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Sir Prowls-A-Lot; Tag Whiz
Topic Started: Jun 30 2015, 08:33 PM (257 Views)
Rayquaza
Member Avatar
Weyrling
Rukbat was shining on the horizon, marking the end of a wherhandler's day. Quistly was fairly exhausted after a long day of hard work. Dinner had been had, and now she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and slip off to sleep. For all that she was a determined woman, she wasn't an endless basin of energy. In theory, no one ways. In theory. Because Quisk, source of both her love and tears that he was, was dying to do something.

Although she noticed her wher's restlessness, something that almost never lead to anything good, she forced herself to ignore it as she changed into her pajamas. She then flopped back on her bed with a relieved sigh. This was a mistake. A moment after she laid down she heard the click click of claws on cement and the creek of a door being nudged open. Quistly groaned. Quisk, what are you doing?

Be move in sleep, was his dry response. The overly tired wherhandler groaned and pulled a spare pillow over her face.

No, no you are not. Tell me it isn't anything I'll need to worry about. It was a stupid question. Of course he was, he always was.

Except maybe not.

The truth was that he just wasn't tired yet and wanted to burn off that excess energy by wandering a bit. But oh, his handler had provided such a perfect opportunity to mess with her. Quisk thought not supposed to lie, he purred. He hadn't been planning on doing anything, but it was so funny to feel his handler get all uppity. And he had an idea now! As Quistly sat up with a surge of alarm, the blue pushed his way into another handler's room, having made his way a ways down the hall be now. To the occupants he called, knock knock, meat sacks.
Whensig? Soonsig. Whatsig? Newsig!
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TheCheeseWhiz
Mother of Whers
It had been tempting to skip dinner and just curl up in her bed. Combat training was wearing Malaika down to the bone, both physically and emotionally. The physical exertion was more than she had become accustomed to over her Turns of wherlessness. The violence, even if it was fake, was enough to give her flashbacks every now and then. She always expected them, even if they were few and far between. They turned her into a quivering mess, something that none of the tailforks in the Troop needed to see. It was bad enough that Mask taunted her ruthlessly for her "weakness." But, Mask was tired; so naturally, Malaika ate just to make him wait to sleep. The bronze was most displeased, which pleased her to no end.

The brutish bronze violently shoved Malaika to the side--blaming the invisible man once more--so that he could enter their quarters first. Malaika scowled, stalking in after him and slamming the door shut. She was too tired to notice that the door did not latch properly. Mask did not care enough to bring it up. As Malaika hung her short sword on its peg by the door, the wher flopped down on his pile of fur-covered rushes and went limp immediately. A ruse; he remained vigilant long after his Puff-Puff fell asleep. Malaika gave him a brief look, something akin to fondness touching her eyes. For all that he sucked wherry-fork, Mask was hers. Having him around was better than being all alone. Not bothering to change, the woman merely kicked off her boots and dropped onto her mattress with a groan. Night, Bubbly Pie.

Is morning, halfwit. Mask angled his narrow head towards the Puff-Puff's bed, one eye slitted open and glowing blue-green in the light of the mostly-covered glow basket. He had long given up trying to bully her into letting him sleep in pitch darkness.

Pawsteps and clicking claws in the corridor outside made him tense, but he did not react as he had when he had first moved in. There was no warning growl or roar, no rushing at the door. At least, not until their door opened. In an instant, the bronze was on his feet, two Turns of bandit life having prepared him for sudden attacks. He did loosed a savage roar, bounding across the room in a few strides and leaping at Quisk with claws outstretched. OUT!

Jerked out of her sleep by the sudden, thunderous sound, Malaika cried out in confusion. She had no idea what was happening; Mask did not freely share his mind with hers. She instinctively curled up in a ball, squeezing her eyes shut and willing whatever was happening to go away.


Wherpairs:
Malaika & Mask || Grevor & Grevosk || Ara & Arask || Skeiron & Skeisk

Dragonpairs:
K'lien & Lyeloroth || T'lia & Riftith || A'lem & Axelath || G'ist & Kormoranth || Iradin & Leoth || Ashwyn & Taryth || Danera & Vaesth || Luca & Emmeth || N'ik & Ferrivoth || T'vel & Eazarth || Evesa & Seriath || K'ai & Rynith || Toray & Itnalath || Ismene & Istoth

Unbonded:
Deklan || Eana || Malakin || Tiberis || Vosamlye
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Rayquaza
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Weyrling
Well then. Quisk wouldn't say that he had been expecting a warm welcome, but this certainly wasn't what he'd expected. Then again, Quisk had never lived with bandits. The blue dashed out of the way when the bronze lunged at him. The bronze was big and brutish, yes, but Quisk was quick and clever. Both good things to have if it came to a fight. Of course, he wasn't actually looking for a fight right now.

Stop! he barked. Not want fight, stupids. Calling someone stupid probably wasn't the best way to make them warm up to you. Then again, Quisk wasn't necessarily looking for that. He just didn't want to be stuck brawling with the bronze right now. Long, boooring trouble if fight. It was true that he disliked and sometimes blatantly disregarded rules and regulations. However, he also didn't want to go through the hassle that would be caused by the two of them fighting. He wasn't an idiot. The consequences just wouldn't be worth playing along with the bronze's blind rage.

Down the hall, Quistly was painfully aware that something was going on with her wher. It didn't take her too long to figure out which room her wher had barged into, largely because Quisk called out to her when she reached a particularly promising door, nudged partly open as it was. Stop! Not come in, meatsack is angry-shiny hide. Unless want be tiny shreds. Harsh as his tone was, the bluehandler could pick up genuine concern on her wher's part. He was not going to let his handler end up at risk because he'd decided to go wandering.

Oh Faranth, what had he gotten into?
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TheCheeseWhiz
Mother of Whers
Mask was startled by the speed with which Quisk moved out of the way; his claws hit nothing but air, and then stone. The momentum of his pounce sent him sliding across the hallway, and he snapped blindly in the direction that Quisk had gone. If he hadn't ripped him to shreds, he could at least try and get a good bite out of him. There was no avoiding the collision with the wall; Mask hit it with a solid, fleshy thunk. Shaking his head, he leaped to his feet and took an offensive, splay-legged posture, his head low to protect his throat from the smaller wher.

No want fight? Then no should trespass in Mask's den. Mask did not trust this little blue one bit. He trusted no one, and that was how he survived. He curled his lip, kneading at the floor with his sharp claws. They were sore from his impact with the floor, and then the wall. He would still fight, though. Except...trouble? The bronze did not relax his posture, but he did tilt his head slightly to the side. His mind weighed the options presented to him, and he lashed his tail. Mask biggest in pack. No one punish Mask. No Rosk, no Kask, no one. Mask fight Quisk, hurt Quisk, no trouble.

Slowly, he took a step forward, looming over Quisk. He was too smart to make the first move. No, he would threaten and push and prod until the little one snapped. And then, then he would get his fight, and justify it as self-defense. There would be no punishment for that! This blue needed to be taught a lesson. He-- "Mask!" Malaika's voice shook; inside their room, she slowly uncurled her legs and rose from the bed. Something bad was happening. Mask was going to hurt someone. There was no mistaking the disgusting, violent thoughts rolling off of him.

A look of utter disdain replaced the savagery on Mask's face. He suddenly looked exasperated, as he momentarily squeezed his eyes shut. Coming! he called in the falsest sweet voice known to man and wherkind alike. Need rip little blue first!

Blue. Indigo. Malaikask. Malaika's eyes grew huge, and she grabbed her sword from its peg on her way out of the room. Mask was there, taking up almost the entire hallway, it seemed. He was a massive wall of rage and teeth and claws, and all of that was directed at a blue that seemed tiny in comparison. Just like Malaikask. There was no resemblance between the two, but Malaika found herself wanting to protect him nonetheless. Sword still in hand, but in its sheathe, Malaika edged closer, freezing when Mask whirled his head to snap at her. In the most bored of tones, she rolled her eyes and said, "Bubbly Pie, t is far too late for me to shove my foot up your fork. Go inside. Now."

Or what? Mask sneered. Puff-Puff roll eyes to Mask's death?


Wherpairs:
Malaika & Mask || Grevor & Grevosk || Ara & Arask || Skeiron & Skeisk

Dragonpairs:
K'lien & Lyeloroth || T'lia & Riftith || A'lem & Axelath || G'ist & Kormoranth || Iradin & Leoth || Ashwyn & Taryth || Danera & Vaesth || Luca & Emmeth || N'ik & Ferrivoth || T'vel & Eazarth || Evesa & Seriath || K'ai & Rynith || Toray & Itnalath || Ismene & Istoth

Unbonded:
Deklan || Eana || Malakin || Tiberis || Vosamlye
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Rayquaza
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Weyrling
If Mask stood by his plan of goading Quisk into attacking first then he was in for a disappointement. He may be a little shaffit, but he grew up in Vaioa Hold and knew the rules. If he attacked this wher for a few weak taunts it would be a big hassle that he didn't have the patience for. There was a line between toeing the line of the rules and blatantly breaking them. The question was whether or not this bronze knew it. He was talking a big talk but hadn't made any moves yet. That was good. It still didn't change the fact that he was some formally wild brute.

Logically Quisk knew that he was in danger. This wher was massive, even when compared to him, and he had been wild for a time. Everyone knew about the ferocious bandit whers. But far be it from him to give into something like fear. If someone did come of his he liked to think that it would simply be a challenge.

Mask loomed and Quisk looked him in the eye with a tense stance. Lips curled back to reveal sharp teeth. This was not the submissive behavior that the bronze likely wanted. This was a bid for dominance. Good, god, the blue praised in a condescending time. Quisk not Rosk though. Not Kask, not wild pack. Mask never fight wher like Quisk. Egotistical as it was, there was some truth to the statement. The glacial blue could be considered one of the best beasts produced by the wher program to this day. Mask may be massive, but Quisk was long, lithe, and fast in a way he could never hope to reach. Combine that with his personality and it seemed doubtful that a fight between the two would be a good thing for anyone.

Malaika's arrival meant very little to Quisk. Her great meathead of a wher didn't even listen to her! His own handler, however, was another matter entirely. Quisk, Quiskly ordered, shut up. You need to get out of there. The only outward sign of him having heard was a twitch of his stumpy tail.

Not need. Mask big but stupid, can handle.

I don't care. Tell Mask's handler that I'm coming in. There was a reason that Quistly was able to be bonded to a volatile wher such as Quisk aside from luck of the hatching draw. She was capable of handling him. The blue enjoyed pushing her buttons and getting a rise out of her, but with her present the chances of a fight should lessen dramatically. Assuming Malaika could control her bronze long enough for her to make mild amends and pull her bonded out of there, that is.

Quisk gave a growl of frustration. For all that his opponent was massive he was pretty sure that he stood a decent chance against him, but that didn't mean his handler did. His pajamas-clad, unarmed handler. Didn't she know that the bronze's handler didn't seem to have any control over him? If she did he would have listened when she told him to back off. Still, there was little stopping his human now. To Malaika and Mask he said, step back, Quisk's coming in. Might not fit past meat wall of Mask.
Whensig? Soonsig. Whatsig? Newsig!
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TheCheeseWhiz
Mother of Whers
Mask turned sharply away from his Puff-Puff, growling lowly at Quisk. He did not like the blue's posture. He did not like the blue's tone. He did not like the blue's words. Mask fight wher like Quisk, he corrected, his voice a sneer. Mask fight many little whers. Mask crush many little whers. He snorted softly, his tail weaving back and forth as he prepared to pounce once again. If the little runt wanted a battle for dominance, he would get one. It would not end well. The bronze was sure that he would not come out unscathed, but he was confident that he would come out alive. He was much smarter than most gave him credit for: it was his greatest weapon.

Mask. I. Said. No. Malaika did not put herself between her wher and Quisk. Perhaps a more heroic woman might have, but she was not that woman. She had no intentions of dying any time soon, as miserable as the world often was. Mask would not hesitate to harm her. Sacrificing herself would do nothing for Quisk. She would keep to the side, sword in hand, ready to strike if she absolutely had to. While Mask spoke to the blue, who was being positively idiotic by goading the brute, Malaika drew her sword as silently as possible. Faranth, it had been Turns since she'd used the weapon in real combat. Please don't let today be the first day.

And why not, Puff-Puff? Mask did not take his eyes off of his chosen enemy.

Because I am your handler, and I said NO.

No good reason.

That's a plenty good reason, you useless, pathetic excuse for a wher! What are you? A wild animal? Do you WANT to be killed? Because that's what's going to happen if you get in a fight.

That made Mask falter slightly. Quisk had mentioned punishments. But killed was an entirely different manner. The bronze's muzzle twitched, but his upper lip lowered slightly over his gleaming teeth. No kill Mask. Mask unkillable.

That's a lie and we both know it. Malaika groaned aloud, her eyes narrowing at Quisk. "Wonderful. Genius thinking, Smallfry. Bringing your vulnerable human into this mess. Well, it's no skin off my bones." She shrugged, stepping back into the shadow of her room's doorway. Mask did not move. He was still debating. Was this worth killed?

It's not, Malaika drawled, running her forefinger over the blade of her longsword.


Wherpairs:
Malaika & Mask || Grevor & Grevosk || Ara & Arask || Skeiron & Skeisk

Dragonpairs:
K'lien & Lyeloroth || T'lia & Riftith || A'lem & Axelath || G'ist & Kormoranth || Iradin & Leoth || Ashwyn & Taryth || Danera & Vaesth || Luca & Emmeth || N'ik & Ferrivoth || T'vel & Eazarth || Evesa & Seriath || K'ai & Rynith || Toray & Itnalath || Ismene & Istoth

Unbonded:
Deklan || Eana || Malakin || Tiberis || Vosamlye
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