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Status (Firearms License)
Allies (Emergency Services)
Scout
Ephemeral Reckoning
Even though he felt the First Tongue grate against his ears, this was no Spirit; simply a man. It seemed he had found the injurer. But this Uratha had found him first. Normally, this would irk him. But not now. What good is prey without the stalking that precedes it?
When he says 'kind', does he mean tribe...or blessing?
He turned his nose to the wind. The murderer was obviously hiding. But how far into the woods? What skin did he wear?
1 success
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The ugliness of the First Tongue that had been spoken was the first give away. Even in human form an Uratha can speak better than that though its still not pleasant to hear. As there was no report of a giant wolf running around, surely someone would have seen one right?, its reasonable to assume that the hidden speaker is in Urhan. Hiding somewhere low to the ground.
<<Back. Off. Zealot. My. Trial.>> The voice calls again from somewhere near the river. There's a hesitation to each word as well, this speaker is new to the language of spirits and their kind.
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The wind doesn't shift but Nikolai can make out the hidden Uratha's scent now. Definitely near the river.
And their injured.
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Status (Firearms License)
Allies (Emergency Services)
Scout
Ephemeral Reckoning
It was clear to him that these two were of different tribes and that this was a territorial dispute. He resolved himself to wait some more. It would simply be a matter of time before the Pale Uratha decided to pounce. And another thing became clear in the exchange. The wolf called him a zealot and Nikolai's mind immediately leapt to Fire-Touched. He had no proof. Only suspicion.
He made a concentrated effort to peer past his vantage, across the river. Look for blood...
Kelreth "Bump" this post
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"I don't care what this is. You don't come onto our turf and cause shit. I've bled and lost more than you can know you little shit." Now the pale Uratha moves, pacing back and forth as he glares across the low ground looking for the other voice. Hands slowly opening and closing into fists. A soft rustle gives away the other speaker before they move into view from under brush near the river bank. The Pale Uratha side steps and shifts into near-Man.
The second speaker, a small wolf of dark brown fur, is lean, no not lean, damn near emaciated. Fur barely hides outlines of ribs. Dark splatters on the leaves near their exit looks like it may be blood.
<<My. Test. Will. Be. True. Hunter.>> The wolf coughs out between teeth never meant to speak a language like this one. <<More. You.>>
At that the Pale Uratha tenses and adjusts their weight, getting ready to move.
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Status (Firearms License)
Allies (Emergency Services)
Scout
Ephemeral Reckoning
Nikolai reaches for his phone. As he does so, his fingers brush against the cool metal of his handcuffs. With the sight he was about to witness, his thoughts immediately jump to the Ithaeur. Nathaniel...
Perhaps he could Craft something durable enough to bind an Uratha regardless of the form they took. It would serve him well. He removes his phone and sets it to record what he is witnessing. This was a chance to gain insight into Pure warfare, if not merely for him then for the Pack as well. He and Brigit were not on speaking terms. That much was certain. The intel would have to be fetched elsewhere. And lo, here it was.
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"Maybe one day pup but for now you're trespassing and stirring up shit." Fingers curl one by one as if the Pale Uratha is using them to count.
A single finger rises. "But I'll be nice, this time. Let your alpha know that Last of the Flames of the Howl of Night helped keep this quiet. Or don't and remember who you owe."
The finger flicks towards the river. "Now get the hell out of my city before I beat you into tomorrow."
With a soft growl the smaller wolf nods its head before moving towards the river. <<We. Take. Town. One. Day.>> It barks at the Pale Uratha.
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Status (Firearms License)
Allies (Emergency Services)
Scout
Ephemeral Reckoning
Last of the Flames...? He was right in his suspicions. Izidakh. He stopped recording, placing his phone back in his pocket. Here, a choice presented itself. Two paths. The Fire-Touched...or this bleeding pup? The pup would be weaker, possibly easier to manipulate. But he knew of his insensate rage. His frustration. That could prove untenable and might end up giving up his position. But this was the Izidakh's territory. Confronting him would do the same thing and bring his pack with him.
The outsider may have been a petulant whelp. But they were both interlopers. He would wait until such an opportunity presented itself, then he would move from his vantage and begin to track the wolf.
HISHU
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A soft sigh escapes Last of the Flames as he shakes his head. "No you won't. Your kind own the wilds. We take the cities. That is how it is ordained." He stands straight and doesn't make any moves as the smaller wolf takes one last glance then runs towards the river. Disappearing behind low brush.
Seconds later there's a splash. Several seconds after that the Pale Uratha turns and with a quick glance around walks back to the road. Left to his own devices Last of the Flames turns and heads north. Walking at an almost leisurely pace along the road.
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At first it seems like Last of the Flames has a plan. That there's a method to the seemingly aimless wandering. Then as time drags on... well either Last of the Flames has memorized a large section of southern Sacramento or he is just aimlessly wandering.
Though not without purpose. Every now and then Last of the Flames stops and looks intently at a building or an alley. Occasionally at one of the numerous small plots of grass and trees that dot Sacramento. Inevitably the Pure moves one. Sometimes after a glance and sometimes after several minutes of careful examination of the area.
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