Wiiiiiild Thing

[Roarke Moray]

ROOOOOOOOOOAARRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR.
 
AH! Nothing like a good roar in the morning to scare the crap out of the neighbors. Oh. Wait. There were no neighbors! Oh well! Still felt pretty good. Roarke Moray, beast extraordinaire, unwound himself from his curled up position, stretching his back in a deep arch. He pounced down from his perch on his massive feather bed, stalking along on all fours for a few moments to stretch the rest of his limbs. He shook his entire frame, his fur loosening and falling into a mess as he stood as his two back legs. He reached for an over-sized comb (special-ordered, of course!) and began to make a decent look out of his unruly mane. Once satisfied he grabbed at a pair of pants that were strewn over a broken couch, pulling them over his legs. He struggled for a moment to get his unruly tail through the ever-so-crafty slit in the back of his pants, before dropping down to all fours again. He barreled his way through the door which was far too short for his standing frame. The open hallway was far more appropriate for his size and he resumed standing again. Lumbering through his once-glorious home, he mused as to what he would devour for breakfast this morning. It was after all, his first official day in the Creig military. He was being tested... at least, that's what he thought. The king had mentioned something about being a little too... "intimidating" to stick with the fresh recruits. Which Roarke could totally understand but he was a little apprehensive as to what these "tests" would be. Pushing the thought to the side for the moment, he arrived at his redone kitchen. A good chunk of his "well-earned" funds had gone into making an over-sized kitchen. An abnormally large stove, fridge, freezer and cabinets seemed to fill the room. He was no Mario Batali, that was for sure... but Roarke knew how to cook for himself.
 
He reached into one of the cabinets and pulled an extra-extra large frying pan. Putting it down on the stove, he got the heat started and began to dig through his fridge. In due course, Roarke fried himself a nice pile of bacon and eggs. He then moved the frying pan off the stove to a pot holder on an large dining table. Waiting a few minutes for the frying pan to cool, he devoured his breakfast. Sure, he made a mess. But paws and claws weren't exactly delicate instruments, nor did he hold silverware... like, ever. It was just so much easier to wash his paws. Less dishes to do, as far as he was concerned. And dishes were for later! Washing his paws up, he left the frying pan in the sink and felt the stirrings of a good mood in his belly. Breakfast usually did that. He bounded back up to his bedroom, gladly leaping up 7 or so steps at a time, spinning around columns with his usual flair. For good measure, he brought out his cloak. He had it designed after one his father had worn at their traveling shows, to add to the mysticism. It was black, although it shimmered dark blue in certain lights. The outside material was sturdy wool, the inside a soft, almost silk-texture. He drew it around his shoulders, doing the large half-moon clasp at his throat. He had decided against giving the cloak the hood his father's had, do to the fact that his horns would probably pierce through it. And then he would just look silly. What he did add... or rather, HAD added, was initials embroidered along the neck on the inside of the cloak. The initials of his parents and of all his friends in their own little band... all the ones that died just because he was "talented." He felt a growl in his throat at the thought, but pushed it down. He had business to attend to, after all.

It was an easy enough journey for Roarke to make, bounding across the hills over Carraig. It made his heart swell, the beauty of his native country. Four paws pounded onto the ground, beating a steady rhythm as he enjoyed the run from his “palace” to the real palace of Carraig. While his home was a somewhat abandoned lordly mansion of old, it did have the advantage of being close to the palace while still being tucked away in the hills. When he had first burst into the palace for his audience with the king, he had slipped over the tall walls. Well, climbed, really. But. One did what was necessary. Today he did not need to clamber over the wells. He was going to able to walk right in! Or maybe even strut! He barked out a laugh as the gates of the palace came into view. The guards that stood at the front seemed puzzled by the huge monstrous force that was running full force for them. One of them began to cower while another just stood there, shaking his head. Ah, someone had been told of his arrival! But someone had not... which meant that Roarke could take advantage of this. He kept running and running, practically skidding to a stop in front of the cowering man. He rose up to his full height, cloak billowing and tail sweeping at the ground. He grinned widely, his teeth gleaming white and sharp. “I believe I have an appointment. Roarke Moray, at your service.”

[Gavin Etheridge]

Breakfast was always a tricky time of moring. Gavin enjoyed breakfasts immensely, and felt they helped set the mood and pace of the rest of the day. Today was a nice day. It was beautiful out, bright, not too cold considering it was winter, and the frost on the grass would soon thaw. It would actually be a very nice day for a ride, come to think of it. The higher mountains were coated nicely in snow that draped down the slopes, but the valley itself had been having a moderately warm week and not a lot of snow this year. Fine by him, it meant they could get a jump start on the spring planting. Gavin sipped at his tea, casually going over the small stack of papers he'd saved for this morning.

There were a few things he was meant to sign this afternoon, but for the most part Gavin had left his morning until early afternoon blocked as one appointment for a very large guest. Gavin... still wasn't sure what to make of Roarke. He'd never seen anything like him in his life, but right now, after the other things he had seen and was still wrapping his head around, who was he to question the inner-workings of the universe and the rules of what was supposed to make sense. A giant 9-foot-tall monster had made his way into the palace and requested an audience with Gavin in person and like hell anyone could stop him. Poor Arty had never looked so terrified in her life. Even though Gavin had handled it pretty well, after Roarke was dismissed he sure as shit needed a shot of something.

Roake's story was moving, though, and he seemed very sincere in his desire to serve with his people, and in these troubling times you needed all the help you could get. But just sticking him with the new recruits might not be the best way to integrate everyone with their new teammate and might set things off on the wrong foot. No, first Roarke needed to be tested just to see where his strengths were and what skills he had. Gavin took another long sip of his tea, emptying the cup as he thought of the great beast who was due to arrive this morning. A small knock on the door's frame caught the King's attention. Katy appeared, smiling somewhat nervously.

"Gavin? T-There's someone at the main gate to see you. One of the guards told me to tell you and I got a look at it and Gavin, it's HUGE! And he wants to see you and what-" Gavin smiled lightly, holding up a hand to quiet the anxious teenager. Right on time.

"It's alright, K-A-T-Y. I invited him here," Gavin signed calmly as he rose from his chair. "He will not hurt you. R-O-A-R-K-E is here to help us." Gavin walked to the door, Katy nodding but still fidgeting with a lock of hair that hung over her shoulder before messing with her shirt's hem. She'd lived in the palace since she was born and had seen a lot of things, but a giant, furry beast was certainly new to her and like something out of a fairy tale. Gavin patted her shoulder lightly as he made to leave the room, pausing to sign once more. "Go help your mum. I will be out there most of the day, so if you come down, don't scream or be afraid."

Though in a way it was a good thing the girl Gavin saw and treated as a younger cousin had seen Roarke first and not her mother, and especially not her nan; he'd be in the kitchen having to explain himself the same way he had when he was small. Hopefully Arty would be up for meeting him again and not being too afraid this round. Gavin walked through the halls quickly and quietly exited his palace, crossing his grounds. Roarke was his new recruit, but also his guest, and so Gavin would make the effort to make him feel welcome rather an outcast. And there he was, just as impressive as he had been before. Massive with great horns and a huge back, now covered by a dark cloak. One of his guards seemed alright, and the other just ready to scream. Buuuuut in all fairness? Understandable. Gavin pulled out his speech pad and typed quickly, turning up the volume up enough to carry as he approached closer, the calmer of the guards seeing Gavin and opening the gate quietly.

"Welcome back to the palace, RO-AR-K." God he hated this stupid thing sometimes. It just couldn't handle most names... He'd have to get Roarke to record his name into it so he could get eh word programmed in later, like he had for Rosaleen. His fingers sped across the word pad for a moment before he hit play; he hated having it read the sentence word by word and having it be chunky. "I'm glad you came back for testing. I am looking forward to assessing your skills. Are you ready?" Gavin looked up to Roarke calmly, hazel eyes looking up to meet with blue. This would be a very interesting day indeed.

[Guest]

Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack. For one thing, he was glad that it was rather early in the morning. There were very few vehicles on the street at this time of day, so it gave him the perfect opportunity. Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack. Speeding through the streets, the bulls grunted and yelled out with each movement as onlooking rubberneckers stared in wonder at the war chariot--what time and place was this man from, they had to wonder. Of course, this man was from this time and from Carriag, of all places. He was, by all rights, the man-monster (or so he thought) of Carriag, Fiachra Brennan and he was taking his chariot out for a spin that day. It had been a month and a bit since he'd last played around with the bull-drawn chariot, so today was a good and fun thing--though this fun would not last much longer. He'd been called in for a meeting today, apparently to meet some 'new blood' into the Faolchú. T'was always good, that was for sure. Streaming down the streets in the cart, he could see the road that lead towards the palace and turned the bulls into there with a quick motion of his hands. They were trained to follow his exact commands as soon as he'd given them: they were loyal creatures, that was for sure. Galloping up towards the gate, it wasn't difficult for Fiachra to notice the creature standing outside, so he would turn the chariot away from the gate in order to park it over in the corner. One of the guards approached him.

"Give'em something to eat. They need the rest." He grinned at her, before traipsing over to both Gavin and the newbie, long cape fluttering behind him as he did so. The Mesopotamian-era armor sat on his body and he stood next to the pair, towering over Gavin and yet still nowhere near the height of the creature. His lips widened and showed teeth, the man grinning at the pair and raising a hand up to shake the paw of the beast. He didn't care that this beast was inhuman, it had never bothered him. Nothing like that did--in Fiachra's eyes, everything deserved a chance at life, love and happiness. He'd always been told that he was too large to be allowed, that his size was going to be a hindrance later in life. Well, SCREW YOU LIFE. He'd lived 39 years and he was still going strong! He was as powerful as he'd ever been! That's why he just lived. Whether it was through multiple castration attempts or anything of the kind, Fiachra gave no heed to such things. He would live life as if he was living his last day! That was the moral of Fiachra Brennan, the Shining Sun of Carriag! Grinning widely now, he took the paw of Rourke and nodded. "I was only told that I would be meeting someone for testing, but I certainly didn't expect THIS." His voice boomed out within the area, causing one or two of the guards to duck for cover. Silly children. He wondered how long they'd been on for.

"And GAVIN. Where in HELL did you find someone taller than me?!" He gave a powerful and cheerful laugh, shaking his head as his chest rose and fell with laughter. It felt good to know someone who you could see in terms of height. This man-beast would be up against the man-mountain. Size, strength, everything! He'd have to see if he could play this guy at chess! Try for a match of wits as well! Hoho, it would be sweet! In fact, this man would be his rival. Let's not leave it at an idea of wits, make it a true battle! The beast before him... this was now his rival in arms; nobody else came close in sheer size to be much of a match--though Artemis was certainly deft enough to quickly move about him. "Before I get ahead of myself, I should introduce myself. I am Fiachra Brennan, current Head of the Faolchú section of Carriag's military and, in effect, the second-most powerful man in this country. I hear you're willing to join us, is this correct?" He jabbed his thumb into his own chest, pointing at himself with a wild smirk. The red hair and red eyes both sat upon a large head that watched Rourke carefully. What was this creature going to be like? Would he even be able to refer to him as a creature? We'd find out in the next episode--same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!

[Molly McCafferty]

Upon waking up in the penthouse apartment she had come to know and love, Molly downed her last swallow of whiskey and grasped up her instrument, as she made her way down to the first floor. On her way out, she pondered where she would go... Perhaps King Gavin would like to hear her shred some melodies? YES. That was what she would do, she'd go play Gavin some songs! Entertainment was important, right? Kept people SANE and HAPPY. And happy sanity is the opposite of insane saddness, which, based on recent polls, is BAD. So thusly, Molly began to move into the direction of a certain Mr. Etheridge!

Upon arrival to Gavin's location, she saw a BIIIIIIIG man! Bear! Thing! And Gavin. She was ABOUT to go up to them, when the sounds of bulls arrived unto her ears. Bulls? Glancing around, she saw... THE GLOMP-GUY!! As he departed his bull-chariot and talked a bit, Molly crept up behind him, unseen, like a NINJA. The moment he jabbed his chest with his thumb, she pounced like a wild jaguar, glomp-tackling him again. STILL to no avail, as he did not fall under her adorable tactics! "Dia dhuit!~ Yer as big's ye were when I saw ye at Toss's place!" Climbing down from his back, where she'd half-landed, holding onto his stomach for grip, she smiled at Gavin and the big guy. Well... She actually stared at the big guy. "...That's a big guy..." With wide eyes, she walked over to the bear-man-guy, and stared up at his head before hugging him and skipping back over to Gavin. "Dia dhuit~ I came all the way o'er 'ere to seeya~ Did I come'it a bad time?"

[Guest]

Artemis had been sleeping in. Well had...more like trying. First off...her bed seemed rather uncomfortable and more or less empty with just Kurt and her. No massive man beast wrapping himself around her spreading warmth and a loving heart beat. No Sadly Kurt had no pulse and all though she often cuddled the thing...it couldn't cuddle back.

The second reason for her inability to sleep was there seemed to be some chaos outside her pad. Her gold eyes stayed part way open and the irritation on her face was clear. Hugging both rifle and her strawberry pillow (a gift from Gavin) to her chest she let out a cry of frustration. She had wanted a lie in.

Long thing but muscled legs kicked out form the covers and slammed on the ground as the girl got up swinging the rifled over her shoulder and hugging her pillow tight she stomped towards the source of the noise. Her irritated aura seeping from her in a murderous tyranny causing guards to flee.

The door slammed open as her eyes took in the source. Gavin...Molly and oh surprise surprise her beloved lover. Eyes twitching she stepped down. "What in god's name is creating a disturbance this morning." She placed her hands on her hips. Forgetting she was wearing a simple bikini top and lacy, silky red and black underwear. Showing the tattoo on her inner thigh perfectly. The Carriag crest on a shield. Her long red hair was messy from her tossing and turning in her sleep untied back. She chucked the pillow at Gavin. She couldn't help but smirk as it bounced off the king to hit Fiachra square in the face. Yes she had the best aim. "I'm trying to sleep!!" She huffed.

Then her eyes landed on the large....beast stood behind them. OH DEAR GOD WHAT WAS THAT!!!!!!

[Guest]

Arrival at the palace, for Alastair, was as per usual, between ten and thirty minutes late, far too loud for his liking in this hungover state, and the highlight of the day for many of the guards in the courtyard, toting their rifles and otherwise vigorously patrolling the grounds.

The day was the same as any other. He had woken up early with a splitting headache, laid back down to get a few more minutes' kip in, then checked the clock again to find that he was running around twenty minutes late. He'd thrown himself into the shower, sprinted out, didn't dry his hair, hap-hazardly strapped on his uniform and gear, took a few headache tablets and a swig of some out-of-date milk, before falling into the Range Rover and attempting not to fall asleep at the wheel.

The palace was barely a few minutes from his house, and, usually, he drifted in late without too much of a scolding from Artemis - technically his superior - and Gavin. They'd grown accustomed to his unorthodox styles over the past years that he'd worked there, and he always made sure to tack every minute of lost time on at the end of the day as he slowly recovered.

Rolling up his sleeves and running a hand through damp hair as he exited the car, still stumbling a little, Alastair threw up a hand to shield his eyes from the light and unleashed the loudest and longest groan of the day so far. He desperately shot straight back to the ajar door of the grimy Range Rover, and grasped his jacket and aviators, folded in a pile on the dashboard, throwing the pair on and blinking to adjust to the new low-light conditions. That was... better. Marginally.

The one thing I always take seriously is my job, Alastair told himself, screwing the cap back onto his hipflask and tucking it into a discrete, well-camoflauged pouch on his black fatigues, turning to one of the palace's other entrances - the main gate was only really necessary if you had a real announcement to make. Or if you felt dramatic.

He ascended a few sets of staircases and traversed a couple of hallways, before a familiar, booming voice touched his ears, tendrils of sound brushing aural canals. "I hear you're willing to join us, is this correct?" His mind took a few moments to process the accent, and, after he did, his pace quickly slowed, and the Chief began to backpedal, scowling down a hall at the rather odd congregation standing there.

Two towering figures, their humble ruler, some girl wearing a hat, and a rather tired and irritated El Boobzo. Figuring that he knew at least three of them, and his schedule for the day included a meeting with Gavin already... ah, well... what could it hurt?

A lot, was the answer, unless they didn't pick up the stench of matured Cretan whiskey on his breath. He refined himself a little, running a hand through his brown and blonde-specked hair, his repeated tousling and toying with it finally coming to fruition as the last droplets of water clung to his hand, the Chief shaking them off as he lowered it to his side once more.

"I'm trying to sleep!!" He arched an eyebrow, and sidled up next to Fiachra, and the other big guy, having not yet really taken note of him, before shaking his head and chuckling at Artemis, looking then to her lover.

"Surprising, would've thought you'd be in there with her, big guy," He gave Fiachra a playful tap on the arm, and his giggling quickly subsided. Oh, how he loved vague, insider sex jokes. Nothing could possibly ever go wrong with them, at least... not for him, anyway.

However, at this moment, backtracking over the various mental images he'd snapped, Alastair concluded that something wasn't right. There was one more here than usual, and something about him... stood out. It was... odd.

Oh, yeah. That was it. He was nine foot tall.

Stumbling back initially, trying desperately to convince himself that nobody had spiked his whiskey and this was actually happening, he tilted his body so that he could see beyond Fiachra's massive chest, and arched both eyebrows, eyes as wide as they had ever been, in spite of the lids' heaviness. "Uh, guys, I think there's something you're not telling me..."

All-too-quickly, he fell back into line, next to the pair of men - if they could both be called that - who absolutely dwarfed him, and stood there, fists raised to his two cobalt eyes as he vigorously rubbed at them, before finally turning to his King and employer. "I thought we concluded that a replacement for Fiachra if he goes on leave again wasn't necessary?!" Ah, Alastair. So typical of him to ignore the fact that he had most likely offended three of the five present - indeed, three that were all most likely amongst the most dangerous individuals in all Carraig - with such gusto and apathy towards his slowly dwindling life expectancy.

[Roarke Moray]

"Welcome back to the palace, RO-AR-K. I'm glad you came back for testing. I am looking forward to assessing your skills. Are you ready?"

Roarke swept back a side of the cloak with his claw, bowing low as he did so. His tail brushed back and forth gently against the ground as he rose a moment later. “Ready as I'll ever be, your most kingly kinglyness.” He barely had time to say much else to Gavin, which was primarily a question in regards to this testing, when they were approached by a giant of a man. Well,... maybe giant to everyone else. But he was close enough to himself in height that Roarke didn't feel he had to stoop to look even close to eye-to-eye. The massive hand meant massive paw into a sturdy hand/paw-shake, Roarke being careful to go easy without seeming weak. He didn't want to break anyone's hands off.

"Before I get ahead of myself, I should introduce myself. I am Fiachra Brennan, current Head of the Faolchú section of Carriag's military and, in effect, the second-most powerful man in this country. I hear you're willing to join us, is this correct?"

Ah ha. Well. That explained the man's domineering presence. The second-most powerful man in the country. And a giant to boot. Well, well! He was also rather... amusing to watch. Roarke couldn't quite understand what had the man in such a jovial mood. Was he always this... laugh-filled? THAT would take some getting used to. Roarke managed a smartass salute. “Well, Fiachra Brenna, current head of the Faolchú of Carraig's military and, in effect, the second-most powerful man in the country... that would be correct. Roarke Moray, sans fancy titles, is the name. Looking to join the military is my game.” Roarke didn't have time to continue because he noticed a tiny thing was... clambering on Fia's back. Ok, seriously? Wtf? Before he could react to that any further he was... BEING HUGGED? OKAY WHAT THE FUCK? His head whipped down at the girl as she skipped over to Gavin. He couldn't even say anything. He was literally in shock... SOMEONE HAD TOUCHED HIM. WILLINGLY. AAAAAAAAHHHH-... Oh good Lord.

"What in god's name is creating a disturbance this morning. I'm trying to sleep!!"

NEKKID WOMAN! Roarke lifted a paw to his eyes and clapped it over. Then he ever so cautiously peeked between his fingers. Okay... not totally naked. But... pretty damned close. He rolled his eyes underneath his paw, murmuring. “Coming back to Carraig and the place has gone to hell. People hugging me, naked women. Saints preserve us.” As he gradually adjusted he let his paw fall back to his side, noticing that another small-ish type person had appeared between him and Fiachra. He had shades over his eyes and appeared decidedly mussed. Hungover maybe? Roarke had seen the like once or twice, although not through personal experience. He listened with a bemused smile as the man indignantly spoke.

"Uh, guys, I think there's something you're not telling me... I thought we concluded that a replacement for Fiachra if he goes on leave again wasn't necessary?!"

Roarke had NO idea who Alastair was but it was clear as day that the man thought him something that he was not. He stood a little bit taller, shoulders back. He smirked and somewhat-gently clapped the man on his back. “It's totally necessary. If there isn't one giant, hairy bastard running around... why, the world would fall to pieces!” Roarke grinned broadly, his canine teeth shining in the morning light, his protruding fangs extra sparkly. What an interesting morning thus far! Hopefully being socially correct wasn't part of the test... otherwise Roarke totally failed that one already. OH WELL.

[Gavin Etheridge]

For some strange reason, even though this was the palace and designated as one of the safest places to be in Carraig, for soeme reason it always seemed to be a hub where insanity generated, as though all the nuts were homing pigeons. Then again, that made too much sense; Carraig had never been known for its explicit sanity, Gavin often wondering if the island hadn't been initially formed from the mad shipped out of Creta and he was King of the loonies. He knew that wasn't true, though. That was Wolfgang's title.

Gavin looked up to the towering beast calmly as the dark cloak was swept aside, Roarke bowing deeply. “Ready as I'll ever be, your most kingly kinglyness.” Pfft... Yeah, this guy was pure Creig. Take the King seriously without taking him seriously. There really seemed to be a national trennd with teasing the young King, and it was a damn good thing he was a much lighter heart and personality than his father had been. But still. Ready was good. Fingers danced across the pad.

"Good, because it will be a long morning for you." They only had to wait for Fiachra and then they could go down to the training grounds below the castle to get the testing underway. Thundering hooves trampled up the road to the castle, the great bulls galloping up the hill to the palace. Ah, right on time. Fiachra's chariot pulled up and stopped off to the side where an attendant would tend to them. Gavin smiled and gave a small wave to his General as he approached. It was funny. For all his life that he'd known Fiachra, the soldier had always towered above Gavin and anyone else, even Gavin's father. It was funny how Gavin saw Fiachra. To him, Fiachra was what happened when you took the definition of a man, boiled it down to its purest state and then fermented it. As such, he was the only man in existence who could come to work wearing a leather skirt and be even more manly because of it. Fiachra was the Man-Beast, and he was now shaking hand to paw with the Beast-Man, who towered over him. Dammit Gavin was starting to feel short.

"I was only told that I would be meeting someone for testing, but I certainly didn't expect THIS." Ah, Fia's mirthful, booming voice. "And GAVIN. Where in HELL did you find someone taller than me?!" Gavin laughed silently, the speech aid slipping into his pocket as he signed to Fia.

"An army's greatest tool is the element of surprise. Having you both means threatening forces will piss themselves." Because honestly, Fiachra alone was usually pretty surprising given his size and stregth. Having someone like Roarke around could probably send them running. Gavin was pulling the speech aid back out to tell them both to follow him down to the training ground and give Roar a small tour just to get him familiar with the grounds when a certain band leader bounded up to them. Gavin blinked, surprised Molly had chosen to surprise him with a visit. Not that that was a bad thing at all, just unexpected since his day was set to be full. Within moments Molly was climbing up Fia like a rock climbing toy, then back down to greet her King. "Dia dhuit~ I came all the way o'er 'ere to seeya~ Did I come'it a bad time?"

Gavin shook his head, fingers zipping over the keys. One more added to the mix would be just fine, and they would probably finish early enough to go over a few music pieces together that afternoon. "No, it's fine, Molly. We were just about to head down to test him this morning. You are welcome to join me to watch." She was cheery company, and it would have been rude to send her home when she'd come out. Besides, what harm could having another observer be? The King begain to turn in order to gesture the others to accompany him down, when a dark force tromped out of the palace and across the massive lawn to the gate. Bright red hair stuck out in odd places. Gold eyes flashed with the intent to kill whoever pissed her off first. The country's most powerful and lethal woman stormed toward them, somehow magically wearing a bit less than usual.

Of all the ways to greet your King in public, chucking a giant plush strawberry at him typically wasn't high on that list. But there she was. Hair messy, in her underwear, Kurt over her shoulder, and under-caffinated. God help everyone present. "What in god's name is creating a disturbance this morning. I'm trying to sleep!!" He noticed his new candidate quickly covered his eyes with his paw to avoid looking at Arty's attire that everyone else in Carraig was so used to. Moddest, too? Good to know. The King smirked at his best friend, typing out on the pad.

"So good of you to join us, though formal dress was optional." The aid moved down to hang off Gavin's belt for a moment as he took off his jacket, moving closer to Artyt and draping it around her smaller frame. It wasn't terribly covering, but it'd cover up enough for now until she either got dressed or went back to bed, despite everyone in the palace buzzing. Now that it's a party, maybe we can get-- A filthy Range Rover drove up and half-hazardly parked nearish to the gate. Oh good Lord, NOW who! Alastair stumbled out, seeming less than pleased at how bright the world was and that it was so early. Ah. Normal.

"Uh, guys, I think there's something you're not telling me... I thought we concluded that a replacement for Fiachra if he goes on leave again wasn't necessary?!" So much for Wolfy being king of the Loonies, they were all congregating on Gavin's front lawn. Part of him felt rather bad since none of this was inteded and he felt he hadn't adequately warned Roarke about the odd nature of many of his soldiers, or at least the ones who knew him better. But could anyone really warn someone to be prepared for madness? Eh, chalk it up to one of his tests, if nothing else. If he can survive simply meeting them, he had a leg up already.

"Glad you could make it. Now, shall we go down to the training grounds?" Gavin put the aide down on his belt, turning to walk down the slope of the hill toward the training area. It was a good day for this, even if he wasn't fully sure what he would even test Roarke with yet, but if nothing else with the lot of them it would be a very interesting day.



((I know the colour codes are wrong for some of you, soory. I'll fix them as soon as I know what the right ones are <3))

[Shula Brighton]

{BUMP}

[Guest]

When a man grinned confidently, it showed many things about his psyche. If he was grinning confidently in the face of danger, he would be called a brave man. Grinning in the face of certain death made one a fool. Grinning the way that Fiachra was right now--it showed that he had the utmost of trust in this situation, especially the way that it was now. Staring at the man-beast that he had only just met, he found himself in a peculiar state of mind. He was not intimidated, for he had no need to be. He was not scared, for he had no need to be. Although most people assumed that they would receive some form of fright from a man such as this, Fiachra knew that he had nothing to fear. Maybe it was some kind of recognition between people--but he was certain of it. Chuckling quietly (for him), he stepped backwards and looked around, watching the approaching people with a soft glint in his right eye that denoted confidence and care. A body collided with his back, and although a slight noise of fright was made, it was quickly dispelled. "Dia dhuit!~ Yer as big's ye were when I saw ye at Toss's place!" He smirked, knelling down and letting Molly to the ground. "I am not getting any smaller." Slowly getting to his feet on a stable platform once more, he heard more noises. Gah, it was early in the morning--why were so many people awake?! "What in god's name is creating a disturbance this morning." He turned to see the source, and chuckled quietly when he did so. A woman in what appeared to be some bloody skimpy underwear stood there, rubbing her eyes. A pillow was thrown, and hit Fiachra in the face--something that he wouldn't have noticed any time of any day.

"I'm trying to sleep!!" He smirked. Sure she was. "Surprising, would've thought you'd be in there with her, big guy," Another voice, and this one smelt slightly of alcohol. Sighing softly, Fiachra looked down in order to spot a certain Chief of Police that had sidled up next to him. "You know, if I gave you that tap on the arm myself, it's likely that you would not get be getting back up for quite some time." He nodded slowly and assuredly, before looking back at Gavin--no, he had not just threatened Alastair, he had simply made an observation that was most certainly true. Luckily for Alastair, Fiachra's next observations came from the Beast--he didn't even hear the words that the still-slightly-drowsy officer stated. “Well, Fiachra Brenna, current head of the Faolchú of Carraig's military and, in effect, the second-most powerful man in the country... that would be correct. Roarke Moray, sans fancy titles, is the name. Looking to join the military is my game.” First, came a chuckle, which slowly grew more and more, reaching what would be simply known as... laughter. A booming noise that spread throughout the reaches of the palace, waking those who were slightly drowsy, and making a few birds flap away into the trees. He laughed for a minute or so, before slowly dropping his sound back to normal, looking at Rourke with a confident smirk lining his lips.

"Ahahaha... You have humor to your name. I like that, and I like you. Congratulations--you passed your first test..." He chuckled and grinned softly, looking over at the King with a nod. “It's totally necessary. If there isn't one giant, hairy bastard running around... why, the world would fall to pieces!” HAHA. Holding up a hand, Fiachra laughed again (though a lot quieter this time) "I am not hairy, but I am a giant bastard." "An army's greatest tool is the element of surprise. Having you both means threatening forces will piss themselves." His eyes glanced over at Gavin, who had made the proper signs as he did so. Ah, so that was it. That was most certainly true. This man would work well within the small elite of the Faolchú--the Ionioi Hetairoi. The men and women that Fiachra worked closely with in order to best serve the Faolchú itself. They were not the Scath, but they were not average soldiers, either. Smiling quietly, Fiachra rumbled forwards towards the King. "Glad you could make it. Now, shall we go down to the training grounds?"

He followed Gavin for a minute or two, before striding ahead when they reached the training grounds themselves. "I'd like to propose something, my King. This man, he could prove useful to the Faolchú, within my Ionioi Hetairoi. So, I shall open something unusual." Walking towards the end of the training area, Fiachra approached a small stack of hay. He reached a hand in, and gripped the head of a long shaft--pulling a lever down and listening to a few mechanical whirrs. He had this installed, simply because this training ground had been destroyed by his body too many times. To compensate for this, Fiachra had commissioned a... what could almost be called a stadium--one designed to withstand the rigors that he put his own body through. Metal-and-concrete pillars rose up through various points on the ground, and the earthen mess was drawn away, revealing a well-used floor. Stepping in through the bars, Fiachra beckoned Roarke up with him. "Before I test you, we shall need a history lesson. The Faolchú are the army of Carriag. We are not large, but we are strong. At the head of this army, there are four people. Myself--Fiachra Brennan, under the name of Iskander. I command those below me, but also take counsel from those who ask. To my right hand, there is my Lord of War. He is my chief strategist, and leads the soldiers when I cannot. On my left, I see the Maharaorajah. He is my emblem of peace--the Diplomat, if you will. Finally, below me (though only symbolically) is Bucephalus, my steed. The one who carries me when I cannot stand or walk. Bucephalus will usually be my closest friend within this army--they need to be someone I can trust without question." Chuckling dryly, Fiachra reached around his shoulders, gripping the cape tightly and throwing it into the air as if he were calling forth a bull towards a Matador. He almost wanted to shout 'ole', but refrained from doing so.

Once the cape was removed, the man's leather armor was revealed completely--though it covered less of his flesh than one would expect. That flesh was, though muscled, also covered in cuts and scratches--deep gashes and scars of past battles--all from Fiachra's lifetime as as soldier. A mass of flesh, muscle, bone, leather and metal, and it all stood there, bared for the world to see. Raising a hand up before him, Fiachra smirked and beckoned with one finger. "Come. I beseech you: fight me. There is little other way of testing someone of your... size. It will simply be a tussle, though I will test your skill, fortitude and intelligence all at once." He chuckled softly and watched. Would the man-beast make his move or not? It was all up to Roarke now, as Fiachra calmly watched from within his small arena...

[Molly McCafferty]

Molly had to grin at Fiachra as she climbed off his back and prepared to go about other hugging and such. “Heehee~ I think I a’ready knew tha’, ya big walkin’ moun’ain!” After hugging Fiachra, she hugged Roarke, of course, and loved how utterly CONFUSED he looked, as if nobody ever hugged him, the big teddy bear he was!

As Molly moved towards Gavin, she noted the new newcomers; a rather angry and grumpy Artemis, whom Molly WOOOOOOULD have hugged, had she not been so grumpy and angry, and a man she didn’t know, who should also WOOOOOOOULD have hugged, but he seemed kind of like someone who wouldn’t quite appreciate the gesture. SO SHE DIDN’T HUG HIM. Instead, she hugged Gavin, having already greeted him, as was customary of her, and stood beside him, watching everyone curiously.

As she watched, she listened, as her king was speaking, and she smiled and nodded. “Ah, okey, then!~” Hearing Fiachra introduce himself, she decided to do the same, and stepped up to Roarke, grinning up at him. Yes, she had no fear he would eat her. Why? Maybe it was because of her woman-kilt, maybe it was her fiery Creig-Esparian spirit! Mostly, he was fluffy and huggable. “Dia dhuit~ Me name’s Molly McCafferty, an’I’m th’ leader’o Carraig’s milit’ry merchn’ band! Yer very fluffy, by th’ way.” Stepping backwards towards Gavin, the kilted woman staye back and let them mens do as they would, and followed them to the training place-thing with everyone else, where Fiachra and Roarke were apparently to fight. Hmm, who should she pull for? Cuddly teddy bear man, or that thur walking mountain?

[Guest]

The coat draped round her shoulders and she gave a grumble somewhere in her complaints a thanks was uttered. She tugged it closer as Alaister came over and her attitude took another thirty thousand foot plummet. She almost snarled as he clapped Fiachra round the arm and made a comment about a meant to be secret relationship. The pillow was kicked up and snatched from the air before being fired with more force then necessary at his smug face. "Stop talking crap!" She barked at him. Hand's planting on curvy hips she glowered at him from Gavin's side teeth almost grinding.

Her attention soon turned back to the larger fluffy creature. He was taller then Fiachra....it must of been strange for the man who towered over everyone to suddenly be towered over. She would be sure to ask the man what he taught later. Gavin seemed to trust the Chimera so he couldn't be too bad and he seemed rather polite.

The pillar's rose and she couldn't help but stumble a bit as she tried to keep upright. She should be use to this by now but yet she wasn't. Then the cape flew and she couldn't help but bite her lip and give a purr of approval. Oh yes scar's are sexy. She smirked and watched snapping over a foot man. "Oi bring some breakfast and popcorn." She smirked and flicked her hair back over her shoulder pulling Gavin's coat round her more. "It's to early for Dinner and a show."

[Guest]

God, for a man of war, Fiachra certainly talked a good crock of shit when the time came. Iskander? Bucephalus? Maharawhosawhatsit? Strolling, still hungover and exhausted, around until they reached the training grounds, with the big bastard's new improvements in place already, it seemed.

"Place looks nice, Fiachra," The sarcasm was almost untraceable. "If Tiberian architecture gives you a hard-on, at least." He stayed as best he could in the shadows and shook his head as the man revealed the entirety of his form in as much of a drama queen way as was humanly possible. Alastair wondered how the guy hadn't already gotten shot and killed with all these speeches and the masquerade of bullshit he seemed to enjoy so very much. All that he needed now were a few sparkles, and all would be just tip-top.

In Alastair's mind, with the modern world as it was, Fiachra was just misunderstood. Born, even, in the wrong century. He'd be at home on some ancient battlefield; they would've tossed him girls like Artemis as tribute, and he'd be the king, not Gavin. Whilst all of them stood here with pistols and rifles as their weapons, Fiachra was a man who fought truly with his fists. If it wasn't for his ridiculous endurance and that traditionalist Creig fighting-drinking spirit they both shared, the pair probably wouldn't get on.

He wasn't necessarily useless, just... unorthodox. Despite his appearance and his outward hostility, Alastair did respect Fiachra for his close-combat prowess, but really didn't see the reason why the guy didn't bring a sawn-off or two along. God knew he had the pack-mule abilities for it.

The scene was ready, and about to begin. "Oh, how I can feel the tension rising already." Alastair spoke, devoid of all emotion. "This will be undoubtedly the fight of the year." Rolling his eyes, he edged up to Artemis, squealing like a little girl as he dodged from the apparently-lethal rays of the light. It was February, dammit, it wasn't supposed to be bright and warm.

"Oi bring some breakfast and popcorn." Alastair shook his head, and slumped down next to her, exhausted, the light and morning both having together defeated him. He considered making some mock medieval-esque 'I am defeat!' speech, but it was far too much effort to even think beyond basic snark for the moment. Needless to say, Alastair wasn't exactly feeling too talkative.

"Not like you need it, your torso's big enough already," He could barely only pant. Oh, the sadness of it all...

[Roarke Moray]

Hm. Well. Apparently smartassness equaled humor. And in turn, meant he passed a test. That was a good thing, right? Roarke really had no idea, to be entirely honest. He hadn't expected an all-out party, but... go with the flow, eh? And the little twerp that had HUGGED him now decided to introduce herself... and further demean his beastly character! Fluffy? FLUFFY?!? Aw, hell no. Roarke had a sudden desire to find the tallest mountain and throw himself off it. He wanted to be appreciated for the man within the beast but he certainly did not appreciate being called fluffy. That was just plain old cruel. He gave Molly a kind of half-wave, deciding it was best not to open his mouth at that point.

Except his mouth did open a little bit just a few moments later as a FREAKING STADIUM ROSE OUT OF THE GROUND. Okay, what the fuck. Seriously? Carraig had certainly flipped a whole new level of crazy recently. As Roarke slipped between the bars into the stadium, he listened to Fiachra's “history lesson.” Not so much history as of current events. A basic rundown of the army and its leaders. Pretty flippin' cool. He wasn't entirely sure what that had to do with his training; he didn't expect to be given some top position on his first day. He watched Fiachra remove his cape and reveal lots of flesh and scars underneath. Wow. This guy had seen a lot. The few scars Roarke had under his fur had been from whippings as he had grown.

"Come. I beseech you: fight me. There is little other way of testing someone of your... size. It will simply be a tussle, though I will test your skill, fortitude and intelligence all at once."

Roarke felt like he was part of an elaborate show as he glanced to see everyone surrounding the arena as spectators. Ah, some good old gladiator games it would be today. Roarke removed his cape, albeit without as much flare as Fiachra. He actually made a point of folding the cloak, placing it outside of the arena. That thing had was precious to him in more ways than one. He then returned to the arena, standing a good 10 feet away from Fiachra. He rolled his shoulders and rose to his full height, stretching his back. He felt the muscles rippling underneath his fur, his tail brushing slowly back and forth. He flexed his appendages on all four paws, letting his bottom claws dig into the floor of the arena. He rolled his neck from side to side. This idea of a wrestling match was very new to Roarke. When he fought before, it was with the brutality of his animal side. Yet this required a bit more finesse now.

He bowed his head slightly at Fiachra, his eyes remaining on him at all times. “I admit, I've not once fought against a human that rivaled me in size. I cannot promise you a great feat, but I can promise a new experience.” Roarke grinned a little, his teeth shining in the morning light. He did his best to keep his claws withdrawn as he dropped to all fours, slowly approaching Fia. He let his animal instincts rule in the first few moments, merely stalking his opponent and searching for his style and eventually, a weakness.

[Gavin Etheridge]

Well, then. Somewhere along the line meeting with the newest candidate for the Faolchú had become a party; while the random odd events were bound to happen, usually the screenings were handled simply by Fiachra, and if time permitted Gavin and Artemis would watch. Fiachra was in his position for a reason, and it wasn't simply due to sheer brute strength; Gavin trusted his judgement more than anyone's, sometimes even more than his own. Every man served in Carraig's general army for at least two years unless he had compelling reason not to, but the Faolchú were specialty, individually tested and selected as their army's army by the giant personally. And today for some reason everyone had felt the need to show up at Gavin's door like the thirteen dwarves that invited themselves to Bilbo's house for tea. Oh well, this was at least more interesting than going over financial reports and more trade negotiations.

What had started as three had become a small troupe that walked around the palace's proerty to what could be considered as Gavin's back yard. The palace sat at the top of the hill and looked down, and in the lipp dip was where the special tryouts usually happened, and Gavin could watch either from the windows or come down, or even watch from the peace of his forge. Gavin stopped as Fiachra walked on, the ground shifting and moving mechanically into a strong arena. He remained steady, his arm reaching out to Arty's back to steady her as the yard shifted, leaving a very stunned Roarke. Gavin couldn't help but grin, very amused. Roarke had been doing very well so far in just dealing with the unexpexcted surprise of Fiachra and meeting several of Carraig's finest nutters all at once; usually just meeting them singly could be a challenge. But oh, watching a newcomer's face when the 'arena' sprung forth from the ground would never get old. That was just damn amusing.

The earth settled and Fiachra stripped off a few layers, bidding the great beast to fight him to test his strength as Artemis made a call for breakfast. Excellent idea. Taking a seat, Gavintapped Arty's arm to invite her to sit with him, gesturing for everyone else to step away from Fiachra and Roake; they were all smart enough to know better than to get involved. Gavin gave a small wave, calling the footman over to him, pointing to himself and everyone else. A simple enough gesture to understand; Arty had asked for breakfast, and so now there was going to be enough for all of them to enjoy. Breakfast and something interesting to watch as two giants would try to beat the shit out of each other. This should be fun.

[Shula Brighton]

{BUMP}

[Guest]

So, the stage was set. A confident grin crossed over the lips of the giant human, his face showing everything that needed to be said. He wouldn't hide anything in this battlefield; instead he would make sure to prove to this man exactly why he ran the Faolchú, and exactly why he was one of the most powerful men in Carriag. Stretching his arms out to the sides, large muscles rippled across and through flesh, a motion that was quickly reciprocated by a small chuckle from the lips of the red-haired beast. "Place looks nice, Fiachra. If Tiberian architecture gives you a hard-on, at least." He shook his head and laughed powerfully, chest heaving up and down with each breath. He lowered his gaze and stared at Alastair with a grin. "Just watch." He stepped backwards onto a given spot, watching Roarke now with a powerful intent. Come, beast. He closed his eyes slightly, whispering words as he watched the man through slits of eyes. "When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end... the Goddess descends from the sky. Wings of light and dark spread afar, she guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting..." A small poem of sorts complete, the man placed his hands onto his hips and raised his head into the air, watching Roarke intently now.

The creature was certainly taller than him--Fiachra guessed at least by a foot or so; give or take three inches or so. “I admit, I've not once fought against a human that rivaled me in size.” Fiachra could not help but agree. There were very few people in this world that rivaled him in size. For someone to actually be taller than him, and to this degree... it was a brand new experience for him. This arena was designed for such events, though Fiachra would never say so. In fact, the arena was also made for other things--a grandstand could be erected for use with musical performances--the Carriag Philharmonic Orchestra was, at times, simply amazing--there were also one or two good jazz pieces in this country. He chuckled softly and stepped forwards as Roarke flexed his own muscles. “I cannot promise you a great feat, but I can promise a new experience.” Fiachra laughed at this, letting booming intones enter into the still morning air. "I do not look for feats. Let me tell you something, Roarke." He spread his arms out to the side, staring at the beast with a powerful gaze.

"I may be no king... but does he have to be alone? People say that the King must always be alone, that he must sacrifice his humanity of the sake of his people. But look at our King, His Lordship Etheridge. Is he alone? No. He is not. I do not look for feats, Roarke. I look for a man I can trust. A man who will stand at my side, whether it is here on the plane of the living..." He stepped backwards one step, placing a foot onto the ground and curling his arms out in front of him. "OR IN THE AFTERLIFE!" Suddenly running forwards with no warning, Fiachra placed a single foot directly in front of him, just as he stood before Roarke, leaning down and moving to wrap his arms around the waist of the great beast of a chimera. This was not a test of strength. He had already discerned the strength of the beast. What he was discerning was trust. Power of the mind. Strategy. Every single variable ran through his mind as he began this match. He wanted Roarke to become his Bucephalus--the steed that would carry him through life... and through death. This was only the beginning...

[Molly McCafferty]

Okay... Molly had to giggle, try as she did not to, as Alastair got pillow-pawnched in the face, but she quickly moved from giggling at his misfortune to stifling her giggles and looking casually back at the spar about to ensue, so as not to be pillow-smacked herself. Of course, her veil of casualness BROKE. IN. HALF. when the pillars exploded from the ground... I mean, it wasn't like she hadn't SEEN it before, as she'd used the place as a concert hall on a few occasions, but it was just something that would never cease to widen her eyes and make her jump a little.

At any rate, however, the pillars DID provide some wonderful atmosphere for the fight at hand. Speaking of their match, it would be interesting, yar, but to what extent? A spar was only so epic, y'know. What Molly saw that it needed, was VERY necessary to the fight! BATTLE MUSIC!

Of course, as she WAS polite, and as it WAS their duel, and as nobody HAD asked her to play background music anyways, she waited for Fiachra's speech to end before deciding to give them some nice moooooood melodies. So Molly unstrapped her guitar from her back as she watched the two fight, hooked it up to her beloved portable amp, strapped to her hip, and flashed Gavin a smile before she played, just loud enough to be heard, as good background music should play; in the background!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55nAwmVLQSk

[Guest]

Arty sighed as molly played the music right next to her. "Polly please turn it down...." She grumbled trying to focus on her lovers fight with Roarke. For once wishing she was allowed to shoot at people. Bare toes curling in the grass slightly as she pulled Gavin's coat round her. It was nice to see someone who could give Fia a physical challenge were he could in theory go all out. Sure she and Fia had sparred but he always had to handy cap especially after he broke her rib that one time. No there physical activities where now limited to bedroom tumbles.

She cheered him on as Fia went straight in. Happy as her breakfast and popcorn arrived just in time. Placing the tray between her and Gavin, she watched as if this was a movie. After her toast was gone she munched the salted popped goodness as eager gold eyes watched trying to predict Roarke's next move.

[Guest]

"Just watch." Alastair threw Fiachra a mock salute, letting his head roll back against the wall of the makeshift battleground as he did so, a fatal mix of lethargy and hangover engulfing him in an aversion to any sort of light or noise, and a general cynical hatred of the human race. For most people, this would be a low point. For Alastair, it was commonplace.

Looking from the giant redhead to the weird bear-man-thing that Alastair wasn't entirely of the actual reality and substance of, the drunkard rubbed his eyes and sighed, scrabbling at the ground with his one free hand, and feebly trying to pull himself up to full height with a monstrous roar of a yawn that dwarfed even Roarke's (well, not really, but he liked to think it did).

"Well, I'd love to stay for the fun, games and all," Alastair placed his hand to his forehead, giving Fiachra a mock salute. "But unlike you, Sir Trains-A-Lot, I've actually got to work today," Another inhuman yawn, and with a painful-sounding groan, the police chief flitted from one pocket of shade to another, desperately trying to avoid the descending light, whether it was artificial or organic in nature.

"...OR IN THE AFTERLIFE!" Clutching at his temples, and wishing desperately for some silence, as Fiachra began running - an action comparable to a series of miniature high-level earthquakes commencing in quick succession - Alastair turned around and howled unintelligibly a string of expletives at his comrade. Or, well, he would have done, except, the feedback from a nearby guitar amplifier hissed in, and a none-too-shabby rendition of Cliffs Of Dover kicked in.

As much of an Eric Johnson fan as he was, Alastair shot Molly daggers, and beneath the veritable cacophony, howled expletives now at the both of them, his mouth opening and closing, but releasing no audible sound courtesy of the musician and the living, walking tank clashing together. As both noises reached a momentary lapse, Alastair finished his speech. "...FUCKING SMASH A FISHTANK INTO YOUR HEAD!" Glowing a bright red colour, and small jets of steam escaping from his ears, Alastair appeared to be seething with complete and utter rage, adding a quick addendum. "WHY, GOD, DO YOU TORTURE ME SO WHEN I HAVE A FUCKING HANGOVER?!" He reached to the sky with open hands, his legs trembling and almost buckling as he did so. One of Carraig's finest, truly a stalwart man, reduced to a wreck from the deadly infection of Earth's most woeful and horrid affliction: alcoholius recoverium. More commonly known as 'the hangover', or 'the bad point about drinking'.

Turning to Gavin and shaking his head, teeth still grit, though the crimson fading from his pallor, before Molly and Fiachra continued, he muttered to his King, on his way out of the palace, and back to his Range Rover, or, at least, a safe fucking distance from this comparable shitstorm of hellish metal instrumentals and an abnormally large gladiator charging at a chimera. "I'll catch you later, Gav. Got something I need to chat about,"

The music began again before he passed into the safe threshold, and Alastair stopped in his tracks, almost seeping and radiating pure, disgruntled anger, a ticking time-bomb just about ready to explode.

[EXIT THREAD]

[Roarke Moray]

Fiachra kept speaking even as Roarke began his stalk. It was somewhat distracting as he spoke of trust and... AW SHIT. Fia was suddenly barreling towards him, leaning downwards to grab at him. His animal instincts told him to lunge forward into Fia's exposed chest and knock him down. But his horns had the potentiality of slipping through that armor and Roar didn't want to kill someone on his first day in the military. Instead he let his gymnast instincts take over and he rolled suddenly to the right, allowing Fia to grasp at empty air. As he righted himself to the side and slightly behind Fia, he estimated. How much could this guy possibly weigh? Roarke had a pretty good idea he weighed more. But his weight was definitely spread out differently and... well, it could end badly. But it was definitely something unexpected, right?

Fia's momentum kept him moving forward as Roarke came up closer behind him. He opened his arms wide, his paws grasping at Fia's arms and pinning them to his sides. Bending his legs slightly he emitted a deep growl as he lifted Fiachra off the ground. His capture was moving to release himself but Roar managed to keep a good hold onto him as he lifted him above his head. He then not-so-politely threw Fiachra out and downwards, watching him go off several feet away. Roar felt immediate pleasure in his ability to lift and THROW his new boss but he knew that he wasn't going to be beat quite as easily as that. Roarke stood hesitantly as he watched to see where and if Fiachra would hit the ground so he could make his next move.

[Shula Brighton]

{BUMP}

[Guest]

{I APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG D: I feel that I should at least help with this thread's conclusion. Least I can do.}

[Let's do this shit.]

The Crieg Bull. The Man-Beast of Carriag. There were many names that Fiachra Brennan had been known by; most of them as scary to behold as the rest. As a long and wide grin spread across his lips, the male rushed directly for Roarke, his dark red eyes as wild as the shaggy locks spread across his head and face. As suddenly as he had rushed, the beast had already dived to the left; Fiachra's arms gripping seemingly nothing. However, he was not to be discounted right now. Instead of letting his momentum totally carry him over, Fiachra appeared to fall forwards, placing his hands onto the ground and pushing upwards, using the inertial movement to twist his body around and slide backwards on his feet, now facing Roarke...who was no longer there. Suddenly letting his guard down, he felt arms reaching around and behind him. Oh, so the fucker was going to throw him, now? As soon as he felt himself flying into the air, the man started to laugh wildly. This was great! Wonderful! Beautiful! Amazing! Though his size belied it, Fiachra managed to somewhat twist his body around so that he landed in the position for a roll, tumbling and quickly getting up on his feet; back to Roarke for one second. Standing there, his shoulders began to rise and fall quickly, the man's body shaking with a booming laugh.

"AH HAH HAH AH HA!" Turning towards Roarke now and grinning, the man leaned forwards slightly and rested his right hand on the ground. "I know now that you can carry me! Let us not tarry!" Launching himself forwards with a surprising amount of speed for a man of his height, weight and musculature, Fiachra crossed the distance to Roarke in three straight bounds, appearing to head straight for the other in a direct attack. However, his previous grapple attempt had left the knowledge in his mind this time. Keeping a close eye on Roarke, Fiachra made his lunge. However, as soon as Roarke himself moved, Fiachra would move too, suddenly planting his foot down and stopping himself for what was barely ten milliseconds, turning his body and pushing off again, this time directly for Roarke once more. Unlike the previous lunge, however, Roarke would have just finished moving backwards. With less of a chance to realize that he was being attacked, Fiachra would have that in the bag. Knowing that he was unable to throw the other however, he would try and go for a lock--attempting to grab the hands of the other and start pushing up against him. He would make way to fight like the Aerugese Sumo; pushing his opponent out of the ring. It would most likely not last long, but it was a method nonetheless. Fiachra couldn't help wondering, however. What was going on out of the ring?

[Roarke Moray]

Okay, he was laughing? Seriously? This guy was cracked. Roarke couldn't resist a grin himself; joining the Creig military hadn't been such a bad idea after all. Fiachra turned on Roarke and he began to crouch down. He had a feeling that Fiachra would be prepared if he dived, so he attempted to dive in an opposite direction as he was charged at. This time, Fia managed to catch onto the idea, turning and grabbing onto Roarke... by his paws? Roarke let out a big laugh himself. He was laughing so much that he didn't notice Fia was pushing against him and that he was letting himself he pushed back towards the edge of the ring. OH SHIT! Roarke blinked and dug his feet into the ground, stopping Fia's push forward abruptly. Now, what did this remind Roarke of? He searched his mind, finally remembering the tv show he had seen late on TV one night. Huge Aerugese men had been battling each other, pushing and shoving each other to the edge of a ring. And they were usually half-naked and wearing weird thongs. SO... that was the game they were playing now, eh? Not exactly half-naked or wearing thongs, but... it could be fun!

He grinned, and pushed at Fia strongly, getting him to fall back a few feet. As Fia regained himself, Roarke planted one arm on each leg. He then lifted his left leg, slamming it down into the ground in a wide-legged stance, doing the same with his right. He made sure to make a loud “UH” as he did so with each stomp. He then surged forward, locking his hands with Fiachra's once more. He made it a fair struggle, letting Fia push himself back occasionally. Yet nonetheless, Fia was slowly losing ground and the edge of the ring was approaching. One last good surge was what Roarke needed. He emitted a roar, shoving at Fia steadily until both Fia and himself had crossed from the pillars and stood outside the arena. He grinned then released his grip on Fia's hands. “Game, set, match?”


[[DAI! I loved the music, it made me die laughing <3 Also, I hope you don't mind that I NPCed Fia a tiny bit so we could end this match! Let me know if there's something you want me to change]]

[Guest]

Artemis watched as she munched on the popcorn her face a twisted portrait of concentration. Watching as man and beast wrestled each other. It was almost unreal like one of those awful tv wrestling shows full of crappy robots or men in costumes and special camera angles. But no this was real...the man was the pride of Carraig who without him the country would of long since fallen on it's knees in defeat.

As both tossled in the dirty in some picture that should be glorified for future generation to see her excitement bubbled as she leant forward staring. She wanted to play too. Test her own skill against the gigantic man beast. Gavin never let her have fun any more. sure she could end up with a broken rib or two but that was nothing. she would shake that off in a moment.

And then they both ended up out of the area. Jumping up with a cheer she waved while hopping on one leg. "That was amazing!!! Bravo!" She kept jumping and waving hoping they would notice as Gavin's jacket flew off her shoulders landing on the ground she didn't care. "I want to play too!!" With the motion of her joy the weakened and strain clip on her bra snapped springing up releasing the bosoms under it. Blinking confused as they bounced with joy at freedom.

"Ah!!" She gasped going read covering herself with her arms. Looking around she quickly scooped up Fiachra's beloved cape and wrapped it round herself. Smiling softly as the musky scent of her lover filled her nostrils from the fur trim.

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