x. Blood Thirsty .x

[Fritz]

Date: 14 Apr, 2007 -- 26 May, 2007

Characters:
Triss, Irish Wolfhound
Fenrir, Dobermann

Summary: Triss challenges Fenrir to a duel.

[Fritz]

Triss padded her way into the nice-looking little field with an evil smirk on her face. A year in this cruel pack and she hadn't even had the smallest of physical fights with another canine. How much more pathetic could it get? But, on the bright...or shall she say good side, for nothing is ever bright under Raven's rein, the rein she craved so much of, was that she had no fresh fighting wounds and she was in her fighting prime.

She centered herself in the field. Her voice was like an ominous ghost's, very, very small and then getting louder each time the verse was repeated.

"Come little children, I'll take thee away
Into a land of enchantment
Come little children, the time's come to play
Here in my garden of magic"

A wicked smile was plastered on her wirey features as she continued, a tad louder and tge lyrics modified this time.

"Come little Fenrir, I'll take thee away
Into a land of rest
Come little Fenrir, the time's come to play
Here in my garden of torture"

She continued, quite loud now.

"Come little Fenrir, I'll take thee away!
Into a land of REST!
Come little Fenrir, the time's come to play!
Here. In. My garden of....TORTURE!"

Her orb-like eyes danced around the landscape, searching for the dog. "Come and play, Fenrir!"

[[ I know it's mostly song. xD I'm just trying to get Fenrir in there to fight and make Triss all wicked-ly.

Gotta love that Hocus Pocus, eh?]]


((let's say these events happened after the mini plot Fen is on.))

Ever since that encounter with the misfortunate ridgeback, the cowardy villian known as Fenrir was no more. Her dislike for fights and fear for scars had vanished; replaced instead by an unquenchabe thrist for blood. So grand had been this bloodlust, that she had dared to challenge the pack's tallest member-- Triss, the Irish Wolfhound.

Why was Fenrir suddenly abandoning her roots and going for a fight there was no way she would win? Had she lost her mind? No, as always, she had a plan. No matter what, individuals do not change from one day to the other, not completely at least. Some things always remain, and for Fenrir, it was her outstanding cunning and desire for power.

These two things took her this far, all the way to here; on them she had relied all her life, and never had she been let down.

She had a bloodlust, yes, but unlike most Death Stalkers, she didn't let it dominate her actions; her mind was the one in charge, always, and she knew that as long as it continued this way, there was no reason for her to lose. Wolfhounds were big and clumsy, their size proving to be a disvantage instead of an advantage in some cases. Fenrir had the advantage of speed.

A black silhuette appeared in the distance, it approached slowly, in a calm and stylized gait. She wasn't nervous, she had a plan, she trusted on it. As the shadow approached, it was soon distinguishable as a Dobermann, as Fenrir; time had passed since she had joined the pack, her teenager appearance was disappearing, and being replaced by the look of an adult. Fenrir's care-free gait stopped at a safe distance from Triss, her hazel eyes glowing with hatred.

"You called?" The Dobermann then said, her voice completelly calm and ice-cold. With that she had accepted the challenge, now she just waited for the Wolfhound to make the first move.


The wolfhound waited. The sounds of paws crept louder and louder. Before she knew it, the Doberman pregnant dog was before her, alightly out of striking range. She took note that the pregnant dog was gaining her mature stature; changed from her teen figure. The large fae sneered. She, too, had a plan. But did Fenrir? Would she lose? Or would her ears hear that satifying 'snap' of neck cracking in the tight grasp of her wolf-killing jaws. She was somewhat clumsy at times, but she saw that as her only weakness, even though it wasn't. She rarely could sense when her opponate was about to strike, unless it was completely obvious.

Her blood-stained fangs were bared, her hackles raised and her lips curled. The dried crimson on her wirey muzzle twisted them upward. She tossed her head slightly, just giving her ears a small swish. She hated this; making the first move. But she knew Fenrir, and that the Doberman would patiently wait for the other canine to move in first. Her plan was unraveling. She half-lunged, her jaws snapping around nothing but air. Anything to get this fight started, even if it ment her looking a fool.

"It's yer move, puppy." she teased evily. Did this young Doberman know her true strength? Her breed was made to chase down wolves, elk, and many other large woodland animal, and that, with the help of usually only one or two other of her size, would snap their bones...and all out of fun for the royalty. If only she could get in the position to pin the black and rust pregnant dog down, or grasp her vulnerable place, she would give a shake and 'crack'...it would be all over. The question was; could she do it?



Ok, ok, the cowardly Fenrir we all know wasn’t left so far behind. Just look at the size of that! Her mind exclaimed, as the Dobermann got a good look at the Wolfhound’s size. Ah, ok, we’re dead, we’re all dead. She then thought as the Wolfhound snapped her massive jaws in the air, ivory fangs glittering under the light of the moon. She could not help to give a step backwards, in fear, of course, but managed to maintain the same inexpressive look in her face, and it all ended looking like if she was trying to regain a lost balance or something. Fenrir was master at self control, however, and she soon managed to get this phobia of hers under control. As she fought herself mentally, the Wolfhound just teased and showed up. Hmm… her intimidation ritual kinda worked at first… as Fenrir didn’t get a good look at her size until now, but after the iron gate of self control locked any feelings in the dark room that was oblivion, it made no effect.

Defeating this Wolfhound was one crucial point of her plan of world domination. Imagine all the fame she would get, when the rumors of that she beat Triss in fang-to-fang combat spread out. Fame, domination, power. Everything that Fenrir always wanted would be hers. Still, bird in hand was better than one hundred flying, and perhaps she had been too eager to obtain what he wished, and did not take the correct amount of time to think of a completely flawless plan.

Today’s plan may have not been completely flawless, but it was a plan nonetheless. After the murder of Zinx, this Dobermann had changed; she had more strength, more confidence, less fear to get in a fight. My move? Don’t you know that if you aren’t the first to strike you will be the first one struck? She mentally spoke back to Triss’ challenge, hazel eyes narrowing. She had many things to say to this stupid wolfhound, but she limited herself to recite that one phrase she said when she was about to kill/injure somebody.

“Death salutes those that are about to die.” The Dobermann said, putting in her face a polite smirk and faking a bow. After that, without any kind of warning she bolted at near lightning speed through the dried grassland, her head dipping and her tan jaws opening as she came near Triss. Her snap, however, was fake, she made like if she was going to bite one of Triss’ forelegs but she missed on purpose and ran past her. It was just a little trick for the Wolfhound to feel attacked and run behind her.


The Wolfhound watched with great pleasure as the Doberman appeared to lose balance, sort of. Was it a loss of balance or was it -almost- falling back in fear, she didn't know. Didn't care. The task at paw did not need her trying to figure out what was gone and done for. She shifted her weight slightly. She felt she seemed a little too eager; a little to insane.

Triss listened to the Doberman's words. Oooo. Spine-chilling. Her paws had the eagerness to move in a tad of fright, but she held them back, only shaking a bit. They now sat in silence; awkward. Her eyes darted around. Was there something she didn't know about. She let out a bored sigh. Would the silence ever end? Would she get to snarl and gro--

Just then a black and rust blur sped ahead, straight at her and seemingly aiming at her forelegs. She jumped back at the last minute, pure fright paralyzing her for less that a second before she was surging ahead with great speed. At first she thought she was going to try and cut the pregnant dog off, but that would be too obvious. She kept on surging ahead thogh, until she was just beyond striking rang. She swerved skillfully, her strides lengthening. She wouldn't come up behind the Doberman...not yet.

[[ I'm not trying to god-mod, if it seems so. I was just a tad confused on what you were trying to say Fenrir wanted Triss to do...I would've made her fall for it if I did. I promise. xD ]]


A small cloud of dust was lifted as rust-colored paws braked in the ever-dry plains. So, why wasn’t the following? Why wasn’t she biting the bait? Didn’t her little brain work as it was supposed to? Or had she already discovered Fenrir’s mediocre ‘run her stamina down’ plan? Whatever the reason might have been, it was obvious Fenrir’s rushed plan wasn’t working.

Stopping dry for the sake of not wasting any more stamina, Fenrir turned to provocation. “So what?” She taunted, getting in the most defiant, dominant pose she could find after the rush. “Afraid of the Dobermann? Huh?” She said, her maw twisting into both, a smile and a threat.

((still museless >.>))


The Wolfhound slid to a stop. A chill ran up her spine, but she calmed herself. She then noticed the Doberman had already stopped. Hmm. Curious. Then the pregnant dog spoke. So what? Afraid of the Doberman? Huh?

The Wolfhound's blood began to boil. She stood up, purposely trying to tower over the Doberman while still out of striking range. Afraid? Ha! You know as well as anyone that you can't be afraid out here. Afraid...no. I'm just...-sigh-...impatient. She said, emphasizing on the word, impatient.

[[ Same here. xD ]]


"Well then, impatience will be your undoing." The Dobermann said in a surprisingly calm voice. Fenrir didn't react to Triss' attempts at intimidation. No. They were all just hollow threats. She was a couple good meters behind attack range. Without saying or doing anything else, the Dobermann just remained there. Cold hazel eyes watching her like a hawk.

The plan goes.


- Fin -