RELEASE THE HOUNDS

"Eep!" Charlie squeaks, and clasps her hands over her mouth. She really hates those dogs. Maybe she can quietly turn back and find another way around? ~lovelyladyassistant

“Grewwr?” Wee MacTusk tilted his head when he saw the hounds perk up their ears and start growling. Did they see something? He peered into the trees, seeing a small figure. “Brwwrrr!” He squeaks and points at it, calling the hounds to action. He’d started a hunt! He’d make his father proud! BARK BARK BARK BARK!

lovelyladyassistant-x

Charlie gave a painful, fearful gasp as the dart connected with her lower back leg, causing her to stumble to the ground. She fell with a thud, but instantly turning to yank feathered tip dark from her skin. It didn’t matter that the fall had hurt, or that she had scrapped her hands and knees and bruised her arm, every ounce of her adrenaline was poured into escaping these walruses and their hounds.

But no sooner than she pulled the dark free of her leg that one of the hounds on her. Charlie kicked it in the face with her heel as it leaped but that didn’t slow it down. It made a repeat attempt, and this time caught her by the sleeve of her jacket. “AH–!” She screamed again as it tugged and yanked violently at the fabric. “Get off!” Charlie cried, bringing the blade end of her axe to the dog’s head. She struck it repeatedly until it finally relented.

But there would be no more running, the rest of its hunting party had arrived. Charlie clutched her axe defensively, teeth gritted as if bracing herself for what would come next. Her arm bled from where the hound’s teeth had ripped her sleeve and her leg stung from whatever was in the dart. Was she going to die? Unless something miraculous happened in the next few seconds, yes…yes she was.

Her eyes darted everywhere for anything that might help, seeing only dead flowers and beehives amidst the melting snow. There was one only a few feet away. She didn’t know if it would help, but she clung desperately to the smallest ray of hope that it could. She threw her axe at it as hard as she could, its sharp head splitting the side of it when it connected.

And the air was quickly filled with the sounds of angry buzzing.

#lovelyladyassistant #well she got rid of one hound #still not a good time for her ahahhaa

“Brewwer!” “Grwwr!” The Walruses were blubbering with glee as the hounds starting tearing at the woman’s arms and legs. They stomped up, MacTusk let the dart gun fall to his side as he watched. Both of their eyes went wide as the bees erupted from the hive. One of the hounds began chasing the small warriors, while the other looked confused, looking back and forth between them and the target. “Grwwr!” Wee MacTusk called, his voice wavering. He pointed at the target, keep going! Ignore the bees! But he was already backing up himself in fear. His father slapped one that landed on his flipper, the first sting. No! No! They were so close!

"GREEEEWWR!!"

I was asleep in my tent, doing absolutely nothing to anyone, when I was woken up by Scottish walrus noises outside. I threw on some pants and a shirt and blearily opened the tent flap to find the mactusk standing outside. “What?” I demanded as I finished buttoning up my shirt. If I were more awake, I probably would have realized that I was in a potentially dangerous situation, but that kind of rational thinking doesn’t happen at dawn.

The dart hit Jørgen in the shoulder, and some nightmare fuel oozed out, replacing the blood that usually flowed through him. He felt the pain, but his desire to kill was much stronger than his desire to examine his wounds. He simply plucked it out and cast it aside, charging forward at the walruses. “Y̢O̷U͟'̷LL ̢͝P̨͠A̡Y͏̢ F̡͘͠Ơ̧͡R͟ ͢T̸̷҉HA̕T̷” Jørgen was gaining on the walruses. Their blubbery bodies were no match for him.

Once he was within a reasonable distance, Jørgen leapt on the pair of them, restraining them with his claws, as he sank his teeth into their necks. The thick layers of fat required more digging in their flesh, but Jørgen managed to slit their necks, blood spurting at him from various angles. As the walruses became still, Jørgen started to reduce into his normal form, claws and fangs retreating, skin returning to its normal color.

Jørgen’s heart sank as he looked at the corpses. He wanted to fall to the ground and grieve, but he knew he couldn’t. That would be too much. He simply turned and walked sadly away, dragging his tentacle spike with him. He felt a large weight in the pit of his stomach, as he walked. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just wanted to go away. To be alone. Somewhere where he couldn’t hurt anyone. That was what he deserved. He knew it very well. If he could keep away, nobody would have to die. Except maybe his soul, but it was the price he was fated to pay.

#jorgendoesntstarve #DEATH 1

They took off running as soon as the dart hit its target, but they didn’t make it. The man, or whatever it had become, caught up to them much too fast. This was the end of the Noble Walrus Father and Son Hunting Party, MacTusk.

For now.

But, Jørgen, don’t forget your trophy hat.

"Grewwwr!" He bellows at the other dapper fellow in front of him. What hunting prize he'd be....

Maxwell whipped around to look at the predatory walrus. He raised a finger and spoke sternly, “Don’t even think about it.”

“How do I put this in simple terms,” Maxwell said more to himself than the hunter walrus. He had to remember the other only had flippers to work with, and might not be able to do a few more intricate things. “You stalk your prey. They see you, they run away.” He shrugged slightly, “It’s a bit of a problem sometimes, isn’t it? But they’re a bit of a greedy sort, those survivors,” Maxwell continued. He started to gesture with his hands, “Especially when it comes to food. Put food out. They’ll come. You take advantage of it.”

MacTusk propped a flipper under his chin and nodded thoughtfully. Yes, they did run away. That’s why they needed the hounds; he and his son were much too slow at running to keep up with the humans, even in the snow. Now that it was warmer, they needed all the help they could get. No running at all; that’d be preferable. “Gwrwr!” He chortled. Yes, humans couldn’t help it if they saw food. Their little instincts would take over like flies to honey. He clapped his flippers together. “Bwreer!” A grand idea, but what to lure them with?

#theboundking

"Grewwwr!" He bellows at the other dapper fellow in front of him. What hunting prize he'd be....

Maxwell whipped around to look at the predatory walrus. He raised a finger and spoke sternly, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Grewer!!” He leaned back in a laugh. Yes, if would be unsporting to hunt this thin, dapper man. Not only did he look physically ill, but he didn’t entertain the hunt by running away and shouting. How disappointing. He tiled his head, eyes narrowed….OH! This was the lord of this land, he remembered now. He hadn’t seen him in probably two winters, by his count. MacTusk was merely the game keeper of the island, and this man allowed him and his son to hunt as they wished to keep the population of the island lively and alert. He bent slightly at the waist, as much as his blubber would allow, and tipped his Tam O’Shanter to the man.

Maxwell nodded his head in response. “You do well though, I must admit. Keeping them guessing from the day the first snowfall touches the ground, right up until the rain melts it away.” He grinned, pleased at the hunter and his family. “I feel you could benefit well from the use of traps.”

He puffed with pride through his mustache, planting his flippers at his sides. Yes, yes he and his son worked hard all winter. The hunt was their life and their livelihood. Since it’d been getting warmer, they’d slowed down a fair bit, but he was glad their hard work was noticed. “Breewr?” He saw the grin on the others face, the eagerness behind his eyes. What was this new suggestion? He was game to hear it.

#theboundking

Other possible names for this blog back in the beginning: dart-to-the-butt doyouwannabuildasnowman igloofever

mactusk prank call pt. 2

it backfired

CONFUSED WALRUS SNORTS

"Grewwwr!" He bellows at the other dapper fellow in front of him. What hunting prize he'd be....

Maxwell whipped around to look at the predatory walrus. He raised a finger and spoke sternly, “Don’t even think about it.”

He lowered the dart gun to his side. Hmm. Had he met this fellow before? Something about the way he spoke seemed familiar…and he didn’t shout like the other victims. Hardly a fun chase. Perhaps they could be gentlemen about this. “Grrrff!” He snorted through his mustache, standing up straight and straightening his monocle. “Greeer…” Sorry for the disturbance, fine fellow. He closed his eyes and nodded. I see you’re not part of my wee little game…

Maxwell stared him down for a moment. “No, I’m the one who created your game.” He sighed, looking over the walrus. Granted, he’d become more of a formidable hunter than Maxwell had first thought would be possible, especially with the addition of Ice Hounds. “It wouldn’t be much of a sport hunting me down, I can assure you that. Just remember, the ones you’re hunting generally look terrified.”

#theboundking #rp #wee mactusk is probably really bad at prank calling))#laughs in the middle of it))

“Grewer!!” He leaned back in a laugh. Yes, if would be unsporting to hunt this thin, dapper man. Not only did he look physically ill, but he didn’t entertain the hunt by running away and shouting. How disappointing. He tiled his head, eyes narrowed....OH! This was the lord of this land, he remembered now. He hadn’t seen him in probably two winters, by his count. MacTusk was merely the game keeper of the island, and this man allowed him and his son to hunt as they wished to keep the population of the island lively and alert. He bent slightly at the waist, as much as his blubber would allow, and tipped his Tam O’Shanter to the man.

#this is 100% accurate))#hunting strategies #hahahah thank you XD))

mactusk does a prank call

walrus-got-yo-number

BELLOWS AND BELLY LAUGHS

"Grewwwr!" He bellows at the other dapper fellow in front of him. What hunting prize he'd be....

Maxwell whipped around to look at the predatory walrus. He raised a finger and spoke sternly, “Don’t even think about it.”

#theboundking #you can understand him or not haha))#my username is supposed to be like hit man walrus but i love the prank calling one too XD))

He lowered the dart gun to his side. Hmm. Had he met this fellow before? Something about the way he spoke seemed familiar...and he didn’t shout like the other victims. Hardly a fun chase. Perhaps they could be gentlemen about this. “Grrrff!” He snorted through his mustache, standing up straight and straightening his monocle. “Greeer...” Sorry for the disturbance, fine fellow. He closed his eyes and nodded. I see you’re not part of my wee little game...

ancientfaces

Strong Scottish Gamekeeper

Scottish gamekeeper George Milne taken in Oldmeldrum Scotland around 1890. [ Original: George Milne Oldmeldrum ]

#snorts

"Eep!" Charlie squeaks, and clasps her hands over her mouth. She really hates those dogs. Maybe she can quietly turn back and find another way around? ~lovelyladyassistant

“Grewwr?” Wee MacTusk tilted his head when he saw the hounds perk up their ears and start growling. Did they see something? He peered into the trees, seeing a small figure. “Brwwrrr!” He squeaks and points at it, calling the hounds to action. He’d started a hunt! He’d make his father proud! BARK BARK BARK BARK!

lovelyladyassistant-x

Tears are welling up in the corners of her eyes as she runs, heart pounding in her chest and she forces herself to keep going. She’s discarded her pack for now—too hard to run with it on. There’s not much of use in it anyway, and she keeps only her makeshift spear to defend herself. She’s never used it for fighting before, never really had to. It’s been nothing more than a crude walking stick so far, but she’s afraid that’s about to change.

Charlie stops as comes to a clearing, a large grassy knoll filled with nothing but twigs, and flowers, and several beehives in the distance. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Her head flits back and forth, mind racing for how she can come out of this alive.

“C’mon, think, Charlie. Think!”

#lovelyladyassistant #you can decide what hits and what not haha))

“Fffwt!” The dart shot out of the end of MacTusk’s dart pipe towards its target. He hoped it would slow her down, though, the hounds were nearly on her now. Wee MacTusk watched his father and grinned to himself, forgetting for the moment to watch the hounds. He was happy, it seemed he’d done well. The hounds knew what to do without their master’s orders. The first one was close enough now, and leaped at her, trying to bite at her heels. They were trained to bite low, and not tear the targets apart. Their heads were needed for hunting prizes, after all.

"GREEEEWWR!!"

I was asleep in my tent, doing absolutely nothing to anyone, when I was woken up by Scottish walrus noises outside. I threw on some pants and a shirt and blearily opened the tent flap to find the mactusk standing outside. “What?” I demanded as I finished buttoning up my shirt. If I were more awake, I probably would have realized that I was in a potentially dangerous situation, but that kind of rational thinking doesn’t happen at dawn.

My mind was gone. My decision making was gone. I was gone. There was only bloodlust. I saw the hounds first, and immediately pounced on them, digging my long claws and fangs into their faces and necks, ripping their flesh off of their bodies, blood spurting out, bones becoming visible, killing the entire pack in several seconds. As soon as they were dead, I didn’t rest. They weren’t enough. Nothing would be enough. I had to keep killing. I saw a bird nearby, and charged at it. It tried to fly away, but I leapt at it, catching it in my jaws in mid-flight. One quick gnash in my jaws and it was dead. But I wanted more, MORE. My eyes met those of the mactusk.

#jorgendoesntstarve #well they are just NOPEing out of there now haha))

The walruses stopped and watched with mouths open as the man tore their beloved hound hunting party to shreds. When he turned to them, they wasted no time in turning around and running as fast as their round, blubbery bodies would allow them. MacTusk Sr. turned and fired a dart at the man, hoping to slow him until they could get to the water and make their escape.

"Eep!" Charlie squeaks, and clasps her hands over her mouth. She really hates those dogs. Maybe she can quietly turn back and find another way around? ~lovelyladyassistant

“Grewwr?” Wee MacTusk tilted his head when he saw the hounds perk up their ears and start growling. Did they see something? He peered into the trees, seeing a small figure. “Brwwrrr!” He squeaks and points at it, calling the hounds to action. He’d started a hunt! He’d make his father proud! BARK BARK BARK BARK!

lovelyladyassistant-x

No such luck! And with the sounds of hounds on her heels, Charlie sprints off into the trees with all haste. She’s not even sure where she’s running, this is all new territory to her! Damn it! All she wanted was the find that accursed wormhole and get back to her camp and prove to Maxwell she could survive without his nose butting into every aspect of her life.

But all her anger and frustration at him was the furthest from her mind, she need to get those mangy mongrels off her trail. But how?

“Leave me aloooooone!” She cried and ran blindly through the trees.