ardent

Mighty Hunter



Basilisk

Armada
Warlord

Master Fighter (245)

Master Hunter (240)

An icon representing the specialty Marauder Marauder

An icon representing the specialty Bloodletter Bloodletter

age
4 Years
gender
Male
gems
640
size
Paleo species
build
Balanced
posts
1,035

Samhain 2022
12-14-2021, 10:36 PM

Basilisk had been getting a few lessons from his father and grandfather. The art of stalking and scenting his prey had been the priority in the lessons from Sirius, and his father had concentrated on teaching him how to eviscerate his prey. He was still a little unsteady on his oversized paws, but he concentrated hard. Especially with his fathers, who’s unforgiving tones had centred his focus. Walking silently was perhaps the hardest part about his lessons so far, and he was determined to get it right.

Learning how to slide his paws carefully through the undergrowth, not committing his steps until he was certain nothing would crunch beneath his paws. So long as he was going slowly, his accident-prone ways lessened. Today, he was out by himself, moving though the long grasses of the Armadas main territory he could just spot the obelisk in the distance, and hear the familiar crackle of the central firepit burning through its fuel. He couldn’t see past the towering weeds that were abundant in this place, cleared away in the central spots, and where the Warlord allowed them to flourish in all the places between.

Slide, step. Slide, step. He moved cautiously along, feeling his way, his face focused on what was in front of him, but his ears were heavily listening to his steps. He could do this, he could. He was on a roll. Already he was feeling more confident in his steps, feeling his way along and hearing only the softest crunch of grass beneath his large paws. His breathing was slow, rhythmic, when he heard the soft caw of a raven in the grass a little to his right. He couldn’t see the bird, but he could hear the way it dug in the dirt. Looking for worms perhaps, or the grass seeds that he was told were abundant in the spring.

He let out a very careful, slow breath. His heart picking up its rhythm in his chest. His first solo kill, he could do this. A grin appeared between the faux scars like slashes across his face. He lowered his shoulders, his ears perked forward, listening. He could hear the bird still, hear the little sounds of its digging claws. It’s concentration on its work. He took a slow, careful step forward, pausing as his paw landed gently in the grass. Listening. No sign the bird had heard him. He took another step, and then another. His lowered head and raised shoulders imitated a stalking creature as he moved closer and closer to his prey. He could hear his breath, and tried to lower it. Slowing it, breathing evenly and quietly, not letting his excitement run away from him. He wanted this bird, he wanted to bring it proudly home to his father.

Surely Azure would find pleasure in his son hunting down something with wings, something that could move so quickly if he wasn’t careful. With the thought of pleasing his father a heavy weight in his chest, he crept closer still. He could see the bird now. Its glossy black feathers clear against the green grasses of the Armada territory. He could see the way its talon moved through the earth, digging and clearing a spot, before its inquisitive beak lowered, smacking at the earth. It was still intent on its work, it hadn’t noticed the stalking pup yet. He lowered himself even further, low to the ground, the grasses about him doing a decent job of hiding his still-small frame. He let in a soft breath, and then held it. Waiting for the bird to turn away from him. It took some time, before its scavenging brought its back to the pup, and then he lunged. Throwing his weight forward, the speed of his strike almost causing him to stumble. He felt his paws quaking beneath him, unsteady, and then he was airborne. Throwing himself into the air and across. The raven let out a squark of anger and protest, and then the pups paws were upon it. They both hit the earth hard, and Basilisk managed to curl himself into a ball around the bird. Trapping it down beneath his body. He did it, he did it! But the battle wasn’t one yet. The squashed bird was screaming, its wicked beak finding purchase in his fur, drawing little droplets of blood. Bas snarled angrily, and squished the bird harder into the earth, trying to get a good angle, and then his teeth were around its little neck. There was the crunch of breaking bones, and its insistent caws fell silent. It dangled limb beneath him, and he grabbed it in his maw, lifting it up high. He let out a muffled howl of joy. He had done it! He had taken down prey on his own. Just wait until his father heard about this.


"Speech"

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