Rough and Tumble [Chaos]

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The floor was cold metal, icy against his belly and paws. He awoke roughly, the swaying of the ocean a sickening constant, causing his tummy to churn as if it contained the vast expanse of the sea. Kalix rose, black pillars lifting his scarred body to a standing position, golden orbs scanning the lower decks of the sea vessel. He could have sworn he had jumped ship several days ago now... Kalix shook his head, ears flapping against his cheek, eyes shut tight. Re-engaging his vision, Kalix let out a low growl - there was another wolf present. A ghostly white female came forth from the shadows, more floating than walking. He froze staring at her now, his legs shaking from the fear of her presence more so than his motion sickness. "Etheth..." His voice came as a hoarse whisper, filled with regret and shame. "I didn't-"

"You let me die!"

Her voice echoed around the metallic chambers of the ship, rasping and full of malevolence. A rumbling shriek erupted from her jaws, eyes burning blue; pupil-less.

Kalix jumped awake suddenly, body drenched in sweat, quivering and out of breath. Moving his head side to side slowly, he tried to relieve himself of the vision of Etheth ingrained in his head. Rising he shook his fur, beads of moisture flying from his coarse pelt. A sigh rattled from his gullet, it had been three nights since he had first arrived on the continent, the nightmares still came without fail. They didn't always contain the haunting image of Etheth, her pallid form rushing at him with anger and blame. It was entirely true though - he had failed to protect her, just as Warwolf had failed to protect Lune from the greed of mortal wolves. Sometimes his dreams had images of his brother, lost and without purpose after he, Kalix, had cut down all who had been in his path. Or maybe he would dream of fighting Corman, the battle turning out differently - Kalix falling, and his brother and Etheth's pup remaining slaves to the crazed alpha.

Kalix shook his head again and gave a long stretch, bowing his chest to the ground. Regaining an upright position he padded around the cave in which he had slept, ambling towards the back where he had stashed the corpse of a fat autumn rabbit. Picking up the dead rodent he moved to the mouth of the cave, and rustled through the bushes to look out on the day. The cavern opened onto a cliff overlooking the rumbling ocean. Below he could hear the waves crashing against the cliff - at least the drop wasn't a lethal one. Kalix allowed his body to flop back to the ground, grasping the meaty hare underneath his paws he began to devour it. At least the prey on this island wasn't too unfamiliar, though he knew surviving on rabbits would not be adequate to keep him in his present condition over winter. Though, Kalix wasn't sure that he cared. Who was there to impress? Who was there to protect? To defend? To even notice? Ebony ears fell back against his skull and he snarled into the gory mess of his breakfast, crunching through bone and flesh alike. He was by no means a delicate wolf, and by the time he was finished eating his muzzle and paws were both stained red.

Nosing the remains of his food off the cliff, he moved on to jumbling the dirt where he had been eating. He didn't know what sort of predators stalked this land, and whether other wolves lived here as well. Surely he couldn't be the only one, and truly on this day he just wanted to be left alone. He sat now, his black form hunched in a seated position overlooking the sea. Truly this cave was as good as any to call home, at least for now, until he got his bearings of the area. Though this location was ideal, the cavern was set back and slightly hidden, with a lovely view to get lost in. A view that captured him quite fully, forcing his mind to moments that should have been happier. A soft breeze blew in, caressing his body: the gentle embrace of an ivory female, her pretty blue eyes gazing at him from the sea.

A growl began gurgling from the depths of his chest, emerging as a pained, snarling roar. The guilt of Etheth's death, the broken life his brother, Dravom, and the little white pup Inle would now lead, weighed down on him. It was his fault, he had ruined their lives and ended so many. Loneliness gnawed at him, slowly eating up what was left of his soul.

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[atrb=background,http://tinyurl.com/9nwvkas] Like some kind of frightening monster of the night, Chaos bounded across the expanse of the hills of Tiayr. After having spent much of his time in the southern portion of the continent, the black beast was truly beginning to call the northern lands his home. It was far cooler in the north, even more so given that the autumn had nearly given way to winter. He’d woken up just the other morning to find a light dusting of snow upon the hills. While he did enjoy a nice romp in the snow, his black pelt would soon be easy to distinguish. No more would he be as invisible as he always felt prowling his domain, even under the watchful eye of the moon. No. Quite soon, he would be an easy target. But didn’t that just make it all the more fun? His opponents could see him and wage an attack upon him. And even if they caught him off guard, he would ensure they bleed. He was no amateur to fighting by any stretch. Though most fighters would tremble at the thought of never being able to sneak up on the target. For Chaos, it was just as much fun ending the life of an unsuspecting victim as it was to engage in a fully aware opponent. So long as blood was shed, he usually didn’t care, his or otherwise. He truly was a monster. Though his stomach was contently full from the hunt with the pup a couple days back—to Chaos’ surprise, she had actually done a pretty good job—the scent of a kill was always too much for the dark brute to resist. He paused for a moment, nose lifted to sniff the air. His next meal was more north, by the cliff. As he trekked onward, he played with the possibility that someone had found Dihren’s body and was eating a little carrion. He assumed, however, by the scent of blood, that this was a rather fresh kill. That dusty brute’s body had been lying open for a week or so at this point. Chaos doubted there was any blood left in his body to lose. And his nose led him true, though it didn’t bring him to his meal. He was at the base of the expanse of cliffs that bordered the northern tip of the island. The scent of blood was adjacent to the rockface, joined by the scent of another wolf. Chaos’ golden orbs zoned in on the other beast, tail swaying gently behind him. Would he have to exercise for his meal? Oh that would make it all the better, now wouldn’t it? But as he stood observing the brute, he noted that whatever was killed was long gone. There was a small puddle of blood near the brute’s paws, but no signs of any leftovers. So he wasn’t going to share? Wasn’t that a trite rude? And who was this brute? Chaos had never seen or smelled him before. But Chaos wasn’t a particularly social creature. And males he tried to avoid at all costs, unless he was in a particularly antagonistic mood. Which he wasn’t. But the strange brute was intriguing to Chaos. Had he himself not done exactly as this other was doing? Perched at the tip of the cliff, overlooking the ocean. Of course, Chaos had gone the more dangerous route, teasing the edge of a ledge to a drop that would have ended his life should he fall. Here, he could likely jump from the cliff and swim around as soon as he landed. Not that he’d ever do such a thing. Swimming was for lesser creatures, ones born from another world. Was this brute going to jump? Maybe Chaos ought to give him a nudge. A smirk appeared on Chaos’ maw. He had time to cause a little mischief before he went on his way. Yes. This would be fun. As silently as he could, Chaos crept forward. But just before he could reach the other brute, he stepped on a branch, the crunching noise sounding far louder than it really was. Chaos winced. I thought I’d stepped over that, he thought, glaring darkly at his back foot. He must have been too excited. He wasn’t focused properly. Oh well. Now he was definitely caught. The dark brute straightened up, acting as if he hadn’t done such a foolish thing as step on a measly branch. “Why have you ventured into my lands?” he asked, not bothering to ask for a name. Of course, Tiayr was a free land ever since its pack’s leader was killed. Chaos knew not how the alpha perished, but he had heard the news from the birds. Tiayr was free. So, in his mind, it now belonged to him. And this new brute would know it before midday. words:: Eight-Hundred and Twenty-Eight muse:: Excellent~ tags:: Kalix ooc:: He is actually stable today. I'm surprised XD

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Dark amber eyes slid dangerously in the direction of the snapping twig. He turned his head slowly the fur along his shoulders and neck rising in warning. He was not to be trifled with. He lifted his cranium to look down on the approaching back brute and smirked at the beast as he questioned Kalix's presence.

"Your lands? A brute so clumsy could never own such a place." The insult was direct, as was the entire air put forth by Kalix now. He stood very erect, ears pointed forward, the fur around his neck and chest puffed out deliberately. This black wolf would not push him away from this place, he would stay as long as he would like unless... As he took in the general features of the wolf he gave a bitter laugh. The brute was large, perhaps not larger than Kalix but it didn't matter, and his eyes burned with the same crazed look he would expect of the mad-god Warwolf. "Why must you mock me so...?" The question came out quietly in a deep rumble, his eyes wide now as Kalix wondered if he was indeed meeting the incarnation of the God whose spirit he was supposed to be impregnated with.

He let out a growl, canines flashing for an instant. "Go away." He demanded suddenly, an air of daring and threat evident in his voice. He was not interested in a confrontation with the ruthless war god that had ravaged his life. Kalix wasn't even sure if he believed in gods, or whether it was worth his time to revere them, but if his life was evidence of their existence the gods were only cruel to mortal wolves. The wind curled around him again, the salty breeze bringing more recollections of the white she-wolf, this time the images were of her desecration. His ebony nose wrinkled at the thought, his gaze still fixed on the intruding black wolf.

Weary of the ledge near him, Kalix had no hesitations about tossing this brute over its edge should he advance. What was another life taken at his hands? Nothing. There had never been any repercussions in the past, and truly, what could be taken from him? His life? Oh boo hoo, as if he had anything left to live for. At any rate, a tumble off the cliff wouldn't even be detrimental, so long as this male could swim.

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[atrb=background,http://tinyurl.com/9nwvkas] It was strange for Chaos to see another black wolf on the island. He’d met one not too long ago; the femme from Xisyn. He walked away from that encounter without a name, sadly. She was...odd. Perhaps too odd, even for Chaos himself. As much as he would have loved a good romp with her, she was just too out there. He never thought he would ever be deterred from a femme. Ever. It was astonishing, really, and it ought to have made him all the more curious. But no. He had left her in Xisyn hoping to Fenris that she didn’t follow him. The crazy or clingy femmes always seemed to stalk him to the ends of the earth. So unnerving. Wait...Chaos completely lost his train of thought. He was thinking of that crazy femme. But why? Oh yes: the similarity in pelt color with her and the brute before him. Black was not a common color among the wolves he’d met on the island. Not that he’d met all that many wolves. If they belonged in a pack, Chaos steered clear of them. Which was quite odd, given his absolute love of causing discord among pack members. Hm. That needed to be remedied, didn’t it? Perhaps he would seek out the pack in the mountains to the east once he had finished up here. The brute eventually spoke up, calling Chaos out on his claim over the land. Had he been a different wolf, he probably would have taken offense to the obvious insult. But the words merely rolled off of his back, only causing a smirk to rise to his maw. “Did you figure that out all on your own, hm?” Well who else could have told him? “I am not clumsy, brute. Maybe just a little excited to meet another of my kind.” The smirk grew vicious, as if to counter the pleasant tone he was using. The last brute he’d come across had perished at his fang and claw. And now that he’d met another, his muscles were aching for a good fight. All he had to do was trigger the anger in the other brute. Just one word... It would definitely be a good fight. Chaos was just a bit smaller than the other brute, but it was clear the other had length where Chaos did not. That, of course, did not mean the odds were against the grey male. He was a scrapper when it came to fighting, inventive even. Perhaps he would drag the other brute into the surf should they tumble too close to the cliff’s edge. Unlike his battle with Dihren atop Zozyr’s Glory, the fall from this height would only get the two of them wet. And how awesome would it be to fight in the water? The burning of the salt in fresh wounds, in the eyes and mouth. The idea itself was intriguing enough to make Chaos debate shoving him off the edge just like that. But he waited, somewhat patiently, for the male to grow angry with the conversation first. A bitter laugh escaped the other male’s maw, causing Chaos to tilt his head. Had he done something mildly amusing? No, at least he didn’t believe so. The brute’s words confused Chaos further, causing the black brute to tilt his head in the other direction. “Mocking? I haven’t yet begun to do that. If you would like me to, however, I can get to it.” Before he could even begin to mock the other brute, however, he spoke up again. Go away? Perhaps he should have been angered by those words. Or confused. But no. Chaos found those words oddly funny. The black brute fell into a fit of laughter, void of any gusto. It sounded hollow, forced, cold. As if he was looking down on a pathetic creature at his feet. Which, in this case, he pretty much was. “You want me to go away, do you?” Chaos rose to his full height, puffing his chest out just a bit to make him appear even larger than he really was. “I see no reason for me to be the one to leave. You may have been here first, but so what? I go where I please, and you will not tell me what to do.” What was he even saying? Chaos hardly had any idea. But the tone he used was taunting, daring the brute to make the first move. As if to force the brute to do something, Chaos stepped closer, standing as dominantly. “Why don’t you make me go away, brute?” Perhaps today would be the day he finally lost his life. Or perhaps today he would walk away with more blood on his paws. The only determining factor would be the brute before him. words:: Eight-Hundred and Eighteen muse:: Fantastic <3 tags:: Kalix ooc:: I don't think I said this yet, but I love Kalix's name <3

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This male was irritating. His face seemed vacant of any intelligent thought - only filled with aimless jeering. Was his only purpose to disrupt the lives of others? He scoffed internally - maybe they weren't different in that remark. Truly Kalix seemed only able to cause destruction, a fact, it would seem, he would embrace in this meeting. He moved on to make threats of verbal abuse - good luck spouting anything Huxleyi hadn't already heard. His path to this place was stained with the blood of wolves who thought to best him, or cut him down with words. He had no use for words: words lied, where as actions could scream of intention.

The sun poured down over the ledge now, the weak rays barely affording any warmth, only providing a blast of light to see the gap that lay between them. And oh look! It was shortening, the opposing male stepping forward slowly. Was he cautious? Well he should be. The threshold at which Kalix would explode into violence was a low one, even the smallest actions could provoke him. Insults would bounce off of him, but a wolf acting so mighty as this irked him. The directness of his threats, however, we're refreshing. At least his intentions were clear - no doubt he aimed to just toss Kalix over the cliff. Good luck with that one, he would not be moved easily.

A low growl began to tumbled from his throat, gurgling past a wall of ivory teeth, "I suggest you wipe the dribble off your mug and leave. Your unintelligible whining bores me." He was ready now, for combat, his battle-hardened body cycling through tension and relaxation, the muscles ready to spring forwards. Huxleyi fought with ferocity, and by no rules of valor or honor. Chivalry was dead, and he would be as ruthless as needed to waste the male - or any other adversary. The promise of a fight lingered now, the anticipation tingling through his body as he increased his posture even more, ears pressed as far forward as possible; tail arched high.

This was all too familiar. He could hear the pleas of the last male - a silly grey and brown beast - who had dared provoke him. What had his issue been? Ah yes - Kalix had made a kill too close to their borders, and then refused to share. As if the small fawn could have fed them both! He'd injured that male to the point of severity before the fight was drawn to a close: a patrol party had arrived, and Kalix knew better than to take on five wolves when he was already fatigued and injured. He doubted the foolish scout had come out of it unscathed, if alive at all.

And then the sloppy brute dared him to make him leave. That was enough for the larger wolf, his claws clinging to the earth beneath them. A sickening snarl tumbled forth, his coarse fur prickling along his spine and shoulders, increasing his apparent size in conjunction with the puffing of his new opponent. He would meet a similar fate to the last wolf who stood so abruptly before him. In one swift movement he was moving forwards, the space between them shrinking. He appeared as if his straight course were set - but only a juvenile would fall for such a blatant point of attack. Kalix was not so simple-minded.

As soon as he was within a foot of striking distance he redirected his momentum sideways, and darted right, leaving the cliffs to his left. He swung sideways rapidly and made to grasp hold of the Grey Wolf's neck, shoulder or flank. He could guarantee no specificity in his attack as it was the first and this brute had ample time to react. All Huxleyi could be sure of was that he would not end up with his back towards the sea. If anyone was going to be soaked through to their miserable hide it would be the whelp he hoped to crush.

OCC: Thanks! I like his name quite a bit too. I'm not sure how this thread will end, but Kalix absolutely can't die: he's brand new. Haha!

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[atrb=background,http://tinyurl.com/9nwvkas] It was a miracle the black monster wasn’t completely bored. Conversation never truly interested him, as whatever the other party had to say was meaningless. Only his words, those filled with poison, were the ones that mattered. They were the words that got things going, whether it was the degeneration of a powerful alpha, or the action of a potential foe. Chaos could do it all. He never boasted much about his awesome ability. Conceit was such an ugly trait. Of course, being a little self-absorbed was required when one travels around on his own. It didn’t matter what befell any other creature, so long as Chaos got to see the next spring. Though the sun was blasting on the cliffs around the two brutes, the air was cool. Winter was just over the horizon. Sadly, Chaos, like the birds, would venture to the southern lands soon. He would steer clear the desert and the rocky terrain of Xisyn, but I’queyer was still a free land. Maybe he could command the silly loners that reside there? They needed some proper guidance after all. But Chaos was no leader. Power was the furthest thing from his mind at most times. He enjoyed triumph in a fight, or the thrill of a successful hunt, but to him, neither had anything to do with power. It was survival. Power was for wolves that looked down upon others. Which was why it was Chaos’ job to knock them down from that post. He hated those that looked down on others. Which, many would argue the black monster did the same. He, of course, would argue fervently. He could see the potential of others, and was even willing to work with that potential on occasion. Hadn’t he just helped a pup realize her hunting prowess? What kind of condescending wolf would do such a thing? Simple: they wouldn’t. Or, at least, Chaos wouldn’t. He usually didn’t. Other wolves were a hassle, especially if they were naïve and ignorant. They just got in the way. Like the brute before him. While it was Chaos who began this little banter, it was the brute that made him do so. Just for being in the territory. Once a land became free, it belonged to Chaos. Simple as that. When the other brute let out a low growl, Chaos simply stared, amused. Unintelligible whining? Is that what the brute believed he was doing? Chaos snorted. “Did you hit your head on the swim here, friend, or have you been solitary for too long? I am simply having a conversation with a stranger. How does that equate to unintelligible whining?” Chaos didn’t expect an answer, and his tone let that on. The opposing brute was clearly at the point of no return, unless he had incredible willpower. Chaos watched as the brute’s stance grew more and more defensive, more and more dominant. This was it. There was going to be bloodshed. A cold laugh slipped from Chaos’ maw, slowly transition to chaotic growling. “Yes,” he growled out, his stance turning defensive. “I can only hope you amuse me, friend.” The longer the pair stood facing one another, the thicker the tension grew. Chaos matched the opposing brute’s stance, letting loose a challenging snarl. He would not make the first move, though he vowed to make first blood. The pup had gotten the honor of spilling the doe’s blood. Chaos wanted to feel the brute’s pain, hear his cries of agony, as he ripped the flesh from his bones. The idea alone had Chaos’ muscles tingling, and if he wasn’t in control of himself, he would have lunged right then and there. But he didn’t have to wait long. The brute rushed forward, lunging head-on. At first, Chaos was amused. Was he really that stupid? An direct attack from the front was not only easy to avoid, but would get him nothing. No real muscle to latch onto, no good angle at the throat. His amusement fell to approval, however, as the brute darted to the right. Chaos smirked. Yes, much better. The brute was closing in quickly, but Chaos made no move to dodge. What was the point? He wanted this, to grapple with a powerful foe, to taste the blood of kin. It wasn’t until the brute was nearly upon him that Chaos made his move. He turned in a flash, jaw wide open. They would either catch one another on the face or their fangs would clash. Either way, Chaos was not letting the brute get the benefit of grabbing true flesh just yet. This was merely a game to Chaos. The one who inflicts the most pain, and ultimately death, upon the other was the victor. And Chaos be damned if he didn’t come out victorious. words:: Eight-Hundred and Eighteen muse:: Eet's alive! tags:: Kalix ooc:: And Gemmy said: Let there be blood! Cuz, you know, light is so overrated XD

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His charge was met in a clash of fangs, teeth clacking off the canines of his new opponent. At least this lumbering moron could defend correctly and in an interesting way. He'd Kalix managed to grab flesh on his first strike he would have been disappointed. Brawling with novices got old fast, perhaps this echo of himself was more professional than he had given him credit for. Adept or not, this male would meet the same fate as all the others: his corpse would decorate these cliffs like the bodies of all those that had fallen on the last continent Kalix had stalked. Maybe he was a God of Death. Maybe he was meant to travel the world and inflict pain and suffering like the monster that he had been accused of being.

The grusome image of Warwolf that had been painted for him as a pup loomed through his mind: a fed eyed demon-god that prayed on mortals, punishing them for taking away the ivory she-wolf he so loved. This vision spurred his anger, rage bubbling from inside him in a nasty snarl. He struck again, giving little to no gap between the first and second movement. He snapped his jaws forwards, this time with malicious purpose. He wasn't aiming to end the fight now, no, he was aiming for the thin skin that covered the shoulder blades. When teeth struck bone, pain was maximized and the crest of the shoulders held little muscle cover. However, if his attack did not hit this small target his teeth would meet one of many other fates.

If the ebony male made a move to retreat his teeth would snap shut and Kalix would have to act fast to avoid vulnerability. If this were the case he was prepared premptively: his shoulders were hunched forwards, large chest muscles closing over the vitals on his chest and throat. There were other options though, ones Kalix felt were more likely after his brief reading of the other male: he did not seem the type to run away. If his teeth didn't close around the blade of the shoulder bone, perhaps he would meet with he meat of the shoulder of back of the neck. This too was acceptable: ripped muscles were useless muscles.

His mind raced and he struggled to calm himself: the dream with the haunting form of Etheth weighed on him greatly. The guilt of her death, and his loss of faith in family and loyalty among kinsman had made him cold, and hateful. Hateful of ignorance, and of the weak leading in place of those worthy of respect. Since leaving Wahr, Kalix had found not wolf worthy of his respect, or loyalty, or kindness. No, they were pathetic wolves, indulging in idiocy... And love. It seemed to Kalix that in his life he would not be allowed love - the Gods had forbidden it, removing any she-wolf he would show affection for. He hated love. He hated those who were happy in love, he envied them. This jealousy made him angry and even more cold. This rage he bottled, and released in violent bursts just like this one. By channeling his hate he had truly become a master of combat.

The flash of the ghostly white face of his past love caused him to calm in his attack, and his heart rate slowed, his focus rising. All this in the split moment before he anticipated the taste of warm flesh and blood.

Words: 586
Muse: Good, I just didn't have a lot to write.

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[atrb=background,http://tinyurl.com/9nwvkas] Surprise and disappointment filtered through Chaos’ mind as fangs clashed with fangs. While he hadn’t exactly expected the brute to allow his face to be ripped open, Chaos had hoped the brute was stupid enough to falter, even for a moment. Then again, the brute didn’t strike Chaos as stupid, not by the way he’d been speaking before. But what did intelligence matter? Chaos was getting exactly what he wanted. And if this brute was able to comprehend this, perhaps the battle would not have commenced. If he knew that Chaos had purposely provoked him... But the black beast doubted his counterpart would have simply turned his back. Regardless of how the conversation had gone, Chaos had planned to get what he wanted. It just made things that much easier when the other party made the first move. Chaos was given very little time to react after the first attack when a second was launched at him. The look in the other brute’s eyes made Chaos pause, enraptured. He was furious. Blood thirsty. Perhaps, like Chaos himself, this brute was a monster, a denizen of the night seeking painful retribution. It was that moment of hesitation that gave the lead to the other brute. Chaos let out a sharp gasp as the other brute’s fangs sunk into his shoulder, though it quickly faded into maniacal laughter. He could feel the skin ripping, the blood oozing, the fang scraping against bone. It was so, so painful! But oh, it felt so good! He was alive! He was in pain! “Bite harder, you pathetic wretch!” Chaos shifted slightly to maximize the pain coursing through his shoulder. The black beast felt the pain slowly ebb away to adrenaline, the powerful drug of the fight. His laughter grew louder, more confident. Oh yes. This battle was just getting started. He allowed the other brute another very brief moment of swollen pride before throwing out a counter. Laughter gnarled maliciously, turning into the fierce snarl of a conditioned warrior. He lashed out, fangs gleaming in the sunshine, hoping to catch the brute’s face. There had been many opportunities for the other brute to release his hold, however, and Chaos wasn’t actually expecting a facial laceration. Which was why he carried right into an offensive maneuver. Even if he managed to catch hold of the face, he didn’t intend to hold for long. Just long enough to give the brute a small taste of what was to come. Chaos lunged forward, swinging his front paws out to cause the other brute to retreat. Fangs followed claws, snapping shut before coming into contact with anything, more as a provocation than an attack. But it didn’t remain that way. The black beast bolted to one side, then the other, closing in on the brute’s left. Black pelt and fangs gleamed in the sunlight, and the roar from Chaos’ jaws was a fierce battle cry. He would taste blood. words:: Five-Hundred muse:: Meh tags:: Kalix ooc:: It only took me a million years to get this post up -.- Sadly, fighting posts are really short =/ I hope I gave you enough to work with.

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Jaws locked around their mark, fangs grinding deeply into the blade of the shoulder, causing a shivering wave to run the length of his spine. What a glorious feeling! Teeth scratching bone, the grating sound one that would cause many to double over in disgust. Kalix on the other hand, marveled for a moment at how easily he had scored such a direct hit, knowing that this sort of pain was often unrivaled. The hot taste of blood in his mouth caused the adrenaline in his body to soar, blood list rising violently as a snarl erupted from his grinding maw.

He didn't get to hold for long though, after the laughter began, Kalix knew a counter attack was on the way. The black male was taken aback at the way in which his opponent goaded him for more pain, as if he really enjoyed it. It was undoubtable that this was hard truth. Kalix didn't enjoy pain directly, he believed that any pain he received was deserved and in that he felt happiness, to perhaps one day accrue so much damage that he would find salvation from the torture of his existence.

Bone did not provide a good gripping point so as the black demon, now releasing a guttural growl pulled away, Kalix's teeth slid shut with a click. He was quick to reform, but not quick enough. The first attack grazed him, shaving fur from the top of his snout, and the lashing out of paws did indeed drive him back. His new found adversary moved eradically, a tactic that wolves often did not expect - most fought with obvious direction, Kalix was guilty of this often. Turning to remain facing the wolf as he darted right, he was not truly ready for the change in direction. The attack came from the left and he felt teeth close around the soft flesh of his flank, at the lateral muscles - a terrible place to be bitten as it offered lots of muscle and fat to cling to. There was no wince at the strike, only an immediate move to remove the wolf from him.

Snarling, fangs flashing as the pale sun glanced off their yellowed surface, he dug his forepaws hard into the ground and struck out with his left hind leg at the black face attached to him now. While he knew his claws weren't particularly sharp, they were still a very uncomfortable thing to have stuck in your eye, and his kicks were anything but gentle. Violently he made to beat the wolf in the face and optic cups. This tactic lasted but a moment, about ten strikes, before he began to wriggle against the hold. This wriggling was a distraction, his thrashing built momentum until he could swing his jaws around to take a lashing bite at whatever he could catch: face, neck, chest - anything. The goal here was to cause an equal amount of damage to whatever his opponent could inflict, and perhaps convince him to release his hold.

Words:507
Muse: So-So
Notes: Fighting posts are always a bit short, but I think it's excusable. I also hope I got your intentions here right, as well as didn't make any unreasonable assumptions.