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Artorias · (This post was last modified: 03-15-2021, 09:29 PM by Artorias.)

A snorting chuckle sound slipped from between Artorias' clenched jaws when Rudy commented on his tardiness to the fight. It was good to see his brother hadn't lost his spirit or bravado in between all that blood. With the mottled gray wolf at his back, Artorias felt much more confident facing off against the coyotes knowing they couldn't surround them now. The other two he had attacked seemed to also be grasping this concept, and the one he had injured severely started to limp back away from the fight. The second took a couple bold steps closer, but a deadly leer from fiery amber eyes and a rumbling snarl turned it away in a hurry. Art watched while the two retreated a short distance away, waiting for their third compatriot. Now the tides had turned, and the advantage the coyotes had was stripped away from them. Artorias turned his focus on the remaining coyote, the largest and oldest of the bunch, and locked gazes whenever it would glance at him, eyes moving between the two wolves.

Rudy's sudden shout caught Art's attention; he looked up just in time to see the bleeding coyote scrambling away from the mutilated body of some sort of prey animal. That was what this was all about, a scrap over a meal? He guessed it made sense; food was scarce with the extended winter and many an animal would be getting more and more desperate for a bite to eat. Even still, the dark-furred boy had to question whether it had been worth the trouble Rudy had gotten himself into. That would have to be a conversation for later though, once the fighting had ceased. For now, he fixed the last opponent with a lethal glare, daring him to make a move. The coyote was smart though, considering his options and odds. Artorias hoped it would be smart enough to turn tail and run. Unfortunately, it was not.

The coyote lunged in for Rudyard and Artorias reacted on reflex, lunging forward with sword blade timed for where the coyote would be. Only the coyote wasn't there, and he only ended up kicking up chunks of ice and snow while the smaller predator darted to the side, feinting to the side and lunging in at him. Too late to abort, Artorias knew he was getting bit. The only thing he could do now was decide what his reaction would be. The coyote's smaller fangs grabbed at his leg, making the wolf yelp from the sudden sting as the teeth bit into his flesh. Except Art didn't recoil from the attack, instead using his momentum in his missed swing to twist his body and use his superior weight and strength to drag the coyote by the jaws along with him. Like its compatriot, the older coyote was unable to keep its footing on the ice, and as soon as Artorias pulled, he was swept off his paws, dragged across his belly and lifted and slammed down on his back directly in front of the very angry wolf. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Artorias was faster, bringing his other paw down hard into the coyote's head and slamming his skull into the ground. The coyote was dazed for a moment, and before he could regain his consciousness, the larger wolf had brought his wooden sword down in a stabbing motion, pressing the dulled end of the weapon hard into the coyote's throat.

Artorias snarled and glared with rage down at the smaller canine as it coughed and sputtered while he crushed his trachea, tiny paws scratching desperately at the wooden blade to try and free itself. Art growled louder and pushed down harder, getting another choking wheeze from the coyote. He saw the primal fear in the coyote's eyes as death loomed imminent over him. This was it. Artorias could end this fight in one second if he pushed down any harder. The coyote's neck would surely snap beneath the weight of the wolf and he would be dead. It was what he deserved for daring to harm his brother. It would be justified.

...But Artorias didn't move. He stared down into the fearful creature's eyes, watching while he struggled just to stay alive. It would be so easy to simply kill the scavenger now, to let him choke to death or snap his neck like a twig. But something gnawed away at his resolve inside his heart. Maybe it was the way the coyote looked so pitiful flailing and fighting for his very life. Maybe it was the fact that he could feel his brother's eyes on him and it helped to quell some of the anger burning in his heart. Maybe it was his mother's words echoing in his head while he watched the dying animal... "With all battles, you need to weigh your options... Give your opponent every opportunity to submit or retreat..." Artorias knew he was the dominant predator in this fight; he could have killed all three of the coyotes easily with Rudyard at his back. But what separated him as a warrior from a mindless killer was his ability to show mercy. Did an animal just doing what it could to survive deserve death because it chose the wrong kill to plunder? Did a downtrodden soul deserve leniency for the damning crimes it had committed?

Just as the coyote's struggling was beginning to show signs of faltering, Artorias relented and removed his sword from the scavenger's throat. The coyote gasped and coughed as it struggled to refill its lungs—only to have the wind knocked out of it again when Art instead brought his sword into its stomach for good measure, knocking it a short distance away and making sure he stayed down. "Leave. Now," he ordered in a growl to the downed coyote, glancing to fix the other two with his steely gaze. "All of you. Get the hell out of my sight before I kill you all." This was his one show of mercy to the starving canines. If they chose to accept, he would not pursue them and let them go free to lick their wounds and find their own meals. If even one of them refused, he wouldn't stop swinging until the only sounds that came from them was the squishing of their broken bodies under his sword. The choice was theirs.

"Speech" | Thoughts | ”Corbin"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
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