"What just happened?"

He had been carrying the saddle of his captor’s mount over his shoulder, water splashing up with each step from the rain earlier in the evening. It had been light, but persistent enough to form a mess of puddles along the path back. Olvar hefted the saddle into a better position on his shoulder, grumbling under his breath about being treated like a servant.

The next second, his foot sank impossibly far into a puddle. His body dropped to one side as the world seemed to disappear out from under him, the polished riding gear tumbling into the mud as the very ground swallowed him up. His vision spun into a shadowed blur. The sensation of falling made his heart flutter into a panic. The image of fog billowing around him became clear just in time to be swept away by a cold rush as he plunged unceremoniously through the night and into the frigid embrace of a dark lake.

Olvar lashed out against the water in a frantic transition from falling to swimming. Which way is up? Fear bubbled into his lungs, stealing his breath and pressing him to act quickly. The panicked shifter went with his gut and kicked hard. He fought the weight of his gear, but dared not free it lest he render himself unarmed against some bizarre attack. His chest burned.

A hand broke out of the cold waters, grabbing desperately at the air as if he could pull himself out with a handful of it. His head followed shortly after, and he sucked in a fresh breath of air. Hazel eyes instantly searched for shoreline. The chill of the lake was already creeping into his arms and legs, slowing his movements and weighing him down toward the unseen depths like an anchor. A sliver through the fog caught his gaze, and he pushed himself onward.

The distance likely wasn’t all that far, but in the cold and wet, it seemed like miles before he finally dragged himself onto the muddy bank. He was trembling and gasping for breath. Olvar stared at the ground on his hands and knees, time sliding along as he caught his breath. Water dripped from his hair and clothes, and profanities fell from his lips at equal frequency. When finally he looked up from his miserable place in the mud, he saw only fog. Where was he? And more importantly…

His attention turned to the dark, empty heavens.

…where was the moon?

Black faded out any objects that dotted the once beautiful rolling hills that had tossed themselves into the distance further than any mere man could see. Only the lit flames of a fire could lift the veil that covered the tense grasses and reveal a path to travel upon to keep from the marsh and other traps in the night. But no flames dotted the horizon. Not a trace of light on the ground, only in the skies. There rested a masterpiece in itself. The full galaxy exposed its entrancing depth to the world below, glittering with the burning suns millions and trillions of miles off. The only light the planet could afford. Through the night the faintest hue of green filtered across the sky before filling in with highlights of pink and blushes of purple as the lights danced across the speckled screen to assist in illuminating the forgotten grounds. Still, nothing stirred. No owls called from their perch, not a trace of cackling canines adding their eerie laughter to taunt those resting. The soft footfalls of prowling predators failed to make their way across the dew-laced grasses, nothing. If one quit breathing, the silence would drive them to madness. For now the foliage and tufts of pale had a trace of green from a display of beautiful lights above. Relaxing to all that cast their gaze towards the heavens. A light breeze that had been running throughout the night eventually died down and quit rustling the leaves and scraping the grass, now nothing made so much as a hint of noise.

It took about midnight before something erupted in the distance. A crack in the dancing lights. Then silence, before noise split the tranquil time. It gradually gained in energy, growing intensely as the wail raised and fell. A scream from a man, intense guttural pains of distress. It raised no alarm in the land, for there was nothing to aid or investigate. The dips in the hills hid nothing. No beasts crawled out of the foliage. All was ill, silent. Save for the traveler. He moved without a single sound. A professional that had adapted to the land it claimed as home, its new home. It veered from the howling scream and staked out a spot to watch what would come from the noise upon a larger hill. A stoic thing illuminated by the dusting of changing light reflecting off of armor like liquid. Guardian, those who called it, the one that had brought silence down into the land. Guardian of the hills, as it guarded nothing but the land. Anything, and everything an intruder. Those small vermin faster than the thundering feet remained hidden in their holes within the ground, those large enough to become ensnared, died. Travelers could not enter through the main trade route, nor could they leave. It became an overly aggressive, horrible nuisance.

For those with keen senses, the smell of fresh grass and a heavy musk filled the air. Everywhere for miles upon miles, just those two scents. Maybe the reek of death upon a pile of bleached bones, but little more than that. It was so unfortunate that the owner to those screams fell within the territory of the Steppe’s Guardian, for nothing would be there to save it.

Something dared to challenge the Guardian within his own domain, something foolish. For as the figure upon the hill finally shifted movement from the horned skull it had turned into a direction right before the whining burst of a lone howl. Low pitched and rough. The thing upon the hill didn’t move, it waited. It gave the intruder one chance to leave, before it would enforce nothing but a cruel death. The season had changed, and everything was fair game.

The land felt alien under the gaping black sky. For years lycan had wandered his homeland, exploring every nook and cranny for treasure of one sort or another, depending on the form he took by day or moonless night. But this place was all new. The air ran through rolling hills of cool grass, fog crowded around the chill waters of lakes and lazy rivers, and the stars stretched ever onward overhead. But it wasn’t the same. These weren’t his stars, nor the plains he had terrorized. It was foreign, and unclaimed by any sort of being or beast as far as he could tell. Something lingered in the breeze though. It was a thick, oily smell that made the shifter’s nose wrinkle in disgust, oddly familiar in the strange world he found himself racing through.

As soon as his transformation had taken hold, it had been made clear that something had changed. He hadn’t been due to shift for another four days according to the moons that lorded over his sky. But it seemed those two pale faces were gone from sight, and who knew if they would return? The shock of it all had made this spell more traumatic and sudden than others. With no time to prepare, Olvar’s planning was thrown aside like scrap, and he was reduced to the madness of his first few months of changes. As soon as he was off, his more beastly side simply chose a direction and ran, unguided by any power from his humane half.

The massive wolf loped steadily across the rolling hills, rising and falling as smooth as sleeping breaths. He was young, he was strong, and he was without cage or containment to hold him back. Freed from captivity for the first time in what felt like ages. All of the beast’s anger had been festering and boiling, burning in his belly like a fire. Maybe it was that raw rage that guided his path, or perhaps the hunger for a real battle.

By whatever volition, the thick musk was growing stronger on the wind as he dipped and rose through valleys and stretches of the open Steppes. Claws like daggers pulled him to the crest of a slope, and eyes as polished as a dragon’s hoard skimmed over the land before them. In the distance, a boulder stood as proudly as he upon a hilltop, as though overlooking a domain. It shifted. The wolf’s ears cocked forward, lip twitching back into a half-snarl as he watched. Again, the boulder seemed to adjust itself where it sat. That was enough.

The beast’s weight lurched forward. It tipped him forward onto the edges of his claws before he seemed to drop down the side of the hill with the grace of a lion. Heavy paws kicked up into a steady stretch, pulling the two creatures ever closer together. It was then that it hit him.

Cold dust kicked into low clouds. The sweet stink of rotting meat. A hulking, brutish creature. A black sky over a boundless desert.

Rage ignited into a furious blaze, dumping a rush of adrenaline into the beast’s system. The fur along his spine bristled into ragged spikes. Strides lengthened. Any limited thought was deadset upon sending this creature’s blood back to the soil. “Gren hasvath!” the monster snarled, the words flying from his teeth like crackling venom. “Nebros gren votal!”

With vision lighting the surroundings like the sun was gleaming from above, detection of trotting casually brought his gaze around. It had been the keener sense of smell that had peeled it apart from his own territory-markings, his ears that listened to the soft patter of feet. When it had paused to finally notice his very existence, that was when the large bull decided to return the favor. At least show some sort of signal that it was painfully alert to the intruder. This was his land. Blood should of have been brought to a boil, if not, a light simmer in his veins. No sign of anger grew within the stature as it simply watched with boredom. The canine released a hellish sound and as a blur came tumbling forth. It was met with a thick shake of a neck which quickly trembled his flesh and brought on an earthquake of metal clacking together. It shattered the silence from the body and the weight shifted. Not towards the fangs baring at him, but away.

The eyes left the creature, the back turned. There was nothing to fear on his end.

Instead his arm shifted and grabbed a firm grip upon something coiled upon his hip as his senses still pinned the position down on the canine. If it was going to fight like an animal, it was going to die like an animal. From the helm came down a guard like the plate in the front of a steam-engine. A light click, and as soon as the paws neared enough for his liking, the Guardian dropped a weapon constructed for destruction. Metal jingled to the ground with jagged spikes erupting from the sides and ending in a knife-like point. Quick steps followed with one fluid motion and the weapon came to life. Not much strength was needed to move it at lightning speeds, and with a strong crack he brought his arm around to slash his weapon into the ground in front of the predicted canine’s path. Just a warning shot to break down any hope it had in a flat-frontal attack.

With the movement came the creaking in the joints of his armor and a low rumbled huff. Excitement was beginning to creep into the pits of the giant. It had been a long time since he had been challenged, or since he had come across anything large enough to make a meal out of. Over the past season, he had been extending the boundaries of his territory. A year of lack-of socialization has brought on this beastial behavior, granted he still fought and stood like a civilized being. He had been regressing past his roots back into his great ancestors of nothing more than animals. This made his intent on accepting this creature’s fight even more wicked. The urge for blood to spill with the mixture of mournful screams satisfied him, that was what he’d aim for. A slow, painful, rotting death for this animal. If he could keep it alive for a week, that was ideal.

Ultimately, the timing of the hulking beast’s attack was fortunate. The lupundra had just enough warning from the wide swing of the arm, and so was able to not only slow his pace, but redirect himself. He danced well away from the powerful collision with the earth, leaping quickly back to pace. Golden eyes flashed in the dim light of the moonless night, and he lunged forward to circle the towering grey giant.

It was well-armored, but that would serve to slow its movements. Against such an agile target, the difference in advantages could be substantial. Damaging the creature through the armor, let alone the thick hide Olvar knew covered it, would be a challenge indeed. Targeting weak points with careful attacks would be the only effective way to bring this monster down a few notches. He refused to take another beating like he had in the desert.

As he circled, Olvar searched up and down the brute’s figure for any gaps, finding several open patches that lacked any plating. Getting to some of them would be a risk, but he was certainly up to the task. Especially if he could slow his opponent first.

The legs would be his first choice. The backs were completely exposed, leaving the reptilian monstrosity vulnerable if an attack carried enough power. Olvar put on a burst of speed, using the land’s natural flow to aid him. Once he’d managed to slip behind his enemy, he leapt. Jaws wide and claws at the ready, he lunged for the creature’s calf. Landing a hit would mean a violent shake from side to side in an attempt to rip through the tough leathery hide. Failure to do so wouldn’t be too detrimental, so long as he wasn’t stunned. Speed was going to be his greatest tool in this fight. The wolf couldn’t bear to lose it so foolishly.

Removing the item thrown with such fore that it had practically been devoured from the ground, his senses still kept a firm track of the furred mammal. It had darted behind him; something he expected. He did it, too. But the legs were never his first target… With a slight creak the weapon snapped from the dirt and returned to him. His skull tilted to the side to quickly snag a view of the canine that had just taken a step to launch itself. For as large as he was, judging distance was difficult at times, especially when he wasn’t completely there to begin with. He switched his weight over as the last paw left the ground, the motion of his leg going up drove a massive, metal plate-rod into view. Spiked at a tip. Beneath the main, two more. Each smaller than the last. The behemoth easily brought this movement into a third-step forwards after the canid landed into his body. Skin or not, the stoic creature seemed that it simply didn’t care. As his massive foot lightly touched the ground to take on his weight, his body completely turned in that moment. Extremely quick footing. He faced the canine with this sudden movement. The spiked chain was latched back to his thigh, curled.

The armored giant pushed his feet apart in a stance that lowered him to the ground in a crouch, now his muscles tensed and tightened for springing motions to take on this enraged canine. He moved much faster on his hind legs than he ever could on fours. Less area to leave open for the opponent. His attacker was going to have to go in head first, or try to sly him to turning his back. Just to make it angrier, hopefully to entice it to attack again… A click, then the guard shielding his face clicked back into his helm. The face was calm, a calm before the storm. In an instant the nose wrinkled and lips peeled back to sneer at the canine sets of nightmare-inducing teeth. Tusks, massive canines with smaller inside, large sharpened incisors; the works. His tongue pushed between his teeth to swipe greedily at his exposed gums, before giving the breakdown. He snapped his jaws together, an inch forwards; a common taunt wolves gave one another. Daring them to attack. His amber eyes fixated themselves on the golden pair. No sign of fear, no sign of serious intentions. They were hungry for the feeling of power, and-laughing. Yes, his eyes were wide enough to appear laughing- noting the corners of his lips, they were drawn up. Not even entirely pulled back.

He was mocking the canine.

Hands wider apart with those long, talon-curving claws. His eyes pinned the animal, and a forced higher-pitched growl rang out to further piss it off. This beast that was so familiar to the wolfish beast, was making a joke about it. It recognized this attacker. It had to- why else was it still alive. Why wasn’t it trying to fight, why was it— the growl turned into laughter. X’yros reeled back with a laugh that came from his gut, still keeping an eye on the wolf- He laughed with a frighteningly booming voice that carried a very long distance over the hills.

The monster’s leg was tantalizingly close, but Olvar couldn’t follow through on the attack. With the way the creature shifted at the last moment, committing completely to the strike would have resulted in major injury from the spikes adorning the armor’s heel. It had been a long shot, anyway. But one failure did not mean the wolf would back down.

As the behemoth of an opponent turned to face him, he stood his ground, hackles bristled and powerful legs tensed to throw him into action. Gold affixed to amber as their gazes locked. Hunched over like a gargoyle, the reptilian had taken a lower stance with a wider set to its feet; steady and balanced. The two seemed to stare at each other for ages, time hanging in the air between them. From lupine teeth hung a string of drool, snout roughened by a perpetual snarl. Every muscle appeared stiff as a spring, ready to launch into action at a moment’s notice. Olvar’s jaws twitched at the taunting click from his target, like the action of a trap not quite triggered. Hot breath rolled down between the pair, gazes locked until the reptilian let out a bellow. Amused.

That was enough to knock him back into action. Enraged by the other’s entertained expression, the wolf lunged forward. To leap directly into a beast with such an array of dentition was madness at best, suicidal at worst. Self-control had never been a strong suit though, especially not on the nights of a new moon. While his stocky enemy laughed, Olvar ducked low and made his move. His speed was nothing to trifle with any day, though certainly not when driven by rage and motivated by teeth aimed for an unarmored throat.

The laughter only increased in volume and forced his entire body to shake, the armor clacking with this jolt of movement as the canine launched at his throat. It was foolish to think he would actually fight this beast anyway close as he was acting. No, he would of have had hunted him first. Instead, he had allowed himself to be found. A heavy arm came swinging through to swatt the mutt to the ground, open-palmed and clawed curved into the blow, like a slap from a bear. But twice as hard. A movement, and he was wiping away a string of saliva that had been pulled from his own mouth as he had swung his head back to laugh. His shoulders were beginning to settle, and his frame died down. His amber eyes softened down at the lighter brown-furred creature.

“Oh Olvar, you fool.”

With a sigh and a smug grin still resting over his own snout, X’yros turned to peak at the horizon. No sign of color yet, that meant this small moose had plenty of time to release a pent-up pissy fit. The bull still had a solid stance, but he folded his arm and placed his lips together to smile down at the small beast with a bit of relief flooding over him.

“How long has it been-Right, I won’t be getting an answer out of you, fleabag. Still don’t understand the common tongue, I’m sure.”

A thin sigh was released and he leaned back a bit, the armor lightly scraping against itself as he did so. Wondering if the oaf would continue attempting to land a bite.

The swat from X’yros was like being struck with a falling log. Olvar was knocked aside as easily as a fly from a farmer’s face, and he hit the ground in an equally rough landing. Though the hit stunned him, it was a brief recovery before he was on his feet again, spitting a series of curses in the Galgazian tongue. The familiar beast was making grumbled noises too, but whatever was being said was lost to the shifter. At least in his current form.

Despite the anger still burning for him to fight on, the aching covering the entirety of his right side was keeping him back, just out of reach of the reptilian titan he’d found. He paced side to side, staying squared up with X’yros and snapping his jaws aggressively. Sharp ears were fixed forward, tail lashing in anger. Oh, how he wanted to fight, but he didn’t stand a chance in the current odds. Yet again, he scanned the other’s armor for weak points. There was one he hadn’t tried yet…

Olvar stepped to one side, his snarls dying down in favor of sniffing at X’yros from a short distance. He slowly stepped closer, inching his way into range while scenting curiously at the reptilian and the ground he sat on. The lycan drew as close as he could, keeping himself relatively relaxed in hopes of keeping the other creature complacent to his presence. When he grew impatient, he made his move.

Trotting lightly over to the Sang’Vii’s side, he approached with an inquisitive sniff, then abruptly rushed in again. This time he made a grab for the exposed muscle of his opponent’s arm.

As the lupundra began to settle, so did X'yros. His shifted his weight between the two legs and slumped forwards, dropping his weight to his fours with a loud huff as his weight thudded against the ground. His rear dropped first, stirring the grasses as he listened to the quiet sniffing from the canine at every corner of his body. His broad skull turned to glance at the darting canine to try and get it to chill down, but instead his eyes caught a glimpse, a flash of white teeth. Cool to the touch, he mouth closed around metal and flesh along his bicep. The armor would absorb much of the bite, probably hurt some teeth, but the skin was already pulled tight by the bulge of muscle propping him up. The teeth broke the thinner skin in this body section. X'yros winced, but sure the canine would most likely instantly regret this decision. The violet blood would be hot to the touch, burning hot X'yros saw an opportunity as the canine was busy with the bite and attempt to tear his arm open. Jaws would enclose around his body. And a large portion of it. 

The bull had leaned forwards with his neck and aimed to snatch the spine of the canine, not to injure him. His jaws were tight enough to hold, but he didn't dare shut them in fear of bone instantly shattering. His long tusk-like fangs however would be very, very uncomfortable if they landed right between the ribs where he had initially aimed. X'yros pulled his arm back to his armored frame in the meantime, covering the opening and blood now coating his itching arm. His body heat rose into the air like a pillar of smoke as it burned the grass while falling. Fur would most likely tickle his mouth and stick to the rough as he kept Olvar in his grip with a low rumbling grow..