FLYING OFF THE DEEP END // raid

[Crow Roux]

[align=center]action — "speech" — thoughts

[div style="background: linear-gradient(to right, #464C5A, #757f96, #464C5A); width: 500px; height: 2px;"]

They were lucky the camp of the enemy lay close to the edge of their land, tucked away in a jungle a short reach from the grassy fields of Tanglewood's northern border. The majority of the journey was a lengthy trek along the separation of the ominous expanse of lush forest and dull grasslands that met in a violent clash. Crow lost count of how many withered remains his gaze caught, splayed as if in a last struggle. Perhaps it was the mind. The sea of brush did not appear to end, no matter how high one could perch in the treetops; it was enough to drive anyone mad.

The party was on the smaller end, but what they lacked in size they compensated with frustration and a multitude of clever tricks up their sleeves. They donned masks slung over their shoulders with distorted humanoid and animal features painted with vibrant primary hues, their bodies painted to conceal their movements in the dank undergrowth. The closer one approached, one would be able to make out more colors splashed across their bodies in striking shades of vermilion and gold, some members of the party displaying more than others.

Among them they transported bottles and carefully sealed buckets, key items in their success, for this was not just a raid but also a really big prank. Everything had been rehearsed prior to, down to trivial parts of their communication to ensure it all flowed smoothly. Crow did not come here just to make a fool of himself.

Their voices hushed to no more than whispers the deeper the party traversed into the den of the enemy and the forest turned to perilous jungle. Crossing the border was easy. Out at the edge, it was quite unguarded, but he was sure the closer they became the more difficult it would become.

The feline could catch the scent of strangers on the back of his tongue, a sure sign they were close, so he held his tail erect, a gesture to stop. Here they would prepare and wait for the rest to find their bearings before continuing.

— ★ —
Pittians: please do not start posting until I give the signal!
--- attack in [b]#757f96.[/b]

[toboggan]

Following a series of adversities and grievances on Tanglewood’s end, today was the day of compensation. The swamp’s relatively-neutral populace found themselves as the victims of an onslaught of attacks and killings, with each strike seemingly without reason.

Many opportunities for retribution presented themselves, to unfortunately recede after little to no action was taken. Even when the Pitt was at its weakest, Morgan utterly refused to lay harm upon the malignant Pittians. As good as the guy was, the Samoyed’s righteous can-do attitude belonged not in a band of beatniks and bohemians.

Fortunately for the Tanglers, Morgan was not in charge anymore.

Unfortunately for the Pittians, Morgan was not in charge anymore.

Crow, as a successor, was a tremendous verdict. The alabastrine feline consummately embodied the spirit of his people; helter-skelter, harum-scarum, and topsy-turvy. In complete honesty, the immediate decision to launch an incursion on the Pitt stupefied the experienced male - but what a welcome surprise it was. He’d paid the desert-dingalings a visit only once prior to this event, as a successful breakout attempt for a comrade, but he used what little knowledge he had to aid his tribe’s cause. He’d informed Crow of the eremetic underground tunnel system which ran below the desert’s surface, the insight which would be precariously utilized in the very near future.

The exorbitant mask barely rested on his broad features, and the sticky paint awkwardly held onto his coat’s gray shags, scarcely resembling a pattern whatsoever. However the discomforts, he was ready. Leroy paid extra close mind to the numerous shakedowns Crow brazenly provided the gang, each maneuver and exercise flawlessly memorized for the upcoming skirmish. The guardsman took it upon himself to be of little importance, today; whereas a number of his peers contributed to the territory’s ruination, Leroy would go about as a bodyguard, making absolutely sure his busy, much smaller counterparts weren’t harmed in any manner of sorts.

His visage contorted in reaction to his aversaries’ foul smell, ere he shifted his gaze expectantly to Crow. If all went well, that stench wouldn’t remain in his sniffer for more than an hour, give or take a few minutes. "Waitin’ on you, boss", he’d utter, patiently anticipating the imminent action.

[Jervis]

eyes... track

[trojan g.]

eyes... track

[arrow]

[glow=black,1,400]I GRIEVE IN STEREO, THE STEREO SOUNDS STRANGE ! — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

It had been a long time since she dragged her carcass out of the bounds of Tanglewood territory, which had long since been declared unsafe in her mind. Morgan's pacifistic nature was respected, but built up frustration among the more devious of the population, and it had finally spilled over. The declaration of war, a shocking move on Crow's new leadership end, was an experiment that she would proceed to observe with curious eyes.

She slunk in, donned in duller colors than the others among her, preferring to keep the sparkling, fancier colors for when she performed a mating dance to woo the heart of a lovely fellow female. The mask she wore, however, was fancy enough for the likes of her. She remained by Crow and Leroy, nodding with an impish grin. "Right behind ya."

[beck.]

    How odd it was to hide behind his mask once again. A face of spiked bone replacing scars and freckles -- halfway through their trek, Beck yanked the worn mask from his face, unable to tolerate the memory of its chilled bone pressed against his skin. Too many memories attached themselves to the bone, soaked into the fossilized marrow. The memories couldn't reach his thoughts when it was slung around his neck by a fabric strap. The time before Morgan, his time could only be remembered through second-hand experience, and it certainly seemed more fun than the smothering, righteous fluffball. When he looked up at Crow, he didn't see a noble figure. He saw a coward on a rooftop, dribbling blood from his nose and mumbling in a drunken stupor. Just as he had seen Morgan as a solitary pup washed ashore, and just as he had been himself. But something was going to fail, something they would overlook -- anxiety gnawed at fractured ribs as the mangy feline trailed after the raiding party, burdened by delusion and a tin bucket of viscera held from his jaws.

    Why aren't you excited, Becky? It's been too long. He grimaced. Muddy paws limped to a halt behind the others, and Beck sucked in a wispy inhale to steady his thoughts. You haven't grown soft on me, have you? It was a much different scene than the swift moments before a skirmish broke out in the streets he ruled, but the anticipation remained the same. He glanced over a bony shoulder to ensure the satchel left behind by Morgan was secure around his torso, filled with rudimentary supplies such as herbs or gauze to use in a pinch, as well as a makeshift tourniquet. He hadn't bothered with paint. Why camouflage when he could easily disappear from the living's eye? Placing his bucket of harvested guts in the sand, the poltergeist tipped his head to study Crow, unblinking as he awaited the telltale signal.

[align=center]»――➤

[Crow Roux]

[align=center]action — "speech" — thoughts

[div style="background: linear-gradient(to right, #464C5A, #757f96, #464C5A); width: 500px; height: 2px;"]

Boss. It was strange being called that. It felt as if ants crawled through his pelt which reminded him of the biting responsibility at his paws every time the word came out of someone’s mouth. It felt almost wrong to be regarded as such. Everyone looked to him to call the shots, and what was he to them? A big loser, weak, and impulsive. Much that he did was a decision made too quickly without second thought, flawed and not executed well, but this perhaps time it was different. He was able to channel months of frustration with no outlet into a single moment, this small party wandering into the depths of the jungle to cause utter havoc, and that was all they needed.

The tips of his claws flexed into the skin of his forearms as if to alleviate an itch that was not there, a mere tic spurned from his restless nerves. It had been happening often in addition to the short outbursts of violent tremors that overtook his body when he became overwhelmed. Crow was sure the others were staring at him, thought he was a freak, thought what they were about to do was irrational and dumb and—

Stop. You’ll do just fine.

It was no use battering himself down. He just needed to stop thinking for even a moment. Irrational and dumb or not, they were already this far, and turning back was no longer an option.

A breath faintly whistled through his teeth as he sucked in air, and he examined those present and giving them all a nod. Leroy, although shaky, would always have his back. Arrow, as ready as she could ever be with a devilish grin across her maw. And Beck, his luminous eyes fixated ahead in an emotionless stare.



"Sic ‘em," the feline hissed through bared teeth, slipped the mask over his face, then would take the plunge.

- ★ -

You can post now!

[Jervis]

[align=center]

From the shadows arrived an unexpected enemy, Tanglewood. The swamp group reeked of salt, making their presence known clearly withinin The Pitt's fresh-aired jungles. Within the underbrush their eyes leered from behind their stylized masks and rushed into battle towards The Pitt's caverns. It wasn't long before they were spotted. Demanding screams for attention broke out from Pittians all around. Many scrambled into the underground caves, ultimately to where their fate would be served out by Tanglewood.

Upon hearing the screeches for help, Jervis' stomach lurched. From the caverns in his temples people rushed in, warning him of their impending doom, but he disregarded them. Frustrated, he let out a shrill yell. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME FOR?" It wasn't the time to look for his assistance. Surely he wasn't going to risk his own tail for them. If they wanted to survive, they would have to fight for themselves. With that in mind, a sour expression faded onto his face as he rushed out of the leaders temple, obviously disgusted by what was about to happen. "I WANT THEM TREMBLING IN HORROR," came his demanding yell. "IF I DON'T SEE THEM BEING SERVED ON PLATTERS LATER, I WILL HAVE ONE OF YOUR HEADS ON A SPIKE NEAR THE BORDER." And he truly meant that. With their defeat could come one over dramatic temper tantrum.

The impish fox rushed down from the stairs and in the direction of the approaching enemy. In the distance he spotted a familiar enemy, presumably the newest leader of Tanglewood. They were the only one close to his size. If he were to take on a larger target, he'd be easily defeated and embarrass himself in front of his cohorts, ultimately resulting in their loss of confidence in Jervis. Thus [member=1477]Crow Roux[/member] was the perfect choice. "Come here, miscreant," came a challenged bark.

Momentarily coming close, Jervis bounced on the tips of his toes and observed the feline. Only seconds later did he plunge forward. Outstretched paws attempted to press into the male's front chest and push him towards the ground, effectively towering over him. If successful, he'd then attempt to have his claws slash at his throat recklessly afterwards. Needless to say, the fox was not playing around. Jervis held no mercy. To prove a point, he was aiming for the kill from the get go. Even if he was unsuccessful, the Tanglewood general would most likely feel pressured to back away and retreat... or he thought so.

[align=center]

tags - penned by orion

[trojan g.]

[align=center]

It was odd, how a familiar scent could trigger a memory, odd that it didn't just trigger bad ones or good ones, but any type of memory one could have associated with the smell, the smell of the Tanglewooders for Captain was one of euphoria, and it made him excited. He had a feeling he knew why they were there, at least partly, and it filled him with glee, knowing that the death of some random member of a community - it wasn't even someone in their own - could potentially fill them with so much rage that they would do something like this.

When the caracal heard the sounds of their new leader barking out his orders, Captain gladly head out towards the battle field, spotting the members that were there already, a smile on his maw. The first one he saw being [member=67]beck.[/member] he decided to go towards the other, ears flicking once as he sent a rush of earth towards the other as he ran in an attempt to throw him off, before lunging, aiming to ram into his side.

[align=center]

* captain * the pitt * caracal * 3 years old * powers * template © Orion *

[Crow Roux]

[align=center]action — "speech" — thoughts

[div style="background: linear-gradient(to right, #464C5A, #757f96, #464C5A); width: 500px; height: 2px;"]

Perfect. The Pitt were caught by surprise. Around him, his fellow Tanglers were already on the offensive, snapping at the tails of those who retreated into the caverns like startled mice, a glorious sight. Crow had different matters at hand, however; he had already attracted the likes of none other than Jervis.

The feline's jade-hued eyes glinted devilishly beneath the cover of his disguise, a snarl escaping his lips. "Who are ya callin' a miscreant? You smell too bad to be callin' me a miscreant," he taunted with a grunt, bracing for impact as the weight of [member=3615]JERVIS[/member] came crashing down onto his chest. If there was one thing his mask was useful for, it was his next move. The pressure of the situation became more apparent the closer the fox's claws neared his throat, and he had to act fast lest he lose his life. Crow propelled his body forward rather forcefully, aiming to smack his head into the other's, where his mask would crack and clatter to the ground should he connect.

It held no value to him anyway. Gaining control was pivotal, more significant than a fragile, dirty old mask.

— ★ —