One Hell of a Fight [NDE, R]

[Skoll Koryu]

Thread Title: One Hell of a Fight
Participants: Skoll Koryu, Yetsuna Yishnir
World: Soul Society
Death Setting: Non Death Enabled
Rating: R
Location: A clearing in the wilderness surrounding Soul Society. This area is heavily wooded, with plenty of trees to use for cover. The spot is isolated, a good deal away from Seireitei, so short of a massive explosion any combat will not be noticed.
Special Conditions: None.
Circumstances: Skoll, after visiting his pack, is asked to deal with a Hollow that has been infringing on the borders of the Volsung pack's territory. Frustrated and in a small fury at being shoved aside so quickly after returning, Skoll storms off. During his search for this Hollow, he comes across Yetsuna, who has come for her own reasons. Sensing his half-Hellish aura and mistaking it for that of a full Hellspawn's, Yetsuna is immediately alerted, and combat breaks out between the two.

[Skoll Koryu]

“Fucking fuck, why am I doing this again...”

A low growl would ring through the clearing as the speaker stepped forward, idly kicking over a stray branch that was strewn across his path. Black fur, dark as a starless night, stood out among the sun-lit forest, the greens and browns contrasting his ebony shade as Skoll stomped his way into the clearing. The half-demon wolf was in a foul mood, but then again when wasn't he? Skoll was always in some bad temper or another, and often the reasons were as much self-directed as they were at external factors. Self-hatred and scorn were common features, masked beneath a tough-guy attitude built to drive others away before they could make it worse.

Fortunately, today the anger was addressed outwards... well, mostly. Skoll had taken the time to stop by his old pack's hangout, the Volsung pack's leader welcoming him as always. Odin was one of the few people on positive terms with the half-demon, the lupine Beast-Clansman acting as Skoll's adoptive father after the death of his mother. Odin had welcomed him kindly despite the frosty stares that the other Beast-Clansmen gave him. The rest of the pack still looked at Skoll as a symbol of the demon that had killed Freya, one of their most beloved members, and saw him as nothing more than the monster's scion. Skoll, despite being used to this, still felt the anger smolder beneath the surface. Three years since his last visit, yet despite having come to grips with his general situation and how his pack would never accept it, it still burned deep inside of him. He could still feel the stares, feel the word that their gaze sent his way.

Monster.

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!” Skoll screamed suddenly, that anger bubbling up in him again as he picked up a rock, easily as big as a fist, throwing it against a tree and breaking through the bark. It wasn't a particularly grand feat of strength, given that the bark was rotting, but it was an appropriate vent for the Nakabakki's anger. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, yet he couldn't. It just... fuck, why in the world did he bother going back there? He knew that they thought he was nothing but a monster, a twisted, evil being that had killed one of their own. Only Odin cared, and Skoll wouldn't be surprised if that was a facade, a mask that hid his true feelings. It wasn't unlikely, given how close Odin and his mate had been to Freya...

Which brought Skoll to his current destination. Odin, after exchanging pleasantries and giving Skoll a chance to relax a bit after all of his wandering, even providing some excellent food for his guest, had asked a favor of the half-demon, a way of letting the younger wolf prove that he was still acting for the good of the pack. A facade, just like his personality; Skoll could see it now. Sent to drive off a Hollow, a masked creature that had been slipping into their territory more and more lately, the half-demon imagined that he was just sent out to get himself killed. He wasn't allowed to kill the creature—something about a pact between the pack and the Shinigami of the human city—and he had next to nothing besides his bare hands and whatever weapon he could find on hand to beat the thing off with. Maybe Odin had hoped that Skoll's physical talents had blossomed in the years that he had been gone, but it should have been obvious that they hadn't, given that the half-demon had demonstrated no signs of increased strength since then.

Sighing and slumping against a tree, Skoll let himself slid down to the ground, the jacket he wore protecting his back from any scraping. His chain-laden tail swished back and forth slowly, clanking quietly as the metal bumped against the tree's roots. The wolf, at a glance, could probably be mistaken for one of the few anthropomorphic Shinigami that popped up now and again; he wore the upper half of the Shinigami uniform like a jacket, covering most of his upper half and stopping just shy of the waistline, while his lower half was clad in tattered, worn jeans. A black scarf made of the same material as his jacket—in fact, it was actually the same outfit's lower half, torn into a larger strip of cloth and manipulated over time—fluttered in a light breeze as it hung around his neck. Who wouldn't imagine a Shinigami, albeit a casual one, looking at him?

But Skoll was far from a Shinigami, though he'd take the title of “God of Death” gladly. He was a half-demon, half-Beast Clansman, and that left him in the middle of two worlds that wouldn't accept him. Three, if you included the human society that rejected all outsiders and ruled the main power of this world. Though his outfit was reminiscent of a Shinigami, his mannerisms would give him away in a heartbeat, if not his Reiatsu. After all, his spirit reeked of his bastard father's hellish stink, and almost anyone who came within a hundred feet of Skoll could feel it. It didn't help that he had a strong spirit for a Beast-Clansman either, making him stand out all the more for it.

Laying his head back and staring up at the sky, Skoll repeated his statement from earlier. “Ugh... what the fuck am I doing out here...”

SPOILER: Click to show

{Skoll's Stats}Strength - [50] (50) Points

Speed - [100] (100) Points

Spiritual Pressure – [75 x 2] (150) Points

Reiatsu Strength – [100 x 2] (200) Points

Light Aura - [35] Points

Dark Aura - [65] Points

Instinct - [75] Points

Senses - [50] Points

Energy sensory - [50] Points

Healing Expertise - [0] Points


Total SP: [500] points

SPOILER: Click to show

{Skoll's Skills}

• [Special – Mimicry*] 1
  
  
• [Pain Tolerance] 1
  
  
• [Strength of Will] 1
  
  
• [Battle Analysis] 1
  
  
• [Learning] 1
  
  
• [Memory] 1

*The Mimicry skill does not act to serve as a perfect basis to copy anything the user sees, but instead just serves as a prerequisite for the Unbridled Learning technique, with points in this Skill making it possible to learn stronger and more complex techniques (See Unbridled Learning for more information).

[Yetsuna Yishnir]

Another sunny day in the Soul Soceity.

Yetsuna found it both boring and annoying, the weather rarely ever changed, hell even overcast was far and away a break from normal weather, let alone rain or snow. Snow and rain were normally cool and could be protected against, but the sun, the sun was impossible to escape with clothing, especially a shinigami uniform. While the shihuksho was a fairly light garment it was still black and it trapped heat, coupled with the fact it covered the entirety of her form she only had one place to vent excess heat. She adjusted the chestal region of her uniform slightly, exposing more of her cleavage than she would have liked at that moment, but she didn't have many options to cool herself off.

She saw several men glace noticeably at her now partially exposed, and somewhat ample, bosom. She was somewhat used to being ogled by the opposite sex, she knew that she was fairly attractive, and while she didn't mind men glacing at her chest now and again those that abused the privileged would be met with a hard stare from her dark red eyes. Thankfully she didn't have to scare off any would be perverts and arrived at her destination, Joyuse's home, and an escape from the sun.

She moved the curtain that functioned as door aside and stepped into the shaded room. The air was still warm, but without the sun bearing down on her the temperature felt much more managed. Joyuse, Yetsuna's foster mother and sister, noticed her entrance immediately and let out an excited scream as she ran to embrace her. "Yetsuna, my dear, how have you been?!" Her tone was some how a mix of the older sister who hasn't seen their sibling in years and the mother who was disappointed their child never calls. Yetsuna wrapped her arms around her next of kin with a smile and a laugh, "Been a bit busier then usual lately. There's some talk about me getting a promotion so they've been piling on the work."

The two girls released their embrace from one another and moved in unison towards the other end of the room where a basic looking table and chair rested. "Give me a few to clean up a bit, the days been a little warm," Yetsuna said with another laugh. She made her way towards a small washroom, it was nothing impressive, it was barely even a washroom. There was a small stone pedestal upon which sat a plain wooden bowl filled with semi-clean water, and next to that was a cloth. Yetsuna took her arms out from her uniform letting the upper half of her shihuksho fall down over her legs. She began to undo the now damp chest wraps she wore to keep her breasts at bay when she was on duty, it took a good few moments to fully undue them, but having it off felt wonderful.

She washed her bare chest briefly, getting off any remaining sweat that the bandages hadn't absorbed, before sliding her arms back into her shirt and stepping out of the bathroom. "Much better," she sighed happily as she stepped out of the tiny room and walked over towards the table where Joyuse sat waiting for her, "Uniform doesn't do much for the heat does it?" she asked with a laugh. Yetsuna stuck her toungue out at her for asking such an obvious question, "What do you think?" she replied before taking a seat.

The two girl sat with each other for hours, sharing stories of what had transpired in each other their lives in the absence of the others. For the most part Yetsuna had the better stories, though it was far from difficult to guess why; she was a shinigami in one of the advance attack squads so she was constantly going on adventures and fighting strange creatures while Joyuse was a fairly ordinary plus living in the western 80 rukon district. Even though Joyuse's stories were rarely as exciting as her own Yetsuna still liked to listen to them and think about the other direction her life could have gone if she had developed spiritual power.

The sun had made its trek through the sky and started to dye the one ocean blue air a deep shade of red signaling it was getting late and was likely time for Yetsuna to begin her way home. She was about to stand and head to the small washroom to redress herself when she felt a demonically tinged presence. She had never run into a demon before, but somehow she knew what she was sensing, it was something she just knew. Two thoughts went through her mind at the same time; "Why is there a demon this close to the Sou Society?" and "Why can't I ever have an uneventful day off."

Yetsuna would stand quickly and begin to dash towards the door shouting behind her, "Tell the neighbors to stay in their homes, there's something demonic nearby." Before Joyuse could respond Yetsuna was out the door. She felt bad just leaving Joyuse like that, but she didn't have much of a choice, a presence like this was rare.

And more than likely highly dangerous.

Yetsuna dived into the Wilderness in pursuit of the presence she felt, it was close, but at the same time it a fair distance away. She couldn't exactly guess how far away the demon was, but she knew it was somewhere in the eight minute range at a fairly quick speed. Between the sun setting, the shade of the tree canopy, and the wind as ran the air was pleasantly cool, she would have revealed in it if she didn't have a more pressing matter to attend to.

As she progressed further into the forest the undergrowth got thicker and made traversing the ground unneedly difficult so, with a strong jump, she leapt on the tree branches and used them to continue her pursuit. As she closed the distance she began to slowly press down and conceal her reaitsu, though the attempt was likely a vain one, she was terrible and concealing her presence. Once she got a bit closer she would take out her weapon as a precautionary measure in case the monster did notice her presence. With a bit of luck she would be able to do some recon on the demon first.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Powers + Skills}
Type: Solider

Strength: 105
Speed: 190
Spiritual Pressure: (95 x 1.50)
Reiatsu Strength: (130 x .7)
Light Aura: 80
Dark Aura: 20
Instinct: 50
Senses: 50
Energy Sensory: 40
Healing Expertise: 0

Pain Tolerance - 1
Martial Arts: Muay Thai - 1
Strength of Will - 1
Weapons: Swords - 1
Damage Recovery - 1
Battle Analysis - 1

[Skoll Koryu]

“Man, this fucking sucks. How am I even supposed to find this goddamn thing, anyway?” Despite being in his thirties, Skoll was still fairly young for any of the spiritual races and, given that he'd never really developed the maturity that came with the rise to adulthood among other people, the best way to describe his attitude now was that he was pouting. Quite childishly at that; the wolf-demon was sitting with his back to the tree he had stopped to rest against, his arms wrapped around his knees, and his chain-laden tail lashing back and forth as he sulked in his self-pity and frustration, still upset at being sent out so soon after trying to make a social visit to his pack. It sucked, them treating him like this!

But Skoll understood the reason why. And he'd say it to himself again and again, words that filled his nights and nightmares alike: “monster.” Every night, he'd curl up somewhere, looking at the flickering shadow of his silhouette from the flames of his campfire cast against a cave wall, and be reminded. The twisted, disfigured shadow that rose above him, looming over the darkness like a demon waiting at the edge of the night; this was the monster that he saw himself as, distorted by the flames of his Hellish ancestry. He was a monster, a demon, a creature of evil and darkness, no matter what he said or did. That's all he would ever be, at least in their eyes. And in his own.

Despite his desire to rise up above this legacy of darkness, Skoll knew very well that it was steeped into his very being. He stood out so much from his fellow Beast-Clansmen with his powerful, dark spirit, something unlike that possessed by any of his pack members. Everyone who could sense even the slightest bit of spiritual energy—about half of the Volsung pack, and a good number of the Shinigami in Seireitei—would sense the evil aura associated with his heritage, and as a result, people automatically assumed that he was wicked, that he was that same monster that he loathed and dreaded. And in time, he too had come to accept it as true...

Crack! The sound of a breaking branch rang out in the woods, breaking through Skoll's thoughts. His pointed ears perked up suddenly, his mind immediately alert. He wasn't the sharpest when it came to his senses—not like some of the real Beast-Clansmen, whose noses and ears were sharp enough to pick out prey from much less subtle cues—but even he couldn't mistake the sound of someone unfamiliar with stealth or traveling through the woods. Granted, Skoll himself lacked some of the wilderness instincts that he was criticizing the other for, but he was still at the moment, staying quiet and letting himself trace the origin of the sound. Somewhere up ahead, he imagined, though he had no real way of pinpointing it. He could faintly sense a Reiatsu signature coming from that direction as well; perhaps this was the Hollow he had been sent to drive off.

Sighing to himself and swearing obscenities under his breath, Skoll grabbed a thick branch that he could use as a makeshift club, slowly pushing himself to his feet. The Reiatsu presence was drawing closer, becoming a little easier to point out. It was higher than he had thought; either the creature was flying or, if the creak and crunch of branches and dried leaves were any indication, the thing was jumping from branch to branch. Taking a slow breath—partially from annoyance, as Skoll was no good at climbing trees, and that frustrated him because it made chasing this target that much more annoying from the ground—the half-demon tried to let himself relax, preparing himself to fight. And what better way to start a fight than with a little bit of trash talking?

“Hey! You pasty-faced piece of soul shit! Get your ass down here and let me beat your fucking head in, I could use a little stress relief!” Skoll growled, his hackles standing up on edge as he tightened his grip on his club, his eyes scanning the treeline. The Hollow was out of his sight still, but he knew it was close, the creature's presence much stronger than a few moments before. Where was it? “I don't give a damn if Odin says I can't kill you, I can still make you bleed and get you the fuck out of Volsung territory, you twisted freak!” Was that movement, in the corner of his eye? Skoll spun, but he didn't spot anything. His spiritual senses weren't doing him much good at this close range; at this point, they just said the target was, well... here, without saying where. “C'mon out, asshat, I just want to break your spine and play a lovely little tune of 'Let's Break the Ribs'. I promise; it's a real fuckin' side-splitter!”

In truth, despite his bluster, Skoll was feeling anything but confident. Oh sure, he could put on a tough face, and he was doing a damn good job of it—he didn't take on the self-proclaimed title of “Big Bad Fuckin' Wolf” for nothing—but it was a facade for the crippling lack of self-confidence that he had beneath. Self-hate, self-loathing, self-destruction; eventually this spiral of negativity would lead to an untimely explosion in the worst of ways, but for now they only served to buffer the image atop them, the illusion of confidence made stronger to cover the ever-growing nest of serpentine doubts that twisted in knots around his psyche. It was a complex mess, to say the least.

“C'mon, c'mon, ya monochrome bastard, I ain't got all day! Are you afraid, is that it, huh? Who's afraid of the Big Bad Fuckin' Wolf, huh? That's right, you are, you goddamn pansy, now get your ass out here before I get really mad!” Skoll slammed his club against the nearby tree, tearing away more chunks of bark from the impact, and scowled up at the horizon, as though glaring would make the Hollow reveal itself all that much sooner. “Or can you even understand me, you fucktard? Is that it, you too stupid to understand words? If so, gimme a fuckin' howl or somethin', I'm sure I can figure somethin' out!”

[Yetsuna Yishnir]

Yetsuna's green hair flowed freely behind her as she jumped from one tree branch to another. It was an unorthodox method of travel as far is getting around by foot went, but she found herself having little issue. For the most part she could leap from one branch to another as simple as she would run on the ground, but occasionally she would have to use a higher branch as a swinging pole to cross a larger distance. She was grateful that she had had her uniform designed to be form fitting, it kept her pant legs and sleeves from catching on the various smaller branches she ran past.

When she finally drew her blade she had to be more cautious than usual. Not only would the silver blade reflect what limited light there was under the tree canopy, but it semi excessive length could cause it to easily get caught on a part of tree. She slowly drew the blade and once it was fully unsheathed she flipped her grip around on the hilt so that the length of the sword ran down her arm. With her spiritual power suppressed the best she could manage and some extra caution to ensure that her blade didn't give away her position she felt somewhat confident that she might be able to approach unnoticed.

But then again, when do anything ever go ever go according to plan?

She had all but reached her final destination was about to begin her recon when her foot fell upon a dead branch that gave way underneath her. There was a loud "crack" as the branch broke off from its supporting trunk and fell to the ground. It almost took her with it, but she managed to reach her left arm up and grab another branch. She hung from the silent and still as death, waiting to see if the demon knew where she was.

It seemed the gods weren't so cruel that they would throw her entire plan into the wind, the beast still had no idea where she was. It knew she was there though. Just was the shinigami began to pull herself up and back onto a stable branch she heard a voice hollering insults only a few yards off. She was impressed by its vast knowledge of insults, if she had been anyone else chances were good that he would have succeeded in provoking her into an attack, but She wasn't that easy to bait.

As she found her footing beneath her again she found herself silently chuckling at the monsters attempt to lure her out. With a renewed sense of caution she made her way slightly closer to the source of the demonic energy, finally managing to get within sight range. It looked like some sort of anthropomorphic wolf creature wearing a cross between human and shinigami clothing. She had heard of bipedal animal-like creatures in the wilderness, but this was her first time seeing a truly wild one (she had seen a few "tame" ones in the academy.

What perplexed her though was why what looked to be a member of a beast clan was giving off an aura similar to a demon escaped from hell. If the creature had actually appeared to be a more stereotypical looking she would have gone in swinging without a second thought, but this situation was unique and she had to pause to think about it for a moment. While she considered her options her potential enemy continued to rattle off one insult after another.

Despite its annoying habit of shouting incredibly vulgar insults Yetsuna decided to grant it the benefit of the doubt. The Gotei's history was riddled with the bodies from those shinigami had killed due to misunderstandings and she didn't want to add another body if she could avoid it. Maybe with a bit of luck she had just discovered something completely unheard within the Gotei and would be able to convince it to go back with her for some studies.

She stood to her full height from the crouched position she had been in and adjusted her uniform slightly, she had forgotten/had no time to put her chest wraps back on before she dashed out the door and she was paying for it. Because her uniform was form fitting she ran a minimal risk of ever encountering a wardrobe malfunction, but the uniform would slide this way and that causing some slight discomfort. After she had adjusted herself she took a step off of her branch and fell towards the ground.

Her landing wasn't flashy or loud, but unless the creature was trying to ignore her he would see her. Her zanpaktou was still in hand and her guard was fully up, but she showed no signs of going on the offensive, rather she actually seemed friendly. She had a smile on her face and a warmth in her eyes that made her seem like she could easily be trusted, regardless of the fact that she was holding a weapon in her hand. "If you really do wanna work something out I do have a few questions for you," she said to the creature with tone so overcast by smart-assishness it was almost impossible to to smirk at.

[Skoll Koryu]

“Ah fuck... not one of you black-robed assholes.” It was obvious that Skoll was not the least bit pleased when he noticed the young woman emerging from the trees, his club still raised aggressively. The half-demon wolf paced with an almost nervous energy, but his expression didn't show fear or concern, more a frustration that was growing by the moment. His tail chains clanked and clattered as they dragged across the ground, bouncing off of the uneven turf, but he wasn't yet advancing for combat. Quite frankly, Skoll wasn't sure he could compare to a Shinigami in combat, short of some new Academy stripling who had only just gotten his robes. Picking a fight wasn't in his best interest.

Yet Skoll had never been one to act in his best interests, and it didn't help that the individual before him was a Shinigami. The half-demon had never had a good relationship with Shinigami before, kept out of sight whenever they came to trade with his pack for supplies in exchange for keeping Hollows in their territory away from the city, and treated like nothing but a fiend whenever they sensed his Reiatsu. Skoll couldn't help that his Reiatsu was Hellish in nature; if he had his choice, he'd have been a full Beast-Clansman, without a strong soul, developed in the physical arts and able to live freely among his pack. But fate was a bitch, as he always said, and not the kind that the males of his pack liked; as a result, Skoll had to deal with what he had.

The woman had her sword out, and that alone was enough to make Skoll wary. Shinigami with their swords drawn were always suspicious, hateful, willing to pick a fight just because they wanted to. Though he had never had the displeasure of being on the wrong side of a sword, the Nakabakki didn't want to sample the experience either. He knew nothing about this woman; how fast she was, how strong she was, and what sort of techniques she knew were all beyond him. The former two only mattered so much as it came to physical combat; Skoll was almost hoping that this one was a Kido specialist, because that meant that the terms of battle were far more even. Of course, given that her sword was drawn, the chances were slim, but the half-demon could only hope.

Skoll had discovered his unique talent some years ago, though in his endeavors to stay away from people as a whole, he had not taken much opportunity to make use of it. His body was, as Odin called it, a conduit of sorts; thanks to the unique nature of his soul, Skoll was not only stronger spiritually than other Beast-Clansmen, but he could actually take attacks that hit him and learn their nature, breaking them down more by instinct than knowledge and learning to make use of them himself. A hybrid of species and ever in flux between the two, it seemed that the instability that came from his Hellish half also gave him the ability to shift and alter his own spirit to adapt to whatever ability he learned, enabling him to draw from a wide pool of abilities that would be the envy of any fighter... assuming that anyone gave a damn about him aside from the fact that he was a monster.

That was why Skoll was hopeful that this woman was a technique fighter and not a swordsman, because that way he could not only pick up a few new tricks to make his Hollow-wrangling a little easier. He had seen a few Shinigami Kido in action before, mostly the basic techniques like a Sho or a Byakurai, but even the basics would work for him; he had the spiritual power to make them really do some damage. Goading the Shinigami into using such techniques would be the first line of business, of course, but once they were used... Skoll had quite a surprise in store. He fought back a smirk, especially as another thought ran through his mind.

Odin had said that he wasn't allowed to kill Hollows. He had never mentioned Shinigami.

Doing so was bad, Skoll knew, but he didn't really give a damn. This person was stopping him first, and had their blade drawn, ready for combat. If he “accidentally” used a little lethal force, then whoops, someone died. He was still defending himself and, with luck, Odin wouldn't chew him out for excessive force. All he had to do was get the Shinigami to make the first blow, and it would no longer be his fault. Seireitei needed to keep a better leash on its dogs, anyway. With that in mind, Skoll let his gaze drop; he refused to look the woman in the eye, and let his gaze drop southwards, towards her chest. In all honesty, his interests leaned the other way, but the half-demon knew very well how sensitive human females were to having their chests stared at, like they were an object instead of a person. The women of his pack didn't mind so much, even though they kept to human standards of modesty in case of visitors, but humans were very sensitive to such matters.

And of course, because of his big mouth, he had to make it worse. Ignoring the woman's initial query, Skoll let his club lower slightly, resting on his shoulder now. “Hey there, big and beautiful,” the lupine started out, his gaze making it very obvious that he was talking less to the woman and more directing his attention at her breasts, “What's a lovely pair o' melons doin' in a forest like this? I didn't think they grew so fuckin' big on their own. No way that's natural.” Grinning in a lewd manner—an expression he'd normally direct at someone who actually aroused his interest as opposed to some woman who was threatening him—the wolf made a show of licking his lips before letting his gaze idly drift upwards, pausing on the Shinigami's face as if only just noticing she was there.

“Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't notice that there was a human mongrel around. Shouldn't you be off yanking on your chain in Seireitei, wench?” His expression had shifted towards something bored, but then he almost seemed to pause, his eyebrows lifting. That grin slowly grew back to its original width, pointed teeth showing. “Unless of course you're here to yank somethin' else, mm? You the kind of fucker who wants a taste of the wild side?” He straightened up to his full seven and a half foot height, standing above the woman and leering down at her. “I hope you like 'em big, 'cause it's not just my height that's above average.”

“Of course, if you're not here for a little fun, then I'm gonna have to fuck you up in a whole other way, and let's just say it'll be just as messy. I haven't seen a human's brains splattered across a tree in a while; maybe it'll be a little fuckin' artistic.” With that he stepped forward, hefting his club in his hand again, that grin remaining on his face. “You better have some magic or somethin', 'cause otherwise you're going to be a fuckin' masterpiece in a few moments. So what'll it be, doll? I'm gonna get some pleasure out of this either way.”

[Yetsuna Yishnir]

It was fairly obvious by the creatures reaction that there was no love lost between him ans shinigami, then again shinigami weren't exactly known for their diplomatic relations. She remembered that during her years at the academy many of the instructors attempted to drive hard line value into them, namely racial ones. Many of the recruits fell into that racial superiority thought trap, that shinigami were, more or less, the supreme force in the universe and that everything and everyone else was meant to be slain or suppressed.

She didn't know much about the history of the Seireitei and she knew even less about how it had interested with the Beast Clans in the past, but based on the history she did know, and this creatures reaction, something told her that interactions hadn't been overly pleasant. Yetsuna didn't intent to be the one to fix the relationship either, for the moment she was more concerned with this specific beast than their race. But it seemed that the wolf had some interests of his own.

The creature had quickly glanced over when she had landed and let his eyes settle on her breasts, before making a rather vulgar remark. Yetsuna might actually have been slightly offended by his remarks if it wasn't such an obvious ploy, the sudden change in tone and speech pattern gave it away. While it's not unheard of for people to change their actions when around someone of the opposite sex he would have a better chance at selling the act if he hadn't made his remark about shinigami before talking about her.

As he talked the green haired shinigami feigned letting her guard down, even setting the tip of her blade in the ground next to her, before deciding to have some fun of her own. She had no interest in bedding an anthropomorphic animal, but that didn't mean she could have some fun with the idea. Even if the race hadn't been a disqualifier there was a list of traits as long as her arm that would have broken the deal.

As he commented about the naturalness of her god given good she took a breasts in each and squeezing them slightly and lifting to emphasize their size. "Nope, my girls a completely natural. Maybe if you ask nicely I'll even prove it to you," her tone was as flirty as anything the Clansmen might have ever heard, but it was all a false lead on, if her tried to act on it, he'd be severely disappointed.

If her first comment wasn't enough to disarm him she continue to play along with him, and he gave her the perfect opportunity to do so. He began to make some rather obvious innuendos about pulling some objects, a perfect set up for her. Keeping her hands on her chest and squeezing them occasion for some added emphasis, "Pulling is only nice for the male. If I'm gonna put in some effort I want something out of it too. Heck who knows what'll happen, I'm in the mood for something salty tonight."  

Assuming he kept going he would finally say what she figured was going to be the inevitable conclusion of their encounter. "Well I only had a few question for you, but..." she paused has she released her breasts and grabbed her sword, "I've never been one to shy away from a fight." She took typical combat stance, turning her left side towards the enemy and extending her left arm out slightly while she held her right hand, and her sword, behind her. "You might want to rethink your killing intentions, however, if you don't I doubt it'll be my brain all over the trees.

Yetsuna felt confident about her combat ability and her ability to take on the creature before her and win, her spiritual power was slightly more power than the demon Clansmen. She would prefer to avoid killing him, she wanted to know why his spiritual power was tainted with that of a demons, but she wasn't going to put herself at the disadvantage of attempting non-lethal blows while he was trying to rip out her throat. 

She would watch the beast careful to try and gauge what he was going to do. She preferred going on the offensive when she could, but when she encountered a new enemy she would let them have the first few moves. It let her gauge their speed and strength as well as a small glimpse of their fighting tactics, all useful information to someone who specialized purely in swordsmanship. The fact the wold was holding a makeshift club from a branch he and taken off the ground had not escaped her, it meant he had no true manufactured weapon on his person, but that didn't rule out the possibility of natural weapons.

[Skoll Koryu]

Well, that was unexpected. Normally women were disgusted by Skoll's attempts at crudeness, and either rebuffed him or, in some cases, attacked him. The fact that this one seemed to return his faked attempts at flirting was either a very bad thing—a very bad thing, as Skoll couldn't really act upon it, given that he had zero interest in the more annoying of the two genders—or she was screwing with him too. Given that she had no talent at acting, there were plenty of cues that it was the latter, and Skoll was suspicious. There were probably more, given that his ability to read such cues was extremely limited, but it was obvious enough that the woman had seen through his game, and was trying to turn the tables.

Yet despite knowing this, and knowing that it would be best to drop the charade at this point, Skoll had one particular aspect about him that was a part of the “Big Bad Fuckin' Wolf” image; he was not only blunt, brash, and crude, but he was prideful, unable to let anyone best him. And that was why, as opposed to dropping the act and just attacking, he had to continue. Mentally, he winced; he really didn't want to have to really get into it with this woman, but at the same time he couldn't let a trace of his uncertainty show. If it came down to it, and she really wanted something from him, well... they'd deal with it at that intersection. Skoll hoped to whatever gods were out there that they wouldn't make him go through that.

“All natural, eh? One hundred percent farm-fuckin'-fresh, baby? Sounds like a shitty scam to me, but I might buy into it if they're good enough.” Her counter-offer to let her “prove” to him that they were natural made him shiver internally again; he cared little for the female's breasts, and as she actually started toying with them in front of him, it was all he could do to conceal his revulsion. Ugh, maybe she really was into the whole idea of bedding an animal? Gross, that's what this gal was. Yet the contest was still on, and backing down was not an option. Giving way would be admitting defeat, and fuck doing that. She wanted to play hardball, then he was going to fuckin' give her a curve to make her head spin.

She returned his next comment, yet even as she did, he grinned, a smile that said “oh, baby, I knew you wanted me.” Skoll would approach in that moment; it wasn't threatening, yet it was with a dominant, overbearing air that suggested that she would do whatever he wanted in a moment. “Oh, is that so? If you're hungry, whore, far be it from me to keep you waiting.” He made a motion, an exaggerated show of reaching down to undo the belt around his waist, even undoing the button on his jeans; they were tight enough on him that doing so did nothing to their ability to hang on his form, so the act wouldn't run the risk of leaving himself unintentionally exposed. “If you can work your mouth as well as you can run it, we'll have a good fuckin' time tonight, in more ways than one.”

Of course, even as he was saying that, the woman was taking his last statement seriously. She wanted a fight, judging by her words; her act fell apart, and the winner of this contest was Skoll. Grinning even more widely, even though his victory had been enormously insignificant, the wolf took the time to re-fasten his jeans and belt, acting casually even as the woman prepared her weapon in a common battle stance. Left foot forward suggested that her right hand was her dominant one, especially as it held her sword; even if she was ambidextrous, humans were rarely the same with their feet. The right hand was the one to watch when it came to her weapon.

Skoll himself was technically ambidextrous, using both hands to their fullest, but at the same time he rarely held a weapon. The club in his hand was held in his right, but in all honesty, in either hand he'd be just as inept with it as in the other. No matter what, that club was going to be mostly ineffective against the sword directly. At best, it would be a tool for beating the woman's head in, and perhaps breaking a few ribs. Maybe if she screamed for mercy long enough he'd acquiesce; getting blood on his fur was a pain, even if it didn't show up; Odin would smell it from a mile away and chew him out even with an explanation. But then again, if he was careful, maybe he could still show this human wench who was the top dog here...

Bah, I don't know if she just didn't take the fuckin' bait or she's just a swordswench. Whatever, I'll just beat the shit out of her either way. With that, Skoll hefted his club again, but he didn't make the first offensive move. Instead, he just stood apart from the woman, watching and waiting. She was probably doing the same, a show of will between the two of them to see who would act first. Unfortunately, Skoll knew that he couldn't do so, or his pretext for beating the bloody hell out of this cocky woman would go up in smoke. God, what he wouldn't give to not feel a tie to his pack, able to cut himself off and do as he wanted of his own free will. Conscience was more of a bitch than the gal before him, that was for sure.

Well, a stand-off was no problem, and Skoll had the best method of drawing out some aggression from his opposite. All he had to do was shit-talk more about the Shinigami, and this woman would no doubt react. After all, they were all so prideful about their race when most of them were as monstrous as he was. And Skoll had a few choice morsels to throw out. “C'mon, now, baby, you just gonna sit there and fuckin' look pretty? 'cause the last one's not workin', lemme tell ya. Gettin' a better look at ya, you seem a little lopsided. And lemme tell ya, I don't think most people lean the way your rack does!” He let out a crude, mocking laugh. “Besides, don't ya shitty-gami always start the fights? First ya murder the Quincies, then screw up all those projects and kill them too... so are we Beast-Clan next? 'cause if you want a piece of me, then come fuckin' take it. We all know your kind are the real animals here!”

[Yetsuna Yishnir]

She found herself amused by how intent the demonic wolf was on keeping the exchange between the two of them going. He had a response for everyone of her own, not that she was the least bit surprised; they were throwing sexual vulgarities at each other, not having a intellectual debate. If she had had any desire to she could have kept their exchange going, but she saw no benefit in continuing to massage her breasts, as nice as it felt, or teasing the monster.

Or maybe torturing may have been the more apt term; she kept noticing small hints in actions that told her he wasn't enjoying their encounter much. Her main guess was that he wasn't into human females. Just like how most humans, including herself, wouldn't exactly jump at the idea of having relations with a humanoid animal it stands to reason that the inverse would be true. There was a small handful of other ideas for the wolfs distaste of the unfolding events, but that seemed the most likely.

In contrast to the Clansmen she was actually having a fairly amusing time. While she didn't care much for who she was doing it to, Yetsuna was having fun with the actual teasing. Of the many words some people would use to describe her "self-conscience" would not be one of them, it was actually quite the contrary, she was a open book when it came to her sexuality. She still did have her dignity as a woman, she knew that she wasn't just some piece of ass, but those men who did treat her respectfully, those who were truly kind to her, they would likely end up finding themselves having a very fun night.

The shinigami was fairly surprised at lengths the wolf was willing to go to sell his little charade, even deciding to undo his pants and beginning to take a step forward. It was almost all she could do from bursting out into laughter at a vain attempt to get her to cringe; she had been a dive bar in the world of the living on a Saturday, she had seen worse. She couldn't resist responding to such an attempt, even though she didn't really want to, "I'm not sure what I'm lookin, but it sure doesn't seem like much." 

The thought of attacking the creature with his pants unfastened did cross her mind, but she wouldn't do it, it was a underhanded trick and she didn't use those kind of tactics without provocation. Even to this date Yetsuna had only resorted to dirty fighting tactics a handful of times after her opponent having them used on her. On one of those occasions a shinigami (oddly enough) found himself with her foot between his legs; he learned fairly quickly not to mess with her again, nut as long as the wolf didn't use any cheap tricks, neither would she.

Finally his invite for a fight came and she took up her weapon while the, could she even really call this thing a "demon" considering the ridiculousness that had just transpired, adjusted his pants. Normally Yetsuna would have asked the creature if he was sure he wanted to battle, she liked to give her opponents a chance to back down before the blows started flying. She decided to not bother wasting her breath on the question, the beast had been looking for a fight from the second she accidentally gave away her presence. There was one thing she was curious about before they fought though.

"Tell me something wolf boy, you look like a Clansmen, but you stink of hell. My initial guess would be to say you're a Saiki, but to my knowledge that can't infiltrate the Soul Society, only the World of the Living, so what exactly are you?" the question was a genuine one, her tone showed that well enough, and maybe with some luck she could get her "friend" to answer her question before she pile drove him into the ground. Chances were if her could store that bravado of his for a moment to give her an honest answer she would indulge him by answering a question of his own, afssuming her had one.

After her question had been answered, or at least responded too, the wolf would once more begin to hurl insults at the green haired girl. As he began to shout a bored look would cross Yetsuna's face, "This? again? Really?" She would leave her combat stance and stand regularly before adjusting her top and speaking again, "If you're to scared to take the first swing all you have to do is say so and I'll be more than happy to come at you first." Her voice was a faux boredom mixed with an obvious taunt. She wasn't really trying to accomplish anything by her tone, she was just getting a point across. 

To the Clansmens credit he did manage to strike a bit of a nerve with his comeback about the Quincy genocide. It didn't make her angry, but it wasn't too hard to tell she wasn't happy to hear what the wolf was saying, not because he was dredging up old history, but because of his choice of words. "If what you said was true you'd be missing your head and we wouldn't be talking. I try to talk to my opponents before I fight to make sure innocent lives aren't lost. Besides the Quincies and Mod Souls were long before my time." Her tone was fairly flat, not in a angry or pissed off way, but more in a "matter-of-fact" style.

The shinigami was still in a normal standing pose when she gave her rebuttal and she continued to stand regularly afterwards too, but she still watched the wolf closely in case he decided to become daring. She doubted he would make any move though, for his big talk and bluster there was something holding "demon" back, though what it was was anyone's guess. She just hoped it wouldn't cause the creature to hold back during the fight, she either wanted the creature to fight her with everything it's got or not at all.

[Skoll Koryu]

Well, that last little gambit failed, and Skoll withheld a sigh. He was quite confident in his masculinity—both physically and emotionally—but it just wasn't worth the effort with this chick. For whatever reason, she seemed intent on playing hard to get with no substance, even after their little game had ended. Last word, much? Gods, women. Can't fuckin' stand them. This is why I like men. Still, she was at least polite enough to wait for the half-demon to make himself somewhat decent before continuing; at least that was a mark in her favor—wait, was that a smirk on her face? Goddamnit, he should have known! It only got worse as she commented; if it weren't for the dark black fur covering his body, the Shinigami would have known she had won a point by how flushed with anger his face was getting.

He managed to keep it somewhat under control, however, giving a shorter, more blunt remark than the past few, indicating that she was getting beneath his skin. “Hmf, well you are a freak. I bet you're a fan of riding horses... if you know what I mean.” Not a single curse in all of that? She really was getting to him! But then again, it was easy enough to get beneath Skoll's skin, given his short temper and his expectation that the world was comprised of assholes; this woman was not the first to do so, and would be far from. It just irked Skoll that she got to him, and that annoyance grew into an anger at being angry and... gah! He was going in circles at this point, and that was pissing him off! This whole situation was starting to piss him the fuck off, and he was about to get primal on someone just to let a little steam out.

But again, that restriction held him back, and he wanted to howl in frustration as that only continued to add to his temper! Fuck Odin and fuck his code of conduct and fuck his need to be cordial to these shitty humans who thought they owned the world! And then that anger turned back as Skoll berated himself. And fuck you too, you stupid fucking half-breed bastard! You can't just fucking let that pack of judgmental assholes go just because they're your mom's people and there's a half-decent asshole among the rest! Get the fuck over it and just do what you want to do! Yet even as he thought that, Skoll knew that he couldn't do it; whatever these invisible ties were that kept him connected to the Volsung pack despite their general attitude towards him, he couldn't sever them just by willing it. Somehow, these people who looked down on him like a leper were still important to him somehow.

And if that wasn't enough, the fucking bitch had to go and question his goddamn parentage. When it came to ways to really get him pissed off, there was nothing worse than asking about his heritage and where he came from. This, compared to his already seething anger, was enough to draw a visibly enraged expression from him; those golden eyes narrowed, becoming fiercer, and his lips curled back in a snarl, revealing sharply pointed teeth. His feet dug into the ground, his stance becoming more aggressive as he leaned forward slightly, poised to move with either two or four legs as needed to close the distance between the two of them. Yet he held back; he was still rational enough not to start an incident... not yet, anyway.

Still snarling, Skoll practically spat out his answer. “What, you fuckin' blind, horsewhore?” Not his best choice of insult, but he wasn't rational enough to make something clever up on the spot. “Ya can't tell that I'm the Big Bad Fuckin' Wolf? Those knockers of yours got all the brains instead of your head? Don't be fucking stupid.” He straightened a bit, still glaring daggers from his glimmering golden eyes. “C'mon, open your eyes, and feel the fuckin' flames of Hell. Can't ya feel a little damned yourself just bein' near me? You're certainly enough of a sinner yourself, fuckin' around with a hellhound like me.”

“Hmph, you think you fuckin' shitty-gami are so big and mighty, yet you've got Hollows invading your forest, bothering the packs whose territory they invade. Why don't you stop talkin' and do your fuckin' job before you claim that a Hell being can't get in?” He took a step forward; his stance was clearly threatening at this point. “Seriously, you fuckin' idiots are so goddamn incompetent...” His breathing was heavier, his eyes even angrier at this point. It seemed that there was something hitting particularly close to home at this point. What came next was practically screamed at the woman. “YOU FUCKERS CAN'T EVEN KEEP A GODDAMN DEMON FROM INVADING MY PACK AND SIRING FUCKING HALF-BREED MONSTERS LIKE ME!”

Anyone who knew Skoll—which was limited to his pack, mostly—would understand suddenly just why he was so angry at this point. Raised on tales of a mother who had died from complications after the birth of her half-demon child, a saint among her people who was tainted and ravaged by a demon, Skoll had every reason to be pissed off about his origins. Some of it was self-directed; if he had never been born, Freya might not have died, and he never would have had to have dealt with all the hatred directed at him. The rest was directed at Fenrir, the name given to the goddamn demon who had decided to bust his way into the Volsung den, killed Freya's mate and her two cubs, and then proceeded to deflower her. That goddamn bastard...!

Fenrir was the greatest source of Skoll's anger, though, especially because he was that fuckin' monster's spawn, making him a monster by blood. If that demon had never showed up, he never would have been born, never would have had to be a freak in the packs eyes. Days of loneliness, isolation, separation, and judgment would never have happened. Better to not live than to have to go through that nightmare again! It was because of him that Skoll was this half-demon nightmare, a monster that everyone within a goddamn mile seemed to sense for his Hellish aura. And there was nothing he could do about it except fucking grin and bear with it!

Skoll didn't even hear the woman's response at this point; his temper was utterly shot. He didn't care how these Shinigami tried to justify themselves, either. They had proven themselves to be just as monstrous as the races whose lives they had claimed, and this one could surely be no better. Better to rip out her throat while he was here; it would be one less of their number to deal with when the Shinigami one day decided that the Beast-Clan was the next great “threat to the worlds.” Instead, even as she tried to argue with him, Skoll simply cut her off; he had no desire to hear her talk anymore. “Shut your fucking mouth and get over here! You want a fight, you goddamn Shinigami? Then come and get it!”

[Yetsuna Yishnir]

well, it seemed her little jab at the wolf's manhood had managed to get under his skin. Of course she couldn't really tell visually, the fur that covered his face made facial expressions difficult to read, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable, his eyes also betrayed some of his rage, having the telltale glint of the anger. She was actually kind of surprised that the insult had managed to rile him up, he didn't seem like the type that was hard to piss off, but of everything that could have done to piss him off she wouldn't have guessed a joke about his dick size would have done it.

The fact that it struck a nerve did raise a question about the size manhood to her, but it was the kind of curiosity best characters by just a odd desire to know. On a personal level she couldn't have cared less about his size, it's not like she ever planned to do anything about it, but for her joke to strike a nerve told her that he must have been decently small, at least compared to his friends. She would keep the curiosity to herself though, she didn't really need to know and didn't really see a benefit in riling the beast up more than he already was.

His reply to her was amusing somewhat amusing, and from her point of view, a desperate attempt to get some kind of shot on her, belying just how under his skin she had gotten. Rather than doing some vulgar and rude retort and cursing excessively, he just called her a sick horse fucker. With everything that had just occurred, between him unzipping his pants to him desperately trying to insult her, she couldn't help but finally let out the laugh she had been holding back. It wasn't an obnoxious one, but it was easily noticeable and fully genuine.

After a few seconds she regained her composure and posed him her question about his heritage. The answer she got wasn't the one she had really been hoping for, but it was on par with what she had expected. Once more he called her a horse fucker (if he was going to insist on insulting she would have liked something original, the same insults loose their novelty fast)  took a shot at her cup size and then went into a long string of profanity and pointing out the obvious. The end of his rant did glean her the information she had desired.

It also gave her a fair amount of insight into the demonic wolf, probably more than he realized he had just given. Based on how he said it she had a working hunch that told her that the Clansmen before had a great deal of loathing for himself, though the exact reason why eluded her. The most obvious reason to her was just his demonic heritage, such a bloodline would leave anyone an outcast, even in the most tight knit of societies. Because of that he grew to hate himself, and, based on the temper he had expressed thus far, everyone else. 

With the information she had just received she was tempted to try and call off the fight that had been building up to this point, but she knew the wolf had built up to much rage for it to be dispersed with the offer of a handshake and truce. She would have to play it out until he had had a chance to vent his rage or try to disable his and force him to calm down. The former of the far more preferable option of the two, but based on his anger level she had a feeling that to let him work out his emotions would take a long time and put both of them in danger of getting some serious injuries. She decided the her better option was to go for the latter, it might hurt him a bit more, but it was less risky. 

The green haired shinigami had been thinking of replies to his rant, but she knew that almost anything she said would have just enraged him more, so she opted for a simple, neutral reply. "Ah, well, I must say that certainly does explain a bit," she said in a tone conveying revaluation. She was doing her best to cover up the sympathy in her voice, and doing a fairly decent job at it, but if someone was really watching and analyzing the tone of her voice they would notice a small shift from earlier.

Finally the time for the battle came.

At his invitation Yetsuna dashed towards the wolf at full speed, her bastard-sword length blade low and towards the ground, prepped to strike from the wolf's left hip diagonally across towards his right shoulder. She was fairy sure that he would see the attack and either block it or dodge it. She hoped he would block it, giving her a chance to slice the makeshift club in half; the weapon gave him the potential for extra damage and the sooner that was out the better.

She didn't like blunt weapons. Blunt weapons one of the most dangerous weapon types to shinigami. Disregarding extreme hemorrhaging shinigami were largely immune to bleeding out. A similar concept applied to muscle damage, while it would hurt, the body of a shingami could still power through most of the injuries. Broken bones were one of the only injuries that could stop a death god dead in their tracks.

[Skoll Koryu]

I'm gonna kill her... The words echoed in Skoll's head as he stood there, ranting and yelling. Despite the bluster, the rage, the anger, all of the fury that he expressed was nothing like the cold flames burning within him. Emotion was pushed to its fullest, the heat of it pushing him to a fever pitch, yet at the core there was a decision as cold as ice. He would kill this Shinigami, rip her apart, watch her entrails spread along the ground. It wasn't just a bluff, a threat to scare her; somewhere inside him, born of the anger that he was boiling over with, Skoll truly wanted this woman to die. He didn't even need a why; he just knew that he was going to fight with the intent to murder her. And it felt right.

I'm a monster... a sinner, a scion of Hell. I can never change that. This was the other half of his soul's core belief, the realization of and understanding that his nature was monstrous at best. He truly was a demon, his desire to kill coming from some simple words exchanged between himself and the Shinigami. With normal people, anger might lead to a raised voice, maybe a fist fight, but with Skoll? He wanted to murder this woman. Hell, half of the reason he was mad wasn't even her fault, but he didn't care. He wanted to tear something apart, to shred it, to cover the ground with glistening red blood. The darkness in his soul, the primal sin that he had inherited from Fenrir's evil nature, demanded it. It demanded that the woman suffer, that she feel pain, that she drown in agony. And I'm too weak to stop myself from giving in.

I am a monster. And so, I will be one.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU GODDAMN BITCH!” Back to the real world, where the Shinigami was talking once more. Her dismissive answer to his rage was infuriating, pissing him off even more. Who the fuck did she think she was, pushing off his origins as though they were nothing? He was a goddamn hellspawn, the son of a fucking demon of all things, and yet she stood there impassively, her response so fucking neutral that it almost sounded condescending. And that really pissed him off; Skoll's fur bristled, his eyes were bloodshot, and his ears were laid back while his teeth were bared. All of these were signs that he was ready to do some serious damage, and anyone who was even slightly familiar with the habits of animals would recognize it.

Yet the woman charged, her sword in her hand. She had her blade ready, pointed towards him; it seemed that she, too, would be going for the kill. That was fine; Skoll had ever reason to kill her, and so it was only fair that she would do the same. One of them wasn't going to be walking away from this encounter. But the half-demon had every intention to make the Shinigami into the corpse that was left behind, and so, as she approached him with her sword, he tensed up, his feet digging into the ground. He brought his club up above his head, and prepared to smash it down on her head. The Shinigami, likely, had anticipated this move; her sword came up towards Skoll's side and carved upwards, aiming to slice from his hip across.

It didn't take much to piece everything together. The attack would cut deep, tearing into his hip, and would either start to cut into his stomach and let his viscera spill out. If he hadn't already raised his weapon above him, Skoll could have lowered the club to block the attack, likely enduring a single hit without breaking but leaving his weapon damaged to the point where even blunt impact could snap it in half. While he wasn't particularly attached to the limb, it was heavy and sturdy enough to cause some serious damage to a person's skull. But because it was in position, he couldn't use it to defend. He couldn't dodge, either, at his current angle, as he was committed to forward motion; at best, he could accelerate and bodily slam into the woman, getting within her guard and making use of a sword questionable at best with no room to swing it around. He lacked the ability to use a stepping technique such as Shunpo or the like—though that would change if the woman had the brains to use it offensively, slamming her body into him, as that would be enough of a catalyst for him to pick up the ability—so short of closing in, avoidance wasn't an option.

So without being able to block or dodge, there was only one answer: to take the hit, and turn it back on the Shinigami. Skoll grinned, a malicious and hateful expression, and even as he raised his club and started to bring it around for a downwards slam, his Reiatsu started to diminish. To the Shinigami, it likely seemed like he had stopped trying to flex his Reiatsu to intimidate her, but in truth, he was siphoning his spiritual strength into a defense, adding to the scope of his spirit by thinning out the sheer force of it. One of the things that he had learned he could do was make use of an ability called “cutback,” something that most Beast-Clansmen did not exploit due to their weak spiritual abilities. When one clashed with a spiritual being, the strength of their spirit could repel someone without the sufficient scope of spirit to break through. This was the exact technique that Skoll was making use of, even as the Shinigami's weapon came up and struck at his side.

The weapon would rebound off of the half-demon's hip as though striking steel, the sudden stop likely leaving the woman's arms vibrating from the impact, but more importantly the follow-up was where it really counted. The sheer scope of Skoll's spiritual mass was enough to cause the force to rebound back along the blade, tearing into the Shinigami's arms and leaving light lacerations along the hands and wrists, small wounds that would bleed without nullifying use of the limbs. There was probably some minor soreness to the muscles and bones, as well, but unfortunately, Shinigami were pretty damn resilient; at best, it would serve as a deterrent for further attacks, possibly getting her to lower her guard in an attempt to back down, which would be a clear opening for Skoll to strike. At worst, she got serious and released her Zanapaktou; most Shinigami seemed to have at least that much ability available to them, so Skoll was somewhat wary despite his anger.

But anger was what fueled him to finish his strike. Even as the woman was swinging her sword, his club was coming down at as well. Though his strength was far from exceptional, something that had always made him stand out among his fellow pack members, Skoll was still about equal to the average human's strength, and his club would still crack down hard right on the Shinigami's head. The half-demon had not held back his strike, either, as his club aimed for the woman's skull; given that she was still mid-swing and then would have to deal with recovery from his cutback, odds were it would connect, and unless she was particularly sturdy, it would crack her skull slightly and leave her with a concussion, if not worse. Skoll was hoping it was worse. “What's the matter, bitch, you can't even cut me with that fucking butter knife of yours? C'mon, I thought you'd at least be able to do something! Are all shitty-gami this fucking pathetic!?”

Remaining Reiatsu: 1200/3000 (-300 for RS to SpPr conversion, maximum Reiatsu increased from 1500 to 3000 without adding to current)

New RS: ([100 > 25] x 2) = 50
New SpPR: ([75 > 150] x 2) = 300

[Yetsuna Yishnir]

The Clansmen's anger was amplifying even though she, to her best judgement, hadn't done anything to exacerbate the situation. This was going to make her life more difficult then she wanted; anger tended to lead to murderous intent, which would be directed at her and fighting someone trying to kill you while you just tried to subdue them tended to fights a lot more difficult. She would have liked to try and talk him down, she had no qualms with him on a personal level, and she was fairly sure that the same applied to him.

The wolf wasn't the only one whose past had been scarred by a hollow. When she was young, or younger by Soul Society standards, she had been taken captive by a hollow who had severed her leg. Bleeding and dying it dragged her into the forest to its master, who had a captive of its own; a shinigami. She lost conscientiousness shortly after seeing the shinigami. Her fellow captive, and now captain, Grin, managed to save the two of them from certain death and even though he was battered, bruised, and beaten still managed to carry her back to the Seireitei.

It took her a few days to come to, between the blood loss and her concussion and even after she woke up she remained bed ridden for several days afterward. Squad 4 members took care of her until she was well enough to go back home, their kindness, Grin's will power, and the hollow strength are what molded her into what she was today. Her desire of strength so not to be bested in battle was born of the hollow, her kind disposition of squad 4, and her ability to break through obstacles from Grin.

Yetsuna didn't know the wolf well, but she could tell that rather than taking whatever trauma the hollow had caused and using it to forge a weapon he turned it into hated. While rage could be a weapon in itself, the wolf's was no more a weapon then the branch in his hand, something he found and used with no skill. Once she got him to calm down and they could have a real conversation she could talk him into some training.

She was one of the last person anyone would have guessed knew how to channel anger, considering she rarely, if ever, showed any true physical signs of anger. The truth was was that she was very adept at it, using it and channeling it in a beneficial way rather than letting it over take her and cause her to lash out blindly. The fact she also knew how to curb her own anger if she couldn't channel it somewhere was also a great boon she learned, perhaps that was something else she would be able to show the Clansman.

But all of that would have to wait until the immediate situation was dealt with.

The battle began and Yetsuna made her move and everything went right until the last moment. She saw the instinctive twitch as the demon went to defend himself with his club, but he suppressed it, which, to her, went something really good or really bad was about to happen. Her first guess was that the black haired wolf would take the attack in an attempt to get his own, meaning he was over confident or she was.

Her blade struck his thigh like she had just hit a chuck of adamantium. Vibrations rang through her hand and up her arm, but that sensation was nothing if not familiar to her, no, something more interesting had happened; Her right hand was now bleeding. Seemed that the beast had some spiritual pressure, an odd thing for a clansmen to posses given their almost legendary strength and speed. The pain was minimal compared to other injuries she had sustained in the past, almost like she had just scrapped her knee, but it did put a new angle on the fight.

Immediately after her blade contacted his thigh he brought down his club in an attempt to brain her, though she was far from surprised. Even though he had possessed a means to counteract her attack, it wouldn't have made sense for him just take the attack unless he wanted to get one of his own in. She brought her left arm up quickly over he head so that her forearm would take the blow rather then her head like he had intended.

The club would make impact, but Yetsuna was surprised how weak it was. It only hurt slightly less then the cut back she had just endured a moment ago. Seemed like her new friend was lacking in the strength department. In a normal encounter she would have guessed they had just held back, but the wolf seemed to enraged to take such an action, meaning she had the edge in strength. If she could keep the fight in close quarters she would have the advantage, but there was one problem to deal with first.

She took a great leap backwards to give herself some breathing room and focused. Her eye narrowed on her opponent as she focused on building her spiritual pressure, something she had learned in the academy, but had never had to do in combat before. It was a fairly simple process, all it was was just increasing ones reaitsu output and focusing it, but something about having to do it in combat made it just feel weird, maybe it was the fact that she never thought that she would have to do it.

The green haired shinigami was predisposed to high spiritual power compared to most others and, if she had ever cared to, likely could have inflicted cutback on most of her past opponents. She never did though because to her that took all the fun out of a fight, and most never tried against her because they knew any attempts would be futile. She did have to give the wolf credit he did catch her off guard with his little trick.

The conversion done her eyes returned to normal and she retook her battle pose, "Let's try that again, shall we?" she asked in a surprisingly cheery tone. If he had some more tricks up his sleeve this might be an interesting fight after all.

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}
130 - 75= 55 * (.7)= 39 RS
95 + 75= 170 * (1.5)= 255 SpPr
1430 - 300= 1130 R

[Skoll Koryu]

Skoll's quick maneuver had been effective; even as the Shinigami struck, her weapon rebounded, cuts appearing across her hand and dribbling small amounts of blood. That'd teach the bitch not to mess with him, since she'd be unable to cut him; as long as he kept his defenses up, she'd tire out, and he'd get in a few more hits. Sadly, his original blow hadn't been nearly as impressive as he'd hoped, his low strength showing itself as he fought. It was another drawback from his mixed heritage, sapping away at his physical abilities. While it gave him a spirit that could never be rivaled by any Beast-Clansman, it also made him an easy target as long as he had no way to channel that energy. Memories flooded back, reminding him of the pain his differences had caused.

“What the matter, pup?” A wolf-boy said as he stood over Skoll, having knocked the half-demon to the ground. “Still weak! Not a real beast at all.” A kick was aimed at the Nakabakki's side, and Skoll went to block it instinctively, but even at such a young age, the difference in his physical talents as compared to the other Beast-Clansmen was noticeable. The foot connected with his side, driving the air out of him as he rolled over, and the young wolf-demon let out a cry of pain. Yet that didn't stop the other boy, who gave him another swift kick before laughing. No one around did anything to stop them; an unspoken rule among the Volsung stated that what happened, happened, and that it was up to each of them to claim their own place within the pack. Those who were strong took leadership, while those who were weak were often left to pick at the scraps.

“What good is strong spirit?” The boy asked again, grabbing Skoll by his mane of black fur, tugging him up to his feet. “Beasts can't use spirit. Beasts use body, not soul. You weak, and always weak. At best, you glow like worm.” Grinning, the wolf-child simply dropped his victim to the ground, setting one foot atop the back of Skoll's head and keeping his muzzle planted against the dirt. “Yes, just like worm! Skoll is worm! Worm crawls in the dirt, just like Skoll! Haha!” Skoll tried to let out a whimper, his eyes roaming across the clearing, yet he knew that no one would interfere. It wasn't just the unspoken rule, as many often broke it when their interests required it. But he could feel the judgmental eyes, the audience watching, approving. He knew that no one would ever help a demon like himself. A fiend. Evil.

That had not been the only experience Skoll had suffered through in his childhood, nor would it be the last he suffered in life. He was different, and though he and those he had grown up with were now mature, at least in age, there was still a rift between them. He could see the sneers, feel the contempt whenever he visited Odin. No, there would never be a “last” experience like that, only an unending chain that continued no matter where he went. Among his pack or among the human souls in Seireitei who could sense his Hellish energy, Skoll would never be welcome. Hell, even the Hollows in the forest were more honest than the people around him; at least they were sincere in their desire to kill and eat him, as was their nature. They didn't hate, only devoured.

Maybe other people tempered their anger. Maybe other people let it turn into a strength, focusing it and directing it towards a goal. Maybe other people could forgive and let it go, or maybe other people could change, and break away from the source of their anger. Skoll was not other people, and he never would be. Where another might turn their anger into a tempered sword, Skoll let his anger burn, a scorching inferno that would sweep over everything around him. Whether another might push their anger towards a goal, focusing it into a positive, the half-demon pushed his anger in all directions, that outwards rage a goal in and of itself. And where others would break away from their anger by changing who they were, Skoll could never do that. He could never stop being the cursed half-breed that he knew he was.

“Skoll, we need to talk.” The day of the confrontation, the day that Skoll had first heard the descriptor given to him: monster. Confused, hurt, and uncomprehending, the half-demon had gone straight to Odin, the alpha of the Volsung pack and Skoll's adoptive father. The older wolf was exceptionally wise among the Beast-Clansmen, his fur fading to lighter grays and whites with age, and he was the only person patient and understanding enough to deal with the wild and unruly Nakabakki. “Lately, your behavior has become worse than usual; you've been getting into fights daily, you've been confrontational and disrespectful towards those who should, by rights, rip you apart for your words, and you've shown no sign of stopping any such actions.”

“So what? I'm tired of it. Tired of those fuckers—” A glare from Odin cut the half-demon off, and Skoll quickly revised his words. “...I'm tired of everyone always looking down on me, treating me like dirt. Even the humans are doing it now, and they don't even know about my father! One of them chased me away from their city, calling me a Hellish 'monster' and saying that he wanted to kill me!” Skoll paused, and looked up at his adoptive father, his expression a mixture of frustration and curiosity. “I've never heard that word before, either... what did they mean by 'monster'? Is it an insult or something?”

Odin was silent, and that silence was enough to raise concerns for Skoll. However, the wolf eventually spoke, obviously choosing his words carefully. “A monster is a being that is fearful, often evil, and has nothing but the desire to hurt others.” The rest of the conversation spiraled out of control from that point; as Skoll identified his bastard father with the word, everything seemed to click together. His heritage wasn't just an object of shame, but of scorn and hatred too. The people around him hadn't just disliked him or avoided him, but had hated him, expecting a monster like Fenrir to rise up again. They expected Skoll to be a demon, a creature that would destroy just as readily as Fenrir had all those years ago. And he couldn't bear to ask himself if they were wrong; he didn't know the answer.

Yet years later, here that demon stood, and he had embraced his nature as a monster, pushing away all happiness, all positivity; social relations were impossible, and left alone, the hurt only grew. All that was left was anger, bitterness, hatred, spite. Skoll hated everything and everyone around him. And why shouldn't he? They all hated him. Every. Last. One. And he hated them too. He hated it all, and wanted nothing more than to watch it burn. If the Shinigami's ability to sense energy was stronger, she might have been able to sense the more intricate flow of his spiritual presence, growing more potent in its darkness even as what minor goodness existed started to fade. She'd have been able to see the hatred taking on a more tangible form in his spirit, the Hellish aspect of it growing stronger. As it was, at most the woman would be able to tell is that the air felt heavy, oppressive; not like gravitational presence that would crush her down, but like something large and ominous was looming.

All of this was a cascading chain that came from noticing how weak he was upon striking the Shinigami; it was indicative of the self-hatred and the life of emotional hardship that he had suffered through until now, all compounding on itself once again, as it did every time his attention was drawn to how different he was. He was a monster in head, heart, and soon, deed; he had every intent of eviscerating the Shinigami as soon as he had her stunned or unconscious. His anger burned, a wildfire growing out of control, and even as the woman stepped back, reconsidering her options, that flame was let loose once more.

The woman wouldn't get a chance to speak; even as she broke from her concentration, her own spiritual strength diminishing in the exact same way that Skoll's had, the half-demon had charged in aggressively with a howl of fury unleashed. Anger was starting to override his common sense, his rage making it hard to concentrate, disrupting his ability to analyze the situation and realize that attacking was no longer a safe bet; without the defense that his higher spiritual pressure had given him, Skoll wouldn't be able to defend against a slashing blow from the Shinigami. The woman would be able to cut him in half, if she chose, and he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. This course of action would leave him nothing but injury or death.

Yet he wasn't thinking about any of those things; anger painted a sneer on the woman's face, while hurt turned cheer into condescension. Much of Skoll's anger was the result a self-fulfilling prophecy: he was a monster in his head and heart, because others had claimed him to be so. He had given up on trying to change it, embracing it, and in so doing he had only magnified his self-hatred, magnified the rage that was turned inwards at the demon he was. And so, he did what only an uncontrolled and mindless monster did, attacking blindly with his club swinging up from the ground. It would curve along from the Shinigami's right side, rising up from the ground to strike at her ribs if she didn't avoid or block the blow.

[Yetsuna Yishnir]

Yetsuna finished the conversion of her reaitsu to spiritual pressure and was ready to fight once more. In her usual fashion is was going to make a smart ass remark, but before she could the Clansmen let out a loud and angry howl before charging at her. He was slower than she had expected him to be, especially considering his animal heritage, but his speed was still enough to close the gap between the two of them fairly quickly, at least by human standards. Her standards, however, where a different story.

She quickly looked over the beast, looking for the subtle cues to what his next move would be, when she noticed something interesting; his eyes. It wasn't that they were beautiful or special, but there was a fire in them, not of tempered will and determination, but of anger and rage. He had all but lost his cognitive ability, he was just lashing out blindly at anything in sight. Even assuming her hunch about him being self-loathing was correct, she couldn't figure out what had caused him to so completely lose himself.

The Clansman's fit of rage could play heavily in either of their favors. For Yetsuna it could make him easier to counter and defeat, but conversely it could also make him wildly unpredictable and all the more dangerous. Skoll didn't pose much of a physical threat to Yetsuna, but she didn't know what other tricks he might have up his sleeve and she didn't intend to find out once he had collected himself (assuming he even posses the ability).

She waited for the wolf to close in. 4 feet, 2 feet, and she was within his striking range, but before he could swing she would disappear from his sight, the only sign of her presence was some disturbed dust. Yetsuna used one of the most common, if not the most common, shinigami techniques; A shunpo. It was a simple, but effective technique, and she hoped pairing it with her superior speed would give her a edge she needed to end the fight in a single blow.

When she reappeared she would be behind the Clansman, arm mid-swing to cut him across his back in a semi-crippling, but non-life threatening fashion. Chances were minimal that he would be able to dodge her attack, his speed was significantly lower than hers unless he was concealing is true ability which she doubted considering his state of mind. If the attack did make contact she would take a short jump back giving the two of them some distance once more, just in case her attack didn't take him down.

She'd watch his reaction to her attack, if he want down like she figured/hoped he would she would speak, her voice flat and straight forward, but not disrespectful, "I would prefer we didn't drag this out. After what you told me, I don't need to fight you anymore, if anything I'd prefer to help." After she talked she would lower her guard slightly, trying to show the beast a bit of trust, something she guessed he likely received.