The Fine Print
Fight lesson. Absinth, Redrum, Cadaver, Nimue.
Redrum was excited, so excited! He had been training, practicing with the odd soul or two, hunting to his heart’s galore – all in an effort to prove himself to his pack and to his mother. Today, he had coaxed his friend out from Insomnia’s borders, sure that he could protect the younger boy should he need to. With fur as fiery as the setting sun and golden eyes filled with the spark of adventure, Redrum led his companion out to the swamps for a little spar.
Bounding through the undergrowth, his paws were quick and sure-footed, glancing back to ensure Cadaver was following him every few feet.
"K-D!" He called out, his voice was too disjointed to call his friends full name – too many syllables, you know – so he chose to bark out a nickname instead. “Sp.ar! Red has, gotten- better!” The boy spun on his heels, dropping his weight low and preparing to make a rather playful attack towards the younger boy. Perhaps he was too excited.
Redrum speaks in third person, known as illeism.
He deals with neurological issues from head trauma,
Causing disruptions in speech and movement,
Making him appear twitchy, with uncontrollable tics affecting every muscle.
Assume he isn't wearing his skull mask unless specified.
Redrum was delighted to see Cadaver switch gears into defensive mode so quickly, his grin getting even wider if it were possible. At the younger boy’s retort Redrum barked out a wild laugh, wiggling his shoulders as his tail lashed behind him. He was primed and ready to go! With a playful snarl, he surged forward – but the slick ground made his paws unstable, causing the boy to skid and be unable to avoid Cadaver's surprise leap. The two crashed together, Redrum’s head knocking directly into Cadaver’s as they landed in a heap on the ground.
But the red boy wasn’t done yet! He rolled, trying to untangle himself from his friend as his jaws moved to try and grab whatever piece of flesh and fur he could.
Redrum speaks in third person, known as illeism.
He deals with neurological issues from head trauma,
Causing disruptions in speech and movement,
Making him appear twitchy, with uncontrollable tics affecting every muscle.
Assume he isn't wearing his skull mask unless specified.
On this day, as Absinth prowled through the underbrush of the swampland, her ears caught the faint sounds of playful growls and rustling nearby. Intrigued, she followed the sounds until she stumbled upon a clearing. There, a sight that both amused and baffled her: two children engaged in a spirited bout of sparring. It wasn’t the most practiced thing she had ever seen. In fact, she was appalled to think they had parents to teach them this shit – they were shit at it. Where the hell were all the kids that had actually been through the ringer? She wanted to be reminded of herself, not see everything she was glad she wasn’t.
One of the young wolves had fur as vibrant as freshly spilled blood, every shade of crimson swirling across his coat in stripes and whatnot. His movements were mechanical yet passionate, fueled by youth and determination. He had some weird ass ears too. Engaged with him was a younger boy of monochromatic hues. Less experienced, obviously, but the drive and tenacity was there. It didn’t help that he was younger. But he’d be a big’un in time. The two of them were having a good bit of trouble with the slick ground, slipping and sliding around while simultaneously trying to best one another.
She observed them with a playful twinkle in her emerald eyes. Despite their enthusiasm though, it was evident to her that they lacked finesse and technique, even the clumsy sort you get from the basics. Who’s parents were failing their children here? Haha. Sensing an opportunity for mischief and perhaps a touch of mentorship, she decided to intervene. Maybe she could get that sense of accomplishment Aresenn got from his lessons…
A grin spread across her features as Absinth stepped into the clearing they were sparring in, her presence announcing itself with a rumbling, impish laugh. "Hello, little ones," Absinth purred, her voice as smooth as honey dripping from its comb. "Sparring are you? But, it seems to me that both of you could benefit from a touch of refinement in technique." With an assertive saunter, the woman approached them, her movements fluid and graceful as she came to stand before them. “For starters, You’ve no idea how to adapt to your terrain. Your footwork lacks finesse, your attacks lack ingenuity.” Absinth eyed the two children, daring either one of them to take offense to her criticism. “Your stance is important, keep your limbs shoulder-width apart, knees bent and ready to move, distribute your weight evenly. You have to keep a low center of gravity — jumping won’t do you any favors.” Her gaze swept over them, assessing their response to this impromptu lesson.
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1. | The Fine Print | Corpseghoul Swamplands | 11:01 PM, 03-06-2024 | 06:10 AM, 03-23-2024 |