad, even though Tock was too small to know why he was bad, just like Adam had been. A shiver ran down his spine, promoting him back into action. Now was not the time to think about the past. One hand darted to his back pocket, grasping the handle of another of his knives with a small grimace. He didn’t want to have to hurt this creature, even if it was a brain stealing alien that wanted to kill his friend. It still must have feelings, perhaps even a family. But as he scanned the other’s thoughts to recall what it had said when he’d been busy with Tock, his resolved strengthened. “I..I w-w-won’t call you T! And…and I.. I won’t let y-you anywhere n-n-near Tarrik! E-especially n-not so y-you can "pick" his b-brain! I’m o-on to y-you, P-pod person!” With that said, he pulled the knife free of his pocket, moving his right foot back and the left hand holding the knife to his front in a fluid motion, his right hand coming up to his scarred chest just as his master had taught him. At first Adam could remember that he’d scoffed at the fighting stance, it looked nothing like what people had done in the movies and barely seemed intimidating but he quickly learned better. He could hide behind his knife this way, always keeping it between the enemy and him, plus his right hand was prepared to take any damage aimed for his vitals. A crippled hand after all was better than being dead. Adam would know, he’d played this game far too many times in the streets and in the slammer not to. Giving himself a moment to give the man a quick once over for weapons, Adam then struck aiming low and towards the creature’s stomach. He knew it would expect something higher but he’d been raised on prison fighting and dirty tactics, shanking the man didn’t seem very bad to him.“I-I’m s-s-sorry but I’m g-going to h-have to k-kill you now, but i-it will b-be quick! Words: 717 Ooc: I rambled. x.x

[/blockquote][/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Tain Rosdahl]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://usera.ImageCave.com/Ravenz/sixingold/taintable2.jpg] That was most certainly not the reaction Tain was expecting, and he dropped the proffered hand to hook his thumb lazily in his pocket. Tarrik made the strangest friends. But Tain was not immune to diplomacy, and tried to keep the bite out of his complaint. "Why the hell not? And I am not a... podperson? What? HEY!" He pointed at the knife that the Fulsi had drawn in offense and took half a step backwards, scowling mightily at him. It wasn't as though he'd done anything to alarm the stranger, hell, he wasn't even armed. The Fulsi had called him a podperson? That was after Tarrik? Clearly, the man was somewhat insane, and Tain relaxed slightly. His brother might pick crazy people for friends, but never sociopaths, it would just take a little reasoning. Tain held up both hands and took a step back toward the brunette, expression carefully neutral. "Look, I don't know what you're on about, but just because I'm Carna now doesn't mean I want to hurt my own br-" His words cut short with a pained sound, pale eyes dropped to stare at the hilt sticking out of him. Disbelief took a momentary backseat as Tain stumbled backwards off the blade before the man would have a chance to twist it, back hitting a support beam heavily as he tripped over the broken table. And was he apologizing for the need to kill him?! "Kill me? You idiot!" he choked out, one hand pressed firmly to the newly acquired hole in his stomach. It burned white hot, numb and agonizing at the same time. it was also thoroughly enraging; he'd put up with exile, hazing, and worse to get shanked by a Fulsi!? Just when he was starting to get on the Carna's good side, too. Energy sparked in his core and flooded outward into his body, too distracted as he was to focus it anywhere, and the damage began to reverse as he regained his balance and slid around the support beam. The Fulsi was irritatingly fast, and obviously not incompetent with his weapons. Tain really, really hated knives at this point. He also rather disliked the idea of dying in the rotten, run-down inn. Would the man brag to Tarrik about killing him? That wouldn't be pretty. "I don't want to fight you," he growled, and took another quick step back, hands raised in loose fists. It was so infuriatingly counterproductive to fight a fellow Fulsi, but he couldn't just blow his cover to every offended ring member he came across, after all it was the enthusiastic hostility they showed him that had convinced Kingston and Ackerman to take him in the first place. If he was caught near Tarrik, well, it might raise suspicions, but was easily explained. If he started playing nice with other Fulsi, however, and a Carna happened upon them, it couldn't end all that well. Not that his current predicament looked like it was going to end all that well. His breath was already coming short; he'd wasted incredible amounts of energy healing himself without tempering flow of it, hell, his hair had probably grown an inch from the excess. One thing was for sure, he was not taking the offensive. If this creep wanted him dead, he'd have to damn well come after him to do it. ----- ooc; BEHOLD.... mylateness.

[grace!]