10-27-2018, 04:54 PM
▹▹▹▹ //tldr; atticus takes down a fully grown moose and had chased it a little ways into Ascendant's territory
Even for Atticus, this was a bit of a stretch. The melanistic jaguar lay low against the undershrub of a small patch of forest, watching the big beast that he had been tracking for more than half a day. His pure golden eyes stared ahead, fixated on the large moose in front of him, the creature making disgruntled noises at the gashes upon his leg, gashes that Atticus had put there himself long ago, chasing the beast out and forcing it to run on its injured legs, wearing it down slowly. It took a while, of course, the moose resilliant to most anything, more than easily able to kill Atticus if he were not careful, but the gashes had torn and the beast had felt its pain for far too long. But even Atticus knew the fight was not over. The man exhaled slowly, in complete control of his body as he slowly shifted his torso forward, shifting a paw carefully across the ground as his gaze slowly shifted to eye the area surrounding them. One side was nothing more than the wide, open plains, the other being further into the brief stretch of forests where the trees would provide an obstacle for the both of them. Ahead of them, a lake in the distance. His gaze snapped back at the sofest of noises from the moose, considering his options within a few brief seconds. He had lost his sword somewhere between here and... Well, the last week of his life, but he tred not to consider those facts; they were no longer relevant in this equation. Besides, he had more than his fair share of physical combat.
This would work.
Atticus made no noise that would give away his spot, but in the next moment, a flash of a shadow, he leapt out, his claws outstretched to rake down the moose's hind leg, blocking off the right path that otherwise would have led into the open fields. The moose, briefly startled by the pain and its previous injuries, stumbled as it began to run as quickly as its legs, and will power, would carry him further into the forest, with Atticus chasing some far paces at his heels, not close enough to be an immediate thread, but far enough to be an impending doom. Rather, Atticus was toying with the beast, seeing how far it would take him; after all, he had to play this safe, and he already had a fairly nice bruise from catching the end of a hoof the first time around. Any time the moose caught caught up in the tangle of underbrush and the trees, Atticus was there, putting another slash into the beast's sides or its leg, following its stumbling path out of the small forest and into an open territory. Of course, he wasn't blind at all to the overwhelming smell of someone else's territory, but hunger had oftentaken that brief worry. He only needed a small part of this meal for himself; the rest was anyone's fair game. And there was no easier way to make friends than by offering food.
Lunging forward as soon as their paws crossed out of the forest, the large Jaguar lept up onto the injured Moose's back, digging his claws deeply into its shoulders and tucking his head at the nap of the beast's neck, biting in strongly in an attempt to go after the spine, as well as make it impossible for the moose to crane its neck far enough to get a bite on him either. Blood soon ran down his jaw and his throat but he paid it no mind as he shifted his paws in deeper, as the beast's legs finally gave out, crashing to the ground as the large moose finally gave in to its fate, its pained cries echoing, cries that Atticus showed mercy to by giving one final bite to the moose's throat. Only then did his head lift quickly, assessing the territory he now found himself in now that this large Moose was no longer a treat to him, one paw remaining upon the beast as his golden eyes scanned the area, the trail of blood down his face doing little to lessen the imposing appearance of the lithe jaguar. One thing was for sure, there was no way he was going to be capable of dragging this beast out of the territory before anyone noticed, and perhaps not even in one piece.
His only option was to take what he could and run, before the owners of this territory showed up, or to stand his ground and either attempt to make the claim for himself, or to offer part of it up in tribute. His gaze did not drop to the beast again, instead surveying the large observatory in the distance and the lingering scents of those who belonged here. As it was, he would not easily eat this moose to himself before it began to rot. Giving in with a faint exhale as his muscles relaxed, he would have to resign himself to speaking, no matter how he did not wish to. "I bring an offering to share, if you would have part of it", he rumbled lowly, lifting his voice up only slightly to carry further.
Even for Atticus, this was a bit of a stretch. The melanistic jaguar lay low against the undershrub of a small patch of forest, watching the big beast that he had been tracking for more than half a day. His pure golden eyes stared ahead, fixated on the large moose in front of him, the creature making disgruntled noises at the gashes upon his leg, gashes that Atticus had put there himself long ago, chasing the beast out and forcing it to run on its injured legs, wearing it down slowly. It took a while, of course, the moose resilliant to most anything, more than easily able to kill Atticus if he were not careful, but the gashes had torn and the beast had felt its pain for far too long. But even Atticus knew the fight was not over. The man exhaled slowly, in complete control of his body as he slowly shifted his torso forward, shifting a paw carefully across the ground as his gaze slowly shifted to eye the area surrounding them. One side was nothing more than the wide, open plains, the other being further into the brief stretch of forests where the trees would provide an obstacle for the both of them. Ahead of them, a lake in the distance. His gaze snapped back at the sofest of noises from the moose, considering his options within a few brief seconds. He had lost his sword somewhere between here and... Well, the last week of his life, but he tred not to consider those facts; they were no longer relevant in this equation. Besides, he had more than his fair share of physical combat.
This would work.
Atticus made no noise that would give away his spot, but in the next moment, a flash of a shadow, he leapt out, his claws outstretched to rake down the moose's hind leg, blocking off the right path that otherwise would have led into the open fields. The moose, briefly startled by the pain and its previous injuries, stumbled as it began to run as quickly as its legs, and will power, would carry him further into the forest, with Atticus chasing some far paces at his heels, not close enough to be an immediate thread, but far enough to be an impending doom. Rather, Atticus was toying with the beast, seeing how far it would take him; after all, he had to play this safe, and he already had a fairly nice bruise from catching the end of a hoof the first time around. Any time the moose caught caught up in the tangle of underbrush and the trees, Atticus was there, putting another slash into the beast's sides or its leg, following its stumbling path out of the small forest and into an open territory. Of course, he wasn't blind at all to the overwhelming smell of someone else's territory, but hunger had oftentaken that brief worry. He only needed a small part of this meal for himself; the rest was anyone's fair game. And there was no easier way to make friends than by offering food.
Lunging forward as soon as their paws crossed out of the forest, the large Jaguar lept up onto the injured Moose's back, digging his claws deeply into its shoulders and tucking his head at the nap of the beast's neck, biting in strongly in an attempt to go after the spine, as well as make it impossible for the moose to crane its neck far enough to get a bite on him either. Blood soon ran down his jaw and his throat but he paid it no mind as he shifted his paws in deeper, as the beast's legs finally gave out, crashing to the ground as the large moose finally gave in to its fate, its pained cries echoing, cries that Atticus showed mercy to by giving one final bite to the moose's throat. Only then did his head lift quickly, assessing the territory he now found himself in now that this large Moose was no longer a treat to him, one paw remaining upon the beast as his golden eyes scanned the area, the trail of blood down his face doing little to lessen the imposing appearance of the lithe jaguar. One thing was for sure, there was no way he was going to be capable of dragging this beast out of the territory before anyone noticed, and perhaps not even in one piece.
His only option was to take what he could and run, before the owners of this territory showed up, or to stand his ground and either attempt to make the claim for himself, or to offer part of it up in tribute. His gaze did not drop to the beast again, instead surveying the large observatory in the distance and the lingering scents of those who belonged here. As it was, he would not easily eat this moose to himself before it began to rot. Giving in with a faint exhale as his muscles relaxed, he would have to resign himself to speaking, no matter how he did not wish to. "I bring an offering to share, if you would have part of it", he rumbled lowly, lifting his voice up only slightly to carry further.
