Encounterlogs
Caelums Odd Encounter Sr Angelique
Caelum, a seemingly regular human with hints of a dark and supernatural past, finds himself locked in a cold struggle with his malfunctioning motorcycle on a desolate New Years Eve. As he fusses with the reluctant machine, animals—ordinary pets transformed into menacing beasts by some elusive magic—begin to surround him. A large, ragged dog fixates on him with an ominous stare. In a place where comfort and assistance are scarce, and technology such as a reliable phone seems like a luxury, Caelum tries to maintain composure. An awkward attempt to befriend the nearby terror only escalates tensions, as more growls betray the presence of a fast-accumulating pack, eager to hunt.
The situation spirals as Caelum's offer of peace in the form of jerky fails to quell the pack's aggression. In a desperate rush, he attempts to start his bike, and his retreat seems near until the large dog pounces, igniting a brutal scuffle. Caelum is not just a man fighting for survival, but an avatar of his vampiric heritage—a haunted echo of ferocity and instinct lay bare. Teeth and fist clash until a grim victory is his, marked by the chilling crack of the alpha dog's neck. The pack halts; mourning howls bleed into the night air as Caelum mounts his now-responsive bike and flees, leaving behind only the memory of blood, both spilled and shed, under the grim wane of the moon.
(Caelum's odd encounter(SRAngelique):SRAngelique)
[Sun Dec 31 2023]
On Paine Avenue
It is after dusk, about 47F(8C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Your target is attacked by an animal or small group of animals driven mad with magic, it is up to them to escape or fight them off for long enough for their allies to arrive and help deal with the threat.
)
The evening brings with it some exhaustion to Caelum, where he stands beside a vintage, midnight-paint Suzuki motorcycle. Unaware, almost, beneath the dimly lit lights of the street, of anything that may happen to him, he merely has a hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing some stiffness away. The lines underneath his eyes are largely noticeable, something that would've been impossible to see under any other circumstance. Then he sighs, and kneels once more beside his bike to try and unjam whatever has it stuck in place.
It's not a lovely night, especially when one is feeling the cold for the first time in goodness knows how long. It's beyond brisk, below freezing, but the air is still, at least. While Caelum tries to sort out what has his classic motorcycle acting up, a man passes by, barely giving him a glance, let alone stopping to ask if he needs help. A few cars drive by. All in all, it's an incredibly quiet New Years Eve, even for a small town. Especially for -this- small town.
Stiff fingers are up to no good. The cold, making itself known to him for a while now and refreshing already long gone memories of what it felt like, is a great hindrence. Fingerless gloves are evidently unfit for such weather, so is the leather jacket on Caelum, and the tank top he wears underneath. The chill, the shivers following it are all too constant- and the only thing keeping his teeth from chattering is the grit of a fangless mouth in pure, quiet anger. Some expletives huffed under his breath follow soon after he attached a chain where it belongs, then rises up to try and start the engine. A kick, blank. Again, blank. It's as if the motorcycle is dead where it is, like he isn't, now.
Poor Caelum. Whatever faults a man may have, be he alive or undead, an vehicle that refuses to come to life on demand is the most calamitous of punishments. And with so many unwilling to brave the streets where Temple, for a short while, holds the upper hand, it's going to be a lot more difficult for Caelum to find help, if he needs it. Of course, he has a phone. Thank goodness the technologically experimental Swann didn't decide to mess with those connections as well!
While the very human Caelum struggles with the bike and the few passersby that do show their faces hurry on through the cold, eventually he'll become aware of another presence. It isn't a strange one, not really. It's not even one that'd be out of place on the streets of the town. A ragged dog, massive enough to possibly have some lupine blood in the mix, stands on stiff legs, hackles raised, across the road. It's staring at him. It's -definitely- staring at him.
At least Caelum can rest assured that, tonight, it's not a werewolf, right?
The world is tough for a renegade, rogue vampire on the loose. It's a fact that Caelum is clearly aware of - or maybe he's become accustomed to the lack of a friendly hand around town. Last thing he'd need tonight would be brawling an angry mob infront of another establishment he'd like to frequent. As those thoughts pass him by, still in annoyance of his predicament, he takes a pause. The bike is left to stand as it is while he gives his back to it, legs cross at the ankles, and pulls off his gloves to put his fingers together laced and up to his lips so he can grace them with a warm breath that he'd never have otherwise. Small victories, that. While he does, though, those narrowed eyes searching pass through the hurriedly leaving people - all until there is really no one, no thing around -- Except for a pair of eyes that he feels stark on himself. That beast across the road would find his gaze meeting its own, staring, watching, observant just the same but he doesn't break eye contact. No, he does what any bloodthirsty maniac too out of touch with life in the face of threat would do - and pretends to embrace his situation, act human. Slowly, he leans forward a little, glances from one end of the road to the other to make sure there are no cars, then beckons the dog with a little wag of his fingers and a smile. "Tut tut, come here little guy."
There's an answering growl.
The problem is, once more human senses adapt and catch it, that the growl which answers Caelum's call doesn't come from the dog that stares him down from across the road. It's a little closer, but soon the jangle of a pet ID tag can be heard as a 'little guy' takes the steps that bring him around the edge of a building. Another dog. Not a stray, this time, if the metallic sound of tags hitting off each other means anything. Definitely without any wolf in him, the shaggy little dog couldn't be much bigger than a Jack Russel. His tail is cropped, and his ears stand straight up, little triangles atop his cute, but definitely not purebred face. Now he, too, stands staring at Caelum, with just the hint of a wiggle in his half-sized tail.
There's the sound of further movement, as another dog and then another all make their way out from places. A yard here, an alleyway there. Has every pet owner in Haven forgotten to lock their gates tonight?
SRAngelique is sorry, reposts?
That inviting gesture stops very quickly. It's an odd thing that Caelum nearly misses the presence of another dog that showed up. Being too accustomed to heightened senses, and lacking them now is a blow to his ego. But then, as adorable as the newest dog may be, it causes hairs to stand on end, a chill slowly building that is far from just the cold. Those green eyes are a little more narrow now while he looks from it, to the hound on the far end - then slowly at all of the pack slowly gathers in their respective locations to stare him down. "Shit..?" An entirely too human reaction - and he finds himself standing straighter because of it, on two feet. "It looks like we got off on the wrong foot, boys." He squints. "And girls." Really, he's speaking mindlessly - just to have his voice extend the suspense of the situation, or perhaps in an attempt to calm the growing horde down. "I didn't intend to stop by on anyone's turf." His grip twists the start switch on his bike again, returning empty, not even a rumble beside a quiet trill from the vehicle at his side. "How about you let me take a hike to the nearest convenience store, and I'll promise to return with a fat bag of jerky, yeah?" He's a little lost in the effort to look between all of the dogs, trying to keep as many in his sights as possible-- The start switch is turned again, a little livelier rumble replies this time, but still no dice.
Whatever is going on, the dogs are certainly riled up, and this? This is definitely pack hunting behavior. Perhaps, some of the magic that's infused the town has also come to affect the animals over the years, or perhaps there's simply some animals that've been under compulsions of different sorts, that have broken with the lack of supernatural influence. Whatever it is that's going on though, Caelum's offer isn't enough to stop any of them.
Slowly, the mangy, big dog that'd begun this whole thing begins to stalk closer, stiff-legged. And with him, other dogs also slowly begin to close in. Some of them are nothing more than annoying little ankle-biters - the kind you could kick and literally send flying. Others though are big. Some look meaner than others, but they all seem to be following the lead of that big mutt.
He growls again as the engine on Caelum's bike tries to sputter to life, lips peeling back to reveal large canines, one of which drips a slow drop of saliva onto the ground.
It's hard. More than that, its frightening, the encroaching approach from all sides. Slow and steady, terrifying nonetheless. Caelum squeezes the clutch, and turns the start yet another time in futile effort- but there is an inherent reaction when the top dog of the pack growls in his direction. This time, his head turns to it, pin his stare down - and his lips draw back as if there are fangs to flash, or a growling hiss that would erupt from his throat. No, none of the sort. He's as mundane as they come, if only more built than the average - and certainly not at all intimidating.
"Fuck it." The two most dangerous words - or the most cowardly, in some situations, spills past Caelum 's lips instead after he falters, and he turns. One leg thrown over the bike, he settles on the saddle firm and grips the handlebars tightly to try to feverishly start his bike again, and again, and again - each time a sputtering reply.. but maybe? Is there a chance? The whole act nonetheless leaves him open and vulnerable to a pounce from the side, where he can easily be taken advantage of in his haste to flee from hurting some people's poor dogs.
It's hard. More than that, its frightening, the encroaching approach from all sides. Slow and steady, terrifying nonetheless. Caelum squeezes the clutch, and turns the start yet another time in futile effort- but there is an inherent reaction when the top dog of the pack growls in his direction. This time, his head turns to it, pin his stare down - and his lips draw back as if there are fangs to flash, or a growling hiss that would erupt from his throat. No, none of the sort. He's as mundane as they come, if only more built than the average - and certainly not at all intimidating.
"Fuck it." The two most dangerous words - or the most cowardly, in some situations, spills past Caelum 's lips instead after he falters, and he turns. One leg thrown over the bike, he settles on the saddle firm and grips the handlebars tightly to try to feverishly start his bike again, and again, and again - each time a sputtering reply.. but maybe? Is there a chance? The whole act nonetheless leaves him open and vulnerable to a pounce from the side, where he can easily be taken advantage of in his haste to flee from hurting some people's poor dogs.
Some people's dogs. Some people... well. It's a weirdass time for the whole town, so maybe some people could be forgiven, if their dogs weren't savaging the townsfolk.
As Caelum leaps for his bike, the movement startles the pack. A couple of the dogs, real strays by the looks of them, flinch backward with a bit of that fear. After all, fast movements often mean sharp kicks, for those poor creatures. Others though, are less startled, especially the pampered pets that live in yards where small children harrass them daily.
Wait. Why are -they- out here right now?
All in all, however, it's that one, big dog that starts it all up. Caelum leaps, he leaps, and then the rest are rushing in with a cacophany of sound, from the high-pitched yips and tiny growls of itty-bitty cutiepies that couldn't scare a mouse to the deep-throated ferocity of barrel-chested mutts. They move in to surround Caelum, but rather than leap to rip and savage, then just pack closer and closer.
The front of his bike is left open, however. The big dog that targetted him stands still several feet away, and no other dogs crowd that space.
Drat, God is really not standing with Caelum today. The eruption of sound, from the adorable yips to angry snarls, would have him startle and freeze in place if not for the leader of the pack leaping towards him. It hits him like a brick, toppling him down, his bike, with Caelum straight sprawled on the pavement beneath a massive hound. By some grace, thankfully, the others aren't yet participating in the savaging to come. It doesn't make his situation any better, mind, but then Caelum replies just as wildly to the beast holding his arm captive in a fanged embrace. The trickle of warmth bleeding underneath the leather jacket is like a memory resurfacing. So is the raw, burning flash of anger that joins the grimace of an expression folding his features.
"You-" It's Caelum 's time to growl out his reply, mixed with a load of expletives hurled just as he wraps an arm around the neck of his feral assailant, and shoves his arm deeper sideways into that jaw instead of trying to pull. His reposte culminating in a cruel, not at all animal friendly attempt to bash the hound's skull against the pavement, and turn so he can sit on it.
You can give life to a lifeless husk, but you can't take the undead out of Caelum, it looks like. Despite his better half trying to initially resolve the situation amiably even if the dogs are really not the crowd for it, he's not at all beneath violence. It shows in the glimmer of his eyes, and the rage that bubbles at the back of his mind white hot and acrid enough to cloud his judgement.
Well. Sometimes one needs to show a dog who's boss? As Caelum seeks to do exactly this with the biggest of the dogs, the rest of the pack absolutely freezes. Hackles remain raised, but the snarling dies down. Perhaps they're merely waiting to see who comes out on top? Or maybe they're just scared.
As the brute of a dog wrestles with Caelum, those teeth digging and tearing at leather and maybe even the flesh beneath, the rage between the pair seems to build, almost as if they've fallen into sync somehow. It's not magic. It can't be magic. So it must be something more bestial. More primal. Predator meets predator, on a home turf they both share.
Caelum manages to flip the dog, but not without cost to that jacket, a few new scars on the well-worn garment. The dog scrambles to his feet, however, crouched and snarling at the human who dares to take it on, hand to... fang. For a moment, it's a face-off. Who's going to make the next move?
The other dogs hover and wait, with a few of the smaller, more scared ones slipping off into the night.
Wrestling had never been Caelum 's strong suit anyways. At least, he's free to act - even if the dripping red trailing down his forearm underneath a mangled leather jacket reaches the tips of his fingers and stains the pavement with warmth. The pain only makes him clench his teeth, curl every finger to a fist. He barely takes note of the other dogs that slip off into the night, or does he focus on the gathering that watches them both. It may even have seen comedic, in some fashion - a cage fight, with the cage being dogs.
Yet, yet, that face-off doesn't extend further when Caelum straight up lunges ahead to tackle the beast once again. A powerful arm seeks to put its neck right on the inside of his arm, then squeeze to trap its throat between forearm and bicep, all while his other hand grabs it by the shaggy fur atop its head and pin it by force. The hateful draw of his lips to bare non-existent fangs is the cherry on top- mixed with that look of pure ruthless, reckless rage collected in his eyes as he tries to choke the dog unconscious.
The dog snarls and lunges backward when Caelum leaps for it, wheeling to try and spin around, to attack his attacker from a different angle. But he's caught. It's not quite the chokehold that Caelum had intended, but it is enough to stop the beast from being able to sink his teeth back into the man. And oh does he try. And try. And try. Fangs snap, drool slips from the sides of his mouth, and the dog begins to twist and turn, seeking to tear into the young man - or at least to earn his freedom from those clutches.
While this goes on, the other dogs maintain their silence, their bodies caging in the two combatants, and their eyes intent on the drama unfolding. It's probably lucky for Caelum that they're not terribly keen to defend the lead dog, given his unprotected flanks!
The big dog manages to plant his hind legs firmly against the concrete beneath them, and he pushes, trying to knock Caelum off balance, in one more full-frenzied effort.
What did Caelum expect, trying to tussle with a hound? He's entirely mindless of his openings too, and thankfully he's not attacked by the whole pack. Whatever magic, or primal force has captivated them, blessed be it, is giving him this chance to fight back. And he does- almost valiantly - at least would be if it wasn't borderline animal cruelty, what he does in response to the struggling jaws that try to snap and snap straight up and around, at his arm, at his face.
That push would've been enough to topple anyone less apt at staying on their feet. By pure reaction Caelum sinks a knee down to claim more ground, make himself less moveable as he shoves himself back against his beast of judgement. "No you fucking don't - " Another growl, and the hand set above its head slams down on its muzzle near his nose to capture the top of it in a grip. What maybe, maybe would've ended with him putting the hound out of commission is instead turned into a ruthless twist and pull. The arm around its neck doing the pulling, while the hand twists, trying to snap the dog's neck right then and there.
The crack is loud. Or maybe it's just the otherwise silence of the night that surrounds Caelum afterwards that makes it feel that way. The dog goes limp in his hold, the struggle broken in that final heartbeat, that final twitch of severed brainstem.
But that's ONE dog.
The circle of dogs stands where they were, a few little gaps where cowardly housepets have made their escape visible, but there's still a good ten or twelve dogs ringing Caelum and the body of their erstwhile pack leader. Then a low growl sounds, as another massive dog steps forward. Is this the canine version of Fight Club?
The distance isn't closed, at least not yet, but this beast that looks to be part Shepherd stares at Caelum, just like the rest of them do.
(re?) The crack is loud. Or maybe it's just the otherwise silence of the night that surrounds Caelum afterwards that makes it feel that way. The dog goes limp in his hold, the struggle broken in that final heartbeat, that final twitch of severed brainstem.
But that's ONE dog.
The circle of dogs stands where they were, a few little gaps where cowardly housepets have made their escape visible, but there's still a good ten or twelve dogs ringing Caelum and the body of their erstwhile pack leader. Then a low growl sounds, as another massive dog steps forward. Is this the canine version of Fight Club?
The distance isn't closed, at least not yet, but this beast that looks to be part Shepherd stares at Caelum, just like the rest of them do.
Caelum breathes. It's heavy, almost, and deep. It had never been that big of a deal to do what he did in the span of a good while to a dog, to do to a human in the blink of an eye - but he basks in the momentary quiet that follows after he disposed of the initial hound. Until another growl joins the fray, breaks that solemn silence in passing of a good dog. Maybe they could've been friends, in another time - but now?
Caelum allows the dog to slide off of his chest, drop lifeless and dead on the pavement. For the first time in a while he stares at the red around its throat, his own, and the faint tinge of red in its mouth with distaste. The sight of blood had never felt so sickening. He doesn't let it get to him - no, he stands up, and he stands tall to turn to the next fighter on the list. In a moment that would be far, far more imposing, far more terrifying if he were the bloodsucker that he was just not very long ago, he stares the beast down, and starts stalking forward, slow but strong enough that each footfall echoes just as loudly as the low growl in the dimly lit, silent avenue.
Nobody can be friends with the dead dog now. Good dog? Maybe, but something was definitely not sitting right in its mind. Now though, the dog is dead and Caelum is alive, but bleeding, and staring at another dog. No, stalking another dog.
The part-Shepherd stands its ground for a moment, as the man comes towards it, already wounded but showing no weakness. This dog, though, doesn't seem quite as messed up as the first, and though it holds its firm stance, its tail droops. It's ears drop. Then its head lowers. There's a snarl, but it's a half-hearted 'leave me alone,' not the vicious, 'I'm going to tear you to shreds' of the earlier mutt.
There is a split second where Caelum is near enough to the shepherd to be a threat. A likely deadly one too, because he's clearly not going down without a fight - despite his state. The look in his eyes is narrow, cruel - distasteful and almost detached in a way that doesn't quite sit well with him. His tongue trails over absent fangs, now mere simple canines if only slightly sharper than average. There is little doubt that he'd have left a surprise for every passerby in the morning in a road paved with dead dogs - if he weren't weighed down by his newfound mortality.
Then Caelum simply steps past the mutt, continues his steps without pause or break in stride to his fallen bike. Should there be no more challenge, he'd set it right up as it once was - hits the kickstand with the tip of his shoe and climb the saddle again.
As Caelum approaches, that growl gets louder, lips peeling off fangs to ensure that he knows the dog could well be a threat, a danger to him. But when he makes no move to attack, neither does the beast. It merely circles around to keep an eye on him, until he's to his bike. Then, slowly, the Shepherd-cross walks over to the dead mutt, and nudges at the corpse with its nose, then a paw. There's a low whine, undeniably melancholy in tone that follows.
As a whole, the group of dogs tips up their heads, and a howl rises to the sky. It's a weird thing. Definitely not the long bay of a wolf pack, but instead a few soft yips, a few hound-dogs baying, and a mix of everything else in between. A cacophany of sorrow follows Caelum to his bike, as the dogs mourn their loss. The man is, now, ignored.
Thank you so much for playing along, Caelum. I appreciate it greatly. Is there anywhere that I could drop you off?
Caelum has an expression twisted with slight regret. Maybe it would've been better if he were actually killed by the dogs- if it wouldn't have brought such a heart wrenching situation after. No mind, he turns the start, and the bike roars to life as if to howl with the stray pack. Only a slight sputter from the engine - something he should really get checked - then he kicks off, without sparing another look over his shoulder, and leaving only stains of his blood where he was once, dripped from his wrist.
The situation spirals as Caelum's offer of peace in the form of jerky fails to quell the pack's aggression. In a desperate rush, he attempts to start his bike, and his retreat seems near until the large dog pounces, igniting a brutal scuffle. Caelum is not just a man fighting for survival, but an avatar of his vampiric heritage—a haunted echo of ferocity and instinct lay bare. Teeth and fist clash until a grim victory is his, marked by the chilling crack of the alpha dog's neck. The pack halts; mourning howls bleed into the night air as Caelum mounts his now-responsive bike and flees, leaving behind only the memory of blood, both spilled and shed, under the grim wane of the moon.
(Caelum's odd encounter(SRAngelique):SRAngelique)
[Sun Dec 31 2023]
On Paine Avenue
It is after dusk, about 47F(8C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Your target is attacked by an animal or small group of animals driven mad with magic, it is up to them to escape or fight them off for long enough for their allies to arrive and help deal with the threat.
)
The evening brings with it some exhaustion to Caelum, where he stands beside a vintage, midnight-paint Suzuki motorcycle. Unaware, almost, beneath the dimly lit lights of the street, of anything that may happen to him, he merely has a hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing some stiffness away. The lines underneath his eyes are largely noticeable, something that would've been impossible to see under any other circumstance. Then he sighs, and kneels once more beside his bike to try and unjam whatever has it stuck in place.
It's not a lovely night, especially when one is feeling the cold for the first time in goodness knows how long. It's beyond brisk, below freezing, but the air is still, at least. While Caelum tries to sort out what has his classic motorcycle acting up, a man passes by, barely giving him a glance, let alone stopping to ask if he needs help. A few cars drive by. All in all, it's an incredibly quiet New Years Eve, even for a small town. Especially for -this- small town.
Stiff fingers are up to no good. The cold, making itself known to him for a while now and refreshing already long gone memories of what it felt like, is a great hindrence. Fingerless gloves are evidently unfit for such weather, so is the leather jacket on Caelum, and the tank top he wears underneath. The chill, the shivers following it are all too constant- and the only thing keeping his teeth from chattering is the grit of a fangless mouth in pure, quiet anger. Some expletives huffed under his breath follow soon after he attached a chain where it belongs, then rises up to try and start the engine. A kick, blank. Again, blank. It's as if the motorcycle is dead where it is, like he isn't, now.
Poor Caelum. Whatever faults a man may have, be he alive or undead, an vehicle that refuses to come to life on demand is the most calamitous of punishments. And with so many unwilling to brave the streets where Temple, for a short while, holds the upper hand, it's going to be a lot more difficult for Caelum to find help, if he needs it. Of course, he has a phone. Thank goodness the technologically experimental Swann didn't decide to mess with those connections as well!
While the very human Caelum struggles with the bike and the few passersby that do show their faces hurry on through the cold, eventually he'll become aware of another presence. It isn't a strange one, not really. It's not even one that'd be out of place on the streets of the town. A ragged dog, massive enough to possibly have some lupine blood in the mix, stands on stiff legs, hackles raised, across the road. It's staring at him. It's -definitely- staring at him.
At least Caelum can rest assured that, tonight, it's not a werewolf, right?
The world is tough for a renegade, rogue vampire on the loose. It's a fact that Caelum is clearly aware of - or maybe he's become accustomed to the lack of a friendly hand around town. Last thing he'd need tonight would be brawling an angry mob infront of another establishment he'd like to frequent. As those thoughts pass him by, still in annoyance of his predicament, he takes a pause. The bike is left to stand as it is while he gives his back to it, legs cross at the ankles, and pulls off his gloves to put his fingers together laced and up to his lips so he can grace them with a warm breath that he'd never have otherwise. Small victories, that. While he does, though, those narrowed eyes searching pass through the hurriedly leaving people - all until there is really no one, no thing around -- Except for a pair of eyes that he feels stark on himself. That beast across the road would find his gaze meeting its own, staring, watching, observant just the same but he doesn't break eye contact. No, he does what any bloodthirsty maniac too out of touch with life in the face of threat would do - and pretends to embrace his situation, act human. Slowly, he leans forward a little, glances from one end of the road to the other to make sure there are no cars, then beckons the dog with a little wag of his fingers and a smile. "Tut tut, come here little guy."
There's an answering growl.
The problem is, once more human senses adapt and catch it, that the growl which answers Caelum's call doesn't come from the dog that stares him down from across the road. It's a little closer, but soon the jangle of a pet ID tag can be heard as a 'little guy' takes the steps that bring him around the edge of a building. Another dog. Not a stray, this time, if the metallic sound of tags hitting off each other means anything. Definitely without any wolf in him, the shaggy little dog couldn't be much bigger than a Jack Russel. His tail is cropped, and his ears stand straight up, little triangles atop his cute, but definitely not purebred face. Now he, too, stands staring at Caelum, with just the hint of a wiggle in his half-sized tail.
There's the sound of further movement, as another dog and then another all make their way out from places. A yard here, an alleyway there. Has every pet owner in Haven forgotten to lock their gates tonight?
SRAngelique is sorry, reposts?
That inviting gesture stops very quickly. It's an odd thing that Caelum nearly misses the presence of another dog that showed up. Being too accustomed to heightened senses, and lacking them now is a blow to his ego. But then, as adorable as the newest dog may be, it causes hairs to stand on end, a chill slowly building that is far from just the cold. Those green eyes are a little more narrow now while he looks from it, to the hound on the far end - then slowly at all of the pack slowly gathers in their respective locations to stare him down. "Shit..?" An entirely too human reaction - and he finds himself standing straighter because of it, on two feet. "It looks like we got off on the wrong foot, boys." He squints. "And girls." Really, he's speaking mindlessly - just to have his voice extend the suspense of the situation, or perhaps in an attempt to calm the growing horde down. "I didn't intend to stop by on anyone's turf." His grip twists the start switch on his bike again, returning empty, not even a rumble beside a quiet trill from the vehicle at his side. "How about you let me take a hike to the nearest convenience store, and I'll promise to return with a fat bag of jerky, yeah?" He's a little lost in the effort to look between all of the dogs, trying to keep as many in his sights as possible-- The start switch is turned again, a little livelier rumble replies this time, but still no dice.
Whatever is going on, the dogs are certainly riled up, and this? This is definitely pack hunting behavior. Perhaps, some of the magic that's infused the town has also come to affect the animals over the years, or perhaps there's simply some animals that've been under compulsions of different sorts, that have broken with the lack of supernatural influence. Whatever it is that's going on though, Caelum's offer isn't enough to stop any of them.
Slowly, the mangy, big dog that'd begun this whole thing begins to stalk closer, stiff-legged. And with him, other dogs also slowly begin to close in. Some of them are nothing more than annoying little ankle-biters - the kind you could kick and literally send flying. Others though are big. Some look meaner than others, but they all seem to be following the lead of that big mutt.
He growls again as the engine on Caelum's bike tries to sputter to life, lips peeling back to reveal large canines, one of which drips a slow drop of saliva onto the ground.
It's hard. More than that, its frightening, the encroaching approach from all sides. Slow and steady, terrifying nonetheless. Caelum squeezes the clutch, and turns the start yet another time in futile effort- but there is an inherent reaction when the top dog of the pack growls in his direction. This time, his head turns to it, pin his stare down - and his lips draw back as if there are fangs to flash, or a growling hiss that would erupt from his throat. No, none of the sort. He's as mundane as they come, if only more built than the average - and certainly not at all intimidating.
"Fuck it." The two most dangerous words - or the most cowardly, in some situations, spills past Caelum 's lips instead after he falters, and he turns. One leg thrown over the bike, he settles on the saddle firm and grips the handlebars tightly to try to feverishly start his bike again, and again, and again - each time a sputtering reply.. but maybe? Is there a chance? The whole act nonetheless leaves him open and vulnerable to a pounce from the side, where he can easily be taken advantage of in his haste to flee from hurting some people's poor dogs.
It's hard. More than that, its frightening, the encroaching approach from all sides. Slow and steady, terrifying nonetheless. Caelum squeezes the clutch, and turns the start yet another time in futile effort- but there is an inherent reaction when the top dog of the pack growls in his direction. This time, his head turns to it, pin his stare down - and his lips draw back as if there are fangs to flash, or a growling hiss that would erupt from his throat. No, none of the sort. He's as mundane as they come, if only more built than the average - and certainly not at all intimidating.
"Fuck it." The two most dangerous words - or the most cowardly, in some situations, spills past Caelum 's lips instead after he falters, and he turns. One leg thrown over the bike, he settles on the saddle firm and grips the handlebars tightly to try to feverishly start his bike again, and again, and again - each time a sputtering reply.. but maybe? Is there a chance? The whole act nonetheless leaves him open and vulnerable to a pounce from the side, where he can easily be taken advantage of in his haste to flee from hurting some people's poor dogs.
Some people's dogs. Some people... well. It's a weirdass time for the whole town, so maybe some people could be forgiven, if their dogs weren't savaging the townsfolk.
As Caelum leaps for his bike, the movement startles the pack. A couple of the dogs, real strays by the looks of them, flinch backward with a bit of that fear. After all, fast movements often mean sharp kicks, for those poor creatures. Others though, are less startled, especially the pampered pets that live in yards where small children harrass them daily.
Wait. Why are -they- out here right now?
All in all, however, it's that one, big dog that starts it all up. Caelum leaps, he leaps, and then the rest are rushing in with a cacophany of sound, from the high-pitched yips and tiny growls of itty-bitty cutiepies that couldn't scare a mouse to the deep-throated ferocity of barrel-chested mutts. They move in to surround Caelum, but rather than leap to rip and savage, then just pack closer and closer.
The front of his bike is left open, however. The big dog that targetted him stands still several feet away, and no other dogs crowd that space.
Drat, God is really not standing with Caelum today. The eruption of sound, from the adorable yips to angry snarls, would have him startle and freeze in place if not for the leader of the pack leaping towards him. It hits him like a brick, toppling him down, his bike, with Caelum straight sprawled on the pavement beneath a massive hound. By some grace, thankfully, the others aren't yet participating in the savaging to come. It doesn't make his situation any better, mind, but then Caelum replies just as wildly to the beast holding his arm captive in a fanged embrace. The trickle of warmth bleeding underneath the leather jacket is like a memory resurfacing. So is the raw, burning flash of anger that joins the grimace of an expression folding his features.
"You-" It's Caelum 's time to growl out his reply, mixed with a load of expletives hurled just as he wraps an arm around the neck of his feral assailant, and shoves his arm deeper sideways into that jaw instead of trying to pull. His reposte culminating in a cruel, not at all animal friendly attempt to bash the hound's skull against the pavement, and turn so he can sit on it.
You can give life to a lifeless husk, but you can't take the undead out of Caelum, it looks like. Despite his better half trying to initially resolve the situation amiably even if the dogs are really not the crowd for it, he's not at all beneath violence. It shows in the glimmer of his eyes, and the rage that bubbles at the back of his mind white hot and acrid enough to cloud his judgement.
Well. Sometimes one needs to show a dog who's boss? As Caelum seeks to do exactly this with the biggest of the dogs, the rest of the pack absolutely freezes. Hackles remain raised, but the snarling dies down. Perhaps they're merely waiting to see who comes out on top? Or maybe they're just scared.
As the brute of a dog wrestles with Caelum, those teeth digging and tearing at leather and maybe even the flesh beneath, the rage between the pair seems to build, almost as if they've fallen into sync somehow. It's not magic. It can't be magic. So it must be something more bestial. More primal. Predator meets predator, on a home turf they both share.
Caelum manages to flip the dog, but not without cost to that jacket, a few new scars on the well-worn garment. The dog scrambles to his feet, however, crouched and snarling at the human who dares to take it on, hand to... fang. For a moment, it's a face-off. Who's going to make the next move?
The other dogs hover and wait, with a few of the smaller, more scared ones slipping off into the night.
Wrestling had never been Caelum 's strong suit anyways. At least, he's free to act - even if the dripping red trailing down his forearm underneath a mangled leather jacket reaches the tips of his fingers and stains the pavement with warmth. The pain only makes him clench his teeth, curl every finger to a fist. He barely takes note of the other dogs that slip off into the night, or does he focus on the gathering that watches them both. It may even have seen comedic, in some fashion - a cage fight, with the cage being dogs.
Yet, yet, that face-off doesn't extend further when Caelum straight up lunges ahead to tackle the beast once again. A powerful arm seeks to put its neck right on the inside of his arm, then squeeze to trap its throat between forearm and bicep, all while his other hand grabs it by the shaggy fur atop its head and pin it by force. The hateful draw of his lips to bare non-existent fangs is the cherry on top- mixed with that look of pure ruthless, reckless rage collected in his eyes as he tries to choke the dog unconscious.
The dog snarls and lunges backward when Caelum leaps for it, wheeling to try and spin around, to attack his attacker from a different angle. But he's caught. It's not quite the chokehold that Caelum had intended, but it is enough to stop the beast from being able to sink his teeth back into the man. And oh does he try. And try. And try. Fangs snap, drool slips from the sides of his mouth, and the dog begins to twist and turn, seeking to tear into the young man - or at least to earn his freedom from those clutches.
While this goes on, the other dogs maintain their silence, their bodies caging in the two combatants, and their eyes intent on the drama unfolding. It's probably lucky for Caelum that they're not terribly keen to defend the lead dog, given his unprotected flanks!
The big dog manages to plant his hind legs firmly against the concrete beneath them, and he pushes, trying to knock Caelum off balance, in one more full-frenzied effort.
What did Caelum expect, trying to tussle with a hound? He's entirely mindless of his openings too, and thankfully he's not attacked by the whole pack. Whatever magic, or primal force has captivated them, blessed be it, is giving him this chance to fight back. And he does- almost valiantly - at least would be if it wasn't borderline animal cruelty, what he does in response to the struggling jaws that try to snap and snap straight up and around, at his arm, at his face.
That push would've been enough to topple anyone less apt at staying on their feet. By pure reaction Caelum sinks a knee down to claim more ground, make himself less moveable as he shoves himself back against his beast of judgement. "No you fucking don't - " Another growl, and the hand set above its head slams down on its muzzle near his nose to capture the top of it in a grip. What maybe, maybe would've ended with him putting the hound out of commission is instead turned into a ruthless twist and pull. The arm around its neck doing the pulling, while the hand twists, trying to snap the dog's neck right then and there.
The crack is loud. Or maybe it's just the otherwise silence of the night that surrounds Caelum afterwards that makes it feel that way. The dog goes limp in his hold, the struggle broken in that final heartbeat, that final twitch of severed brainstem.
But that's ONE dog.
The circle of dogs stands where they were, a few little gaps where cowardly housepets have made their escape visible, but there's still a good ten or twelve dogs ringing Caelum and the body of their erstwhile pack leader. Then a low growl sounds, as another massive dog steps forward. Is this the canine version of Fight Club?
The distance isn't closed, at least not yet, but this beast that looks to be part Shepherd stares at Caelum, just like the rest of them do.
(re?) The crack is loud. Or maybe it's just the otherwise silence of the night that surrounds Caelum afterwards that makes it feel that way. The dog goes limp in his hold, the struggle broken in that final heartbeat, that final twitch of severed brainstem.
But that's ONE dog.
The circle of dogs stands where they were, a few little gaps where cowardly housepets have made their escape visible, but there's still a good ten or twelve dogs ringing Caelum and the body of their erstwhile pack leader. Then a low growl sounds, as another massive dog steps forward. Is this the canine version of Fight Club?
The distance isn't closed, at least not yet, but this beast that looks to be part Shepherd stares at Caelum, just like the rest of them do.
Caelum breathes. It's heavy, almost, and deep. It had never been that big of a deal to do what he did in the span of a good while to a dog, to do to a human in the blink of an eye - but he basks in the momentary quiet that follows after he disposed of the initial hound. Until another growl joins the fray, breaks that solemn silence in passing of a good dog. Maybe they could've been friends, in another time - but now?
Caelum allows the dog to slide off of his chest, drop lifeless and dead on the pavement. For the first time in a while he stares at the red around its throat, his own, and the faint tinge of red in its mouth with distaste. The sight of blood had never felt so sickening. He doesn't let it get to him - no, he stands up, and he stands tall to turn to the next fighter on the list. In a moment that would be far, far more imposing, far more terrifying if he were the bloodsucker that he was just not very long ago, he stares the beast down, and starts stalking forward, slow but strong enough that each footfall echoes just as loudly as the low growl in the dimly lit, silent avenue.
Nobody can be friends with the dead dog now. Good dog? Maybe, but something was definitely not sitting right in its mind. Now though, the dog is dead and Caelum is alive, but bleeding, and staring at another dog. No, stalking another dog.
The part-Shepherd stands its ground for a moment, as the man comes towards it, already wounded but showing no weakness. This dog, though, doesn't seem quite as messed up as the first, and though it holds its firm stance, its tail droops. It's ears drop. Then its head lowers. There's a snarl, but it's a half-hearted 'leave me alone,' not the vicious, 'I'm going to tear you to shreds' of the earlier mutt.
There is a split second where Caelum is near enough to the shepherd to be a threat. A likely deadly one too, because he's clearly not going down without a fight - despite his state. The look in his eyes is narrow, cruel - distasteful and almost detached in a way that doesn't quite sit well with him. His tongue trails over absent fangs, now mere simple canines if only slightly sharper than average. There is little doubt that he'd have left a surprise for every passerby in the morning in a road paved with dead dogs - if he weren't weighed down by his newfound mortality.
Then Caelum simply steps past the mutt, continues his steps without pause or break in stride to his fallen bike. Should there be no more challenge, he'd set it right up as it once was - hits the kickstand with the tip of his shoe and climb the saddle again.
As Caelum approaches, that growl gets louder, lips peeling off fangs to ensure that he knows the dog could well be a threat, a danger to him. But when he makes no move to attack, neither does the beast. It merely circles around to keep an eye on him, until he's to his bike. Then, slowly, the Shepherd-cross walks over to the dead mutt, and nudges at the corpse with its nose, then a paw. There's a low whine, undeniably melancholy in tone that follows.
As a whole, the group of dogs tips up their heads, and a howl rises to the sky. It's a weird thing. Definitely not the long bay of a wolf pack, but instead a few soft yips, a few hound-dogs baying, and a mix of everything else in between. A cacophany of sorrow follows Caelum to his bike, as the dogs mourn their loss. The man is, now, ignored.
Thank you so much for playing along, Caelum. I appreciate it greatly. Is there anywhere that I could drop you off?
Caelum has an expression twisted with slight regret. Maybe it would've been better if he were actually killed by the dogs- if it wouldn't have brought such a heart wrenching situation after. No mind, he turns the start, and the bike roars to life as if to howl with the stray pack. Only a slight sputter from the engine - something he should really get checked - then he kicks off, without sparing another look over his shoulder, and leaving only stains of his blood where he was once, dripped from his wrist.