sweating bullets | TAKEOVER

[Stryker]

[align=center][div style="width: 60%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; font-family: georgia;"]☣ —  Continuation.

All was quiet. Too quiet. The once tranquil surroundings of Snowbound stood horrified in fear as their newest enemy roamed past the border. The limp, paralyzed figure of their leader swung in his venomous jams for all to see as he made his way to the banquet hall where Stryker was once exiled in.

After Yes Man, leader of The Pitt, had offered him a place with freewill and the thrill of a lifetime, Stryker had gladly taken the chance. The exchange was hurting someone in return. For the recognition he dearly craved, one soul couldn't hurt. Thus went Izuku. The green feline fell to his knees, paralyzed in fear as his clanmates came running to witness his destruction. He could remember the rush of the moment... the attention it finally gave him. For once, Snowbound had turned their eyes upon him when he was doing the wrong thing. After all these years of his goodwill, they had finally noticed him in the shadows after one outbreak of his temper. Pitiful. Not only this, but his exiled allowed him to do whatever he pleased. To give justice to those who wronged him, to make an example out of a corpse, and throw threats wherever he needed. If only they knew...

Now because of that, they would suffer. Snowbound would no longer turn their pacifist gazes away from the trouble of the outside, as it was now coming to them. Their goodwill has lasted too long. They would need the help of their allies, their claws to be unsheathed, and for their roaring voices to be heard to get out of this predicament. Nevertheless, they were damned for now. With an iron fist and the full force of The Pitt behind him, they were an unstoppable warbound group with a pacifist group begging for their life. Stryker had finally cornered them.

All eyes laid on him as he wandered into the hall carelessly, throwing the leader's limp body aside for all to see. For a moment he turned to look at their gazes. Horrified, furious, and pleasured eyes met him as he stood smirking at the front of the hall with his head high in the air. "Well?" he drawled menacingly. "I'm here, powder puffs." The lion's head craned to the side, observing his surroundings as his allies followed in from behind. By his orders they had free reign to do whatever they wanted. The Pitt, mostly Stryker, held no ties to this clan any longer and were willing to do what it took for Snowbound to succumb to their power and see their mistakes. Freedom never lasted.

"Consider this a takeover," came his calm, satisfied announcement. "If anyone would like to object, please do." Neon eyes drifted over to Atbash, who's paralyzation should be wearing off anytime now... then the fun could finally begin. "You'll be making my job way easier." With that, he turned to face his audience to take in the long needed attention he craved for years on end. If he couldn't gain it by being the hero, then he might as well be the villain.

[Character Graveyard.]

[align=center][div style="width: 400px; line-height: 100%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; color: black;"]From a distance, Toga had noticed Stryker dragging Atbash in the direction of Snowbound's territory- so her first decision was to follow him. A large grin on her maw, she would shudder as the sudden cold winds coming from Snowbound's landscape. Man, she hated this place but at least she might be able to see Deku, Ochaco and Tsu again.

"I'm here too!" The Warpriest would announce happily and she would bounce up-and-down, her yellow-gaze searching for any signs of the green-furred male. She wasn't interested in anyone else here but she'd be happy to cut anyone with her knife if they tried to attack Stryker or anyone else from the Pitt.

[ATBASH CIPHER.]

ATBASH CIPHER

i know i should stop believing
i know there's no retrieving

The journey back to Snowbound was horrifyingly awful. Due to being paralyzed, Atbash was unable to do anything and forced to watch as Stryker strode into their camp, unharmed. It was no secret that Snowbound didn't have a guard system due to their pacifist beliefs, and it was just now coming to haunt them. Atbash wished she could have called out to anybody - Izuku, Cry, or hell, even Dimitri - but she couldn't, not even with Telepathy.

The reason Atbash had exiled Stryker in the first place was out of fear. She was worried for her tribe's safety if he had stayed here and acted out of fear - just like Quantum of Sunhaven had pointed out. Atbash didn't realize it until then, but Quantum was right. She made her decisions based off of her nerves and fear. The Hailcaller didn't regret exiling Stryker, but she did regret making her decision to go to The Pitt, thinking they would just accept her with open arms. That was her mistake.

By now, Atbash felt her body start to turn to normal, save for the slight numbness in her throat from where Stryker had bit her. However despite that, the she-cat found that she couldn't move. She didn't want to, in fear of being lashed out at. Stryker was bringing The Pitt with him, and their numbers matched Snowbound's. Atbash shook where she laid next to Stryker, her fearful gaze scanning around for somebody she was close to. She had to talk to them and luckily she had Telepathy, unless Stryker had some way of shutting the power off.

bio | female | hailcaller [leader] of snowbound

© madi

[FELIKS]

FELIKS — SNOWBOUND

He wasn't an active member of this group. Feliks didn't need to be, he was an independent hybrid that didn't need no clan, but there were times that the civilisations of this world needed him. Anti-authoritarian behaviours could ruffles the feathers of those used to conformity but in situations like this, it was a personality trait with several added benefits. Morale boosts, pissing off those that were trying to keep you down, with nothing to lose and everything to gain it was hard to just tell the griffon to shut its wily beak. A little too fatigued to bother raising an eye at the sight of a stranger dragging their leader into the camp (just because he did like to give morale boosts didn't mean he felt anything for those he was giving them to), Feliks' golden tinted head would slowly lift up once the stranger started talking... and talking... requesting seemingly asinine things. Cranium slowly tilting toward the other random stranger (being new to these lands, it wasn't exactly like he knew the other groups), a raspy sigh would eventually emanate from a damaged throat.

Same thing happened every time. Leader's weak, leader gets swamped, leader has a comeback story, it was like a fairy tale. Feliks had lived through his own redemption story when someone had tried to assassinate him so it wasn't like the unfazed bird was complaining about a Disney-esque takeover, especially when he held no ties to the group he'd declared loyalty to. Something that did seem a little off though was staying compliant during the whole thing... having to serve under a megalomaniacal prick just wasn't his style. "I object your honour," the bootleg lawyer cooed, stupid little smirk on his tinted face as he remained lying down. Perhaps he should've been angry, but at least he wasn't scared, right? Mortals were nothing to fear, even if he was a semi-one himself he was a fucking badass about it. Hey, you lost your powers, don't be cocky. Too late. Plumage fluffed up as if trying to attract a mate, Feliks would call out "I dunno why I object, you just look like a bit of a bitch,". His tail lashed, blown out pupils searching for a reaction to his words. Ignoring it was probably the easiest thing to do, and potentially an awful mistake if you didn't want the grizzled young vet to take this seriously.

"Like seriously, the kennel's studs must've had a field day with you, holy moly..." he tutted in disapproval, finally giving a look over towards Atbash. Though known for a rather studious albeit flickering gaze, Feliks seemed to fixate a little more so on his leader than he had done on the irrelevant. Fright... she was frightened... the griffon was sure he would've been too had he been in a similar situation, or had been met with oppression in the forms of shackles. For brief moments empathy seemed to be a given expression, though it was quickly masqueraded back into a snarky one once Feliks realised he was peeling back layers of himself that didn't need to be seen. "Quick question Fido, how many tricks do ya know? Can ya sit? Wag ya tail? Spin in a circle?" he asked, grinning as he inflated his tone with enthusiasm. Seemed like he'd gotten off track trying to make himself seem aloof.

© MADI

[MirrorEdge]

[align=center]

"A-atbash..." Gwen was never good at confrontation, but living in the clans, it meant, eventually, she'd have to deal with it, and the kitsune looked absolutely terrified as she made her way over, pupiless eyes settling on the leader in horror.

Snowbound had been a place she felt safe, and somewhere Gwen had slowly been growing stronger, in her own way. Yet, everything she had built up was quickly shattered. She had no powers, no way to assist the ones who had taken her in.

It took everything she had not to make a run for it, and even more to say in a loud enough tone to be heard, "D-don't hurt anybody, p-please." And flinching as her voice echoed against the walls.

Oh, how she wished she could say more, do more, actually be useful. She could, of course, but she struggled with it, for now, just hoping, praying to any god out there, that no fighting would break out. How stupid she was.

[Lokisaurus]

Butch wrinkled his nose at Feliks' comment, the pit bull feeling very slighted by his comparing of Stryker to his own species.  Dogs weren't nearly as hefty or as deft as lions were - lions were just big cats, after all.  And because of the slight, Butch now hopes that Stryker would resemble his domestic cousins and take this giant bird-thing down like a pro.

He coughed into his chest, his pink collar jingling.

"'Bitch' is a derogatory term for canines only, and we choose not to use it as much as possible.  I think the term 'pussy' is more apt."  He responded wearily, turning his hazel eyes to the quivering Gwen.  His heart went out to her - he didn't like to fight, not after the amount of humans who wanted to use him as a bargaining chip.

"Don't worry, little long-tails," he said softly, lowering his head to show minimal aggression.  "We won't be fighting unless someone wants a fight.  And even then, we won't kill because that defeats the point of 'taking over.'"

The canine looked pointedly at Stryker.  As battle hungry as the Pitt was, it was stupid to rule over a bunch of corpses and spilled body fluids.  And Butch really didn't want to be the one to clean up all the organs again.

[SICARION]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify;"]Was this guy for real, or was this a squishy person's idea of a joke? Pretty pathetic sense of humor, if that's what this was, but it was more likely that the stranger was serious, which made it all the more paltry. Was he expecting them to roll over? That was it, right? He must be a bit disconnected with reality, if he took a whole group on that kind of generalization. The mutated dragon's gaze searched for Winterwolf, if only because he figured his kindred spirit might find it amusing, though he couldn't find him just yet. There was Atbash, and a griffin giving the self-declared dictator shit, whereas someone else went to begging. What a range of demeanors. You know, it was almost funny, but in the end, Floris was still too unimpressed.

One of the "invaders" even made a little promise. No killing, huh? Bullshit.

"Is it your job to make an ass of yourself? They should give you a raise." Floris didn't falter as he cut through the hall toward Atbash, and, by extension, Stryker. His one good eye kept them both in full view, mandibles pulled tight against his jaws. "Surprised you're not on the ceiling. Hot air rises and you're full of it."

[WINTERWOLF]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Oh, a takeover? Now that was interesting. He had come to this place expecting it all to be hot chocolate and lazy days, and to have that change before his eyes has the lion perking up in a way he hadn't before. Cold eyes seem brighter, a harsh, icy blue, but there's nothing pleasant in the expression. He pads up slowly, silently, with an almost curious tilt to his head. Like his scale-covered, judgmental counterpart, Winterwolf's first instinct is to search for him in the crowd. There's a kindred spirit there, another person who's been dragged through hell for a war they should have questioned sooner. Unlike the other, Winter is actually successful in his search, standing at the dragon's side with a low, grumbling hum. There's an uncomfortable mumbling throughout the hall, though at least one other person speaks up. A continued dialogue about slurs, but generally speaking, he finds that resorting to that is useless, or even detrimental. Clear head, clear language. Doesn't mean he can't have a little fun with it, though.

The American lion blinks, turns to look at Butch with a clear disgust in the curl of his mouth, just for a moment. Still unimpressed, but — disappointed, perhaps. Disgusted. He has no clear urge to act, no moral obligation to stand up for someone weaker than himself. But part of him wants to, just to prove that he's capable of it. Everyone expected people to roll over. Everyone was rolling over. Snowbound may be pacifistic, but Winterwolf certainly wasn't. Then again, it's not like he was the hero they wanted. Needed. "Sure sounds like he could take a little deflating," the lion mutters, though the words mean nothing when set against the boredom he seems to radiate.

[Stryker]

[align=center][div style="width: 60%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; font-family: georgia;"]☣ —  At Toga's arrival, he barely batted an eye. She was here... yes. How fun was that. Apparently she had some business with someone else here, but frankly he could care less about her at this point. Instead, his gaze focused elsewhere in the meantime. Izuku and Toga's business was not his. Thankfully, someone had begun to entertain him.

Neon eyes shifted over towards Feliks, the fur above his brow bone raising to inquire curiosity. Objection? Well that was expected. No one liked to be told what to do. Gosh, it reminded him of his own time in Snowbound. A taste of karma, it seemed! Nevertheless, Feliks seemed to take his request back quickly, as if he was realizing the situation all of the sudden. "I sure hope I do, otherwise this wouldn't be going so well," he commented back casually. As for the comments, Stryker had taken the chance to ignore them as soon as someone else from the audience spoke out.

Their desperate pleads were ineffective. The fact that she thought that he would spare someone was doubtful. Obviously they didn't know the circumstances here... He was in charge and he'd do what he'd like. Instead the consideration left him satisfied, his head throwing backwards and narrowed eyes staring down on her as if he was the superior in the situation. "I'm afraid that I can't do that," Stryker taunted back at the child. His voice lowered to a coo, as if he was trying to mock the tenth month old for their stupidity. "Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will never hurt you. Remember?" He took his paw and mimicked crushing an object within it.  Just like when he was back in Snowbound, his word never had any effect, but once he started to act out they started to notice that he was something more. "Otherwise my point won't get across." His paw lowered to the ground and he straightened out. "Sorry."

It seemed as if Butch didn't even know the rules, promising the safety of others. Lord. Wasn't this one stupid? At Atbash's slight squirming, he'd aim to take his paw and slam it down on her neck. "Now, I didn't say that," he mischievously grumbled. As he spoke, the leader would still remain under his grip and potentially be losing breath. "I appreciate your hope in me though, precious."

Sadly, he was that disconnected with reality. The lion seriously believed everything should bend his way with the mere force he had begun exerting these days since words had gotten him nowhere. If he wasn't at the top, he was nothing. As Sicarion's word his head craned. "Is it your job to be a guard?" he shot back. "You're not doing so good, little lizard." His eyes flickered to Winterwolf who seemed to be chiming up in the meantime. A sigh left him. He could wait. Still, this was not the time to be shooting insults. Instead, they should subject to him so things could go smoother than they already were going, but it seemed like they weren't getting the whole point of things. So what though? Stryker was having the time of his life. The more down, the better. Snowbound would learn their lesson. They would no longer turn a blind eye and hold back on what they truly were. Ruthless animals.

//feel free to attack if one of you would like to do so

[SICARION]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify;"]He barely knew Winterwolf, but when the muscled lion came to stand at his side, in his blind-spot, Floris didn't mind it as much as he had with people he'd known longer. It was just that mutual acknowledgment of the blood and grit they both dragged themselves through, the immediate understanding between two soldiers, so Winter covered his weak side, and Floris- it was more or less his move, his call whether or not they wasted breath on the arrogant squishy. See, he did consider turning around and leaving. This wasn't his fight. He couldn't be certain if he was even staying here, but then the civic duty in him drilled into his head from birth piped up, and his temper flared as soon as that dismissive little lizard leapt off the lion's tongue. The dragon found nothing more appealing at the moment than ripping it out.

Funny that he thought Floris was standing here for Atbash.

"Deflating's too slow," the dragon answered Winter, calm by all appearances, but if anyone here could understand the subharmonics of his flanging voice -probably not- they'd recognize the strain, the warning. It was only a moment before Floris shot forward, aiming to slam the hard-plated wall of his face against the lion's, and regardless of whether he dodged, he attempted to duck and plant his hardened shoulder into Stryker's throat. The growl reverberating in his chest vibrated across several layers of frequencies, mandibles slightly flared.