Griffin Attack - Caesar-

[Angelus in Cord]

The “young” female, strode across the deserted mountain range, her sleek and colorful pelt vibrant against the snow and rock of the dull range. But she was not alone, and she knew it, too. A beast stalked her, a feral and vile one. The scent wafted over to her and bombarded her with fearful paranoia. She carried a limp jackalope in her jaws, unhappy with taking its life, but necessary of the nutrients and protein from the meat.

“Oh my, my, my…” She whipped her head around, her ears and eyes searching vainly for the elusive beast. Why was it intent on her? Mountain goat frolicked on the cliff and slopes, fatter and less stringy. Was there some beast who wished all wolves dead? Or perhaps a schizophrenic wolf intent on solving the reason she was following them; or perhaps some other twisted fiend stalked her footsteps, hungering for her wolf blood and flesh, cannibalistic, perhaps?

These dark thoughts flickered through her head like thieves, capturing her easily manipulated imagination. Within seconds, she pictured a huge Yagi brute shoving through the snow pompously, before taking her hostage or two a beautiful tribe, making her a queen for years. But males bored her, the years spent in their selfish presences tiring and turning her more towards other females for solitude and trust. Males were but playthings, she was beginning to think in the darker, higher developed recess of her mind; and could be easily charmed and discarded. They lived such a sort lifespan, it was hardly fun. Only Warren was an exception, his undying devotion keeping the half-extinguished flame gently burning. But only for other long-lives, the short-lived fools learned so little, though they thought they knew so much… She was growing up, the extensive length of her life spreading before her.

“Soranre?” Who’s there?

Her delightful voice turned the words to music, but a horrible shriek followed the foreign words. A griffin circled above, slowly coming down. It screamed its call, but she did not respond, instead screaming—

“Keién!” Great Spirit!

The beast was large, a male most definitely, and a rich golden brown. Its eyes carried an intelligence that most beasts didn’t, but that did not mean it was as smart as a wolf. It called something in a harsh voice as its scaly bird forelegs met the earth and its furry hind-legs followed. The nasal, harsh, bird voice shouted something like—

“How’re today?” She backed up further, caught between two steep rock faces, the griffin in the forefront, and a sheer drop-off in the hind. Angelus called for help, mixing her native tongue with the wolves that lived here’s words. Snow crunched, and her eyes flew around wildly, hoping it was a rescue party.
That strong Yagi could show up now, she really wanted to speak to him once the griffin was taken care of…

[Cæsar]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true]

[atrb=background, i1218.photobucket.com/albums/dd415/Somatra1/cback-19.jpg] "Speaking" Cæsar slept on the outcrop of a sheltered ledge, the weak winter sun heating his pelt up progressively and though he seemed rather out of it, he was in fact but in a light slumber. The feral wolf seldom allowed himself to indulge in a deep sleep, his Eternal Youth allowed him to wake up from a simple nap more refreshed than the average wolf anyways, so there was no point in leaving himself vulnerable. His long and muscled body was stretched out, head resting on his snowy white paws as his ears twitched, listening for any unusual sounds. From his vantage point he had a good view on the ledges below him, the steep path encircling and entwining the body of the great mountain like a jealous lover, prepared to cast out any wolf daring to tempt thier luck with his temptress. It did not concern Cæsar much, he had no interest in a mountain, it could not keep him warm at night nor entertain his more disturbed desires...Speaking of his mind began to wander to the tantalizing Gypsy, her lithe hips sashaying as her pelt glimmered in the moonlight. Her voice drifted across the air and he purred in pleasure, yes that one had left an impression on him and he was not yet done with his own temptress. In fact it was high time he found something to keep his interest in the meantime, a play thing to toy with while he bided his time. In fact he could recall her seductive voice so well that it almost seemed real...Opening his eyes, glacier blue stared at the expanse below him in rapt attention, the seemingly passed out wolf wide awake and alert. He had heard a voice, but it was not Gypsy and he groaned in frustration. “Damnation and Hell!” He cursed vehemently, getting up as he flicked his stripped tail in anger a deepening scowl upon his face. That little vixen will pay for this, he vowed, no one ensnared Cæsar without retribution and he let out a low growl of contempt. Kicking a lose stone off the edge he paced back and forth, edgy and restless and rather bored. The hybrid had not had a worthwhile encounter since Gypsy and he now was consumed with pent up unsatisfied frustration which, given his nature, made for a rather deadly combination. And that is when he heard it, the beating of large wings in the air, the muffled cry of terror from a wolf and the screeching cry of an angered Griffin. Now this is more interesting, he thought, and he turned tail to peer down over the ledge, large paws grasping the rock to prevent a fall. Sure enough below the 280 year old male was a feisty Griffin stalking his latest prey of interest; another sennyo and female as it just so happened. Oh the gods could not have gifted him with a better circumstance, the hybrid would come dashing in, all 500 pounds of glorified tiger against what appeared to be a no more that 300 pounds Griffin and rescue the poor dear. Had it been a male or an ugly female he would have left the Griffin to do as he pleased, Cæsar was fond of the beasts and enjoyed conversing with them and so did they, with precautionary reservations of course. With his power he could talk to all beasts alike, though he was most adept at speaking Griffin tongue then any other, they were keen beasts that at heart just wanted to learn. If they could not learn then they would eat, a rather simple and modest honesty that the hybrid appreciated. He recalled with fondness how a befriended Griffin had tore a fellow male competitor to shreds, blood and screams echoing across the night prairie as the beast feasted on Cæsar's present. Twas a night to remember and Cæsar hoped to see his winged friend again someday. Smiling carnally, he made his way down the ledge, slowly transforming into a white tiger, the more savage side of his personality, soon the wolf was no more, the lare cat`s sense of balance much more refined than the wolf`s. Sticking close to the cliff face he quietly crept down the path, remaining out of sight until he could clearly see the aggressor and his prey in front of him. Nostrils flaring he could detect the fear coming off the pretty dear in waves and the triumphant screeches that would soon turn to terrified squawks from the Griffin. It spoke to the sennyo, “My delicious butterfly, you will taste lovely, stop moving so I can eat you!” and Cæsar scrunched his nose up in contempt, what an unoriginal line, he thought. Rolling his shoulders eagerly he decided to wait until the last second to intervene, knowing that the female would be more grateful to be saved from certain death then simply rescued from a possible fatal attack. Licking his chops he resisted the to urge to cackle, it was a beautiful circumstance, the worst that could happen would be that the sennyo would topple off the ledge and yet another pretty face would be gone from the world. No matter, there were plenty to spare. Bunching his muscles together he watched as the griffin advanced and prepared to strike at the sennyo, and then launched himself like a coiled spring at the beast, a ear defining roar echoing from his chest. He came at the Griffin with thick razor ebony claws outstretched, 500 pounds of carnal tiger flying at the unsuspecting winged predator. Triumphantly he felt his claws slice through flesh and plunged his long fans into a wing, swinging it around he shoved against the griffin, letting his claws serve as persuasion for the beast to move where he directed it. The beast screeched in protest, fear now coming from his voice as he pleaded, “Please, I have a family to feed, let me go!”. Speaking in Griffin he let the eloquent sounding language spew from his maw, “Leave foolish beast, this catch is mine!” And yowled in anger as the griffin`s own clawed paw came to rake fiercely down his striped flank, leaving thick gushing wounds in his side. Nobody loves a hero more then when he is injured, Cæsar thought with delight and with that he gave a final shove and drove the beast over the edge. For a while the Griffin tumbled and then finally caught himself and flapped his wings desperately before taking off, his pride deeply injured. Smirking in satisfaction Cæsar turned his vividly cold blue gaze on the female and said, “Are you alright my dear?” His voice came out rich and deep, almost foreign, ancient and terribly warm sounding. He gave a false wince of pain for effect and quickly transformed back into his wolf form, and though back down to 230 pounds, Cæsar still felt huge in comparison to the fragile looking species. Deep red blood dripped rapidly from the deep wounds on his pale white side, stingy sharply in the cold air, but he payed them no heed for pain was something he had grown used to over the years, by tomorrow they would be completely healed. C a e s a r' s . S o n g