Thread: Blood & Fur [BurningWillows/DementedRabbit]

In the hills of Daska, a land of beauty and danger, the Trees that cover the landscape keep the darkness within as snow slowly drifts from above as a mist rolls into the land. Daska was home to the Darksummers Clan and one of its own sons had been out this gloomy day, to chop wood for his clan. The men of the clan where a hardy bunch and built for the harsh land, none of them wore boots or shoes and only wrapped there feet by leather strips, exposing their toes due to the sharp claws, no boot or shoe would last long with nails such as there own. With dark layered pants that was held up by a rope belt outlined his muscled thighs. The Son of Darksummers wore no shirt only a full Bear Cloak , white as the snow, leaving his lower chest and abs exposed and revealing his tattoos along his body. A full beard and long dark brown hair outlined the mans strong facial features as his steel grey eyes focused on chopping wood for his families warmth. The ax he used was one of a pair, passed down by his father and his father before him, and some claimed them twins that never left each others side... they where something of a legend around the Darksummers halls. Sulfuras , Golad had become a part of this one warrior with in the clan, Using Golad to channel his might into each swing, ker-chunk was the sound of each cut into the dark wood that was starting to make a pile. The Son of Darksummers takes a pause as he smells something different, something not of this land, the large man takes a breath and exhales as warm air mixes with cold before him, he simply looks up and sniffs the air a few times before gripping both Golad and Sulfuras to take a walk toward the strange smell. The Land was thick of snow as the dead of winter was upon the land and trees with shrubs made the track hard to journey, Each step was plowed before the brute of a man as snow was pushed aside like little children grasping for attention. The Son of Darksummers paused to listen, using his senses to find the odd scent... to hear something off in the faint distance, at this point the snow was starting to fall a heavy curtain. Making his way up a steep hill, he reached the top to set his gaze on a home burning and the outline of men that are unknown to him. With both Axes lay across each shoulder, The Son of Darksummers quickens the pace to reach the old shaman's home. Half way there his scent caught something familiar, someone who he knew of, the shaman's child... He would spot her just crossing his path heading the direction in which he came and followed by the men who burnt her families home down. Watching the little wolf make haste over the same hill and back down, he spots two men behind her and three others coming from the burnt house to chase. A deep growl bellows from his gut and gives chase to men who are unaware of his presence, quickly the snow parts from his legs and sooner than most would achieve there goal, The Son of Darksummers place both ax in one hand to use his free large paw to smash the unknowing man's head into a tree trunk of dark oak, the sound of a water melon giving out was heard by the man closest to you and stops to turn and see what feel his friend. Looking back the adrenaline rushed as he pulled out his sword and yells at the son of Darksummers before charging forward, and in some foreign tongue yells out something to him, as the sword swings the son of Darksummers steps aside to let the momentum thrust the warrior past him and into one of his fellow clans men. With all four men on one side this would make it easy for the Son to handle, as one charged head first with sword at point, the clans man would miss and meet his end with an elbow to the face and blood would splatter along the snow and trees, in pain he would drop his weapon to hold his face. Another clans men would swing only to have his sword parried with one ax and his neck catching the blade of the other, thunk, a wet noise as blood drooled from the cut till the Son of Darksummers pulled free, the clans man fell to his knees with a dead stare and fell over as blood pooled out marking the snow red. The last two men at this point moral had dropped and fear kicked in, both ran, and both would not make it far, Golad was thrown at one and pin his head to the dark oak splitting his head in half, the last was slow in the snow and the Son of Darksummers ran to him with ease and knocked him down into the cold snow in front of the burning house. The son of Darksummers grabs the man by the back and head and pulls him to the house and presses his face into the burning wood... his screams would only last but so long till his body would go limp.... With all but one dead the Son of Darksummers tracked his steps back to pluck out the ax inside a tree and head of a clans man and to find where the last clans man had slinked off to...