A Reward Most Deadly (Shadowfang/Closed)

[Creeper]

Timestamp: Summer 1, 512 AV Time: Late Night Location: Just Outside Base Camp Who: Shadowfang Shadowfang was relaxed on a branch of a smaller, looking up at Leth and his brilliance. This expedition had turned out to be more exciting than he'd hoped for. A predator like him, for once in his life, was not feared, but adored, appreciated. His talents were put to use for a worthy cause, and those whom he aided didn't balk at his deadly visage, his wild talents, his ferocity. Here, he was accepted not as family, but as a Zith, pure and true His ears detected a distant flutter of wings that belonged to one of his own kind, but they didn't approach him. Probably another settling in for the night. Reclaiming the citizens was certainly tiring, even on the days he came back empty clawed. Come. His ears twitched at this lovely voice, the sound of a female, in the voice of his own people. It was deep, sultry, and possibly looking for him. The sound came from behind him, to the west. Come. Please come. Again, it came from the same direction in that same lusting voice. His ears picked out that it was maybe twenty to thirty yards away, at a similar height to his own. He deserved a reward, especially of the feminine variety. An arrow's flight away was a tree that had the telltale signs of a Zith having been there. Claw marks from landing on the branch, the smell of a female's lust, a few light blue-grey hairs littering the branch. There was even a few scratches in the bark, perhaps from an impatient or bored claw. The scratches appeared to form an arrow that pointed down, and west, leading him further after the unknown female.

[Shadowfang]

Shadowfang moved to a crouching position on the branch, listening intently. The sweet, honeyed voice was calling for him! Or at least he hoped it was. An instant after this thought came to him, he was gliding from the branch of the tree towards the female's call. He reached the tree where he was sure the voice came from and landed on the scarred branch, digging his own claws into the wood to keep from falling off. He sniffed deeply, taking in the lovely smell. He stared at the roughly scratched arrow for a while, just staring and not knowing why, before quickly jumping from his perch and flying as fast as he could in the direction of the arrow.

He flew low, close to the ground so he would not miss her if the was waiting there. His excitement grew with every passing second. A ghost of a smile spread across his face. He was so happy that he had come to the Spires. People accepted him, he talked with the wise Jamourans, he got to spread his wings and fly freely whenever he wanted, and he did not need to fear being attacked. This place was so much different from Sunberth, so much more enjoyable. And now this voice, this female, was calling out to him. He almost considered leaving the Crimson Edge and staying here.

Almost.

He slowed his eager flight. Where was she? Surely she could not have gotten far. She was so near already. He sniffed deeply again, trying to pick out the thick, lusty smell that had been present on the tree. He peered around him as he flew along, listening to the trees, trying to detect any sighn of her presence. The voice could not have been just a figment of his imagination, the marks on the tree had proved it to be true. Where could she be? West. Just keep going west.

[Creeper]

And going west brought Shadowfang into a Lethlit clearing, and the female, a gorgeous specimen was laid back on large, flat rock. She was a dusty, blue-grey, bosom more ample than many Zith, her wings out stretched, and seemed to be beckoning him to her. Her claws glinted in the silver light, long, curved, deadly, her fangs showing through the crescent of a desiring grin. "Come." Her perfume intoxicated him, the musky smell of a female in heat. She wanted him, and she would have him. But Shadowfang wasn't alone in the answering of her primal calls. Two more males alighted into the clearing, both led by nose and ears, both just as taken by her as Shadowfang. The male to his left was large, and surprisingly bulky for a Zith, and looked to be strong enough to lift a Jamoura himself. Meanwhile, the one on his right, was much smaller than Shadowfang, but carried many, many scars of a vicious fighter. Both males looked at him, hunger and desire in their eyes, the need to breed taking over. The female squirmed upon her rock, her wings still beckoning, her fangs gnashing, her legs parting invitingly. "Come." The larger Zith lunged toward the tempting prize, while the smaller, moved to intercept him, claws ready, glinting, slashing. Shadowfang's desire took hold, and he would not be able to stay out of the fray, not with such a perfect female example of his race calling for him.

[Shadowfang]

Shadowfang's eyes narrowed and a low growl escaped his lips when he saw the other two Zith enter the clearing. With animals and feral races, it is almost as if the silhouette of their enemy is engraved into their minds, so that they can identify it without ever being taught exactly what their enemy is. For Shadowfang, he knew that these two were his enemies. He knew why they were here and he knew that they were just as determined as him. But she had called for him! She would be his! And he was fully ready to rip anyone who said otherwise to shreds. 

He took a few steps towards the fray that ensued and let his gaze linger on her. Such a beautiful body, such a perfect Zith, ready, waiting, wanting. He wanted her, and he would have her. He looked at his opponents again. It was obvious that each of them had more battle experience than he did, but he had weapons, tools that made it easier to wound and maim and kill. Any rational thought he had left urged him to stay out of the fight, let them wear each other down and clean up the mess. But there was a far mor powerful force in him, something that drove him to fight, to show off, and filled him with a nigh insatiable lust for blood and pleasure. 

He drew one of his throwing daggers and threw it at the two brawlers, hoping that it might hit one of them. He did the same with the other two by his side and then drew his broad blades dagger. He would run in with claws and steel flailing and flashing, ripping at whatever they could. Go for the big one first, he reasoned. The big one seemed more dangerous. Without a further thought, he roared and stormed in, wildly swinging his dagger and his claws. The instant he was in range, he was sucked in. He could feel his claws and his blade sink into flesh and felt the same happen to his right arm. He backed away from the group and charged once again, this time holding the dagger out like the tip of a spear and aiming at the big one's heart.

[Capricious]

Character Name

Award

Skill	XP Earned	Lore Earned
Observation	1	• Following the Scent of a Female
Weapon: Dagger	1	• Lore

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