RP:Ezekiel has the Worst Kind of Luck

Old Camp

Ezekiel had been up here, in search of anything related to this 'frozen metal' he had been hearing rumors of. There was talk about weapons and armor, crafted from an ore found here, only in Frostmaw, so here he was. Naturally curious, and ready to take it apart, the man of many mechanical talents striving to further the horizon to his vast knowledge of the clockwork world. That is what he would have liked to have said; instead, he was being chased down, and mauled by a pack of wolves. Right there in his camp.

Satoshi is wandering, truly and utterly aimlessly, having just left the company of the blacksmith Ranok and somehow managing to fight the urge to resume her graveside vigil once more, a fact that has led her into the woods of Frostmaw. With indifference of an alarming quality the foxkin trudges through the trees and snow, eyes unfocused and lips moving in a constant, inaudible mutter, while the gaunt lines of recent grieving rest heavy on usually light features. So lost in her mind is Satoshi that she marches right into the camp, trods on one of the wolve's tails, and keeps shuffling forward without so much as a twitch of her whisker. That is, until the cloak of frosted mist about her shoulders flutters into life in response to a snarl from the offended lupine. The bewitched haze reshapes itself into a phantom claw then and swipes out to slash across the animal's eyes, the beast's ensuing yelps finally catching Satoshi's attention and bringing her blank gaze toward the campsite scene. "What... is this?"

Ezekiel didn't wander off far, he really didn't! He just stepped around the corner to get some more firewood, not a dozen paw swipes to the face. Back. Arm. Legs, legs too. Three wolfs in total: one staggering about blindly, its vision hindered, and the other two playing tug-o-war with the poor man's limbs. A snapping vice-like maw at the left hand, a grizzled set of teeth against his right shoulder. A fair bit of blood had been trailed from the start of the encounter, up until the edge of the tent, as if that was his safe retreat. With the kit's voice questioning over the snarled growls, the flectomancer finally hit the peak in his panicked demeanor. A blast of raw, magical energy, emanating from that hand-in-jaw, not only removing the savage beast from his person, but sending it to barrel through his tent, collapsing it. Fear kept his tongue silent, those simple brown eyes, wide in horror. Who was this?

Satoshi comes alive rather abruptly, the combination of fresh blood in the air and a wild burst of raw magic--along with the distant murderous rage of her husband--enough to trigger the foxkin's instincts into movement, even if her mind isn't entirely present or willing. Instinct pure, violent, and completely feral, courses through the kit's veins, rekindling her dwindling desire for action while the vampire's bloodthirst overrides all else. Like a puppet with its strings cut, the fogweave claw goes limp and dissipates into the wind as it's severed from the perpetual flow of magic through Satoshi, for the magus is buried beneath a snarling beast that's crawling its way into life that very moment. Dropping to her knees, the kit doubles over as her outline blurs and begins to shift, a short-lived transformation that removes the dainty little vulpine from play and inserts a much larger creature: a sleek, long-limbed vixen of a size easily rivaling the wolves present, four tails writhing violently behind it as wisps of azure flames flicker across pristine white fur. Blazing blue slitted eyes are turned on Ezekiel and the wolves then and a slender muzzle is parted to reveal a fanged, foxin smile as a tongue is run across those needly teeth in relishing thought of the blood to be had. Who first..?

Ezekiel didn't even feel the teeth gouged deep in his shoulder anymore. All he felt was the warm stain of piss messing his trousers; maybe the last beat of his heart too. Or no- that was next to come. Quivering in an icy cold sweat, cold enough to rival even Satoshi's darkest mood, Ezekiel peddled backwards. Sudden, the scrawny male was stricken with super-human strength! Strength in which he used to unintentionally drag the wolf back with him (something he couldn't, for the literal life of him, do a minute ago, thoughts and focus prioritizing the vulpine. Backed up against the collapsed canvas, Ezekiel could do nothing but throw his arms up, and snap watering eyes shut. Was this the angel of death?

Satoshi's fangs snap together in an experimental bite, the sound drawing the attention of the blinded wolf that's been scrabbling around the site in private misery. With a snarl the lupine launches itself in the direction the noise came from and bodily tackles Satoshi, sending them both crashing into the snow in a tangle of fur, fangs, and growls. For a drawn out period--perhaps enough for the unfortunate fellow to free himself from the distracted packmate--the fox and wolf wrestle, lashing out with tooth and nail in shared blind fury until the wolf makes a fatal error. Mistakening one of Satoshi's tails for the thick mane around her neck, he latches on with steely determination, providing the kit an ample opening to twist around and bury her own fangs in the back of the animal's neck. Jaws clamp shut with a sickening crunch and the lupine falls limp without even the chance to protest. Satisfied with her kill, and for the moment oblivious to the presence of others, the vixen begins tearing away at the wolf's thick fur, determined to rip into the meat and feed immediately.

Ezekiel was free indeed, a row of deep punctures dotting his shoulder, edging dangerously close to his neck. They poured like a keg on tap, that sanguine treat, drifting wildly through the air. This only fueled their feral rampage; suddenly, the hair on their chest growing tenfold (metaphorically speaking, of course). With instinct, Ezekiel's shoulder-mate had dropped low, shoulder blades rolling as it stalked closer. The gentlemen that had kissed Ezekiel's hand, all teeth and no lip, finally managed to shred out of the canvas tent. He didn't even bother with formalities, he just ran and dove at Satoshi. All the while, the poor man had tried to run, but a damage Achilles heel left him scurrying backwards, eyes never missing a beat of the action.

Satoshi's dinner is rudely interrupted by a dance partner she didn't ask for. But unfortunately for said partner, the fox isn't one to be led, and rather hastily twists to roll back onto her paws despite the weight of the wolf now clinging to her back. Hackles rise as Satoshi begins to growl, her form growing more rigid with every bite that's delivered back, sides, and neck while she continues to stand there, enduring it. Just why Satoshi isn't fighting back becomes obvious a moment later when the wolf yelps in pain and rears his head back, revealing glistening needles of ice puncturing nearly every inch of his jaws where vulpine fur has been glaciated into a spiny armor. Having no desire to continue chewing on a giant porcupine, the wolf hastily disengages and bolts for the trees, leaving his remaining packmate behind mid-stalking. Satoshi huffs in vexation, taking no note of the third wolf, and shakes in a motion that ripples from snout to tails, dissolving the frigid state of her fur and leaving her briefly shrouded in snowdust.

Ezekiel couldn't tell you what happened after that point, even to this day. When the second wolfs two-step tango failed miserably, Ezekiel had somewhere, and somehow managed to find the courage to bring a large wrench down atop the third, and last wolf's head. For what reason, and where, did he find this sudden show of heroism and bravery? Maybe it was the fact that hells wolf (at least what he called it) was changing back. Maybe it was the fact that he felt confident, in a two vs. one battle, like the coy bastard he was. Hell, maybe, it was the fact the wolf had taken a bite out of the mechanical ferret that had scurried out of his coat, in a feeble attempt to try and 'protect' the creator. It did have razor sharp metal teeth; that counted for something, right? Either way, the only thing the flectomancer would tell you, was that he remembered sitting on his knees, shivering like an alcoholic going through withdraws, the blood on his hand (singular) seconds from making him faint.

Satoshi stares at the brained wolf a moment, rage temporarily abated for the sake of surprise, before her attention is drawn to the man slumping to the ground. Eyes narrow to near slits and lips pull back to bare fangs as the fox stalks forward on stiff limbs, a bristling bundle of predator drawing nearer to incapacitated prey. Rudely--like manners have any say in such situations--she jabs her muzzle into the human's chest in an attempt to knock him flat. Whether he resists or not, the foxkin still towers over him with jaws parted to buffet his face with eerily cold breath before she dips her snout forward, sniffing at the blood pouring from his shoulder. A rumbling growl escapes Satoshi then, the bloodlust rising once more at the scent, and she licks at the wounds... only to backpedal a second later, landing in the snow gracelessly as she shakes her head back and forth, whining and huffing indignantly. If there's one thing Satoshi hates most when it comes to meals, it's meals that reek of fear. Nothing destroys the flavor of blood quite so completely for her than that. Ezekiel's cowardice is his saving grace, and likely Satoshi's as well, what with that startling moment serving to knock a fair portion of sense back into her head. Or, that could be a result of her husband's own rage being quelled.

Ezekiel faints. Just like that, on his ass, pushed over by the massive snout, he faints. From what? Fear, blood loss, defensive position, go! It was hard to say; it likely could have even been all three together. Regardless, this is where his night ended. In a pool of blood, unconscious in the snow, wearing a pair of (soon-to-be) frozen, pissed pants. All he wanted was to study a damn metal! This was not his week: thieving felines, boxing champs, compass swiping drow's, and now, a demon wolf induced fear so potent, he fainted. He'd have to make a few minor tweaks to the story, when and if he ever had children. The key word, 'if'. His fate was now in Satoshi's hands, and or paws.

Satoshi, for reasons unspoken, takes it upon herself to drag the sorry sack of unconscious human to his collapsed tent and, with a bit of paw work, succeeds in effectively rolling him inside the canvas. Sniffing in contentment at her work, the vixen stalks off. Eventually, when she wanders back to Frostmaw, she'll make mention of the man in the woods to the gate guards, and they'll see if they can't locate him and give him a bit of aid. No one can ever say the Lady of Frostmaw had a completely frozen heart.

Ezekiel is never going to be right again.