=^|PuLsE.of.ThE.mAgGoTs|^= [wewontdie] -PRIVATE-

[.Rabid Lycan.]

warning: slightly graphic content


[glow=darkred,2,300]SAY IT AGAIN SAY IT AGAIN WE WONT DIE
SAY IT AGAIN SAY IT AGAIN WE WONT DIE
SAY IT AGAIN SAY IT AGAIN WE WONT DIE
SAY IT AGAIN SAY IT AGAIN WE WONT DIE
SAY IT AGAIN SAY IT AGAIN WE WONT DIE
SAY IT AGAIN SAY IT AGAIN WE WONT DIE
SAY IT AGAIN SAY IT AGAIN WE WONT DIE
SAY IT AGAIN SAY IT AGAIN WE WONT DIE[/glow]

A lit match marks the fragile light of sanity, the flickering flame that can be too-easily extinguished in any way, shape, or form. It sits in the heads of the living, a breathing candle that is born perfectly balanced on the edge of a cliff, the sheer rock face overlooking the unruly sea of emotion; an ocean wrought with ill will that churns and churns as the waves grow taller. And it only takes one little push for the match to be stamped out for all of eternity.
Will it be the spray that casually licks at the edge of the cliff, sending water droplets to gradually wear away at the hungering flame? Will it be the waves, endlessly eroding away the cliff until there is nothing left to hold the candle up? Or will the candle just run out of wax, and die on its own?
Insanity. It really is peculiar. A precarious footing on a wobbling ladder, ready to tumble down in an instant. Really, you only need one bad day to disrupt even the whitest of knights...
The perverted truth of psychotic creatures is this: they feed on themselves. And the more they feed, the more they hunger. And the more they hunger, the more they feed. And once you are beset by your own fangs, you lose track of things; you learn to turn your fangs on others.
Others.
And when a shadowy wraith sinks these fangs into the flesh of its own kind-- which was occurring on the sacred ground of the Twilight Clearing-- everything is warped. Perception is warped. And everything now shows you its fangs; everything is your enemy.
Lose yourself to it.
A splitting of bone was a gunshot in the ears of all that were near. Squirrels fled, as did the startled rabbits that had sense enough to attempt an escape from a similar fate. And the indignation of the crime that had just passed was seen by no one. Only heard.
Between two sets of jaws, both heavily laden with the milk of veins, sat an immobile skull. The muzzle was narrow and the fur was a fine and glossy silver; a lovely complexion despite the signature age blotches of gray fur here and there. A female wolf; the Siverian Senior Moss, to be exact. Due to be claimed by the stars... but not in such a grisly fashion that was fated her this unfortunate night. Her unseeing orbs gazed up at her assassin, who only but reflected her gaze with dark crimson-gold eyes. And without a second thought, the brute who had once been so loyal to the codes of war-- so loyal to chivalry and honorable conduct-- began to strip away the flesh from Moss' face, determined to reveal the white of skull beneath her skin.
Psychopathy can be a macabre experience.
And when the wolf had at last carved his work of art with the shimmering detail of every curve of Moss' bone revealed as he pulled it from her carcass, he grinned. His face was bleached to a dark maroon, the black of his fur darkening the blood that masked his features. With an experimental sniff-- to which the unholy reek of death filled his nostrils-- the brute found himself lifting the skull onto his head, and letting it slide into place over his face.
He was at once a demon, with blood on his paws and the skull of his victim dawned like a trophy over the crest of his head. And his red fangs flashed in delight, the taste of insanity his at last.
Bain, the victim of more than one bad day, had let his fire burn out. And all he could think of was a twisted sense of ambition that rushed into his chest; a feeling that had produced clever schemes and diabolical thoughts the moment he had dawned his new face...
I need to find others.

[♫Flisk♫]

((Is this for the gaurds? Sorry i just woke up.))

[Njack]

A shard of destiny had fallen from the sky and landed squarely in Blink's path, and there was no turning back. Perhaps it was that, that fate had led her here, or perhaps it was a coincidence.

Nevertheless, she was in the Twilight Clearing, only about a hundred feet away from the gruesome scene.

And what was she doing?

"Stupid moose!" Blink licked the spreading bruise on her front left leg. As if that's gonna get it any better. At least it doesn't hurt anymore. "And what was that horrible sound? Sounded like the snapping of bones or something. Disturber of the peace." She went on muttering, ignoring the fact that she was making noise and therefore, was also disturbing the peace. "If that moose hadn't moved, I wouldn't have slammed into that stupid stump, and I wouldn't have this stupid bruise." Never mind the fact that she shouldn't have been hunting moose by herself, anyway.

She growled at the bruise, raised her head... and of, course, stopped in her tracks, like a deer in the headlights of a car.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

And never mind the fact that it's probably not wise to disturb a psychopath.

[♫Flisk♫]

Perhaps too, Raffa was led here by some invisible force, leading him upon his destiny. Raffa's eyes swiveled through the darkness as he strode, satisfied. The Destinian Neophyte growled softly. He was way old enough to be a Warrior, yet refused to listen to anyone. At the moment he had been confined to camp for almost killing a pup. He was supposed to be in the wretched place filled with morons for a month! Of course he just nipped at the sentry to have him scrambling away.

The darkness was pushing in, but Raffa strained to move forward. He would make it. He would leave his pack and never come back. He would-. Wait...what was that smell? There were two scents, one staler than the other. Two different wolves from two different packs. What was happening here? Snuffling, he slowly approached the Twilight clearing, not aware of the grusome scene he was about to soak in. The sound of another wolf speaking brought him to a halt. He circled around to the other side of the clearing where the other wolf sat, but he didn't know where.

Slowly he strode into the clearing, trying to make out the other wolf. When he couldn't, he looked back and continued walking. Little did he know that the wolf was in front of him. He found out the next moment as he bumped head first into the insane wolf's back and sent the skull cluttering to the ground. Before anything he shot towards the other wolf with incredible speed and stopped in a split second, eyes wary of the two but near the one who wasn't wearing the freakish skull on it's head. He muttered to himself.

"Oh...crap."

His eyes expanded as he saw a dead wolf and he looked at it with interest. So this was what the wolf who had trained him secretly, used to do. He wondered if he would be like that, but the bigger wolf looked a little scarier than him. He spoke a little to the wolf beside him, not the psycotic freak.

"Whats he doing?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

What the hell are you doing!?
The pulse of sound fled in Bain's direction, but fell in cascading ruins, having failed to breach his wall of oblivious insanity. Deaf to reality, the demon's strict attention remained centered in a forward direction, but instead of staring directly ahead, he angled each pupil inward, as if cross-eyed. His lower jaw slackened, brushing the bloodied teeth of the skull as they slid downward. The burning in his soul was unnaturally compelling, with the heat of the kill already consuming his senses. He wanted to shred again. He wanted to make every living soul bleed...
But a brush with life snapped his gaze into focus. The momentum of the anonymous being crashing into him sent the skull sliding from his crown and spiraling to land, upside down, at his feet. Recovering from the stumble with one step, he stared down at Moss' bones, not braving a glance at the others; he doubted he would react even they had launched an attack on him at that instant. But in mere seconds, a sadistic gleam of teeth and the curl of jowls broke across his face. He was grinning, a jack-o-lantern smirk spreading like a fever across his features.
What began as a guttural rumble became a chuckle, but exploded into nonsensical laughter. He could not quite place the meaning of this unexpected burst of emotion, but somehow found everything.... so very amusing.
So, this is the gift you bring me, you high and might lords? Obviously, you intend this as a sign to continue.... Yes, I will.... This must be true.... Ahh, so funny, is it not? Such a wonderful joke this world is...

[Njack]

"I-I don't know," Blink managed to answer the other wolf. "I don't know." Almost unconsciously, she forced her teeth together, the pressure growing and growing, until suddenly the taste of blood brought her back to her senses.

She shook her head quickly to compose herself, something throbbing with pain in her mouth. Musta bit my tongue or something...

A wave of laughter, from the maniac on the other end of the clearing, broke over her. Blink felt it then. Or rather, smelled it.

There were four wolves there. Two were Siverian, one was Destinian, and one was Yozoran. And Blink had realized that the corpse was a Siverian. The scent leading to the maniac, the insane being that was laughing at who knew what, was unmistakably Yozoran.

"You- You're the one that- That's why wolves have been disappearing!" She meant to say it like an accusation, but it came out more like a question, or a mere comment, such as one might make about a passing cloud.

Half of her wanted to flee the gruesome scene, and half of her wanted to charge this- this abomination, this psychopath, and yet, she stayed exactly where she was.

Why is he laughing?

[♫Flisk♫]

Raffa shook his head, unsure of why this wolf was here. He nodded at the uncertain answer and shook his head, looking up to the stars. What was the skull obsessed wolf going to do next? Coughing, he wanted to hide behind the Siverian but kept his ground, using the techniques his secret trainer had given him. Little did he know he would be using them alot in the future. The Destinian wolf sniffed the air, wondering, watching, and waiting. Suddenly the wolf began to laugh. What?

This wolf was freaky. Raffa wanted to back away, but he couldn't. He was almost paralyzed with a creepy sensation, not fear, yet not curiousity or bravery. He swallowed and wondered what the wolf would say. Nothing did come out of his mouth. Raffa sighed and bit his lip. He remembered what his trainer had taught him and sniffed the air. His fear scent was held in as he stepped forward before the maniac. He dipped his head in respect and backed up, still slightly paranoid. If he got on this wolf's good side he would be able to have a nice life.

"Who are you?"

It was barely a whisper, and the bravery of Raffa surprised himself. He licked his lips and the fear began to seep out, but he tried to hold it in as much as he could.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

When the feverish, hellish cries of the beast died to simpering and whispers, the creature recognized that a voice was invading his shroud of protection. Even his warped mind could not deny the inkling of sound that slithered into his ear. But he did not at first act as if he acknowledged the noise. Instead, he staggered forward a step, tossing his ebony mane to and fro. His fangs glinted, and his blood-stained mask made him practically unidentifiable. The reek of corpse that so naturally clung to his hairs was also beginning to overpower his Yozoran scent. In essence, he was shedding his skin, and taking bounding steps toward the fire-paved road of father's.
Finally finding his footing, Bain stood still and tall, but with an arch in his back that made him look larger and more ferocious. He twisted his head in Raffa's direction, his maroon-tinged eyes searching the wolf's form in a critical manner. The bravery that Raffa was expressing in adressing a bloodied murderer awakened an interest in him.
Have you answered my prayers, Father?
Slowly, Bain bent down to the ground, staring at the skull that now lay inches from his paw. Slipping his nose under the edge of the skull, he lifted the head up and onto his face, tilting back to allow it to slide into place. With the macabre addition to his features, he returned his gaze to Raffa, and uttered a hoarse, low-pitched whisper to serve as the voice for his new body.
[glow=maroon,2,300]"I am Hell. I am your savior."[/glow]

[♫Flisk♫]

Raffa watched the wolf twist and bend towards him and slowly took a few steps backwards, never taking his eyes off the crazy wolf. As Bain slipped the skull back onto his head and uttered the words that wisped out of his gruesome mouth, Raffa wasn't scared. He was curious. He sniffed, then grinned. His actions began to scare himself. Was he evil? Was he truly evil? The wolf had never thought of killing wolves to gain power until he'd seen how interesting it was.

Raffa began to slowly chuckle nervously, but inside thought it might have felt good to kill one of those Siverians. Bain had the Yozoran scent on him so Raffa knew that something was going to take place. He turned to the other wolf and woofed loudly to signal him to come close. The woof was more of a "He's harmless". Raffa swallowed.

"So...why are you here with a body?"

His serious expression melted again and he grinned as big as he could muster, his ivory fangs sitting against his lips. Raffa wondered what would become of him now.

[Njack]

Blink stood still, uncharacteristically silent and reluctant.

Strangely enough, the question that popped up inside of her head was something completely unexpected.

What is evil?

It was not a thought about how psychotic this other wolf was, or a thought about running away or making any sort of movement, forwards or backwards. It was just that thought.

Is evil a choice, or is it merely a misstep, a broken rung on a ladder to send one tumbling into darkness? But most importantly, what is evil? Does evil exist? How can it be defined?

Of course, Blink had none of the answers. She slowly padded forward to look at the skulled wolf, near the Destinian, but slightly behind him.

And she was surprised at what she said. "You may be what you say, but how do you know we need saving?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

There was a definite quality in Bain, one that was not quite patience, nor was it tolerance, but a sort of slowness that allowed him time to prevent him from lashing out without necessity. It was something related to the dawning of his new face; he had been rabid with bloodlust moments before, and then eerily calm the moment bone grazed his face. He peered outward toward Raffa, his eyes darkened and seemingly more crimson than usual, but managed nothing more than a deep, croaking chuckle at the expense of the other wolf.
In a tone that mimicked the ragged breathing of a dying animal, Bain answered, [glow=maroon,2,300]"You are undoubtedly, unmistakably… very, very amusing."[/glow]
But as far as tolerance goes, there is a fine line for every circumstance. In this case, Bain’s satanic ‘other self’ found Blink’s inquiry very disrespectful… or, rather, infuriating. The wolf rounded on Blink, his lips peeling back in a snarl; a snarl unseen beneath the fangs of the skull, but heard plainly and clearly as a threatening rumble.
[glow=maroon,2,300]"Is that supposed to be funny? Do you not see this hellhole of a world that unfolds around all you insolent little maggots? Do you not fear war? Do you not fear devastation? Is this not inevitable when everyone simply sits around and coaxes apocalypse into being!?"[/glow] A subnormal hiss echoed in his voice as the words died away from his muzzle. He narrowed his eyes, staring down at the fae through bloodied sockets. [glow=maroon,2,300]"Instinct has long been forgotten and abandoned, and instead a system of supposed “morality” rules these lands… and yet you all snipe and bite and kill in this “system” to get what you please… And yet you ask me why you need saving?"[/glow]

[Njack]

A change came over Blink. She did not back down; she merely raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it was supposed to be funny."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't think insanity is supposed to get rid of your humor."

"But since you're getting all jacked up like that, no offense, of course, I might as well ask. Without morality, wouldn't we still bite and snipe and kill? And if your point is true, how are you going to fix it?"

Strangely, she felt rather safe in her rebellious state of the moment. It could be said, perhaps, that she was used to it.

However, a little corner of her mind wished that her mouth would stop spewing out random statements and accusations. This may get out of hand.

[cowgirl]

From far away she looked like a star dancing and skipping behind the lush green trees.The only odd thing about the star was the Orange that flashed like a flame. The green trees around only made the star shine all the brighter. One moment the shinning figure was on your right, then onto your left.

If you were a wolf and the wind was blowing toward you, it would click that the star was another wolf. A female with the age of three on her pelt. If you talked to her and heard the silky sweet words that dripped from her muzzle you would realize her name fit her perfectly, Moonwind. You would also wonder how she was so well feed with that wildly odd pelt.

She was chasing a squirrel that was being wildly crazy and running every which way. Her ears swiveled fast to make sure no one was around her while she had her fun. She was not hungry just having fun and the squirrel could tell. If she caught the small fuzzy thing it would soon be running away chattering loudly. She soon panting and ran faster after the brown fuzz ball in front of her nose.

She suddenly realized where she was. Wow I ran a long way after that stupid fur ball. She thought silently and looked around. The smell of others hit her nose sharply as she raised her muzzle. She lowered her silver body to the ground and crept toward the smells.

[♫Flisk♫]

Raffa nodded at the pyscotic wolf and crinkled his nose. How was he amusing? He simply asked a question. Shaking his head with a light smile plastered across his face, he chuckled along with the wolf until the female wolf asked why they needed to be saved. Raffa understood how bad of a choice that was. If you were going to be listened to, first you had to listen.

As Bain whirled around Raffa licked his lips and scuffed his paw in the dirt unpleasantly. He listened to the wolf rage. He understood how it felt to be angry and misunderstood. The younger wolf agreed inwardly that yes, he did need saving...kind of. He was on his way to run away and maybe this was his chance. Hopefully he could finally, truly be an evil, rebelling wolf and he could teach his Destinian leader a lesson. Blood pounded through his ears as he spoke, calmly itching his side.

"So...how do you plan to save us?"

It was a nice tone, not sarcastic or emphasized. It was respectful, yet firm, and that was just what Raffa wanted. The other wolf had stated it so, but Raffa still sat closest to the evil wolf and decided that was where he should be. He would be dominant over females whether he stayed with this wolf or not and if he would be with the other wolf that was farther away, he would surely show his leadership quickly with a flash of fangs and the taste of flesh. It was almost addicting, fighting things and killing them, something that Raffa couldn't get enough of. Bringing misery into other wolves lives was something Raffa did as much as possible.

Raffa's muscles went rigid as he scented another wolf. A squirrel shot out into the clearing and right into his paws where he swiftly killed it, squeezed it, and watched the blood flow out. After a few times of this, he licked it up and bit into the squirrel rapidly, the warm meat tasting good in his slightly empty stomach. Then a wolf came through and crouched down. Raffa chuckled.

"Who are you may I ask?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Twin rubies shined from their sockets, staring down at the Siverian that tested his temper. But Bain was regaining control of his rage, also noting that the male was appealing to him in a polite manner in the process. He licked his jaws, his tongue swiping across the edge of Moss’ fangs.
[glow=maroon,2,300]“This supposed system of “morality” means naught. It doesn’t conceive any effective results. It is useless. But there is a way to return to the instinct of the wolf. And before that can happen, we must return to peace. And the only mkeans of reaching utopia is through force, because, as you may have noticed, violence is the language of the people. The packs won’t listen to someone who whispers; you must scream your purpose in their ignorant faces. I purpose that the packs are taken down, and the ashes which so numerously litter the earth shall give birth to a brighter era, where all can be as they were at the beginning of days…”[/glow]
Bain spoke with a dreamlike wistfulness, as if he had peered into the feature and had witnessed the grand fate that was yet to come. Truly, he believed, destroying the packs and renewing the forest would restore order and give the wolves meaning once more? The packs were centered around isolation and war, so it seemed; if there was only one pack to govern and only the law of instinct to preside over the land, how could it fail?
But a sound interrupted his muddled thoughts. Whirling about, he stared into the forest, ears perked. Is someone approaching, or is it simply prey?