Post by .Rabid Lycan. on Apr 26, 2008 1:31:07 GMT -5
On the air, there was more than a soft, cooling breeze and the scent of pine and springtime. Much more, considering the circumstances of the packs. The disease had overwhelmed the forest, taken it over inch by inch by inch… and now, it will be consumed by it.
Also considering the highly unfortunate circumstances not involving the disease, four wolves had been out, away from their camps and dens. Away from their families and familiar faces. Away from wolven society itself.
Why? They were innocent. Ill, but not yet rabid. Each one on his or her own mundane task to help the packs or themselves survive through and through.
From the Siverian pack, a warrior had wandered. Toboe, the son of Rippedstripe and Kosav, traitors of BloodMist and valuable assets to SilverMist in the days of lore—of the earlier era. Ever since his mother’s death and his father’s disappearance, he had never been whole. Never been completely fine nor completely sane. All the more reason to rule insanity, no? But he was not rabid. Scarred but innocent. Innocent until proven guilty.
He was outside for the simple pleasure of thinking without complications—he did not know of the fight at camp. None of them did. Or else, they would have not stumbled upon this strange, queer fate that destiny apparently intended for them.
Next was Ransack, the average Yozoran warrior with an average life. However, he held a strong legacy—he was Yozora’s son. Her blood ran through his veins. Her memory had carried on throughout his life… it made him proud to be of her descent.
Beside him cantered Yozoran Silica, the poor fae of the mountains. Everything had gone wrong for her—her father had drowned. Her brother had fallen victim to a disease. And her mother had been murdered by the same brute that had brutalized and kept her captive for all those proceeding years… but she had survived. Silica had escaped from the torture and abuse and joined the Yozorans, giving birth to the brute’s hideous child—which was, luckily, dead on the scene. Nothing could be better for her.
Together, Silica and Ransack grinned at each other and raced forward, aiming to catch a deer by the lake. Two friends, laughing and having a good time… the symptoms of their disease mild. The day could not be more perfect.
But there was also another. Snap, his name was. Innocent, just as the others are and were. The old loner traveled with a limp, head held high. He had BloodMist blood flowing through his veins, as well as a rouge’s, but he had grown wise enough to know that BloodMist wasn’t the best direction to head for. And now, Snap was peacefully living out the rest of his days in tranquil silence.
However, the silence would be broken and rebuilt—permanently—for all of these wolves in a manner of minutes.
Another wolf staggered through the trees, eyes bloodshot and mouth foaming. Every footfall echoed like a beating heart, and tremulous breath was like the sound of a predator suffocating its prey. The wolf had been long forgotten and never seen nor heard from since his disappearance. Since that long-ago battle in that long-ago place, where he had been torn apart by those who had dared slaughter the only wolf who had given him meaning in his life. He had given his everything for her, just to be happy—and they had taken it all away. Swearing vengeance, the vendetta was enacted, but his efforts ended with madness. He was thrown—nearly dead—into the river, swept down and down by the current.
Everyone, even his own children, had thought him dead.
But he had survived, driven mad by his misfortune, and ended up even making the crossing across the mountains himself, drawn by the scent of blood…
And now here he stood again, scenting the air and licking his red lips at the sight and smell of wolves nearby.
Rippedstripe’s lover.
Kosav had been transformed into a savage killer.
Coincidence—or maybe fate, depending on how you view the world—set everything into motion the second Kosav set his paws firmly on the ferns of the forest:
A deer was there, heading toward the shallow end of the lake where it could easily wade into the shallows and get a hearty drink. The shallow waters allowed rocks to poke through, making it an ideal place to relax—or to think.
Every passing second brought Snap closer, eager for a drink.
Every passing second brought Silica and Ransack closer, seeking the deer.
Every passing second brought Toboe closer, wanting to ponder in silence among the rocks.
And every passing second brought Kosav one step closer tocrossing the line catching his prey.
And then there was the moment when they all saw each other. Toboe stood at one point, staring a couple yards forward to where Snap had appeared. Snap was staring from his vantage point at Silica and Ransack, who soon jumped from their hiding positions when the deer fled from the clearing. In front of them all was the corpse of a wolf, unnamed and maimed to the furthest extent. This was the fifth wolf, come to greet the four others. But it was Toboe who cried out in hysteric agony not because of the carcass… but because the sixth wolf appeared.
The sixth wolf.
Did you know that 666 is the devil’s number?
“Father, father! Where have you been!?” he cried. The others stared and listened to the son’s desperate plea. “It’s me, your son: Toboe! Remember me? Oh, how I’ve missed you! We all thought that you were dead!”
But something was wrong. The words fell upon deaf ears, and time itself seemed to pass by so fluidly—in such a surreal motion—that time almost seemed to stand still.
Toboe had rushed forward in sobs of love and tears of joy, only to meet the fangs of a rabid wolf. The son froze, feeling the incisors grip his throat with unnatural strength. Saliva tickled his insides, making Toboe realize that his father was not his father anymore. He was an infected beast. But he didn’t struggle… he was in too much shock to do anything but stare into the lifeless eyes of his own parent.
And he allowed Kosav to pull away, spilling the scarlet shower of blood from his veins and leaving him to fall to the ground. Eyes ripe with hurt, Toboe was the first to accept the fate of a dead wolf… and his soul was thus lost to the greatest of crimes: of a father killing a son.
But Kosav couldn’t care less for the wolf who had charged.
Next was the loner, who had raced forward screaming words foul and tainted. “Bastard!” Snap screamed. He had not known Toboe personally, but there was not a wolf in the forest that could not be angered—or, rather, moved—by the heartbreak shining in Toboe’s eyes… by the betrayal shining in his eyes.
But Kosav paid no heed, and Snap, too, met a similar fate, with Kosav slashing Snap’s neck, and leaving him to slowly and painfully perish in a puddle of blood.
Ransack stood protectively in front of Silica, who had been rendered immobile—frozen in fear. She recognized that this wolf did not intend to rape or torture her, but murder her. And it is that that overwhelmed her fragile mind the most.
“Fight this!” Ransack pled, but Kosav was immune to such trivial appeals. The disease-driven brute extended and arm and thrust his claws into Ransack’s torso. As the Yozoran warrior convulsed, Silica let out a scream of horror. Ransack made a few final jerks, but the blood that was bubbling in his throat eventually faded into nothingness, and Kosav roughly withdrew his foreleg from Ransack’s open chest.
As Yozora’s son fell dead on the ground, Kosav’s son’s body began to reek, and Snap’s hisses and curses weakened to mere whispers of breath, Silica found herself face-to-face with the crazed wolf.
Breathing irregularly and allowing dread to crawl up and down her spine, Silica stared deep into the empty sockets that used to be Kosav’s eyes. There was nothing there but hollow madness, and Silica almost felt pity for the wolf.
And she did. In a twisted form of empathy, Silica accepted her fate and licked the tip of Kosav’s nose—just as his claws tore clear through her stomach. She uttered a small, painful gasp, and then doubled over in sheer agony. But she kept her eyes trained on his… and continued until the spirit in her eyes dulled and her body became inert.
Five wolves were dead.
Kosav glanced blankly around him. The feeling of warmth and affection against his skin had vexed him. He found himself hovering over the body of Toboe, whose blood was now spilling over his own paws. Leaning over, he sniffed the corpse, finally dipping his nose into the pool of scarlet experimentally.
He froze, something sparking in his brain like a lighter in the dark.
“…I-I know you…”
And a small part of him began shining through. Somehow, the affection had temporarily cleared his thoughts… and he desperately wished it hadn’t.
Kosav now realized that he had killed his own son.
A howl of rich and pure agony sounded from his woeful maw, ringing with it the sorrow of everything he had ever gone through or seen in his life. He had killed four wolves—and there, sitting in front of him, were five dead bodies. They had had families, lives, homes, and lovers… and he had taken it all away.
And again Kosav was aware of the tug of insanity in his skull. Must… not… hurt… more… Everything was spinning. Everything was too… complicated! What would make it simple?
Distraught, the death drive caught him. Death is salvation.
I’ll do it before the voices come back.
And Kosav stayed true to his thoughts.
Walking forward, Kosav padded calmly on into the water, shivering with every step. Eventually, the moonlight above him blurred as he submerged beneath the waves.
But he never emerged.
Kosav had drowned himself.
The massacre was over.
…and the sky would soon awake to a beautiful blood-red dawn…
Also considering the highly unfortunate circumstances not involving the disease, four wolves had been out, away from their camps and dens. Away from their families and familiar faces. Away from wolven society itself.
Why? They were innocent. Ill, but not yet rabid. Each one on his or her own mundane task to help the packs or themselves survive through and through.
From the Siverian pack, a warrior had wandered. Toboe, the son of Rippedstripe and Kosav, traitors of BloodMist and valuable assets to SilverMist in the days of lore—of the earlier era. Ever since his mother’s death and his father’s disappearance, he had never been whole. Never been completely fine nor completely sane. All the more reason to rule insanity, no? But he was not rabid. Scarred but innocent. Innocent until proven guilty.
He was outside for the simple pleasure of thinking without complications—he did not know of the fight at camp. None of them did. Or else, they would have not stumbled upon this strange, queer fate that destiny apparently intended for them.
Next was Ransack, the average Yozoran warrior with an average life. However, he held a strong legacy—he was Yozora’s son. Her blood ran through his veins. Her memory had carried on throughout his life… it made him proud to be of her descent.
Beside him cantered Yozoran Silica, the poor fae of the mountains. Everything had gone wrong for her—her father had drowned. Her brother had fallen victim to a disease. And her mother had been murdered by the same brute that had brutalized and kept her captive for all those proceeding years… but she had survived. Silica had escaped from the torture and abuse and joined the Yozorans, giving birth to the brute’s hideous child—which was, luckily, dead on the scene. Nothing could be better for her.
Together, Silica and Ransack grinned at each other and raced forward, aiming to catch a deer by the lake. Two friends, laughing and having a good time… the symptoms of their disease mild. The day could not be more perfect.
But there was also another. Snap, his name was. Innocent, just as the others are and were. The old loner traveled with a limp, head held high. He had BloodMist blood flowing through his veins, as well as a rouge’s, but he had grown wise enough to know that BloodMist wasn’t the best direction to head for. And now, Snap was peacefully living out the rest of his days in tranquil silence.
However, the silence would be broken and rebuilt—permanently—for all of these wolves in a manner of minutes.
Another wolf staggered through the trees, eyes bloodshot and mouth foaming. Every footfall echoed like a beating heart, and tremulous breath was like the sound of a predator suffocating its prey. The wolf had been long forgotten and never seen nor heard from since his disappearance. Since that long-ago battle in that long-ago place, where he had been torn apart by those who had dared slaughter the only wolf who had given him meaning in his life. He had given his everything for her, just to be happy—and they had taken it all away. Swearing vengeance, the vendetta was enacted, but his efforts ended with madness. He was thrown—nearly dead—into the river, swept down and down by the current.
Everyone, even his own children, had thought him dead.
But he had survived, driven mad by his misfortune, and ended up even making the crossing across the mountains himself, drawn by the scent of blood…
And now here he stood again, scenting the air and licking his red lips at the sight and smell of wolves nearby.
Rippedstripe’s lover.
Kosav had been transformed into a savage killer.
Coincidence—or maybe fate, depending on how you view the world—set everything into motion the second Kosav set his paws firmly on the ferns of the forest:
A deer was there, heading toward the shallow end of the lake where it could easily wade into the shallows and get a hearty drink. The shallow waters allowed rocks to poke through, making it an ideal place to relax—or to think.
Every passing second brought Snap closer, eager for a drink.
Every passing second brought Silica and Ransack closer, seeking the deer.
Every passing second brought Toboe closer, wanting to ponder in silence among the rocks.
And every passing second brought Kosav one step closer to
And then there was the moment when they all saw each other. Toboe stood at one point, staring a couple yards forward to where Snap had appeared. Snap was staring from his vantage point at Silica and Ransack, who soon jumped from their hiding positions when the deer fled from the clearing. In front of them all was the corpse of a wolf, unnamed and maimed to the furthest extent. This was the fifth wolf, come to greet the four others. But it was Toboe who cried out in hysteric agony not because of the carcass… but because the sixth wolf appeared.
The sixth wolf.
Did you know that 666 is the devil’s number?
“Father, father! Where have you been!?” he cried. The others stared and listened to the son’s desperate plea. “It’s me, your son: Toboe! Remember me? Oh, how I’ve missed you! We all thought that you were dead!”
But something was wrong. The words fell upon deaf ears, and time itself seemed to pass by so fluidly—in such a surreal motion—that time almost seemed to stand still.
Toboe had rushed forward in sobs of love and tears of joy, only to meet the fangs of a rabid wolf. The son froze, feeling the incisors grip his throat with unnatural strength. Saliva tickled his insides, making Toboe realize that his father was not his father anymore. He was an infected beast. But he didn’t struggle… he was in too much shock to do anything but stare into the lifeless eyes of his own parent.
And he allowed Kosav to pull away, spilling the scarlet shower of blood from his veins and leaving him to fall to the ground. Eyes ripe with hurt, Toboe was the first to accept the fate of a dead wolf… and his soul was thus lost to the greatest of crimes: of a father killing a son.
But Kosav couldn’t care less for the wolf who had charged.
Next was the loner, who had raced forward screaming words foul and tainted. “Bastard!” Snap screamed. He had not known Toboe personally, but there was not a wolf in the forest that could not be angered—or, rather, moved—by the heartbreak shining in Toboe’s eyes… by the betrayal shining in his eyes.
But Kosav paid no heed, and Snap, too, met a similar fate, with Kosav slashing Snap’s neck, and leaving him to slowly and painfully perish in a puddle of blood.
Ransack stood protectively in front of Silica, who had been rendered immobile—frozen in fear. She recognized that this wolf did not intend to rape or torture her, but murder her. And it is that that overwhelmed her fragile mind the most.
“Fight this!” Ransack pled, but Kosav was immune to such trivial appeals. The disease-driven brute extended and arm and thrust his claws into Ransack’s torso. As the Yozoran warrior convulsed, Silica let out a scream of horror. Ransack made a few final jerks, but the blood that was bubbling in his throat eventually faded into nothingness, and Kosav roughly withdrew his foreleg from Ransack’s open chest.
As Yozora’s son fell dead on the ground, Kosav’s son’s body began to reek, and Snap’s hisses and curses weakened to mere whispers of breath, Silica found herself face-to-face with the crazed wolf.
Breathing irregularly and allowing dread to crawl up and down her spine, Silica stared deep into the empty sockets that used to be Kosav’s eyes. There was nothing there but hollow madness, and Silica almost felt pity for the wolf.
And she did. In a twisted form of empathy, Silica accepted her fate and licked the tip of Kosav’s nose—just as his claws tore clear through her stomach. She uttered a small, painful gasp, and then doubled over in sheer agony. But she kept her eyes trained on his… and continued until the spirit in her eyes dulled and her body became inert.
Five wolves were dead.
Kosav glanced blankly around him. The feeling of warmth and affection against his skin had vexed him. He found himself hovering over the body of Toboe, whose blood was now spilling over his own paws. Leaning over, he sniffed the corpse, finally dipping his nose into the pool of scarlet experimentally.
He froze, something sparking in his brain like a lighter in the dark.
“…I-I know you…”
And a small part of him began shining through. Somehow, the affection had temporarily cleared his thoughts… and he desperately wished it hadn’t.
Kosav now realized that he had killed his own son.
A howl of rich and pure agony sounded from his woeful maw, ringing with it the sorrow of everything he had ever gone through or seen in his life. He had killed four wolves—and there, sitting in front of him, were five dead bodies. They had had families, lives, homes, and lovers… and he had taken it all away.
And again Kosav was aware of the tug of insanity in his skull. Must… not… hurt… more… Everything was spinning. Everything was too… complicated! What would make it simple?
Distraught, the death drive caught him. Death is salvation.
I’ll do it before the voices come back.
And Kosav stayed true to his thoughts.
Walking forward, Kosav padded calmly on into the water, shivering with every step. Eventually, the moonlight above him blurred as he submerged beneath the waves.
But he never emerged.
Kosav had drowned himself.
The massacre was over.
…and the sky would soon awake to a beautiful blood-red dawn…
"My name is Percy Jackson, and I am INVINCIBLE!!"
)
