The Hunting Party [OPEN]

[Maybe ♫]

From within the bushes, three hearts raced, and six eyes darted from side to side. Soundlessly, the tallest of the three canines, a predominantly black wolfdog, scented the air, while one of his companions, a slightly smaller dog with silky brown fur, scanned the terrain. Beyond the realms of the forest lay a beautiful expanse of grass, dotted with a few trees, shrubs, and ponds. That was the scene the three dogs were now staring at, but they weren't just admiring the picturesque landscape. Grazing upon the lush green grass was a small herd of deer, one of many family groups that had been released into this glade by twolegs a few weeks ago.

The leader of the group, a bulky gray male with eyes of golden amber, shot a glance at each of his hunting partners. Both were strong and healthy and fast, but even three of the toughest dogs would have a hard time killing a fully-grown stag, and that was the one the dogs had their eyes on. He was a massive beast, almost as big as a horse, and from his temples jutted a huge set of antlers, two formidable weapons that the stag would not hesitate to use on the dogs. If they were to take down this massive creature, they'd need a little bit of help.

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[Noodle!]

The Life Has Been Siphoned Right Out of My Veins.

Damacre had not returned to the Gale where the humans had released the large herds of deer since she’d made stowaways of her last prey. Only yesterday it was, however, and she could smell the fresh, slightly raunchy flesh of the doe she’d taken down alone in the abandoned burrow some distance away. She was never able to get the meal back to the pack, and today was returning to deliver it in pieces to show a bit of her worth to the leaders that had so graciously accepted the unsound female in. She smiled at the thought somewhat grimly and then paused, nose working quickly as it picked up traces of others. One in particular being Darthyn. What was he doing here? She wondered, but found this the opportunity to acquire some help with getting it back to the pack and be eaten before the maggots completely overtook it. She stalked over, quietly to them, approaching the center of the three dogs’ group before most knew she was upon them.

Darthyn, I have a doe I killed from last night hidden away, I will need help transporting… She paused here, eyes flicking forward as she took in the sight before them. The strays were obviously planning an attack on a large stag in the distance. They would need all the help they could get to take him down. For a moment the bitch considered leaving them to their 'work', for she could not see why they would prosper from her help. That is when she had a remarkable revelation of self-esteem. She told herself she was built for endurance, little to no pain threshold, powerful jaws… Damacre told herself she could go on. She raised her blocky head proudly, arching her shoulders underneath her honey-colored coat, Shall I assist?

Hair rose along her spine as if she were aggressing some attacker. Her small ears pinned to her skull to avoid tear if it came to that. Blue eyes settled on the neck, where a pulsing vein lay just below the skin. They wandered over the muzzle, where she could already feel her teeth crushing nasal cavities and slowly but efficiently weakening and eventually killing the animal by drowning or suffocation. If Darthyn chose to take the lead, she would settle for the back of the neck, twisting and contorting the spine until the animal collapsed, and then spilling its guts onto the grass from its soft and vulnerable underbelly. No matter the position she was left with, she had a plan and the prowess to carry out whichever necessary.

She smiled.

[» cyanide]

I’m an AKC worthy street

Quietly, having lost her balance and toppled over a log, losing her guide as well she followed his scent trail. As she saw the dogs her delicate paws touched on the mossy grounds, creating no noise. The wind was in their favor; and for that she was grateful. The wafting scent of deer galore touched her nose; oh boy was she hungry. Her brown freckled body slowly entered the scene; crouched so the deer wouldn’t see her, as a female entered the party. Listening she came up beside Thorn, the only one she knew.

Putting her maw beside his ear she gently snapped her jaws together. “You look like one tasty treat, oh yea thanks for leaving me in your dust Mr. Chivalry.” She joked the saliva that had formed in the corners of her mouth from when she’d scented the deer dripped from her maw and landed on the ground. Her tail wagged gently showing him that it was simply a joke, her cannibal side was all in good fun!

Her eyes wavered over the other members of this hunting party; oooohh weee that deer was going to have a heard time surviving them all. She knew her own strengths and could take down a normal sized doe all by herself, if positioned correctly with the wind in her favor that was. Quickly and quietly her eyes glanced over the buck, his antlers down. Their best bet was rushing from behind and getting him. “We should sneak around so we have him cornered.” She suggested softly, if one of them went one way, and another the other they could run the deer right to the awaiting three behind the bushes. Though it’d be wise to show themselves before the buck comes running towards the bushes and topples over them unknowingly.

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[Maybe ♫]

The large gray canine studied the scene, plotting where to land the final blow. He could almost taste the sinewy flesh of the stag, its crimson blood flowing over his tongue and staining his maw a deep, dark scarlet. Casting a glance at his partners, he could tell that they were having the same vision. The pretty sable female to his left bared her teeth, and at first Darthyn thought he was the target of her aggression, but her chocolate brown eyes stared straight past him into the depths of the forest. Beside her, the tall black wolf-like canine stared past the alpha too, but his eyes did not betray any such emotion of anger. The alpha, now confused, turned around, ears pinned back to his skull instinctively, but the dog that stood there was none other than Damacre, the fiery pit bull. As her words slid through his pricked harks, he nodded, golden eyes glowing with pride.

At her offer to help the trio fell the stag, he simply nodded, careful not to stir the herd before they had a chance to strike. Then, behind Thorn, a rather spotty-looking female approached. She whispered something in his ear, and Darthyn lifted one brow. Who was this femme? Thorn grinned at her comment, and shot the alpha a reassuring glance, telling him that this newcomer was safe. She was here to help. Satisfied, Darthyn nodded to her in greeting, disappointed that he was unable to ask her name. The dark beast looked to each of his comrades, three of the strongest, fastest, most elite canines he had ever met, and a newcomer that looked quite healthy indeed, and he instantly knew that they would need no direction from him. They'd follow his lead and know what to do. But would the spotted female? Shrugging off his doubts, he began to formulate a plan.

As the alpha, Darthyn would go for the throat, Thorn, as usual, would go for the back, using his unparalleled speed and stamina, and Wednesday, the beautiful russet Tervuren, would go for the underbelly. Damacre, hopefully, would set her sights on the back of the neck, and use her brute strength to help Thorn drive the ungulate to the ground. The newcomer, Darthyn guessed, would assist Wednesday with clawing at the stag's belly, hopefully causing so much pain that the buck would tire easily.

The alpha nodded. This was it. Falling into the hunter's crouch, the steel-gray leader crept forward, carefully placing each massive paw in order to stay hidden. Instinctively, Thorn fell in behind him, crouching lower than his alpha in order to evade a low-hanging branch that threatened to knock the towering hybrid off his feet. Behind the wolf-like creature, Wednesday crept silently, her blazing brown gaze burning into the stag's belly. She knew her target.

In the blink of an eye, the five canines bolted from the safety of the trees, lead by a massive gray form that streaked past the rest of the herd with great ease, his golden vision focused only on the stag that led them. At his side, Thorn struggled to hold himself back, not wanting to outrun the alpha and assert his dominance by reaching the target first, however difficult it was to maintain a slower pace when such adrenaline coursed through his veins. Behind the males, Wednesday streaked by, veering to the side in order to get a better angle on the stag, who had split away from his herd in a panicked frenzy.

Soon it would all be over.

[Noodle!]

<sub>Damacre gained a silent admission from Darthyn as she crouched herself lower into the grass. The stag lowered its head back to graze once again. Its antlers shone above the green like some dead tree, thin spindles reaching towards the sky like the fingers that were branches of the forest. The bright coloring was almost pure white, while tendrils of grey, black, and brown hanged down as Spanish moss where the buck had not successfully scraped off all of his winter velvet. Her strange blue eyes darted from the buck to the other dogs in the group, mind racing as to where she would be best suited for attack. She sought out the arch of his neck, where the shoulder-blades rose from its back and the vertebrae that was its neck curved into the grass. That would be her target, and luckily that was almost exactly where the alpha wanted her to go. A spotted dog approached behind her an she growled lightly in her throat, turning back to the prey before her. She stepped each foot in alteration, causing her shoulder-blades to roll underneath that smooth champagne fur of hers.

Simultaneously, the pack of feral dogs darted out from the shadows, Damacre did not move. She waited back as the others took their positions and then she saw her opportunity. Bolting forward with a surprising speed for her bulky form, she ran underneath the buck and the flung herself upwards on the other side. Teeth clamped into its neck, just where it met the shoulders, and her powerful jaws crushed down on the delicate series of bones within. She grasped with her front legs, grappling at the neck for a good hold like a male dog trying to force a female. Making an ugly gesture a graceful one. She used her back claws to kick and claw at the chest and leg, hoping she might make the buck collapse on one side and topple over. As she slung her head back and forth, body sloshing to’ and fro’, she bumped with the other wolfish male who’s place was on the back of the stag: trying to bring him down there as well.

Damacre had several strange flashes of memory as she held on tight to that beast, teeth grinding against bone in a chilling sensation as they caused a steady friction. She pushed her hind legs against the leg of the stag again, feeling her feet touch the ground for a moment, and in that moment, she began to pull downwards. Her hopes were: the neck would be contorted and the animal would be in enough pain for the pack to bring it down.</sub>

[» cyanide]

I’m an AKC worthy street

As the others ran out Callisto followed, lunging at the belly of the male. Clamping her teeth into his side her forepaws raised, digging in and getting a good hold of the male’s spine, her back paws scratched viciously at the belly, her throat allowed vicious snarls to ruptured from it as the male bucked about almost knocking her off. She allowed her legs to kick, her long claws on her back paws digging into the flesh and creating long gouges each kick. With this she was making him weak like the other two, while also making him loose a lot of blood.

Back legs grooving in the way of a killer her forepaw’s claws stayed embedded into the thick hide covering his spine. Her jaws fiercely dug into his side, snarling and snapping. For a pretty little dog she sure did look vicious. She continued this impressive display of hostility towards the massive creature until it swayed in a deadly motion. Her eyes swiveled over to Damacre who was stupidly pulling the massive hunk of meat down towards her; which meant the large buck would topple on her!

Snarling in the pit bulls direction she didn’t have enough time to hop down, and run around, then do the same thing to the other side so she dug her back claws into his flesh; taking mouth fulls of stored fat in her jaws and hoisted her body up to the back of the massive animal. Straddling his back she snarled and got a good hold with her forepaws like before, and let the long nails slip through his flesh like daggers until she came down to a nice position where she dug her fangs into him, her back claws now connecting the other scratched in a deadly incision. Her heart pounded fiercely as the adrenaline of almost getting killed coursed through her system. From this side she could help Damacre by pushing her body into him with a few swings; in hopes of knocking the beast to his side where she could take her fangs and let them tear by the long gouge her back paws produced.

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[Maybe ♫]

As the maelstrom of flying claws and fangs continued, and the tawny stag began to weaken, Darthyn knew his time had come. He was still galloping near the beast, watching as Wednesday and Callisto fought to weaken the beast, two snarling females that were much tougher than they appeared. Thorn and Damacre writhed fiercely on the beast's back, striving to drive the animal to the ground.

Blood pulsed in his ears, sending large amounts of adrenaline to the alpha's brain. His amber eyes burned gold, fixed upon the stag's jugular and seeing nothing else in the world. This was it.

Darthyn lunged, flinging his dirty gray bulk onto the beast's neck, and watching as his warriors quickly moved out of harm's way as the beast staggered dangerously. (Sorry about the powerplay there) Heart racing, he threw his head back and then plunged forward, jaws agape and teeth glinting in the sun's late afternoon rays. As he sunk his canines into the thick, sinewy flesh of the stag, it let out a cry of defeat, stumbled a few paces, and fell to the ground with a muffled thump.

As the buck lay on the grass, motionlessly bleeding out of a massive gash on its neck and many large lacerations on its body, the alpha dog released his deathgrip on the animal's jugular. Lifting his head, he looked to each of his comrades, a wolfish smile lighting up his blood-stained maw.

"Good work warriors," he growled, his ears still pinned to his head. Shifting his gaze to the carcass, he inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of fresh kill. Plunging his head downward to tear into the meaty flesh, he let out a throaty growl of satisfaction. He hadn't fed like this in days. After he had sated his hunger, and a large chunk of flesh from the beast's flank and rump had been cleared away, he stepped back to allow his pack to feed. The alpha always ate first, then the beta, then the rest.

With this hierarchy branded into the canines' brains, Thorn confidently stepped forward and began to feed upon the beast's flesh. After the black wolfdog had eaten his fill of the stag's brisket and pectorals, he too stepped back to let the rest have their turn, his black and gray maw shining crimson in the sun's dying rays.


ooc // Sorry about the crappy quality, I'm no good at hunting posts.