SEVEN NATION ARMY

Slowly they would come, and their arrival would not go unnoticed for long as the intruders crept near the Valhallan territory. It was a fine morning, with the blood red sun creeping over the horrizon, and even as Bronze began to awaken he felt strength creep into his tired bones. His time here so far had been unsettling. He was away from his wife, from his children -- and he had little interest in meeting any of the wolves here, and yet he did not disregard him. For some reason, Syrinx had placed him at Beta for now, and though he was somewhat taken aback, he was also content that has strengths had been noted, despite his obvious age. Slowly, as the call to arms rang out across the lands, Bronze would push himself away and stretch his limbs wide.

There was little time for waiting, but he knew if he did not stretch properly he would find himself growing tired quickly. With as much speed as he could muster, the large brute carried himself toward the gathering. It was a surprising scene -- the Glaciem wolves looked no different to him than most of the Valhallans, but there was little ever much real difference in times of war in physical appearance. All that mattered was who one was loyal to. And he was loyal to Syrinx, even if temporarily; in gratitude to his Seracia for letting him seek shelter there and raise his family. His last litter of children.

As he approached, the male kept his shoulders hunched forward, head dropped low to the ground, even with his back. No moves had been made. The wolves seemed to be in limbo, waiting anxiously for the first move. Slinking forth quietly, his gaze swept over the gathering, taking in the scene. It seemed more fair than he was used to -- such polite enemies, intruding on their lands only to sit in wait, as though waiting for the Valhallans to make the first move! The tension was thick in the air, so thick he swore he could smell the stench of adrenaline coursing through the veins of every wolf. And yet he saw nothing impressive. A slight scowl formed on his lips. They would never win sitting still. He was used to dirty fighting, nothing quite so well-mannered and polite.

Desperately his brown eyes searched, finding the target quickly. A woman he thought might not expect his assault -- a medium-sized female with grey and white fur. Her defenses were solid, and he all but mirrored her as he examined the stranger, neck scrunched low and tail curling up to stiffen behind his frame. Paws shifted to evenly spread his weight, and his ears pinned back against his skull as his body rocked forward, as though getting himself amped up for what might come next.

And then he did it, with a great burst of courage and passion that was surprising for a male of his age; he barreled forward, attempting to collide with Lova, jaws splaying as his head swiveled sharply, attempting to twist around her right side and snatch the side of her neck, trying to grab her smaller body by the scruff and send her sprawling. His attack was accompanied by a gruff growl, a deep sound emanating from his throat, making his jowls quiver as his jaws snapped at her flesh. He was all too grateful his wife was not here, for he felt strange pleasure at rushing forth and attempting to destroy this stranger... and yet part of him felt nauseous and uncomfortable. He was not this man anymore, and yet he had to be. He only hoped relieving his past would not turn him into the same kind of creature again. And yet, in a way, he knew he had never changed -- there was no waiting for a command or signal for him, but raw passion as he burst forth and made the first move, regardless of whether it had been wanted or not.


Bronze vs. Lova for Siege :: Round one / ???



Attacks: attempting to snag the right side of her neck scruff and, if successful, yanking to send her sprawling


Defenses: ears pinned against skull, trying to keep his paws spread for balance as he rushed forward, tail straight out behind him, head lowered to back level and scrunched back to protect his throat


Injuries: n/a