(group 2) Chapter 1: The Price of Survival

Deresk tosses and turns in his sleep, dreaming he is hovering above the earth and watching a host of forms that shift from man to beast to some abstract shape he can't quite identify. He is about to fall down in the midst of them, when a sudden feeling rouses him from his sleep. Instinct brings his hand to his axe, though when he sees the feline form, he figures it some spirit sent to warn him of another danger. The fact that it continues on to the other members of the group, and that Ruln is nowhere to be seen, only confirms this suspicion. He begins to sniff and search with eyes and ears open for whatever danger has brought this reaction.

Corynn grunts softly as he gets woken up, and noticing it's still far to early for a normal wake up call he reaches for his weapons. But the entire situation strikes him as almost to surreal to be real, Ruln is gone and he just got woken up by a big cat?

L'lef's eyes open and he sits up calmly being wakened by Ruln. He looks warily into the darkness trying to see what the trouble is, and is intensely still trying to listen.

"We are being hunted," L'lef says, pointing north of the camp. "Something stirs in the underbrush."

The night is silent as you all peer warily into the darkness. Whatever caused you all to be awakened has not yet made itself known, biding its time.

Deresk adjusts the grips on his axe, aiming it to attack a smaller target, low to the ground. "I see wolves," he says in his lowest growel. "Two of them, and big. We want to fight now, or see what comes. Maybe try and trick them with magic or spirit talk?"

"Doesn't matter t' me." he says moving up next to Deresk, the blue ice blades of his short swords held low, ready to strike. He squints, concentrating on their surroundings, but still puts more trust in his ears than eyes in this darkness.

"Alright then," Deresks growls, adjusting his jaw so his tusks scratch his upper lip. "Well if this fails, charge them. I'll see if I can just lead them away. They're two of them just north of here."

The shaman growls and grumbles, making what sounds like animal noises to the untrained ear. He is speaking to the wolf spirits, asking them to grant the group passage, and telling them they are no threat to the wolves or their prey, and the group will leave soon. Hopefully that will get the animals out of the camp and in a much better mood.

The wild creatures don't seem to take well to Deresk's attempts at friendship. The huge wolves stalk into the open starlight, baring yellow fangs, hackles bristling, malice in their amber eyes. They are hungry, and it seems they intend to make you their meal for the night. ooc

As he attempts to coax the wolves into leaving, Deresk notices his greatest spirit ally, the mangy bear, approaching. Instead of intervening on his behalf, the bear promptly relieves himself in the spirit plane. The wolves clearly sense something dangerous, and with a look of annoyance, he turns to a defensive posture, readying himself to attack or be attacked. He recalls to his mind the flame that ignites in brush, lighting even a dark night on fire. It stuns those near it, and gives some degree of light. Deresk can see fine, but his less nocturnal companions could use some help. Channeling the fires through his soul and the spirits that guide him, and brings forth a flash of hot light to the nearest wolf.

Corynn keeps his eyes on the wolfs as they come nearer, normally he'd attack, but the light this night combined with not quite trusting his footing makes him hold his ground and be ready to strike if they come closer. He loses a certain element of surprise like this of course, but better safe than sorry.

The yellow eyes of the cat narrow as the two canines stalk into view, the fur on the back of his neck bristling still more, should that be possible. For a moment, he drops into a crouch, then springs towards one of the creatures before him, the cry of defiance which echoed into the night - the larger cat still was there, just out of sight - audible to only his own ears; that, however, was not at all unexpected. His legs churn the snow behind him as he takes a few loping strides, then leaps through the air towards it, tearing at it with tooth and claw, his front paws lashing out to latch on to opposite sides of the beast's flanks as his jaws even as one hindleg lifts to tear at the fur on the beast's broad chest.