Stonehowl Links Stonehowl Holt's information is hosted on Tawmis' website. You can help ease the burden of bandwidth by making a donation through Payapl.

[quote="krwordgazer"] -something with spring (cleaning/happy/life waking up) -Falling -nuts -an argument -survival -a threat [/quote] Branchsnapper knew he had been caught red-handed. Vineweaver threw his spear and it landed just between Branchsnapper’s feet. Vineweaver smiled, “My challenge is with you. And if you defeat me, Spearclaw will challenge you next. If you defeat him, Stillbreeze will challenge you next. If you defeat her, Warsong and Wardance will challenge you next. If you beat them…” Shadow emerged between Vineweaver and Spearclaw, “I will challenge you.” The gleam in Shadow’s eyes showed full recovery. If Branchsnapper was concerned about having been caught in his scheme, he showed no indication of fear. His long, sandy blond hair blew in the early morning Spring wind, while his green eyes reflected the blooming leaves in the trees. He was calm and tranquil. He smiled at Vineweaver and picked up the spear, placing the wooden end down, then running his right hand across the spear's tip, cutting his palm open, he ran the open wound down the shaft of the spear and threw it at Vineweaver's feet. “I accept your challenge.” The argument would be settled by the Challenge. Vineweaver did the same, now that Branchsnapper had accepted the challenge. This was the method in which the Pridewalkers challenged one another. He picked up the spear, wooden side down, cut his own palm open on the spear tip, and also ran his hand down the shaft of the wooden spear. Having learned this from Spearclaw, he shoved the spear into the ground and held onto the shaft. Branchsnapper nodded, approached, and grabbed onto the shaft as well. Lionheart, as the Sire of the Pridewalkers, announced, “Now walk ten paces from the Challenge Spear, and prepare to battle. The first to use the spear to draw blood from the other is victorious, by any means neccessary.” Lionheart looked at Branchsnapper when he spoke the next few words, “Though this combat is meant to be non-lethal, the one who is victorious shall not be accountable if the loser is slain during combat. It is the Way of the Pride.” Lionheart gave the signal and the challenge had begun. Each of them seemed to circle around the spear, neither of them immediately lunging for its possession. When Branchsnapper did make a lunge for the spear – he was surprised to see a vine, from the tree wrap around the end of the spear, and pull it into the tree as if it were alive. Branchsnapper looked around, “What form of magic is this?” “Tree shaping,” Vineweaver grinned. “He uses magic!” Branchsnapper pointed an accusing finger at Vineweaver. “By any means necessary,” Spearclaw quoted the rules. “It does not exclude magic. Though Magic has existed in our tribe for many, many generations – the rules of Challenge Combat do not specify that it can't be used.” Branchsnapper turned to look at Lionheart for a ruling. The Sire, under the pressure of many eyes upon him, shook his head. “They are right. The Rules of the Challenge never defied Magic as something that could not be used.” Branchsnapper turned and growled furiously. “It matters not! I shall rip your throat out, then dip the spear in your blood!” Vineweaver was extraordinarily calm. “Is that your plan, then?” Branchsnapper lunged forward, but found his feet glued to the ground, so that he had fallen face down. He turned to see the same vines that had entangled the spear, had also entangled around his ankle while he had been standing there, looking to Lionheart for a ruling. The vines then began to slither and wrap themselves, moving up Branchsnapper's body, like a serpent about to squeeze the life out of a rodent before devouring it. Branchsnapper screamed and struggled, but the more he struggled, the more it seemed the vines constricted around him. Vineweaver walked up to Branchsnapper and rolled him over so that he could look into his eyes. “This ends here,” Vineweaver said, his voice devoid of all emotion. “This ends now.” Vineweaver stood, so that he was no longer lingering over Branchsnapper – and suddenly it became clear to the entangled Pridewalker what Vineweaver meant. Just above Branchsnapper, the spear hung about twenty feet. With one command from Vineweaver, the tree and vines would obey his command and release the spear, which was aimed for his eye. The threat was very real. “I surrender!” Branchsnapper cried out. “I surrender, all right! You win the challenge!” “I do?” Vineweaver said, walking around Branchsnapper. “But I have not yet used to spear to draw first blood. The rules, as Spearclaw explained to me, say that neither can surrender during a Challenge until blood is drawn, using the spear.” Vineweaver paused and looked to Lionheart. “Am I correct... Sire?” Once again, Lionheart was forced to agree, nodding his head in silence. Vineweaver kneeled down close to Branchsnapper and whispered, “You're too much of a snake to have tried to pull off what you did by forcing our tribe to divide... Who is behind this? Who wants us gone?” “We all do,” Branchsnapper snarled. Vineweaver looked back at Spearclaw. “I know he doesn't.” “Of course he doesn't,” Branchsnapper growled. “He desires your mate.” “He does,” Vineweaver admitted, “and he confessed as much when I confronted him about it. But he admires her – that's where that desire comes from. I am more flattered than I am threatened by him. But there's someone – someone behind your movements – say who it is. Say his name loud.” “I know not what you speak of, wolf-scum,” Branchsnapper snapped. “Okay,” Vineweaver shrugged. “Then I shall draw first blood by releasing the spear. It should land in your eye, perhaps your mouth... either way, undoubtedly fatal... and since my tribe has all the healers... rest assured, they won't come rushing to your aid.” Vineweaver stood and pointed at the vines holding the spear. Slowly they began to unravel. “Lionheart! Lionheart is the one who has asked me to sew the seeds of discontent between your tribe and ours!” Branchsnapper finally blurted, giving into his fear, his desire for survival. Lionheart roared, leaping towards the center of the ring, but he was suddenly attacked by a black shadow that pushed him off course. A gleaming blade was held to Lionheart's throat. “Just as they had suspected. When I came to – it would seem my tribe had much to tell me... Killing your son... betraying your own tribe... using deceit... lies... trickery... all ways of Man... not elf. You killed your own son... because being a Sire meant more to you than your own flesh and blood... and not only that... you used deception to win... you poisoned your son... Stillbreeze noticed his fighting was slow and sluggish... so you had one of your own loyal to you 'befriend' and 'side' with your son – for the reason of getting close, keeping an eye on your son, and when needed – to poison him – so that you could kill him easily – with little threat to you – during the Sire Challenge.” Shadow pressed the blade closer to Lionheart's throat, so that it drew blood. “I should grant you the same mercy you gave your son.” Shadow got off of Lionheart, and kicked sand in his eyes. “But that would make me no better than you.” Vineweaver looked at Shadow and smiled. He turned his attention on Branchsnapper then released the spear, which missed Branchsnapper's eyes and instead cut off his left ear. “Never let us see either of you puckernuts again.” Branchsnapper ran to Lionheart's side. Lionheart looked at the others and he saw the same judgment in his Pride's eyes. The two fled, under the cloak of the starless night. TO BE CONTINUED?