S.T.R.U.C.K *Open }{

[{{Roxï-kun-+]

Do you ever feel already buried deep

Six feet under scream

It was early morning, dark clouds hiding the sun from the view of the scared citizens. The sky was overcast, threatening rain or even sleet if angered. It was only the first or second night of the blood moon tonight and suddenly people were terrified of the Wolf. Roxiri had no idea why, seeing as it couldn’t possibly be as bad as the Queen had stated. It had to have been a scare tactic or perhaps a reason to close the Kingdom’s borders. The shape shifter herself wasn’t a citizen of Daika, but she had been stuck inside the boundaries once they had been closed up. She, and quite a few others, had protested but the guards had simply shoved them out of the way or had pushed them back, away from the boundary and back into Daika. She was now sitting on a fallen tree stump, somewhere between Obscur and the ruined Lake Trentania. The red water hadn’t reached this far, the trees around the shifter healthy and without poison in its tree blood. She wasn’t in her normal form, the dark long hair and unnaturally bright aqua eyes missing from her. Instead she had colorless strands, see through unless they layered on top of each other. They hung like her normal hair did, but without the pigtails they were usually in. Her eyes had turned a light pink color and her skin stayed in its pale form. Slim fingers played with the long hair, braiding it before undoing and redoing it. She was nervous, feeling like a caged animal. It was dark but she wanted to stay away from cities and other places with people in them, fearing that perhaps a mishap might happen. She bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed as she did this, not realizing until a copper taste and metallic smell reached her. It wasn’t a bad bleed, though she did grimace as she sucked on her lip to stop the bleeding. Wolf ears were perched upon her head, almost like she herself was the Wolf. Maybe she was. Last night she had fallen asleep and woken up in a mess on the forest floor in her human form instead of the feline’s she had slept in. Did the Wolf know when they transformed and tormented people? Or did something come over them and not know what happened afterwards? Gods knew. Roxiri snapped out of her depressing and worrying thoughts, standing from her fallen trunk. Her hair clicked into a random color, turning out to be a soft red, like embers. Her eyes clicked also, deciding to turn a poison green. Her body kept its new coloring as it changed, shifting into an animal’s for better travel. She couldn’t stay in one place, Wolf or not. The Hunters were more dangerous than any sort of Wolf could be and they might be tracking her down right then. Almost ironically, her mind switched her form into one of a wolf. Maybe it was a tribute to the pack that had adopted her whenever she ran into them, though that wolf form was much different from this one. That one had white fur and pink eyes, almost like the human-like form she had held earlier. This one had somehow soft pastel red fur with poisonous green eyes peering out. Her paws were a slightly darker color, like most other wolves, but her muzzle stayed the same main color. One of her ears had a cut into it, like she had gotten into a fight and it had injured it forever. Sometimes, Roxiri thought, she really felt like her forms used her and not the other way around. How many times had she randomly changed without realizing it, like her nervous habit with her eye color? Maybe, she continued, she really could be the Wolf. Her ears swiveled toward the battlegrounds and she softly walked toward the bloody fields, wondering whether she should stay away from or go toward people. Well, worse come to worst, there was a small village in the battlefields either way. The female shifter raised her nose, sniffing the air before beginning to walk more easily and naturally. It didn’t smell like anyone was near. But, though she didn’t think this, her nose wasn’t always right…

But no one seems to hear a thing

[ogrun]

The Kingdom a Daika; the Battlegrounds, the blood-red Lake Trentania, the way the water shimmered and glistened in the light of the sun was a chilling sight. Ogrun was far from the lake, crossing over the fields of battle. His cloak covering him from rain, sleet, or whatever weather that the clouds threatened to cast down. His staff poked and prodded into the dry, firm dirt as he kicked up the occasional small cloud of dust. He traveled alone, as he always did, without the company of others, though the mule with him could be called an exception. The labor beast itself carrying most of the weight of food, rope, and heavy bundles of supplies.

The man took a brief look at the still rotting corpses, and the buzzards that pecked at the eyeballs and bloody gore scattered about. Death was as much a part of Life, as Life was of Death. Of course, it is the creativity in Man to find ways to kill and argue that creates ways to overwhelm the natural habits of nature, this place was one such example. Ogrun wondered, for a moment, if these dead souls were lost. The fields themselves, as he walked through the metallic stench of blood and death, carried a disturbing aura of loneliness and the desperation of survival.

Ogrun adjusts the cloak's hood, his entire form wrapped in the thick cloth, his hand and staff the most visible of his entire body, as his braided beard lay hidden inside the cloak. Eyes set upon the village lights in the distance, as he neared the only other traveler in these fields.

With a low nod, he gave a small greeting, a mere wave of his other hand, unburdened by the staff unlike his left, "Good travels, Wolf-Sister." And onward, he continued, without halting.

The Daika royalty may have delayed his travels to the Sonchu Mountains, but atleast he would still be allowed to roam the lands of this place and perhaps ease the unrest of the dead spirits that may wander unhindered.

[{{Roxï-kun-+]

Do you ever feel already buried deep

Six feet under scream

Roxiri's paw carefully prodded the blood soaked soil when she reached the end of the small forest she had gotten shelter and and sense of safety from. If the rumors were true and the Queen had been speaking the truth then she had no choice but to move forward. The Wolf would be drawn to people -- right? But, like she had wondered earlier, did the Wolf even know what happened when night fell and the beast took over? If not, she could be it. She had had a fever over the past few days and had fallen asleep in a feline form near to dusk. But when she had awoken in a human form, dirt and cold sweat on her body everywhere. She had cleaned in a small, still clean watered pond before redressing and deciding not to stay in the safer forest. After all, there were still the Hunters to worry about throughout this whole mess. They were a group of people that, currently, were hunting her kind, the Shifters. She didn't know much about them, but had heard rumors. Her nose quickly got used to the smell of death and blood, a fact that never seemed to surprise Roxiri as she moved across the battlefields. The Kingdoms seemed to ignore the violence in them, including the fields saturated until they themselves started to have a crimson tint. She continued to walk, head hung from the dark sleep she had gotten. Her dreams had been dark, with dark predator animals' scents and no sense of sight. Almost like her eyes had been clouded with such darkness that even her cat's night vision couldn't see anything through it. She shivered, fur sticking up on her spine shortly before flattening back down. Even though she had calmed down from her morbid thoughts before, she still was slightly zoned out. But she did snap from it when she realized that someone had spoken. Her poisonous green hues fell upon the person, who was heavily cloaked. He was a a male, but besides that and his animal, she couldn't tell much more. The shape shifter blinked at him, wondering why he was almost care free about all of this. Perhaps he hadn't heard of anything? Or maybe it just didn't bother him? But then a dark thought fluttered through her mind and she shoved it back into a corner of her mind, away from her lips. Still, it caught in her mind. Maybe he was the wolf? No. He didn't smell like an animal, she thought as she inhaled the thick air. Along with her powers, the animals that ran through her blood gave her other things as well. The one thing that came out the most and was peering above this surface at that very second, though, got her into the most trouble. Curiosity. She didn't think of this as she slowly padded her way toward the male, thinking instead of how strange it was to run into someone else in the barren battlefields. She made a low noise in the back of her throat, one of peaceful intentions. Some people could lash out, but she stayed a safe distance from the person, ears backwards to show that she wouldn't hurt him or his animal. Not matter how much the wolf instincts or the hunger in her stomach made her want to.

But no one seems to hear a thing

[ogrun]

The man slowed, the packmule letting out a small sound as the shapeshifter approached, stopping after a moment. Placing a gloved hand inbetween the mule's ears, stroking the mane so that the beast would calm to some extent. The mule still seems unsteady around the red-furred wolf, the crunch of oats in the mask covering it's muzzle continuing as the packbeast lowered it's head. The pack animal shakes it's burden lightly from side to side, the bags sturdy enough to not fall of the animal, as it lowers it's head. Lightly stamping a hoof into the blood-red ground; amongst the atmosphere of the fields and the presence of the predator, the mule is not at ease.

Ogrun massaged the packbeast's mane, murmuring unaudible words of comfort. Reaching into his cloak and pulling out a small sack, he resumes to pull the mask of the mule's muzzle down, pouring more oats, filling the sturdy, leather mask. Setting the pouch of food back into his cloak, the cloaked man scratched idly at his long, braided beard that flowed from his chin. Glimpses of his blonde hair visible under the hood, as he pulled it back, since no foul weather seemed to be in the air. The heavy scent of blood stained into the fields obscuring the forest-borne scents of the roamer's last location, as he looked over at the shapeshifter. Lifting his hand from the mule, soon covered once more by the traveler's heavy cloak.

He looked backwards towards the investigating shapeshifter, greeting her with a low nod. "I am only passing through. Better to head to the village," He gestured to the lights ahead quite some distance away with his staff. The blue symbols along the edge of the cloak brushed the bloodied, dead earth as he turned, "Than to be in the open with this Wolf threat wandering the insides of Daika. Standing here, if this Wolf is nearby, makes us both vulnerable even if we could see him from afar. May I take my leave?"

The cloaked man standing still before the shapeshifter, his mule wandering off only a few feet away. Leaning partially on the staff, his hand grasping somewhere inbetween the middle and top of the wooden staff.