HAND ME MY SHOVEL, I'M GOING IN || RETURN

   

 
[align=center]

SNARL

[align=left]

[abbr= Female Hyena || 3'6" At Shoulder || 180lbs ] Physical [/abbr] || [abbr= Scarred || Striped || Smells like Woodsmoke || No Identifying Scent] Details [/abbr]

   

[abbr= Tanglewood] Group [/abbr] || [abbr=  Blazic Needs Your Teeth#0965 on Discord || Message me!] Player [/abbr]

[align=center]

[div style="background: transparent; height: 30px; width: 90%; font-family: Arial Black; font-size: 15px; color: #9e2518; text-align: center; margin-top: -20px;"] "NO, I NEED TO HIT THE BOTTOM"

  50 days. 50 days, had the hyena been gone. She was no stranger to the absences - people left. That's just how it is. This time, it was just her.
What she didn't expect of herself, was that she was back.

That never happens.

It's not like these guys made an impression on her. They're just average. Lion that can't stay in his business, mediocre leader. It's not like Kazzyboy was here. Not like Yew was here... She wasn't sure whether that last bit was a plus or a minus. No, these people were completely unremarkable. So why was she drawn back here? There was obviously a new 'crew', anyways. Good chance everyone she knew was dead or gone. That's just how it goes. She wasn't naive enough to hope otherwise.
Hell, maybe they'd kill her on sight. The hyena couldn't help but bark a laugh. That would be a fun way to spend the evening. Hell, she'd deserve it, right? Leaving without warning. Just like always. Might as well roll around in the Pitt before she came back. Get a quicker, more potent reaction. Make sure they ripped her throat out as soon as they saw her ugly fucking mug. Make sure they made an example out of her, made sure she knew to stay in her place.
One last chuckle. That'd be fun.

It took longer than the hyena'd like to admit to find the border of the clan - she didn't realize how far she'd gotten. There was no moon out, and she couldn't scent for the life of her - until she dropped her head down again, only to wrinkle her nose. Wormyboy marking the borders.
She coughed once or twice.
Recently.
Maybe he'd drop down from the skies and crush her. Wring the life out. Ha.

The thought didn't stop the hyena's pursuit, trotting through the marsh - she knew it like the back of her hand, by this point. She wasn't asking permission to be back. Either they let her in, or they kill her.
She hoped no one messed with her stashes. She left the good shit there. Never shoulda, shoulda taken it all with her.

Before her trek back 'home', Snarl had started a fresh fire, let the smoke absorb through her fur. The day someone scented her properly was the day she'd die. Fuck you, this was her signature. Less intentionally, she also stank of alcohol. The taste sat in the back of her throat, burning out her breath, only giving her movements the slightest amount of sloppiness.
Don't judge her. It's been a rough 50 days. Been a rough year, actually. Been a rough four years. Everyone has their vices, fuck you.
She was visibly worse off for wear, though. Ribs poked more clearly through thick fur, you could see the hyena's hackles as she trotted through the marsh. Her fur was dull and oily, and her eyes were half-lidded. She was covered in new wounds, scabbed over. Crusty blood matted once-blond fur. Burns - were they new? - littered her legs, practically all of the black fur burned off.
At her throat sat a concerningly dark patch; as if someone had tried to gouge it out, there would have been enough blood. With a couple moments of thought, though, if you'd known her previously, one could remember she had a brown patch there - it was just a trick of the light, right?

Another chuckle from the hyena. She was back. Back to Leroy. Back to Aurum. Knew one was still alive -- at least enough to piss on the borders --, figured the other didn't have the balls to die. And fucking Vathmos was finally gone. This was great. People she knew, people she knew how to step on the nerves of. Prolly a new crowd, too, new people to try n get to throw a swing. Heheh. Maybe Snarl could have another proper bonfire, so long as no one fucked with her wood. Without that fucking vekkteman interfering and trying to kill Kazzyboy.
Maybe someone did fuck with her wood, and she'd have a new face to beat in. That would be fun. Heheheh.

First stop, hollow tree by the library. She'd left a bottle of vodka there. See? Memory's not that shit after all. Snarl never forgets. Time to see how bad Tangle is at spotting invaders.

   

[align=center]

[table][tr][td]

OCTANE

[/td]

[/tr][/table]
[table][tr][td]

OCTAVIO SILVA
High-Speed Daredevil
AFRICAN CHEETAH
TYPHOON
"Ooh, sick death, dude!"

[/td]

[td]

[/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td]

[table][tr][td]

Octane, in his rush of life and general modius operadi, cranes his head back at the stench of fire. Fire is many things to the daredevil- its a promise of danger and the feeling of fire against his skin is akin to a warm thermite in his hands. It's a reminder, in someways, that he could still feel pain, as it burned his skin and boiled his blood.
It's a reminder he is alive and the death soon to follow.
He approaches now, disappointed there is no fire and just some weird fuckin' dog. "Hey uh..." he chirps in his chuckle, "Ya lookin' for somethin', amigo?" Octane's teeth bare in his strange way of attempting to snicker, "You're uh... weird dog. What are you?"

[/td][/tr][/table]

[/td][/tr][/table]

Original code by lexasperated / artwork by @R_HillPrime

   

 
[align=center]

SNARL

[align=left]

[abbr= Female Hyena || 3'6" At Shoulder || 180lbs ] Physical [/abbr] || [abbr= Scarred || Striped || Smells like Woodsmoke || No Identifying Scent] Details [/abbr]

   

[abbr= Tanglewood] Group [/abbr] || [abbr=  Blazic Needs Your Teeth#0965 on Discord || Message me!] Player [/abbr]

[align=center]

[div style="background: transparent; height: 30px; width: 90%; font-family: Arial Black; font-size: 15px; color: #9e2518; text-align: center; margin-top: -20px;"] "Scratch The Surface Of Your Skin"

Considering how prepared the hyena thought, one wouldn't expect the approach of a cheetah to catch her off guard. Kazzyboy wasn't here, she thought. Kazzyboy couldn't be here. He'd ditched.

Snarl stumbled to the side, away from the approacher, orienting herself towards them. Peered through the darkness. Not Kazzyboy. Some fuck with green staining his fur. Fur prickled at the hyena's back, her snout wrinkled into her namesake. Now that she wasn't moving at a full trot, the girl's drunken wobble stood out more- not steady on her feet.
"Wazzit t'you? Cop or somethin'?" Talking back to suspected authorities was always a great idea. After a moment, she barked a laugh, as if Octane's latter statement finally hit her. "Weird fuckin' dog works. Hah." She paused for a long moment. Glowered at the cheetah.

Snarl shook herself, as if she'd faded out of reality for a moment, before coming back. Got out of the defensive pose she'd slid into. Fuck it. Looked him straight on, but wasn't visibly ready to counter whatever attack she expected. Flicked her head to the side, walked in that direction. Expected he'd follow along if he wanted answers. Fuck it, she could take a cheetah. Easy. Worst case scenario she dies, whatever.
"Lookin' fer a drink." Another pause as ruined buildings came into view, assuming she was allowed to walk as far. "But seems town's gone t'shit without me. Y'cant do something as simple as this without me?" She'd turned back to stare at Octane, though she didn't stop her tracks towards the library. Turn the questions around, insinuate she was of some position. Least she's still got some of her 'right' mind on.

   

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]The town, in all its ruin, had become a suitable home for the photosynth. It did not seem to bother her that there were others, stumbling around in the debris and attempting to make use of the destruction; they were like squirrels and strays, easily ignored and just as easy to pick off if she so chose. But she hadn't chosen the latter, not yet. There was always the chance that they could chase her off, bar her from seeping life out of this perfect environment. She was certain that no other place was as humid, as air-thick and rotting - no other place as conducive to her survival. In a sense, Snarl appeared one and the same, though her reliance on the marsh ruins took on... A different form.

Scent brings her out from the waters, air laden with ethanol. The atmosphere hums with it and she considers the past, less than voluntarily: the world igniting, hair burning off her skin, the scent of rubbing alcohol and searing flesh overtaking any sense of life and normalcy she could expect after such an injury. And now, nothing. Only the hum of parasitic movement under her skin remained, scar-like in their remembering.

A hiss leaks out from her teeth. Then, the song. She closes her lips and sings it soft, tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth to quell the violent buzz that had taken over her chest at such a brutal memory. Her humble tune rings out long before the pair can catch sight of her low and sneaking body; she follows the scent of alcohol, creeping towards the voices that would remind her all too much of seasons past and lives once lived.

She considers killing it. The other woman, that is - her violence seeps out into the air, an ache in the bones that can only be quelled with thrown fists in the same way she could only hum to silence the creature under her skin. Too alike, they were, and she wants her dead for it. That, or she was only eager to taste blood in her mouth that was not her own.

The parasites dance around her form, a shimmer in the dark that mimics Octane's own entrance. She calls him a cop. The creature wants to laugh at that, the mere thought that anyone in this town held some form of governance over the mighty wild. If they knew how to handle themselves, organize a force to be reckoned with, she wouldn't be standing here like the primal and bitter animal that she was. But in a show of unity, perhaps an olive branch of her own, the creature falls into position behind Octane, to watch through narrow eyes and wait. Strength stood in numbers, after all.

[align=center]

[table][tr][td]

OCTANE

[/td]

[/tr][/table]
[table][tr][td]

OCTAVIO SILVA
High-Speed Daredevil
AFRICAN CHEETAH
TYPHOON
"Ooh, sick death, dude!"

[/td]

[td]

[/td][/tr][/table]

[table][tr][td]

[table][tr][td]

"Me? A cop?" Octane laughs in his chirping way, he was more of an anarchist than anything... didn't care about anything. He can feel his shoulders stiffen at her posture, Cheetah brain warning of an attack, then forcing himself to relax. "Can't do... what?" he questions, "Take.. care of the town? That's not my job," Octane doesn't like responsibilities, they kept him from having fun and being alive.

He can feel that weird swamp-witch lady coming up behind him, and his tail  flicks again. "What kind of drink? I want in."

[/td][/tr][/table]

[/td][/tr][/table]

Original code by lexasperated / artwork by @R_HillPrime

"You're absolutely right, Snarl," he muses, rather happy to see the familiar face once again, even though she'd brought about a handful of issues in the past, "the town has gone to shit." What had gone on with Vathmos was avoidable, leading to the unfortunate expulsion of an active member of Tanglewood's community, but after all of the devastation, death, and unrest that transpired in the prior two weeks, getting a glimpse of a former prominent Tangler allowed the wolfhound some alleviation. He'd happened upon the hyena after Octane and another individual (this one coming off as vague and rather curious-looking) had, so the canine had not been able to listen to all that was said in this encounter. However, he arrived early enough to catch Snarl accusing the prosthetic-legged cheetah of being a cop, which ushered a chuckle out of the male.

"I'm afraid that it was earthquakes that caused the place to look like shit," he continues, "not a lack of Snarl; though, the absence of your belligerent opinions might'a played a part in the recent degradation of the general attitude around here."