Roleplay

OOC

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Emily's hand rested over her handgun as she stared at the map. She was glaring at the spots, eyes darting between the different zones werewolves had popped up. It didn't make sense. They didn't seem to be showing themselves in any discernable pattern. Their Alpha was smart and certainly knew the Templar were after them.

"But then why are they popping up in the city? Why wouldn't they completely isolate themselves?" she muttered to herself.

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Apollo stretched as he moved through the common area. He was picking up a few sticks and tossing them to the side absentmindedly. He opted for a more nocturnal schedule, like a lot of werewolves, meaning he was in his "midmorning" phase.

Apollo looked up at the moon. Nearly full. He wagered that it would be full on the night of the Solstice. Apollo smiled. He liked it when the moon lined up like that. A full moon on the most sacred day. Truly poetic.

Apollo glanced at the treeline, vaguely North. The train station was a few miles that way, and near that was the bus stop. If he moved fast, he could be in town by midnight. As much as the idea appealed, Apollo had to stay and help with preparations. He'd be able to go into town in the morning. Hopefully.

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Andrew stood over the Templar soldier, grinning menacingly. The Templar in question was a man of medium build, unarmed and off-duty. Andrew knew he was a Templar because the man had been talking, bragging, about it. He figured it was a good time as any to "teach them a lesson." Not that his comrades would have any information for a while.

The man whimpered on the ground, clutching the bloody stump of an arm. Andrew had shifted to tear it off, leaving the man crippled against the wall. Andrew was back in human form, his fingers lightly around the man's neck. He could kill him, however... Andrew studied the man, mercy absent in his eyes.

"Really, what more could you have expected from a beast like me?"

@LillyJay
@FrostSol
@SanguineShadow
@Scales25
@ChickenDinner

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The monster-like growl from the engine of Sanguine's 1969 Ford Mustang Boss echoed through the dark, damp alleys. The iridescent red exterior reflected pink-gold from the dim streetlights around the back alleys of town, a place even werewolves were afraid to go. She tapped the rose-gold cover on her wheel with her index fingers in time with the drums to a loud rock song blaring over her radio, which could have been considered just as high end as the rest of her ride.

A cool breeze blew through her open windows, which she rolled up because dammit it was cold. Her army-green crop top hoodie was about as good as keeping out the cold as it suggested, and she couldn't help but shiver, even if her gray camo sweatpants were relatively thick and a soft wall from the cold Michigan wind. She happened to be driving in just her sock feet, too, so that didn't help. Her normal white tennis shoes were flung somewhere in the back, probably hidden around all the empty vodka and whiskey bottles.

She looked down at her phone when she was stopped by a glaring red light at a deserted intersection, like it was mocking her, daring her to run it.
Control yourself. She thought sulkily, unlocking her phone screen and looking for a text from Andrew. He said he was in an alleyway, this side of town. Hm. Very descriptive. Maybe he could have told her if it smelt like vomit or if it was in between two buildings?
That would have narrowed it down a ton.
She chuckled at her own dry sarcasm, pressing the power button on her phone and leaning forward on her steering wheel to support herself.

She'd only met Andrew a couple months ago, but there was one thing she could say for sure about him- and that was he was adrenalizing. The psychopath made her blood run with a sick, twisted pleasure that she could only get from doing something incredibly dangerous or shockingly weird.
Typically, things with Andrew happened to be both.

Her car idled noisily as she rolled slowly through the city streets, looking down the alleys for some sign of life, or, well, the taking of it. She rolled her windows back down despite being friggin cold and sniffed the air, letting the scents of the city fill her senses and then catching the faint whiff of blood and Anthony.
Usually, those two scents went paw in paw.
Her car was a low rumble, like that of a far-off thunderstorm, as she neared the spot where the scent was strongest. She parked in a different alleyway, scrambled in the backseat for her shoes, and then tied them on over her very fluffy, wooly winter socks.

Once she got out of her car, she locked her doors and then stuffed her keys into her sweatpants pocket. Her long mess of red hair was in a normal, loose braid so it stayed out of her way, she she grabbed it and twirled it in the air as she followed her nose to Anthony and the reek of Templar blood.
"Aww, I'm late. You had all the fun without me." She pouted, furrowing her brows and making a cute face at the injured Templar on the ground. Her eyes travelled to Anthony, the handsome hot mess of blood and rage and sickness all packed into one attractive, dangerous package. The look in his eyes set her on edge- she wanted to run away and hide, to get as far away from this man as possible.

But somewhere inside her, something made her want to stay. She didn't question it.

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With every impact of Sam's fists against the old, beaten punching bag she regularly pulverized on Mondays, her mind's gears were turning with concentration. The punches weren't all for keeping herself fit- they helped her think, too. Beating things up was always a good way to get those mind cogs moving.

The loud crack of her wrapped knuckles on the hard leather reminded her of a brutal past memory, cracking bones instead of smacking leather, hot blood splattering across her stomach and chest, dripping off her face and staining her shirt red.

Sam didn't stop punching. She punched harder. Left. Right. Left again. Another left. Hard right, left again. Each punch made her arms burn.
I wonder if Emily needs any help staring angrily at the map. Sam thought wryly to herself. She'd been beating up this punching bag for half an hour, now, and that didn't include the half hour before on the treadmill watching Looney Toons on her phone. Sweat dripped down her forhead and when it started dripping into her eyes, she decided she should probably be done.

The towel hanging lopsidedly on the bench next to the mirrors happened to be hers, and she grabbed it up and wiped the sweat off her face. It was late, already nine o'clock, and she needed to shower. Bad.

It didn't take her long to finish cleaning up using the Templar Gym showers(don't know if these are a thing, just decided to throw that in there.) Lovely things, with corroded showerheads and soap brackets that looked like they might crumble if one actually did put their bodywash bottle on them. The floors weren't in great shape, either, which often made Sam question if she really wanted to be showering in a place like this.
She re-dressed into some worn green sweatpants, tossed on skin-tight, U-neck white T-shirt, and then pulled on a black leather jacket over it to keep herself from freezing. It was unbearably cold here, even in the shower room, and she found herself putting on more and more pairs of socks in the morning to keep her toes from turning into icicles in her tan workboots.

She stuck her damp hair in a high-bun on her head and then decided to go find Emily. Her main guess was that she'd be in the squad room (again, have no idea where she is or if there is a squad room, just sort of winging it here). She might have retired to her room (again, assuming they have dorms, probably don't, just winging it) for the night, but Sam wanted to check first, since she was very awake and wanted to go get some Starbucks but wanted a friend to go with her.

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The sounds of crickets and the occasional cry of an owl brought the two wolves to attention only to be drowned out by the roar of a car's engine as it sped past. Drago's hackles were raised and fur bristling from the sound of his sister's whines. Leandra carefully licked at the bullet wound in her haunches, still fresh with blood, having been dealt only a few hours before their arrival. The culprit? A templar.

Drago gave a sharp huff, shooting a glare at the humanoid corpse laid out under the bushes and licking the iron tasting liquid off his jaws. The rifle the unlucky Templar had been carrying lay discarded in the stream they'd paused at, glistening from the water and moonlight. Lea, we need to get moving.

I know, but it won't stop bleeding... The auburn she-wolf sent a pitiful glance towards her older sibling who bared his fangs in frustration. He nudged his large body under the roots of the tree, slipping into the makeshift down and laying down beside her with his head on her shoulder. Drago?

What?

You can sleep if you want, you've already stayed up three nights in a row. This isn't healthy.

I'm fine, focus on healing. On command, his sister rested her head over her fore-paws beginning to doze off from the throbbing pain in her thigh and the warmth of her brother beside her.

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Sage sprawled out in wolf form, lain out partially on her back. She had a late night high or so she liked to call it, considering her itch to go out and explore the territory again. A meeting had held to discuss the growing amount of templars encroaching on their territory. However, it was merely brushed off as a hoax considering all they'd encountered so far were lost recruits trying to prove their worth to the organization.

The white she-wolf growled lowly, but her tail was wagging fiercely accidentally smacking a larger male delta in the muzzle. With a high-pitched almost begging whine she rolled over back on to her belly just in time to avoid the male snagging her tail between his teeth. She hopped to her paws beginning to prance around like a pup who'd just been praised and given cake for a good deed done.

She wondered what this year's Solstice would be like, it wasn't her who was in the preparation party and the suspense was killing her.

Tuski stumbled out of the base, the fresh air filled her nose. She glanced back at the secret exit that she came from, once leaving there was no turning back. She looked up to see a camera. That's probably recording, I should leave quickly. Her tail swished and her ears flicked as she made her way out of the facility. Once a good distance away she looked back once more before looking up at the sky and gazed at the moon. She reached out, as if to try and touch it, before heading farther away from the facility, into the woods

(there's a map now)

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Emily scowled at the map one last time before leaving. Staring at it wasn't going to give her any more answers. She had discerned everything she could from it at this point. They needed more information, more answers.

Emily straightened, blowing a stray hair out of her face. The Winter Solstice was coming up. If they could pinpoint where the pack was before then, they could launch an attack and wipe them out, easily. They wouldn't be prepping for an assault.

Emily shook her head as she left the squad room. "I don't get why they have to act like it's so special. Those beasts are damn good at pretending to be human with a holiday like that."

Emily thought as she walked down the hall. She considered retiring for the night. On the one hand, it would be good to get a break from work. She'd been at it nearly twelve hours and was starting to get a headache. On the other, it was only nine o'clock. Werewolves were just about to get active, and if she went into the field...

Before Emily could make a decision she (metaphorically) bumped into Sam. "Oh hey. What have you been up to?"

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Apollo continued making his way through the den area. A lot of wolves were out hunting. Setting traps, mostly. They wanted the animals, but not dead quite yet.

Apollo nearly bumped into (literally) another wolf as he was lost in though. He stopped abruptly, flushing a little as he did so.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I..."

Apollo cleared his throat. "Seriously. Sorry about that. I should have been paying more attention."

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Andrew chuckled. "Oh, not quite. He's still a little bit alive. Not that you'd be able to tell. They're all show, boasting about how powerful they are, and yet..." Andrew dropped his hand, letting the man's head fall to one side.

Adrew stood, crossing his arms and grinning to himself. The man let out a small whimper, cracking his eyes open and glancing at Andrew, and then Sanguine. He tried to pull himself upright, but Andrew kicked him back down.

"Well... What do you think we should do with him?"

Andrew already knew they were going to kill him. He wouldn't let anyone just live like that. Well, live was a stretch. The man would be dead before morning, whether he got help or not. Andrew wasn't going to show the man an ounce of mercy. He was really asking about the how. How would they crush this man's life?

Aonair was nervous. He was running low on food again, but hunting was always dangerous because of both Templar and other werewolves, and going into town was dangerous too- again, Templar. Templar human, or Templar humans AND werewolves... it was probably safer to just go buy food. But there would be so many people around him all the time..

He knew he'd get too scared and just hunt, even though there was a bigger risk, but that could wait until tomorrow. He had enough for the day.

(someone come talk to meee....)

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Morrigan walked around restlessly in her human form, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her cargo pants. The chilled bite of the night air bringing little comfort to her nerves. She felt both excited, and tense at the same time. A dangerous mixture for a headstrong werewolf such as herself. As seen in the golden reflection of her eyes.

Maybe it was just the upcoming full moon messing with her.

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Sage had let out a startled yelp when another wolf had bumped into her, and the delta female growled in a way of saying "watch yourself" before recognizing the voice as Alpha Morrigan's nephew. Her ears swiveled forward, back out of their defensive pin against her skull from the sudden physical contact. "I agree you should've been paying more attention, but... You're fine."

She regarded jet black werewolf with a small mount of scorn, still mostly because he'd bumped into her, but shook herself and straightened up. At least he was apologizing. Chastise him later if he does it again. She told herself, taking a few steps back. "Feeling restless too? I noticed Alpha has been on her toes a lot lately."

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The teenager let out a groan, cleaning duty. Why. Why was it always her? Osprey grumbled while scrambling past her superiors with a massive stack of files they'd gathered on the wolves in the area in her arms. The smell of parchment and ink making her throat tickle to the point where she'd almost gagged on multiple occassions. She had her handgun pressed to her hip, but currently it was useless.

Paperwork didn't require a bullet between the eyes. Yet.

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Drago laid, curling his massive body around his sister as the auburn she-wolf was fast asleep. She'd burned her face in the fur collecting on his back at some point due to the fact at the moment? It was the warmest part of his body. His ears remained pricked, swiveling erratically in the direction of any sounds he viewed as foreign or danger worthy.

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Fable shifted slightly, waking up from her slumber. She rolled from on her back to her stomach, opening her eyes a bit to look around. The moonlight shone into the makeshift tent she set up to sleep that night. She yawned, sitting up, picking off a bit of fried grass that stuck to her clothes. She glanced outside the den, not really seeing anyone around yet. She stood up, exiting the den and looked up at the almost full moon. It would probably be full on the Solstice festival. If they went, the chances of getting captured were high, and she didn't want that. She didn't want to miss it though, it was sacred.

She stretched, glancing around the camp, not really know what to do.

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He was already awake when he noticed others waking, he wasn't very used to this new sleep schedule. He shook himself a bit, glancing around at the other people, he was still getting used to the pack, it was all pretty new to him, so he had no idea how anything really worked. He sat at the edge of the camp, messing with the grass, he was probably just going to wait until someone told him to do something or approach him for the moment.