This was all that fucking raccoon's fault. The fireflies were evil and cruel and must have been exceptionally pissed off when Armando cupped them in his stupid thieving paws, and that all blew back on Artisan as his eyes and ears and nose started to leak a gross blue fluid. Artisan had never in his life been considered gross. He was beautiful, not gross, not yucky, not oozing. So naturally he ran away, as far from infection and disease as he could possibly get and into the frigid north. There was a huge fucking wall he'd passed while heading to the pack challenge, that would protect him.

When the paranoid wolf finally did reach the wall, he wasn't sure what to do next. Would hiding behind it do, or would he need to dig beneath it? Build a den? Climb higher? The fireflies hadn't shown much difficulty in reaching Armando when he was up in the air so Artisan assumed they'd catch him no matter how high he climbed. Digging, then. He'd dig a hole deep into the ground and hide there forever. It was the only way he'd stay safe, and so the colorful wolf gave into his paranoia and began to frantically dig at the base of the wall.

"Speech"

D i m o s t h e n e s Dimosthenes had woken up that day with a much weirder taste in his mouth than usual and a feeling like he couldn't control the amount of spit in his mouth. He swallowed and dragged himself to his paws lazily, before glancing down casually. A small pool of ooze lay on the ground where his snout had been. He stared at it for a moment in shock and then spat out the rest of the liquid in his mouth into it. Ooze. All of it was ooze. And it was coming from him! Shit, was he going to die? The fear was taking over, fast, and the corners of his vision started to fade to black. He spun around and started running, frantically trying to get away from the ooze in the only way he could think of. Eventually, he reached the wall. Too scared to even notice most of his surroundings, he did put together what the other man was doing and charged straight into him, shoving. "Get the hell out of my way!" he snarled. His eyes were wide and wild. "Speech"

Artisan was lost in his digging when the other arrived, his paws not leaving the snow covered dirt until a heavy force bowled him straight over and away from his hole. Artisan rolled, snow and dirt and mud coating his colorful pelt. "What the fuck is your problem, buddy?" He managed to make his way back on four paws, looking suspiciously at the other leaky man who'd hit him.

"Oh shit you're infected." The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and he maneuvered back to the wall quickly to sit his ass squarely in his half-dug hole for protection. The paranoia was growing - this stranger was rabid, he was going to kill him, eat him, maybe worse. With his back paws Artisan continued to scratch feebly at the dirt hole in which he sat, praying it would open up and envelop him in safety. "Look buddy you can just stay over there, and I'll stay over here, and everyone's happy, okay?"

"Speech"

D i m o s t h e n e s Before Dime could throw himself into digging at the hole, the man returned. Angry. Dime was angry too, and he bared his teeth as he dug, tasting the dirt that flew up into his mouth and covered his face. It stuck to the ooze. Now he looked even more disheveled than before, dirt splattering over her face and ooze dripping from his eyes, mouth, and nose and his pelt all out of order from the weeks he'd spent in a mood too rough to try to clean himself. The sensory annoyance of dirt in his fur, which had always made him feel awful, didn't make anything better. Finally, the dirt was too much. He moved back, growling at the man who sat in the hole. He's going to take it. In his addled mind, somehow Dime had gotten the idea that he had to get through this hole as fast as possible, and if he didn't, he was going to die. 'Look buddy you can just stay over there, and I'll stay over here, and everyone's happy, okay?' "Hell no," he snapped. He was seeing red, a haze across everything that made everything look like a possible killer. "I'm getting through--I'm getting out of this place. You better get out of my way, or I'll make you regret it." "Speech"

Okay, Artisan was clueing in now. This man didn't want to eat him, he wanted to take his hole. Oh hell no. Artisan stood, placing himself stop the hastily dug pit and peeling back his muzzle defensively. "This is my fucking hole buddy, go make your own." He snarled, blue ooze dripping from his nose and down into his gums as he bared his teeth to the man. "You get that? Mine!" An already possessive man, paranoid Artisan would not allow this stranger two feet from his fucking sanctuary. If he had to he'd go gather every pirate that roamed Boreas and sick them on the man all at once for daring to take what was his.

He planted his feet firmly, lowering his head between his shoulders and snapping his teeth out in a mock bite. While he may not have been much of a fighter, Artisan was controlled now by the sickness that had already done it's work in convincing him that his hole was his salvation.

"Speech"

D i m o s t h e n e s The man bared his teeth as well, which only made Dime more stubbornly angry. He was a determined sort of wolf, even when he didn't think that he was going to die if he didn't get something. "Are you stupid? I have to get through here!" He was being selfish and he didn't even know it. All he knew was that he was going to survive this and for reasons he hadn't even tried to comprehend, that meant he had to get through this hole. He snapped his teeth back at his enemy, growling and stiff-legged. The other wolf wasn't really a wolf in his mind anymore. Just an opponent, and a stupid, unreasonable one at that. Dime was scared out of his mind, and he protected himself with anger. "Speech"

Artisan

The sickness deepens... You feel a sharp ache in your bones, as if something just took hold, rooting itself into your system.

Dimosthenes

The sickness deepens... You feel a sharp ache in your bones, as if something just took hold, rooting itself into your system.