[ P ] The Harder They Fall

The scenery was picturesque: freshly fallen snow decorated the trees, the old cobblestone road all dressed in white. The ancient path connected two small Highlander villages. But the pristine presentation was marred by a black figure, visible even from a distance, and the metallic scent of life’s blood wafted through the cold air.

Rue stood over the carcass of a fallen buck, ruby eyes blazing like a demon. Crimson stained her muzzle, but it was not the blood of the deer that rested ingloriously on the frozen ground beneath her hulking form, lifeless between massive black paws. A trail of red splashes indicated where the deer’s real hunter had fled. Theft had been her trade for years now, ever since she had first found herself alone in the world. Her size had been a blessing then, for even as a yearling, she was capable of taking down grown men, taking what was theirs. Sometimes this was coin, but mostly it was food. She had managed to survive as a child, but as a full grown adult? She had been nearly unstoppable.

But then came the war – a conflict that she had no stake in. The war had left her, like so many others, shattered and torn, both physically and mentally. Her facade was littered by jagged pink scars, battle wounds bestowed upon her by Imperial soldiers. They had been too numerous to count, fighters on both sides thrown into the fray. And Rue had made an impression on the battlefield. Some wondered if she truly was a monster, from her disturbing countenance to her reckless ferocity. Rue had taken down a number of soldiers, including a familiar male who failed to rise again.

The hunter’s hunter stood as still as a statue on the path until… a noise, barely perceptible. A single ear swiveled in the direction of the sound. The beast’s head lowered as twin red flames narrowed, dark lips curling back in a deep snarl. If someone was going to take her prize, they were going to have to fight her for it.



@Raiden

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Short huff fled her lips as focus scanned over the path before her, a trail chased now shrouded by a blanket of fresh snow. It would take a bit of time to locate her mark now that the storm had passed but she would find him. That scent was unmistakable, one described in detail by a woman scorned and Raiden was hardly one to let down a fiery damsel fueled by a quest for vengeance. Imaginary blade spun between her fingers as paces carried her over the crisp earth. Each step offering a silent crunch, however, something rather enticing soon filled her lungs.

The overwhelming perfume of blood.

A scent so alluring as it drifted against that winter’s breeze, ichor so fresh that it’s crimson trail would no doubt soak the very grounds to tint this frigid blanket in crimson. And yet… it was surprisingly difficult to discern just what manner of beast may lay dying against the snow. So entangled were aromas of both hunter and prey. Death’s dance one each may have endured, though no matter which nature had truly claimed it was still worth checking out. A fallen body to report on, to check for any trace of valuables to pawn at the guild. Or perhaps the tenderness of flesh to feast upon even if its killer stood guard - they had to be injured, an easy mark.

In the end it mattered not for either would provide a form of sustenance the spiced femme so craved. This was a path eagerly traced yet blind was she to the faintest trace of familiarity which twisted against all else. An underlying tell of self each carried against their skin a mere whispered compared to all else which twisted upon the wind. Not that immediate recognition would come from a fleeting embrace. So many faces had been passed by in her time, many she hardly expected to see again even if the intermixed concoction upon their skin would always carry a brief remembrance. A unique blend.

However, even as she broke the tree line in fading caution, ready to put on an act; the shadowed beast so marred did not spark immediate recognition. Though it did not stop the honeyed drip of her tongue as she faced the snarling behemoth, “Easy now darling.” A name which so often graced her tongue, “I won’t take it from you.” Not all of it anyways for when it came to possession even a passing glance it was obvious that particular commodity was in short supply. While a quick meal lay in abundance. All she needed was a portion of it. Carve away a piece if she could weasel her way close enough. Make this titan watch one paw and not the other… at least that was the plan. One which may come to a swift half should true recognition settle over that marred visage and the threat of fangs standing before her.

Rue was prepared for a fight – no, not prepared – she was eager for a brawl, and her body tensed in preparation to strike. But then a feminine form emerged from the trees that lined the old dirt road. A single ear flicked forward, fractured facade focused upon the figure. Someone unexpected had appeared, like a ghost from a long-distant daydream. The woman moves with an easy confidence, hips that sway with each fluid motion. A light voice beckoned: ”Easy now darling. I won’t take it from you.”

The aggression disappeared from the dark demon’s disfigured visage, melting into nothingness. Rue recognized the mottled woman instantly, even if that familiarity was not mutual. Despite their previous interaction being brief, in addition to many months ago, Rue couldn’t forget a pelt like that, a wolfess dressed in chaos, and eyes two wildly different hues. Nothing about the woman before her made any sense; there was no doubt that wherever Raiden went, the curious gaze of others followed her.

Still, Rue’s ugly features suggested no particularly strong feelings in any direction — Rue didn’t smile, but her characteristic glare softened just barely. One of her ruby sights was so scarred from the heat of battle and furious fighting, it was nearly useless. One ear. One good eye. She looked as she had been chewed up and spit out by some giant. ”I know you,” was all that she muttered, husky words uttered from scarred lips.

Though it didn’t register in her frayed mind, deep down, the dark beast hoped she was remembered in return, for something more than her barbaric part in the war. Or her record of victories at The Playground. She was proud of the brutality she was capable of, but wondered if anyone could perceive anything other than the monster on the outside, and the monster within.


@Raiden

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck