Completed The Breaking Point

[Sliver]

The 32nd of Fall, 512 A.V. “There’s a storm brewing, weasel, I don’t know if I’d go out there.” Silence was all that followed the warning as Sliver walked to her small room, supplies in hand. For a long moment she stared at the empty bunk on the opposite wall, bed neat, dresser untouched and unfurnished. She made sure never to stray onto that side of the room, not even to dust the collections of microscopic dead things collecting over the unused area. Something about crossing that line, physically making her way across that emptiness scared her more than anything. She shivered, rubbing her Mohawk anxiously then snapping back to reality and setting to her pack. Her breathing was low and controlled, but the fact that she even had to control her breathing was a problem. Something that had been simmering inside of her for weeks was reaching a boil and she needed to escape. Over these past couple days she had become increasingly restless to the point where she snapped even on guard duty. Her compatriots all agreed she needed to get out of the city, as if she had needed them to tell her that. She huffed. She had water and dried fruit, a small pup tent folded up neatly under her pack. A thick furry hat was placed over her head with a bit of trepidation at ruining her hair which she had grown so fond of. There was no meat, for that was the aim of this little expedition, to hunt for herself as well as bring back some food for the City, its lack already becoming apparent even if hunters had only been unable to go out for a few days. The Icewatch discouraged anyone else leaving, especially alone, but they didn’t stop the bears, and Sliver would be damned if they’d stop her just because she wasn’t a mountain of white fur in her other form. Her dark and brooding gaze stopped most any complaints, if she didn’t get out into the wilderness soon she was going to lose it on guard duty, and that wasn’t going to be pretty. Better she use her rage on the strangely acting animals rather than an innocent civilian. She shrugged on an extra layer of clothing, slung the pack over her shoulders and lastly put on two fox-fur-lined mittens, feeling ridiculous, but also warm. She slunk out of the back of the barracks so that she needn’t catch the attention of more of her comrades than necessary, then trudged slowly into the Talderan Tundra. The Kelvic set into a methodical jog once she made it out onto the main part of the windswept tundra, the snow not yet deep enough or frozen solid so she could move with relative ease. Her progress wasn’t the fastest, but it was steady, and she had begun before dawn had even risen to get the most out of a day of hunting that she could. By the time the sun was high in the sky she had left the city far behind her, had shed a layer of furs, and had ditched her pack of supplies under a set of shrubberies, marking the spot with her own urine in order to be able to trace it even if it began to snow. She moved quicker now, her breathing steady, blood pumping in rhythm with her movements. The wolverine enjoyed this physical exertion greatly, but it wasn’t satisfying enough to dissuade that bubbling in her gut, that rage that hung just below her lungs like a burning forge fire. She felt so useless. She had become a guard of the Icewatch in order to protect, as her blood mandated her to, yet all she had done was meet some people and stand in front of taverns, or worse yet, drum out instructions repeated over and over again. She couldn’t even comfort the citizens. There was talk of strange magic, the deaths of the hunters and the Icewatch member. Bodies piled, blame was thrown like stones into a pond, but none of the ripples led anywhere, evaporating just as soon as they appeared. The wolverine wanted to scream, but that would alert any game in the area of her presence…No that bubbling was just going to have to wait. It was several miles out before her pace slowed and her nose began to work. Far enough from the city for game to be abound. She was unsure of how it would respond…even creatures she had always considered prey seemed to want a piece of the violence erupting around the city. She lowered herself to the ground and scented the air, trying to catch whiff of something tasty. It was a pristine cold day, the wind was not too strong, and though the cold could dissuade the hardiest Vantha, Syna shown down as if apologizing for the cold. Sliver rose. A few scents caught her attention. A couple were old, a pack of wolves that were long gone, probably chasing the rabbits that seemed just as faint. Caribou were closer, but that was still a day’s trek, something she didn’t have time for. Then there were the foxes. She liked the smell of foxes, cleaner than a wolf or dog, fresher, as if their size had something to do with it, they smelled like musty snow and saliva, and though she couldn’t understand why they spent so much time on their coats, she could appreciate their dedication to their looks, even if it was just to benefit her when she skinned and gutted them. Foxes sounded just right. Surprisingly there seemed to be quite a few of them journeying together, Sliver couldn’t tell the exact amount, and she was much too excited by the prospect of the hunt for this to send off any warning bells. Goal in mind the wolverine set off, slower now, long strides taking her at a quieter march towards the origin of the scent. She would have made good time save the fact that she was no expert tracker. She would constantly lose the scent. Sometimes she could make up for this by finding tracks in the snow or pellets left by the foxes, but more often than not she had to back track and find the scent again then continue in a different direction. The process was frustrating to say the least and it took up much of the day as the sun climbed the sky, even if she was encouraged by the fact that the scent continued to get fresher and easier to follow as she went. Curious was how she found multiple corpses on her way there. Sparrows, mice, voles, ermine, squirrels, shredded, half eaten, and left to freeze and rot in equal measure. The meat had mostly been preserved by the cold, but Sliver wasn't going to chance the meat even if her stomach grumbled expectantly at the scent of almost fresh kills. She continued on, a small inkling of trepidation calling somewhere in her mind as she went. She was certainly perplexed when the trail stopped. She couldn't be more than an hour behind her quarry now and the trail suddenly vanished as if she had been following nothing. The wolverine turned anxiously in circles, suddenly realizing the folly in coming out to the tundra alone. Her rage had been paramount, her focus had just been on the release of the tension residing within her. She didn't exactly regret her decision...but... She turned swiftly, she had heard something, but the area around her was just the pristine white. No...There! She whipped around again and as if it melted from the very face of the earth a white snow fox stared at her, teeth bared and a low whining growl issuing from its throat. She growled back and was answered again, and again. Sliver got a sinking feeling in her throat and rotated herself around. At least a dozen white foxes emerged from the tundra, each one a copy of the one beside it, ready to pounce. Well ****.

[Sliver]

This was it. There were a lot of them. Certainly more than the Kelvic had been expecting, or more importantly, was prepared for. The creatures stood in near silence, low growls issuing from all of the animal’s throats, including her own. She wouldn’t be transforming, the advantages of flexibility in human form was something she would surely need to utilize in this fight. She took a deep breath. For the first time in weeks she felt calm, nearly relaxed, and this was certainly the most dangerous situation had been in, but that was it wasn’t it? This was the one problem she could solve in the precise way she knew how, by ripping it limb from limb. She didn’t need to cajole these foxes into submission, didn’t need to assure them that their families would be avenged. Didn’t need to stand and do nothing while they gnawed at her like vermin. The wolverine felt it, that bubbling, that pulsating heat in her chest. It crawled up through her lungs, twining into her neck, down her arms and legs, she was on fire, an unbearably warm fire of adrenaline and rage. All at once she felt the world align into the place that it should have been all along and she tilted her head back and roared. It echoed across the tundra, the wind carrying the sound farther than she could ever throw it. It rebounded weakly, even as her lungs continued to pelt it out until the sound was like white noise. Saliva was flung from her mouth, and she ripped off the mittens, the hat and circled slowly, watching the foxes, who seemed to be a bit taken a back at the show of intimidation. She slammed her fists so hard onto her chest that the action reverberated through her entire body. “Come. At. Me. Bastards.” And then she heard the sound of snow shifting behind her and whirled to find a fox, its jaws aiming for her face as it sprung like a bird of flight into the air. One hand mercilessly plucked it from the air and snapped its neck with one brutal crushing grab and twist of its neck, throwing it aside like an abandoned toy. Then they were all on top of her. She vaguely remembered something that Khilo told her once there and then. “I read about what you are, a wolverine. They are small, but vicious.” He had smiled then, that sly expression she had enjoyed so much. “They can crack bones with their molars, take down an adult caribou by themselves, they scavenge as much as hunt, and can chase predators bigger than themselves away from their own kills. I understand now why you always take on fights much too big for you my wolverine.” She knew that if these foxes had been regular…well first of all they wouldn’t be in a roving killing pack like they were now, but more importantly, they wouldn’t have attempted such a brazen thing, not after her show of dominance but here they were, ripping apart her clothes and trying for exposed parts of her flesh like rabid dogs that had fed on human flesh. She felt almost sorry for them as she crushed their skulls, broke their spines and sank her teeth into their necks…almost. She realized now why they were not doing as much damage to her as their numbers implied, it was because half of them were barely adolescents, weak things the size of cats that were easily broken. She cried out in pain as one got a hold of her ankle, teeth sinking in and tearing out a chunk of flesh. Alright not so weak as all that. The snow started to become stained with blood, both hers and her adversaries. She knew that she was in for a world of hurt after this as she snapped the leg of one fox, quickly snapping his spine to make the death quick. Her strength drained as their numbers grew weak, but never once did she see their intensity waver, it was as if whatever survival senses they had had just been overridden by the urge to kill, and Sliver was uncomfortable with the fact that the creatures she was destroying seemed like machines more than animals. She snarled again as a long gash appeared upon her forearm. She was on all fours by this point, kicking, punching, tackling anything that moved in the bloody mess around her. The warm blood had melted quite a sizeable space in which the animals to engage in their deadly dance and Sliver slipped and rolled over the substance as she desperately tried to finish the last of the foxes off. The final whelp was small, completely red at this point, and his jaws snapped viciously at her over and over again, undaunted by the fact that all his comrades had fallen. Sliver contemplated ending his life here, imagining how torturous it must be for him to live like this when so young. After a long moment, however, she tied his back and front paws with some twine, and threw him in a sack. When she returned to Avanthal she could hand him to Frostfawn, maybe they would be able to find something to do with him, learn why they were all this way. After a few minutes the struggling in the sack quieted, even rabid things had to get tired at some point, she supposed, and Sliver was left alone in a pool of blood, maimed and eviscerated corpses surrounding her as if in some dark ritual. The feeling of satisfaction in her gut was entirely empty from before. Even this triumph rang hollow, these creatures had thrown their lives at her as if they were meaningless, this was not the culmination of a successful hunt, this was just slaughter. That feeling filled her insides once more and the wolverine just hung her head, tears dripping slowly from her dark eyes, making clean rivers through the dried blood on her face.

[Sliver]

Three chimes: That’s the amount of time Sliver gave herself to sit there and feel sorry for herself. She sat there, head down, eyes closed, a small stream of salty tears dripping down her face at the injustice of the scene she had just created. She was torn. Should she have stayed in the city and just tried to hold it in? Did she make this judgment in complete error? She refused to believe that, she refused to believe that it would have been better if she had just stayed in the city and not let this out. Her three chimes were up. She tore through one of the adult foxes to regain her strength, then rose. She was covered with sticky and drying blood, every joint that shifted created a physical reaction of the substance coating her clothes and flesh. She undressed swiftly and walked a few steps, collecting a handful a fresh snow and cleaned herself. It was icy and rough, and her body had an immediate reaction to being exposed to the cold, but if she wanted to leave without being tracked by Morwen knew what back to the city, she needed to be free of the bloody stench. Her skin was nearly rubbed raw from the icy chunks, but she was clean, so she swiftly transformed. She surveyed the destruction. The bodies were maimed and mutilated, none salvageable for skinning, and she wouldn’t have been able to save the meat in time to bring back to the city. She snorted. Her entire purpose of coming out here had been a complete failure. A half whimper, half growl uttered from the sack and Sliver blinked. Well perhaps not entirely for nothing. She fished around the sack, nosing it until she found the foxes neck and grabbed onto the scruff and headed out over the tundra as fast as her short legs would carry her. The thing whined and cried, but Sliver had no sympathy for it. Well that wasn’t true, in theory she was brimming with sympathy for the pathetic creature clenched in her jaws, but it was one thing she could blame for these strange occurrences, and whatever tired rage she had left within her being radiated onto it. She followed her own scent back to her supplies. It was slower going, her legs sinking into the snow periodically so that she felt like a seal hopping over drifts and sinking into the snow. She dropped her reluctant charge more than a few times, but quickly retrieved the struggling mass and continued onward. Syna was sinking low in the sky, preparing for a well earned rest when Avanthal’s lights appeared on the horizon. Sliver was tired. Her injuries were minor, but numerous, and she was in sore need of a hot bath. With some trouble she found her pack and supplies, and transformed, quickly dressing with the aptly brought spare set of clothes. She set the bag down and when she went to lift it back up she noticed it was significantly lighter than before. She turned around swiftly to see a small form racing away back the way they came. Sliver snarled and sprinted afterward. She had not come all this way to slaughter a bunch of foxes that Frostfawn preferred to protect, and come back with not even a pelt or meat to show for it.

[Sliver]

Her full out sprint only lasted for about a minute before the rigors of the day hit her body like a wheel barrow filled with icestone. She stumbled and fell to the ground, her breaths ragged and shallow. The Kelvic snarled low and long, taking the time to bring herself to her feet and looking out across the darkening horizon. She still could see the small shape, but it was growing even more minute every moment she let pass. She started again, this time at a jog. The one benefit she had was that the thing smelled of death and guts spilled from her claws, even once the darkness encroached upon her she could still smell the bastard’s stench like a road before her. The wind blew against her face, trying to get her to turn around. She almost felt as if Morwen herself was beckoning her back to the warm arms of the Icewatch Barracks, reassuring her that it wouldn’t be weakness to give up this chase. She struggled against the air’s natural barrier, wondering if the little fox was as tired as her. It felt almost freeing, the inability to see where she was going. Well it would have been if it hadn’t also been terrifying. It was to her advantage that the tundra lay out like an icy blanket before her, but it didn’t meant there weren’t obstacles for her to avoid. She still had the advantage of her low light vision, but soon this too would be gone, and she would merely be floundering in the dark, stranded without aid or supplies in the Talderan wilderness like a target for all of the rabid animals to flock to, a beacon of pitiful weakness. Her nose curled. She was getting closer, the smell was much more pungent than before, which meant her prey was more tired that she had imagined. Her pace had steadily slowed the further she proceeded, until she was barely moving at an extended walk. The wind roared around her ears, but it wasn’t too loud for her to hear the angry whimper that heralded something fastening itself to her leg. She bent slowly even as the teeth sunk through the skins tied around her numb feet into the flesh. She pried the creature away from her boot and held it before her, struggling, growling, and snapping. Faced with it here in the darkness, its shape barely discernable against the obsidian backdrop of the cold night, Sliver realized she only had one choice for the creature. She tried to meet it’s crazed gaze there in the shadows, but all it did was groan and snarl. She wasn’t a sentimental hunter, everything had its place in the world and there was no need to apologize or thank anyone for a kill that you made, but as her hands tightened around it’s neck in preparation she whispered an apology to it, for her actions that Syna and Dira and Morwen had witnessed upon this day. It’s neck snapped with a barely audible crack, and she ripped apart its flesh, gnawing on the warm blood and muscle inside as she started slowly back to the City. It’s life force kept her body warm even as the cold sank into her flesh, and the emptiness seemed a stone that sank down into the pit of her stomach with the warm flesh of her kill.

[Sliver]

Avanthal shone like a hidden gem within the icy and unforgiving wasteland as the Icewatch guards swapped out. Their numbers had doubled, and every one of their faces held some kind of exhaustion whether mental or physical. They were hardy people and Kelvic, however, not one to break at the first sign of stress upon the city, and no passerby would be able to see their demeanor as different from any other day. A few pairs of eyes gazed across the dark expanse laid out before them with worry. Hushed whispers were exchanged. The wolverine had not yet returned. It had been decided, her first of all, that no one was to come looking for her. If it was folly to venture into the tundra, it was hers to bear (hehehe) and no one else’s, but voices had risen, those having accepted the wolverine whole heartedly into their ranks, knowing they would do the same for any bear or Vantha. She should have returned by now. Hours dragged by, and the darkness became absolute even as Avanthal lit up the sky with glowing ice that radiated all around. Finally a stubborn bonded pair, refusing to listen to their commander’s orders, charged into the darkness to hunt for the missing Kelvic. They didn’t have to travel far, her furry body was nestled into a snow bank about a mile from the city. Simply too tired to carry onward, she had made a small burrow for herself, as much as her strength allowed, then collapsed of exhaustion. She was hoisted onto the back of a bear and carried back to the city, where she was taken into the barracks and looked after by one of the Icewatch healers. The bites and tears were bandaged and sewed, her body cleaned much more thoroughly than her snow bath had been. She was deposited back into her bunk with extra blankets and furs, with a guard to make sure that her condition did not worsen. It was sometime early in the morning when she awoke, a very tired Kelvic smiling gratefully at her and offering her some food. Sliver felt every kind of shame at her actions. She prepared herself for the inevitable reprimanding that she would surely undergo, but when one of her superiors showed themselves, they just encouraged her to rest. She couldn’t fathom why until the bear who had sat with her in the night rested a hand upon her shoulder. “We are Kelvic, to expect one to always abide by the ways of the Vantha is a folly that no one here would ever succumb to. Next time, though….bring a bear with you.” Sliver’s shame seemed to wash away like the tides, replaced by a sense of relief and belonging that she had not felt for some time. Relieved faces greeted her as she went down the hallways, strips of meat and warm beverages forced into her hands. Though they encouraged rest, she could tell that her comrades took pride in her refusal to go back to sleep, and as she left the barracks to go onto a new assigned route, the wolverine smiled to herself.

[Valkyrie]

Sliver :

Experience
1 Wilderness Survival
1 Observation
2 Running
3 Tracking
1 Intimidation
2 Unarmed Combat

Lore
Marking a Location with Urine for Easier Tracking
Following the Scent of a Snow Fox
Taking on a Pack of Snow Foxes
The Satisfying Release of Violence
Victory is Empty When Death is Unnecessary
Indulging in a Pity Party
Persistence in Following Your Quarry
Saved by Loyal Guards, or Friends

Other
Injury: Laceration on Ankle, 14 Days to Heal (Will result in scar)
Injury: Laceration on Arm, 10 Days to Heal

Notes: This was simply a beautiful thread, I always enjoy when I get to read one of your threads. You did an excellent job of portraying Sliver’s confusion and frustration with city events and the resulting outpouring of emotions and actions. You do an excellent job of playing at your skill levels and your sensory detail is awesome. Good job! Also, the art you made for this is beautiful!

You Will Be Collected if Worthy

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