finally, a challenge ;; Rose

[Damien Black]

The next town was extremely close. It sat right up against the woods, ensuring it was not but a five or ten minute walk. However, Damien had yet to leave the gathering of trees. Although his destination lay ahead, his attention had been commandeered by something far more interesting than lunch. A black coated, white-fanged creature, it's fur shaggy and disheveled, it's eyes bright yellow and menacing. A wolf, whose long, sharp front fang would make a wonderful necklace, or simply just a prize.

He'd noticed not but a couple of minutes ago. The creature ambled quietly through the wood, making use of the human-made trail through the trees. Damien hunted it in similar silence, hanging back a short distance. He wore a pair of dark, army green pants, the bottoms of which were tucked into a worn pair of dark brown boots, laced tightly. His upper body was adorned with a faded blue color shirt, the collar of which dived down, and the entirety of which fit snugly, yet grew looser toward the center. A leather belt encircled his waist, playing home to two sets of weapons: his twin daggers, and twin saber claws. Leather wrist guards were secured about his wrists, completing the look of a hunter.

At last, the wolf entered a small clearing. If it was aware of Damien tracking it, it was unbothered. The male smirked at the thought that his prey was as confident as he. It's only hope was to outrun him; it would never win in a fight. This belief stemmed from the confessor's strong store of self-esteem and egotism, which left him nothing short of over-confident. This would be a challenge, yes, but he believed that he was more than capable of handling it.

Damien remained at the edge of the clearing, hidden behind a mix of gnarled roots, wild vines and brush. The wolf had stopped for a rest, it's attention drawn by it's need to make order of it's ragged coat. But the hunter didn't strike yet; he wanted his prey to feel comfortable. Just a moment more...

•• OOC: ignoring the odd animation, CLICK for his outfit. The center one.

[Rose]

Rose smiled softly to herself. She had been tracking the wolf for three days now, and victory was right under her fingertips. The wolf had been attacking Lord Rahl's animal herds for three weeks, and it was decided that it needed to be killed. Rose's mistress had assigned her to find it and kill it. She happily accepted. The thrill of the hunt was one of the few things she enjoyed about being a Mord-Sith, so long as it was't people she was hunting.

She shifted silently. The wolf had lay down in a small clearing, and was now cleaning its glossy black fur. Rose was crouched behind the bushes surrounding the clearing. In the dim light of the setting sun that flooded through the trees, she could see that the animal was quite calm, relaxed, even. This would be an easy kill, so long as it didn't pick up her scent.

Her bow lay in her lap, an arrow nocked and ready on the string. She had taken off the extra armor on her Mord-Sith leathers, and discarded them along with her gloves. Her dark hair was not pulled in the traditional style. Instead she had pulled it back into a loose plait that would keep it out of her face, but still be comfortable enough. She didn't want to have to fight a headache from her hair being tied too tight. Her ageil was in its sheath on her right thigh.

Rose knew she had one shot at this creature. If she missed, she could be seriously injured if the beast turned on her. Granted, she could fight with her ageil, but she would leave that as a last resort. She would rather kill it quickly and be done. In one fluid motion, Rose stood, drew back her arrow, aimed, and released, the arrow flying towards the wolf with a hiss.

((OOC: You can decide if it hits or not. I'll leave the wolf's actions up to you.))

[Damien Black]

The serenity of the small clearing put the wolf at ease. It was unaware of it's tracker - both, in fact - and was perfectly relaxed as its long pink tongue cleaned away the filth that lined it's midnight coat. It's tail swayed casually along the grass below it, it's mind nearly entirely occupied by the task at hand. It was a young wolf, and had yet to learn the consequences of stealing food from a farmer's land. Nor of letting its guard down in order to clean.

Damien leapt from his hiding place, intent on taking the wolf on in a fight. Archery would have proven more useful in this situation, but he didn't have a bow, and that was really no fun. At the sound of his boots colliding with the soft ground, the wolf sprang to its feet, prepared to defend itself. But its paws barely touched the earth for a brief second before it's body collided with the ground once more. An arrow protruded from its side, releasing the life from inside.

The hunter froze a short four feet away from the animal, his steel blue eyes narrowed in annoyance and frustration, and settled clearly and unwaveringly on the Mord-sith before him, "That was mine," he growled, his smooth voice, even in anger, containing a slight hint of seduction. His hands curled tightly about his now exposed saber claws, his knuckles turning white with the strength with which they gripped.