08-14-2018, 08:12 AM
For the last day or three, he had thought that Snowbound was going to the pits. A few people had gotten the idea to kindle a bit of activity by holding training sessions and such, yet they all felt so bland.
Fast forward a day or three, it appeared that Snowbound really was going to the pits, as in being taken over by a hostile group that called themselves the Pitt. Funny. The wolverine joined this place a week back due to its peaceful reputation, though today, he was now seeing how ferocious some of his clanmates could become. Hell, Gwen, who was perhaps the most serene one in Snowbound’s snowy territory, had just launched herself at one of Stryker’s cronies.
What had brought this Stryker to Atbash’s stomping grounds anyway? The lion was despicably parading into the banquet hall, convoying the limp figure of Atbash in his disgraceful maw. There was a sense of bitter vengeance in the way the large feline spoke, causing the mustelid to believe that the lion was once involved with Snowbound’s business, howbeit any backstory he had, Wendell didn’t know, as this was all before his time here. What he saw in Stryker was a coward, a fool who couldn’t move past the affairs of the days gone by. Snowbound, a pacifist group, was always ripe for the picking when it came to takeovers, as they were all so vulnerable with that notoriety for tranquility they all had. All it needed was one nutter to come and make the place fall arse over tit, and it appeared that was happening right now. He acknowledged that the villain was going for the classic “witty bad guy” trope, yet he came off more as a “child cranky because it’s bedtime”.
There had been battles for home that resulted in Pyrrhic victory, and there had been those that ended in harrowing loss. This takeover would be none of those, as Wendell saw to it that outside help would be acquired. As soon as there was a clear in the brawl that had broken out, he would dip, and make a break for the closest friend the group had. He hardly called here home for a week, but it looked like he’d be on the road once more, this time for the greater good.
"Show those wazzocks who’s who!" he’d cry proudly. No, he wouldn’t be offering his strength presently, though there was always time for encouragement.
Impatiently jittering, he waited for his moment, wishing that conflict will avoid his direction.
//even though he’s fleeing, feel free to attack this guy!
Fast forward a day or three, it appeared that Snowbound really was going to the pits, as in being taken over by a hostile group that called themselves the Pitt. Funny. The wolverine joined this place a week back due to its peaceful reputation, though today, he was now seeing how ferocious some of his clanmates could become. Hell, Gwen, who was perhaps the most serene one in Snowbound’s snowy territory, had just launched herself at one of Stryker’s cronies.
What had brought this Stryker to Atbash’s stomping grounds anyway? The lion was despicably parading into the banquet hall, convoying the limp figure of Atbash in his disgraceful maw. There was a sense of bitter vengeance in the way the large feline spoke, causing the mustelid to believe that the lion was once involved with Snowbound’s business, howbeit any backstory he had, Wendell didn’t know, as this was all before his time here. What he saw in Stryker was a coward, a fool who couldn’t move past the affairs of the days gone by. Snowbound, a pacifist group, was always ripe for the picking when it came to takeovers, as they were all so vulnerable with that notoriety for tranquility they all had. All it needed was one nutter to come and make the place fall arse over tit, and it appeared that was happening right now. He acknowledged that the villain was going for the classic “witty bad guy” trope, yet he came off more as a “child cranky because it’s bedtime”.
There had been battles for home that resulted in Pyrrhic victory, and there had been those that ended in harrowing loss. This takeover would be none of those, as Wendell saw to it that outside help would be acquired. As soon as there was a clear in the brawl that had broken out, he would dip, and make a break for the closest friend the group had. He hardly called here home for a week, but it looked like he’d be on the road once more, this time for the greater good.
"Show those wazzocks who’s who!" he’d cry proudly. No, he wouldn’t be offering his strength presently, though there was always time for encouragement.
Impatiently jittering, he waited for his moment, wishing that conflict will avoid his direction.
//even though he’s fleeing, feel free to attack this guy!