{Beaten} But not quite __Down__

[Wolfbane]

The rain from last night combined with the Spring heat this afternoon had made it very muggy outside. Heavy panting alerted nature that a creature was lurking about, and he himself knew that he had crossed into new territory. A male wolf with strong, long legs had entered the territory of the Canitao. His nostrils flared, inhaling deeply but seeming to not filter any cool, clean air into his lungs.

"It's... it's too hot." The male wolf huffed, the naturally crimson colored mane down his back seeming lighter as he stepped out into the sun, out of the tree's protection.

His eyesight wasn't the greatest, and he was limping badly as he saw the rushing river just ahead. His black and crimson colored fur was stained, drenching with a red, sticky substance that oozed down his maw, legs, and down his sides. Under the fur were bite marks, and claw marks as well. All too familiar to those of another rouge wolf. With the more prey coming out after the winter, the rouges had more reason to fight over a better, healthier kill... which is exactly what happened to poor Wolfbane. Though, he did win the fight, and he did get to eat the fat hare.

The tall, thin wolf limped forward, now at the river's bank, and plopped down on his side. Wolfbane looked down at his side, and after taking a few laps at the water began to clean his fur with his tongue. It stung badly, the open wounds, but it was better to clean them now than to have it get infected and probably give him another reason to want to die.

[=RACLETT=]

Hope its okay for Valentine to join this post.
Valentine

He was tall and very small weight wise. His hot pink mane wafted in the air as he followed the scent of blood. He looked like a hot pink zebra but he was built like a fox. He paced cautiously through the trees looking around. He probably looked odd to most his star lining his ears neck and jaw all of his legs were a solid pink his tail too, then his body was white and pink zebra stripes. He was quite a site prancing through the forest. He was often criticized by his hunting skills but because of his coloration he had had to learn to hunt differently in order to survive. But now walking to the tree line he licked the sweat from his lips and looked to wards the water. He saw a dark black shape blood red man and blood oozing from his pelt. Taking a step forward he whispered. I could help u. Stop the bleeding I mean I know a few ways. Looking to the right he saw some cobwebs on the leaves of a grass like bush. Pulling them off with his teeth he rolled them into a ball and then rolled them to wards the wolf. Just put it over the wounds. I know more but I will wait for permission. He whispered. Then letting his large ears lye flat he laid down squeezing under a bush with large leafs for shade.

[' ' K.O.T.O.R.I.]

He shouldn't have slept, he shouldn't have, but he did, he did and therefore nothing could be done about it. The same dream - do you get it yet? The same god-damned dream, telling him, warning him. The devil is coming, the savior is here! But not yet, no, not yet but it's close, so close he felt the savior's breath on his fur, warming his bones and making a fire burn. Hah, hah. You heard it right, didn't you? Armageddon -- The Prophet, The Misunderstood, The Savior: he was here in the flesh and he was dreaming. Dreaming things that no one ever dreamt before. The devil was whispering, singing, a high, powerful sound of a wolf's howl, lacing through his bones, giving him power, giving him strength, making him hurry. Hurry, hurry! There was power to be had and he was coming, and he needed his army. Now, Armageddon, the dream was telling him. Hurry up now, I'm coming, I'm coming and I can't do it without you. Hurry, hurry! -- and though he woke with all this energy, all these will to do Armageddon realized there was very little for him to do.

One wolf since the takeover. Just the one. Where had they gone? Probably with the damned un-existing Alphas. Caira and Bane, or some such. He had never really known the brute's name. Had never really seen him, but that was his downfall right there! Right fucking there. He should have showed himself, should have let himself be worshiped. Oh yes, hah, hah. He should have, and things had gone waaaaaaay wrong for him hadn't it? So the wolf, the Black-And-Blue wolf, the Czar, the Emperor, the King of Wings, of Doom, of Catastrophe, hah,hah, well the wolf rose from his dens, -- yes, his, all his. His body shifted as he rose, his body quivering with excitement: a sign was going to be here today. There had to be, though he knew the nature of signs and knew it was not to be so obvious. No, it would be small, but grant such great prizes -- as were with the usual tiding of the Savior, his Devil, his Liege and Master. Oh, master. Padding out of the dens, wings held tight to his back, Armageddon thought about it. Master. Mah-stir. Oh, what a pleasant ring. Should he make his army call him Master? Lord and Master, oh, how quaint. How perfect, how beautiful it sounded to his ears with the rough consonants -- but his mind was drifting and he was moving with it, his body strong though it was lean, though the sun blinded him when he moved from the shadow.

A reflex then -- wings thrust forward, black and beautiful where they block the sun from touching his eyes. A snort. "Goddamn this sun." he murmurs, nose twitches, mouth rolls with the words but he knows he has a mission today, knows it with the surety only a zealot can muster. It has to happen, it just has to. Why would the Devil send him a false dream? It makes no sense, no sense. Hah, hah.

The wolf walks, the wolf runs, the wolf flies -- he's in constant motion today, filling the brilliantly bright morning with dark movement, going from one shadow to the next, following odd scents he had never known, known things he had never before seen. Such an eye-opener this day was becoming for him. From one side of the territory to the next, he roamed, he roamed like he had never thought to roam before, finding paths he had never thought he would need to know -- but ideas were blossoming in his head, his mind, his heart. These paths were secretive, darker paths and in them, things could be done. A hidden attack from an enemy should he find them, an escape if one of the weaker of his army is falling. A vicious smile curls his maw, makes his fangs seem a strange contrast against the darkness of his fur, the bright blue whorls of his body. The Black-and-Blue Wolf walks through the forests, wings folded as he knows the direction of water, knows the thirst which scratches at his throat.

Until, until -- and his ears flick up, a powerful motion as all of his focus alters from the meandering line, from the wandering line, and into one fierce pinpoint of life. No, two. Hackles raise, nose works the air and he scents the two beasts, knows the two beasts and wonders- a tilted head is their saving grace, though they cannot yet see him, though they do not know he yet exists except perhaps for his scent which proceeds him. He moves forward then, this tilted head denying the other instincts which crowd behind his head. Be wolves, he has declared, and he shall be the wolf, though curiosity would be satisfied first. First and foremost.

Base desires must be met before the mind can function properly: it was something he firmly believed in and he let loose his pack to do whatever they desired in that aspect. In this place, in this wolf-land he would create a haven, an army that did not know it was an army. What better way to get loyalty than to give them heaven and to inform them it was going to be taken by an outside force? More fierce the farmer protecting his home than the warrior drafted in the war. Oh yes, he didn't think too well, not really of the smart kind, but Armageddon had been gifted with a plan, a plan of action, of things to do, and it was slowly coming to fruition -- so thank the heavens he followed this creed before he attacked, before the fresh stench of blood made the blood lust roll over his vision and make him see red. Hah, hah.

"Oh-ho-ho, looks like you've got yourself in a little bit of a snarl. Hah, hah." and his voice proceeded him as he walked from the nice covering of the shade, of the shadow -- did they cling to him or was that just a visual illusion created from the darkness of his pelt? -- and stepped into the light. Blue whorls touched his fur, made of him a living black and blue bruise and he loved the sound of it, though the self-determined nickname was a self-derogatory. He had never had a care for that sort of pride. Wings tightened against his back as his muzzle lifted and his blue, stormy eyes met those of the injured party, then slid sideways toward the other, though there was a bit of dismissiveness in that look. Anyone who cowered was only worth half the effort. "I see you, no worries, strange little one. I should call you something, hmm," he peered again at the creature, the wolf for so his scent had named him. "Splatter perhaps, hah, hah."

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word count;; 1161
tags;; Wolfbane||Valentine
OOC;; Sorry I didn't respond sooner!

[/size]

[=RACLETT=]

Some how the other ones words had astonished him. He was there just trying to help. The name is Valentine. Worshiper of the brave and healer of the weak. He came out from the shade now stretching out his pink and black wings. He was bigger and stronger then the other wolf. Now he looked over the other one once more the glint in his eyes the harshness of his words. Apparently my eyes have witnessed wrong. Because you are neither. He growled. His eyes glowed a dark black only a small pink speck lined the inside. He stood now before the other wolf. The others scent told him he was the alpha but that did not mean anything to Valentine not until he was alpha and he would be one soon day. Now he spread his wings his twelve foot wing span was long and his wings could give u a pretty good bruise on the head. He showed his teeth ready for anything. He had energy to waist wings to use and teeth to bite and he would use them if he felt in any way threatened.

Dark clouds gathered above them the trees Branch's suddenly creaked to a halt it grew colder and thunder rolled in the distance a green tinted the clouds showing signs of a horrible storm brewing. Small little speckles of rain soaked his pelt but he didn't flinch he just glared right into the eyes of the evil glaring back.

Sorry its short.
And no u replyed just in time... haha

[Wolfbane]

Wolfbane snorted once, clearing his nostrils for a drop of blood had slid off of his mussel. His red eyes resembled the sticky substance that was oozing through his pelt and across his skin. As the newcomer had made his appearance, something in the black and crimson pelted wolf told him submission.... But who listened to instinct more than a rouge wolf trying to live...? So he did the action and lifted himself up, his front paws first pushing his torso off the ground, then his hind paws following to push his lower body up. It was a pitiful stance, his body weakened by the fight, and he refused the spiderwebs as well; for if he were not as strong as he was, he would not have made it past pup-hood. Now Wolfbane was young, full of energy and just roaring for a good fight... but again, that stupid instinct told him to be submissive towards the black and blue one.

An Alpha...? He thought to himself, his head cocking to the side slightly in curiosity. Though he lifted his head up to the green-ish colored clouds, and letting his ears fold back as the rain started to pick up, cooling the warm day, and clearing the muggy aura around the wolves. Finally he could take in a large breath without panting, and finally the blood was slipping off of his skin and out of his pelt. Wolfbane shook his head slightly, the shackles on his neck lifting slightly but falling as the rain soaked, and matted down his fur.

As he straightened his posture, he was taller than the two. His leg's length helped with that.... But at another glance he was rather much skinner than the other two he-wolves that were present. He opened his powerful jaw, used for hunting and for wars, letting out a small yawn out of sight.

Wolfbane took a daring step forward, his attitude towards others vanishing as he approached the black nad blue one. The one that looked like a bruise. The Alpha wolf. Astonishingly, his lowered his head, showing his neck slightly, like any wolf would do.

"...... What must I call you to join your pack...?" He stated simply, his deep, rough voice loud enough to hear over the loud storm. He new he'd be the Omega, to get less respect most likely, but if it was to be around wolves, strong, noble, healthy wolves... he would do anything.
"I am a good hunter, and I'm willing to fight in any war and help you win if you let me join your pack." Now he turned his head to the side more, showing more neck.

[' ' K.O.T.O.R.I.]

There's nothing deep about Armageddon. What he thinks, he says; what he feels, they know. It's an instinctive quality, to share, to dominate, to know, to know their own bodies more powerfully than ever they could know themselves. It's a character dissection that is unique to the alpha-will that's inside of him, that makes him more, makes him bend to no one but to those who could bring him to his knees. Only one, only on and he cracks a smile, cracks a smile so wide, so calm, so intoxicatingly sure of himself that the very weight he carries seems to shift forward. Only the savior, only the true God - the devil incarnate - could ever be worshiped. To make of himself a walking god bound to earth was blaspheme, but hah,hah, isn't that the devil's creed? Isn't that his own? He feeds when he wants, fucks when he wants and morals were gone, gone, but for the visceral wolfness in him that demands to be satisfied in bloodshed, in the energy of the hunt, in everything that it meant to be a wolf.

This one was strange indeed and he cocked his head -- thank the devil he did! -- for curiosity was safer than annoyance, and it was so easy to be amused by something so thin and wiry, so multi-hued and proud of it. He of the black and blue, the king of the rocky bottoms, of the crags and the prey, of the blood. Oh yes, he liked that one in particular, rolling it around in his head as he contemplated the others, saw with different eyes, intelligent eyes. Oh, he knew, he just knew. The stench of death was so sweet, he could inhale it for hours and still not have enough of it coating his tongue, his nostrils. So he stared at the broken wolf -- but not so broken as all that, of course, for Armageddon saw the iron will there, the desire to live, to fight on even when there was nothing but the skinny pockets of flesh hanging from him. So much potential, so much use! And yet, the other, the do-gooder didn't know when to be quiet.

Alpha wasn't a destiny, wasn't a job-- it was an existence and Armageddon, full of himself, unconsciously able to look whoever he wanted in the eye without cause of gasping, knew the moment they realized, knew the moment the instincts took in and crumpled even that iron will. He was strong, if short -- but the maned, multi-colored wolf was nothing but sticks between his jaws. He snickered, wings shifting up, rustled as if they felt the oncoming storm ever before the mind decided to let it loose, and there was a subconscious decision within one heartbeat and the next that Armageddon laughed, a short, condescending sound, his voice dropping from his lips like stone, like a disease that would infiltrate and destroy that which it wasn't pleased with. "Good thing I'm neither of those things, eh? You must feel so proud to be good, to be right when the rest of the world is wrong." and he flicked his tail, a hardness surfacing in the glacial blue of his eyes, in the storm that gathered as if summoned by the very thickening of his blood, by the boiling that went on in his veins as the desire to dominate rose and rose, but he wasn't entirely lost to insanity, and he knew when to tease, when to attack, and it was a lucky day indeed that Valentine decided to be quaint and proud of his small success. "Hah, hah, even your patient doesn't have faith in you, so if you're quite done making a fool of yourself, go hop off toward the little tiger over the mountain. I hear tell the Alpha likes his subjects wet and willing."

His senses were ordered as most wolves: scent first, hearing later -- and with the oncoming storm, the water starting to pelt his wings, the black-and-blue splot of death, of foreboding, of ultimate demise lifted his head, eyes curiously taking in the other, the darker one off scent and perfection. His target. It was he, he who knew the world for what it was, who indulged as he would have his pack indulge, and the pack would grow. There is nothing entirely too proud in the wolf; he would have asked if the other had not. He would have offered the place, like a snake slithering through your sheet and flicking it's twined tongue against your ear. Whisper, whisper and he would have offered that wolf a haven from starvation, a place to learn how gluttonous the wolf stomach could be, how insatiable the bloodlust truly was. Pleased, he murmured softly, "But you," and his wings shifted, closed tight against his back as he circled the wolf, slow, steady, eyes wandering over bruises, over gashes, over the hollowed out pockets that lingered in the curves of his hips, in the striking bones of his shoulder blades. "You know what it's really like, don't you?" So thrilling to think that this wolf, this dark shadow of the darker heart would want him, would want to become part of his pack, to know it as he had known it. Thrilling indeed, for he was not here to protect his land, he was not here to drive off the wolves, but to invite them in, to know them, to hold them tight and let them indulge as he would let them indulge.

A delightful little hmmm and a slow growl was rising in his throat, thunderous, rolling, like the storm that gathered and gathered, holding them all in an umbrella of ill-foreboding. He cracked a smile. "I've decided I like you, wolf. You choose your battles, and choose them well - and you know what? - I could make use of you." The implication of the other winged wolf's esteem in his own eyes evident in the rolling disgust that wove through his tone.

He chuckled. "The former alpha pair didn't think much of me, dismissed me, and guess what happened to them," a sickening smile, full of teeth and trembling lips as if the remembered victory spurred him on to violence, to throw himself into the sea of energy that he thrilled in, exalted in, glorified in. "But you saw right away, and you're the smarter one." So sure, so impossibly smug and uncaring. Perhaps it helped that no matter how tall the others were, he was thick with muscles, outweighing them, well fed and intoxicated on the immortality of victory and bloodshed. "Call me Armageddon, or whatever other fancy diddle you deem worthy." The smile widened into a grin, vicious and feral. "Black and blue, like a bruise, and I don't care what anyone calls me, as long as they know who holds the leash. Hah, hah."

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word count;; 1154
tags;; Wolfbane, Valentine.
OOC;; I've never rped such
a talkative wolf before XD

[Wolfbane]

Wolfbane fixed his stance, the crouching hurting his paws greatly. It was true he was thin, some bones showing, but that last small meal keeping him from death, and the bleeding from the gashes in his skin had stopped, how just lightly stinging. He had a hard gaze, natural I assure you, and even in the state he was in at the moment he still looked strong. Wolfbane always did. "Then you won't mind Sire at all...?" He dubbed the chosen name in which he'd call the Alpha, Armageddon, the name 'Sire' seemed to fit this noble wolf. The dark colored, tall wolf stood, keeping his shoulders hunched as his stance seemed pain.

"Sire... I am at your full service. I will be glad to fight along side of you, knowing your strength and my place I will not get in your way... any wrong move... I will not hesitate to let you give me death or your penalty." Wolfbane nodded his head, eyes closing at the motion, then lifted his muzzle, eyes opening. He held it lower that the Alpha wolf in front of him, admiring his ability to fly at will. But... ever wolf seemed to have their own abilities and advances, Wolfbane's being in hunting, fighting, and running... his long legs and natural thing appearance assisting him.

Even as Wolfbane had grown up, when he was at a nice weight, nice and fat, even then he was fairly skinny. It had just been his appearance, making him seem weak with his slim legs and figure... those creatures then died quickly with his swift speed. He resisted a smile wanting to creep onto his face from the memory.

[=RACLETT=]

Valentine dipped his head to the other wolf the one he had tried to help then turning her looked to Armageddon. His ears pricked at the males words and then his teeth were bared in a snarl. I would watch yourself for one day you will be the one bowing down to me. He spat then turned and stalked off. His pink and white fur was soon just a blue as he disappeared into the distance. He hated being alone maybe while he was being a loner he would find a mate who would one day be his alphas and rule over the kingdom of worthless wolfs. He would one day rule over every peice of land every drop of dirt he would rule.

[' ' K.O.T.O.R.I.]

Oh ho, ho! Look at that! The little wolf has fangs after all! -- though the threat went unanswered but for a flick of his dark triangular ear. You really can't blame him though, the wolf just couldn't take Valentine seriously. hah, hah, would you? Mister I'll help you, Mister Noble, hah, hah, what a joke, what a joke! A snort, a derisive look in his eyes as he eyed the colorful wolf side-long, wings tucked tightly, uncaring, a frightening amount of calm and surety in his stance for one who was being threatened, who's position was being challenged. But it was a faulty challenge, one that didn't follow the usual lines -- for one, Valentine didn't even move, just snarled in his petty anger tantrum.

Hah, hah, and he laughed, he really did -- a rumbling chuckle of condescension. "Of course, Sasquatch, of course you will. I'll rue the day I've met you! For sure, for sure!" and could you really blame the Black-And-Blue for behaving as he did? This little stick-muffin struts his stuff around his territory, making a fool of himself and claims that one day he!-- yes you read that right he would be master of Armageddon. Armageddon! What phenomenal idiocy was this?

Made no sense at all, nope, none at all so what did Armageddon do? He laughed at it, didn't understand it and left the pup to wander away, to stalk in his pissy fit and act like a chick in heat. Moody and inconsolable. Hah, hah. Such a nasty creature, the Black-And-Blue was!

Yet still there was the other and it was to the other that his attention gradually slid, even as the blue of multi-hues disappeared from sight. So easy to follow his rumbling, childish path, and if he would be honest, Armageddon was tempted to, to follow simply to annoy, to prove how utterly wrong he was in his heart, but that was the difference between one wolf and the next. He certainly wasn't leaving, and he wasn't going to be disappearing to follow that little monkey-child any time soon. He had better things to do -- better things, indeed, as his eyes met the cold eyes of the stranger wolf, the injured wolf. A smile, a turn of his mouth that ghosted the image of the one that almost touched the black one's.

"So you've decided to stay, have you? I like that about you -- you know what you want and you go after it. It's a good quality. Very good quality." And his smile turned a little, mellowed out and lowered only to turn fierce at the edges of his fangs, baring just the very tips of his incisors. Wings flared, carried themselves proudly, arched high over the line of his spine where his tail swished once, twice, stopped. Then he moved, from one edge of the wolf, to the next -- constantly in motion, he couldn't stop, didn't want to stop -- had too much energy to stay still and none of the willpower or the desire to even try to remain in one place. "You need to eat, but you definitely need a name." Hmm, hmm, and he tilted his head, looking at the other consideringly, "I know you have one, so you might as well tell it to me, unless you want me to come up with one --" and he cracked a rare, sudden smile of delight, as if the idea wasn't all that displeasing.

His fur ruffled, hackles not quite rising, but ruffling around his neck and shoulders as he curled his haunches beneath him, wing sprawled behind, like a flag, a banner, tilted himself and scratched himself behind his ear with his back paw, thrumming with self-satisfaction. "So rules. Easy enough, no? Piss when you want, eat when you want, take what you want, protect what's yours. No one will help you unless you're uncommonly interesting --" he paused in both his words and his scratching, regarding the wolf before him. "I think you're quite the interesting wolf, but we'll see what the others think, soon enough. Welcome to wolf heaven, my friend. The only real restriction I have is all cats must die. You see one, you kill it before it ruins the land we live on. The varmints are a plague, and we need to get rid of them -- quick." He snorted, lowered his back paw and rolled his shoulders, wings shifting to accommodate the motion.

"Questions?"

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word count;; 749
tags;; Wolfbane
OOC;; ^-^

[Wolfbane]

The black and red wolf stared, amazed by how big the bruise-looking wolf had made himself seem by just the appearance of his splendid wings. When he was praised he nodded slightly, a thank you towards the alpha wolf.
"Thank you, sire." He nodded again. "It is indeed a quality worth fighting for." Another nod. Hah, hah! What a brilliant wolf this was! His power seemed to serge through the ground beneath Wolfbane's paws, oh what a joy it was just to be in his presence!

"Wolfbane, sire." The wolf nodded his head again. "I'm naturally skinny, so if I do not become round do not think less of my hunting skills." He added. "And if I am allowed to say..." He turned his head to watch Armageddon, painfully sitting down himself. "Cats should parish before the world." He gave a snarl, baring his teeth at the thought. Then his ears perked, listening to the rules being read off to him. They were reasonable, freedom ringing in the words that the Alpha spoke. His jaw opened to reveal a grin at what the other had claimed his pack to be. Fitting for a wolf like him. Wolfbane shook his head, standing up then.

"Hah, hah! No problem, or questions... sire."

[' ' K.O.T.O.R.I.]

It was his creed, his desire to make of his land a place for wolves and wolves only - a creation that had sparked in the darkest recesses of his broken, split mind. The one half, the one that indulged in the normalcy of life: in fucking, in desire, in lusts and the perfection of a woman's back. It was the half that made of him a childlike creature, an arrogant creature that sought only to impress, to please in his own way, to show without stress how utterly great he was. Oh yes, this half of him, this part of him was something gigantically young, truly giving credit to his young life, his true youth. It is this part of him that the dominant in him reveals itself.

With the desire to prove itself worthy, in bowing to no one, Armageddon has long ago left behind the ideals of rubbing his flank to another, in biting beneath another's jaws for the sheer sake of taking a few crumbs, a few choice bits of food. He proved able in hunting, in fighting, in surviving, and no longer relied on others for any of those things. His dream? You really want to know? To be free as only the wolf knew to be free. Free of the constraints of Nature's society. Away from the direction of politeness with the cats, with those who would feel sympathy for mangy, expendable creatures. He had heard the tales, and knew very well how idiotic and disloyal the bunch were. They didn't know the meaning of true life, of true power and mooched off of one another without gaining anything by their own paws. Such ugly creatures, disgusting creatures of habit.

Gone, they would serve the world better, and it was a personal affront to Armageddon's nature that the wolves who had rules this territory before him would even consider befriending the ugly things. Would even think of forgiving the slights given to them by cats. Let them die, yes, yes, a delicious thought there as Armageddon was given to delirious desires. To tear the very flesh from their backs, to start the revolution that would free the canine world from the utter stink of their existence! Such a beautiful thing!

The other half of him, the other side, the one that is more known about the Black-And-Blue, the Inglorious One, the Prophet, was the insanity that lent itself to the Devil himself, to the Incarnate of Sin. It was from there, Armageddon believed his wings had been given, and from this self-centered, delirious half of him that he found the courage, and the audacity to take control of the area on which he stood, to look that ugly striped wolf in the eye and dismiss him. The devil stood beside him, and with this mission in his heart, resonating in his bones, Armageddon knew himself to win. Regardless of the other's presumptions. Yes, he had laughed, and for good reason. There was no way he was going to lose. He would not, nor could he. Hah, hah.

But this one! This treat of a wolf that just tickled him pink, made his day worth while. He had guessed so truly when he had first come across them, when he had laid his blue, glacial eyes on the black and red -- a wound, a vicious, gaping hole in the earth. There was darkness in that wolf's heart and Armageddon admired it. In him was the truth of being wolf: the feral, wild desire to be who he was, whenever he wanted, and he, Armageddon, was thoroughly pleased with himself. He would have preened, had he not been entirely enthralled by the wolf's enthusiasm. "Wolfbane, is it? Named very well." and the wolf nodded as if in thought, his ears slicking back against the plains of his skull, seeming to disappear amongst the darkness of his fur. The oncoming storm soon abated itself as if the exit of the striped, multi-hued wolf was the cause of it's joy. The sky started to clear, the clouds to roll over themselves as if in pleasure, and Armageddon, sinful, beautiful Armageddon, the death of the wolf, could only laugh in that rolling, amused way he had. Oh this wolf was precious!

"I don't intend on fattening you up, wolfbane." he snorted, ears twitching but not moving from their position. "On the contrary, I expect you to be at your strongest. You, my new friend, have a way about you that I'm starting to really like. My new right hand, as it were. Together," and his voice rose slightly with passion, trembling with the outrage and utter hatred he had for the feline variety. "We'll exterminate the fucking creatures until none can pollute the world with their stink."

Wings trembled as if they would flare out and carry him high, but he himself did not, and simply smiled, looking satisfied. "This is turning out very well, hah, hah."

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word count;; 831
tags;; Wolfbane
OOC;; I think we
have a good plot idea
unfolding! Army doesn't
have ranks in the pack,
but I like the idea of
elevating Wolfbane to
what would amount to Beta.
They could kill cats together!
What do you think? PM me if
you like the idea. XD