|
|
Post by ' ' K.O.T.O.R.I. on Sept 20, 2009 16:54:01 GMT -5
He slept, he dreamt, he woke. It's all, it's all -- but it was all it needed to take, to remind him, to make him fatten himself on the gluttony of his ego. Oh yes, you've gotten acquainted with him, haven't you? You know the story, the way it works -- he smiles, he smiles, but he's really grinning, cackling, laughing -- dying because he can, because he won. The bitch's blood was on his maw, the victory a thing of inevitability. It was going to happen, so it did, just like he knew, just like he felt it in the sturdy, powerful beating of his wings, his heart, his soul to throb, to dance, to live in two different worlds. The devil hadn't lied -- he was the best, the best of the best, the greatest of all, higher than God himself, for he had made a god of himself, had given godhead to a creature who's lineage was undefined, was dead, was nothing important at all.
--- but he smiled. That's important, oh yes, very important. He smiled because it was going great, going according to plan, just perfectly, following the lines in his dreams, in his visions, in the maniacal plains of his brain. So he was a little crazy... who wasn't nowadays. Especially with cats spreading their salacious disease. Ugh, yum, yum -- cat. Reminded him of her -- of the she-bitch who had trod on his land, had made him smell of cat for days on end. To think she thought she could win! To think she could have stolen his wings? To have the strength to rip from his back the very things which made him great! Hah, hah! So he laughed, and he rolled over and slept, and dreamed and when he woke, he knew, knew in his heart the things which must be done, the steps which must be taken, to win, to rid the world of this harassing, mangy disease. This plaguing disease, this gross disease. They were nothing in comparison to the wolves might -- how easy it would have been, and he smiles, and coos, and rolls onto the round barrel of his stomach, knowing himself fat on the glory of the future, of the vision of the world as it should be: free of cats. Full of wolves. Yes, wolves. They would be supreme, and he! He would be there among them, a God among Gods, a wolf among wolves and know himself akin to the Devil himself.
He chuckled, this wolf, this Black-And-Blue, this devil in disguise. His delusions had awoke his desires, his ambitions and now that they had been unleashed there was no taking it back. With a pulsing of his muscles, his body coiled, thrust upward onto his feet, wings dragging upward, always upward. A proud line of his neck, of his face where he was staring, black among the blue whorls that defined him, made him a thing to be worshiped.
Armageddon paced, foot in front of the other, knowing, knowing in his heart that what he wanted he could do, what he needed to do, would be done. Just the right wolf needed to be told, and he paused, his heart seeming to stutter to a halt with his thoughts. A heartbeat of silence, droning onward and onward, until it broke in a spasm of pleasure. A delighted grin, a glimpse of white fang in black fur -- and he lifted his head. "Yes, yes, of course." He chuckled, his voice rumbling, low, rough perfection as he thought and thought, losing himself to the thinking as he continued to pace in circles. Knowing, always knowing the true direction of where his thoughts would lead: Wolfbane. Lips curled backward, tail flicked up, wings shifted -- but Armageddon remained in place. The very thought of the wolf brought his spirits up -- for wasn't he a wolf of his own making?
A wolf who knew, a wolf who felt the same way he did? Kill the cats. Survive when you can -- he was a wolf of freedom, and he was perfect for this, a partner in his extermination. "Yes, yesssss. This is good. Very good." -- Armageddon stepped out from under the protection of the Mountain Caves, and lifted his voice high, rising, calling, knowing it would reach. His will was strong, and with that powerful stirring of strength uncoiling from his chest, his voice unstrung, flew outward, reverberating ever outward, ever seeking that one wolf, that one creature who would understand, would know this was so very right in this world of wrong.
Yes, yes. Wolfbane. "Hah, hah." and the howl slowly died with his voice, wings flared out behind him like a banner. "This is so very fun." and when he grinned there was nothing of the mildly threatening man. There was nothing in his vibrant blue gaze but insanity and a dark need to dominate.
[/color]
word count;; 828
tags;; Wolfbane
OOC;; w00t w00t ^_^
let the killing begin! or
soon rather xD
|
|
|
|
Post by Wolfbane on Sept 20, 2009 20:05:42 GMT -5
He was dreaming, sleeping, awakening. His heartbeat was slow in the rhythm of his heavy sleep. It was dark, brisk, and the breeze howled to him the melody of an early morning start. So he listened to the sound of the wind, and up on his paws he got. He stretched, front arms sliding down on the dirt ground first, then each hind leg lifting to stretch the muscles. He felt good- no- he felt great! He had healed his wounds, trained himself harder than every before, and had gained muscle on what used to be just bones. You could no longer see his ribs by just staring at his black and crimson fur- no- he had kept his thin appearance, now just muscle and legs. His ears were perked up high, and his tail flicked to the side as he looked around, red eyes glowing in the darkness of dawn. Under him his long, thick, dangerous claws sheathed into the cold earth below his paw pads. Now he moved. He moved quickly, swiftly, faster than he'd ever moved.
Wolfbane ducked through the trees, and jumped over bushes small and large as he dashed across the earth. The small, unfriendly earth that he had come to know. He was quicker, much faster than he used to be. Now he knew the land. Not his land, no. Not his land to hold, to smuggle, to own. It was his land to fight for, to help it grow, to help the others struggle as their paths crossed. His land to attack for, to kill for. No it was not his land, not at all, it was his leader's. His sire's. Armageddon's land. He was loyal to Armageddon, he was his army, his right side, his personal assassin, his hunter, and his fighter. His personal killing tool.
And Wolfbane loved it. Loved the taste, the smell, the fell of the blood that was always drenching the fur around his muzzle. His could lick his lips clean of the substance, and go through a frenzy of killing in an instant, or stop, turn around, and attack a new target on command or simply on instinct.
Now he was slowing, slowing into a trot, then into a sluggish walk as he padded over to the water's edge. Wolfbane dipped his maw into the running water and let his maw rinse off the residue of a previous kill that he'd been too exhausted to clean off afterwords. There was another gust of wind, a new song howling through his ears, and his head lifted with a snort to get rid of extra water near his nose. Quickly he recognized the melody of Army calling for him, calling by his name. And quickly he ran towards the sound, towards the caves.
On his way, a scent crossed his newly cleaned nose and he decided to pick up the pace. A flash of brown fur passed his eyes and his head shot down, snapping his strong jaw around the small creature. It was plump, and the fluffy tail, along with its long ears named it that of a hare. Wolfbane didn't stop running after he'd lunged at the animal, the blood pooling into his mouth at the punctures in the sides of the animal. Now he made his presence, and from the time he'd heard Army's song, to now, it had taken him less than two minutes to get there. What a fast wolf he was, strong, long legs assisted him, and his slim figure made it easy to slink around. He stepped up to the black and blue wolf, his own bloody mess-like fur a perfect match for his leader's bruise-like pelt. He bent his head, dropping the dead hare at Armageddon's feet before taking a small step back and nodding.
"You called, sire." And he stared forward, natural eyes hard and ready for anything, any command, any assignment. He was ready. Oh so ready for the taste of blood to hit his tongue once more.
Word Count;; 683 Tags;; Armageddon OOC;; Hooray bloodiness!!!  |
|
|
|
Post by ' ' K.O.T.O.R.I. on Sept 21, 2009 11:15:02 GMT -5
The wheels in his head were spinning round and round, coming up with no real plan, or action but the one which he wanted most: to kill. To tear his fangs into cat flesh, to shred, to tear, to destroy, to utterly erase their stench and their existence from the world. It was a desire he was being stifled by, which rose and rose again, made him want to run, to move, to fly if needs be as long as it was done -- as long as he could fill his nose with the stench of cat musk and be rid of one more feline from this wretched planet. No longer would they exist on the coldest parts of the mountain, no longer would he be forced to protect an area that was dreadfully bare. He would take on the cat's territory, the traitor's -- bring back their lost brethren and step outward, ever outward. His deeds would be remembered, would be sung with high praise as their voices rose and rose, intertwined amongst the clouds and projected into even God's domain.
Infiltration was easy -- for nights now, he had been patrolling the borders, moving onto territory that was not rightfully his -- yet. He had scented the splattered wolf, had been able to recognize the Lashia's Alpha femme's stench among the others. There was one scent he had followed, intrigued, which continually switched borders. Kotori, though he did not know the name, was renowned for his inability to be loyal -- and it was just another strike against cat kind. He grinned then, feet coming to a rolling stop, wings shifting, stretching, flaring outward as a trembling sigh flirted over the curves of his mouth. Satisfaction was easing it's way through his bones, through the knot of sinew and muscle which defined him, made him who he was. The fur was dark, and he hid amongst it with ease as the mountainous terrain kept them well hidden -- and then he came, his friend, his tool. Wolfbane. A sickening smile stretched across his face at the permeating scent of blood which followed the wolf of death, the wolf he would name God as well -- but that would be later.
No need to tell the wolf his entire plan, but this one was more than a tool, and he knew that by the way in which he looked at him, his own blue eyes clashing with the sizzling intensity of darkness. Oh, what joy this would be, what fun, and he knew in his heart that with Wolfbane at his side, this would get done. There was no doubt in the wolf, nothing but the steadfast existence to live, and to kill and it was a beautiful thing. "You've filled out, my friend." he says, by way of greeting, his tail rising up in acknowledgement as he eased forward, his nose nudging the dead creature at his paws. The sweet smell of blood was an intoxicating one and he felt himself being drawn toward it, his haunches curling underneath him as his jaws snapped into the flesh, through the bone, ripping through the very fabric of death which had smothered it's sight. What a hunter, what a fighter! There was a deep well of satisfication and pride in knowing this wolf was on his side. Blood, fur and guts drooled down from the hare's broken carcass, hanging by tendrils of inner fluid to the hard curve of Armageddon's jaws. He was no neat eater, but when have wolves ever dined daintily like a cat?
Hah, hah, and the wolf, the supreme Black-And-Blue raised his glacial eyes, impervious to the cold though it was spring. So high up, there was never a truly warm day, but that did not matter, no not at all. "I assume you've heard my first decree," and a rolling chuckle slid through his tone, warmed it with a commingling pleasure of that remembered victory. Damned cat. What was her name? Trixy, or rather ... trix? Nose tingling with the amusement of having already forgotten her measly existence the great Black-And-Blue raised his eyes toward the other, the dark one, the partner he would invite on this wonderful game. "Well, well, you know the wretch, the bitch, the fucking femme fatale that dared challenge me is gone, run away, I daresay pisisng herself in fear, hah, hah." blood dripped from his maw, staining his white fangs a bloody red as he tilted his head, raised his paw from the hollowed out concave of the hare's side. Crunch, and the entire head, placed in his jaws crumbled from the might of the wolf's maw. Brain matter spilled out, flooding his senses with a strange sort of husky desire. Tongue rolled the flavor around, as fur rustled, wings shifted, still flared, still behind him in a dominant sort of way. "The bitch ran to the cats, hid among the goddamned mountains as if she would find asylum there. You know the decree, you see her, you kill her. But -- I want more." and he stopped eating, stopped everything as he raised his burning gaze, full of passion and a fiery hate. "I want more, and I will have more. I've followed the scent, and the cats are disorganized."
Leaving the hare where it was, the wolf began to move, to pace, to stride from one end of the cave to the next as his incisors worked behind his lips, curled back to bare teeth, bare fang -- his voice rose, his wing tightened as feathers fell to the ground. "I've contemplated bringing in Arethia as cannon fodder, but I want to do real damage and that, my friend, requires your special skill." He grinned then, pausing in his stride, lifting his muzzle to look at Wolfbane. "In a few night's time, I intend on flushing out some of the cats and destroying them. But --" he paused, a look of curiosity lighting his eyes --- "Have you met Arethia, yet?"
[/color]
word count;; 1005
tags;; Wolfbane.
OOC;; I need to get in touch
with Andee before we do this, but it
sounds so much fun xD -- we can also
do a pre-thread where Wolfbane meets
Arethia (in her joining thread, Army's
playing match maker xD)
|
|
