drunk since i left + stryker

[toboggan]

//there could be a trigger warning for pain/gore later on

Guilty paws shuffled through the blanket of snow he had become so familiar with in the past while, each step shooting another slug of disgrace into his system. The rest of Snowbound must despise him for his recent actions, though that was nothing on how much he despised himself. His clanmates needed all the help they could get from each other, all the while Wendell took a powder, shambling desperately to Sunhaven for aid, though the only business that came out of that visit was pity, angry demeanours, and a small bag of medicinal herbs that could have just as easily been acquired here. What felt like a permanent blueness overcast the routine happiness which was his personality, solely in reaction to his failure. The sadness was so strong that he was too weak to cry, the act of so he hysterically desired to do in this situation.

Too distraught to face the full-on force of his clanmates’ disappointed stares, the evening’s lack of brightness made for a good protector as the wolverine attempted to stealthily make his way into the clan’s grounds. Why he returned at all, Wendell had no clue. It was fairly obvious he’d get harmed on reappearance, either by the dastardly Pitt, or by those in Snowbound unimpressed by his decisions. A large selection of other clans were available for the choosing pleasure, a thought that originally sprung to life when he visited Sunhaven. The Ascendants sounded interesting with the whole knowledge gimmick, while Sunhaven itself looked appealing due to the trading aspect. No. Contrary to everyone’s beliefs, every ounce of loyalty he had was dedicated to his home, whether they liked it or not. It may not seem so, but his decision to leave was, in his heart, for the greater good; the results may not show it, though.

This was all to pass. The Pitt would be out of here come no time at all. It was best for Wendell to accept the consequences of his actions. Things would get better. 

[member=1738]Stryker[/member]

[Stryker]

[align=center][div style="width: 60%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; font-family: georgia;"]☣ — With 'his' men running around doing errands with their claws unsheathed and teeth bared, the lion had little time to think of the little weasel who left like the pitiful pacifist all of the Snowbounders were. Still, it was better than staying, he'd admit. Even so, Stryker did want to prove his point to the audience that running from their problems (quite literally) would do them no good in the long run. Wendell made it clear he wasn't willing to listen, thus turning a blind eye on his clan's problems, proving his exact point. They needed to show attention and violence to their problems, not pacifism. If only they would learn...

But to hear the pawsteps of the light man coming back was a surprise. Has his actions changed his view? Possibly. Even so, Stryker was pleased. With perked ears, the leader loomed in the shadows with a smirk across his lips and narrowed eyes, watching his newest target intensely. What could he do with such a small creature? A few cuts? No. Overused... but something else came to mind.

"Perhaps," the lion grumbled as he rose out of the shadows, "You shouldn't of come back, powder puff." In that moment, his paw aimed to slam down on Wendell's throat so he could pin him onto the ground with ease. Mockingly, he flashed his teeth. They were going to have plenty of fun.

[toboggan]

With enough celerity to make a schooner envious, Stryker, the cheap chav himself, emerged from the umbrage, effortlessly clasping Wendell to the terrain below him. Not a pipsqueak, the wolverine’s size rivaled that of a medium-caliber canine; yet, the mustelid was nothing on the hulking feline, whose cudgel drove the skull of his victim unto a hard surface below. Already wincing in pain on account of his noggin’s impact, Stryker’s ill-boding utterances broke the silence of nighttime, something about how the Snowbounder should not have returned, along with stating that he was a powderpuff.

"I’d spit atcha, but I’ll spare my saliva", he’d retort impetuously towards Stryker’s ugly sneer, all the while pinned down in a heinous situation he would definitely not emerge from unwounded. ”Maybe I shouldn’tve, the chap continued sharply, but here’s m’ home, despite the bastards squatting in it right now.”

He ought to stop japing at his attacker if his head wanted to stay on right. However, the Brit wasn’t afraid of death in this situation. The takeover leader wouldn’t have much of a clan to take over if he decided to start offing people; that being said, Wendell was only one person, a person not very active in Snowbound’s affairs at that. If there was anyone most suitable for a good killing, it was him.

Brown peepers fixating on the assailant’s, a firm voice badgered ”Whatev’r you’re doing to me, do it. There’s better places for both of us right now.”

It wasn’t bravery that discharged those cheeky quips. It was fear. Not only fear for himself. Fear for Stryker. If something bad were to happen to Wendell, Stryker was to blame. In fact, Stryker was to blame for most of this. With all the blame resting upon those muscular shoulders, redemption for his faults would be ruthless.

Death was something he never wished upon anyone, regardless of how much they actually deserved it. Harmony was what life was based upon, and that’s how it should have stayed. Those that disrupt it get taken care of, which may very well happen to the antagonist in this situation. Not now, at least. In all actuality, it may be Wendell who gets taken care of presently.