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*Malakai scraped his favorite dagger down his wrist-blade to sharpen it. The murmurs of the Fianna blurred in his ears, the occasional growled word or snapped phrase registering. Malakai rarely bothered to take heed of words, nor to often use them. Not that he struggled with this language used here � few would guess he was born speaking another. It was simply that he disliked it, yet another annoyance in this strange world. Still� it beat the last one.
A frown darkened his golden-tattooed features even further, the dagger screeched in protest as he drew it harshly down his wrist-blade. The blades � foot-long curved spikes emerging upwards form the ankles of his forepaws - were one of his few original unaltered features. They were semi-retractable, unbreakable, self-sharpening� and best of all, unique to him alone. Only his brother came close to mimicking these gifts. His true-formed species were not so different to Lupes. They had slightly longer legs and muzzles, differently shaped tails and ears, and an extra toe when compared to Lupines, but it had been a relatively easy morph for Malakai after he had observed a few different examples of the Lupine species. The most difficult and therefore longest transition from his species to Lupine had been his colour. He, like all his kind, had been the reflective, shimmering shade these Lupines would call blue. He had chosen a brown coat because of its camouflage qualities and the fact he hadn�t seen many other brown Lupes. Screw looking the same as everyone else. The golden tattoos had come later, after he met Ari. She was good at tattooing, with her knowledge of natural dyes. Malakai finished � it was his last dagger to sharpen, he kept all twelve in mint condition and it was common to see him maintaining them � and placed the weapon back in the small leather loop that held it secure against his shoulder. The tiny row of rubies set in the hilt gleamed softly against tan fur, the long blade hung ready to use at a moment�s notice. Malakai had practiced in his early years long and hard with his chosen craft of fighting with daggers, and excelled in throwing them with deadly accuracy. It was this range-attack ability that made him such an asset to the Fianna, and he was duly valued despite his unsocial nature and apparently aggressive manner. Newcomers were usually greeted with a quiet growl of warning, and few words � at least few polite words - were spoken to those who did approach him. Save for Ari, of course, who had long since ceased to be bothered by Malakai�s ways. She was the closest thing he had to an actual friend. They worked well together, and that wasn�t always easy with Malakai. He had settled here � not comfortably, but then, Malakai was rarely comfortable anywhere. He loved his job. He lived for the thrill and the rush, the feeling of power. And the rewards weren�t bad, either. Malakai�s many daggers were set with precious stones. That was one thing this planet had to offer � variety. He had grown good at identifying the gemstones of this world, and he was good with metalwork when he had spare time and the right equipment. He had forged every dagger himself. He resented the ways of this place, however. It wasn�t that they were necessarily bad, just that he had been forced to adapt them after he left his birth-world. His annoyance at this manifested itself aimed at anything � and anyone � that got under his skin. A young Lupine femme lying in a corner caught his eye and lifted her lip in the tiniest hint of a growl. Malakai silently bared his own set of fangs in return and stood, slowly, flexing his powerful muscles. His half-tail lashed once behind him and he lifted a paw to take a step forwards. The young female scrambled up herself, and with a last sullen glare towards Malakai slunk off towards another small group of the Fianna. Malakai turned, tan eyes scanning for Ari instead. He found her purring around the newest member, a sleek cat named Daemon. Leaving her with her source of amusement, he turned his gaze on the rest of the Fianna. The larger group gathered were mainly newcomers to the group � Malakai and Ari had been two of the first additions to the mercenary gang. A thin Eyrie-figure was hunched over a bone. The gang�s leader, Meitus, was sitting with Thuderhead, his Wocky deputy, and an azure-pelted, long legged, spear-carrying femme. Malakai knew her to belong to one of the local packs, the Evil Shadowed Lupes. Thunderhead held a few small bags in his paws. When he moved, Malakai�s good ear picked up gentle jingling. Malakai licked his lips and checked his belts were secure. The azure femme stood to leave, and powerful Meitus stood up with a growl to call the Fianna to attention. Malakai watched the others assemble before their leader and melted into place behind them, a gleam in his eyes, adrenaline starting to pump. Time for the next job. |
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~No one knows me~ ~Only because you don�t let them, Malakai~ ~There are reasons for that~ Truly, no one does know him. Many may come across him, a shadow of dark tan tattooed in golden, dark leather straps bearing the dozen knifes and daggers of his craft about his shoulders and chest. Certainly there are features which catch one�s eye � the ragged remains of the half-tail, the ripping scars on what remains of it. The left ear, torn in several places, barely able to support itself any longer. The blades that rose from the flesh of his fore-wrists, sharp and deadly as the knifes he carried. The deep gouges on the right side of his face, scarring his muzzle deeply. His is battle-worn yet one is immediately drawn to the lack of fear, the disregard for rules, the strong silence so often seen in his manner. He is a Lupine of strange mystery, unknown past, and calmly private present. One could almost mark him as antisocial, yet such is not true. Malakai marks and tolerates those who have uses for him, and the first known suspect to fall into said category was Ari. A smooth Kougress who like Malakai, had been in the assassination trade most of her life, Ari two benefited in their alliance, and so the pair traveled together, Ari as close to a friend as Malakai was ever likely to get. The day came when they met Thunderhead, the Wocky approaching them asking if they were interested in joining a band of rogue Fianna � a motley collection of creatures with useful skills, selling them to the highest bidder. The pair accepted the job offer � and now travel as part of the group, adding their unique crafts to the diverse skills of the Fianna. |
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*The sound of labored breathing pieced the oppressive silence of the still night. The rustle of fur against bloodstained grass, a choked hacking cough, the feeble scratch of torn claws upon the terra � the one good ear of the young canine flickered gently as he listened to these sounds, sitting otherwise still a short distance from the older dying male. His other ear was torn to shreds, blood darkening the fur along the side of his head and matting strands together. He made no move to clean his ear, the worst of the several injuries tearing into his flesh. These, he knew from previous fights, would heal well and scar minimally, covered as soon as his tan fur grew out over them. His ear would not recover so well � it was numb already, and he�d lost all feeling in the tip. It would make a nice look when combined with his ragged half-tail, a sacrifice long since healed over. But although he knew the smell of blood � his and the other�s � were drifting off into the night air to alert more predators, he did not move. His job was not yet finished. There was a last routine to keep*
~You� yhh, hhhr~ *The harsh, rasping breath could barely force any semblance of sound past his lips by now. His blood loss was more extensive than the younger canine and four of his ribs had punctured his left lung* ~Yhhhoou killed� me�~ *The young male made no answer, sitting tall and silent a few paces away. The air was as still as he, no a breath of autum air to ruffle crimsoned fur* ~Whh� why?~ *There was a long silence. Finally a deeper voice came through the darkness, powerful and strong in the world of stillness to offer but a few words, no trace of apology, of guilt, nor anger* ~My teacher made a mistake~ *Muttered half-syllables came to the one good and one torn ear, trying to force the words through swollen lips, wasting precious oxygen. The younger sat silent until the stuttered words finally become comprehensible* ~Hhh-e was, ahha� a� good teecha�~ *A soft snort broke the silence and the tan Lupine tossed his head derisively* ~He was too soft. A teacher signs his own death warrant if he takes it upon himself to train a student with more potential than he~
*The words were stated without force or overt emotion, as if they were simply plain fact. These cold words were the last to ever reach the older creature�s ears. His head lolled to the ground, finally unable to draw out the sufficient amount of vital oxygen from each breath into his torn lungs. His blood could not carry what minute amounts their were to other organs, it had been spilled to much and too swiftly. His time was up.
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