REMEMBER: {panic}IS ONLY 2 WORDS AWAY FROM{picnic}

[nighty!]

I was a drift of darkness when you found me.

-BloodMist wolves and the kidnapped only-

Being continued to be dragged by a wolf that she doesn't recgonize, or ever ment before wasn't quiet good. She couldn't believe that she was even being dragged by a wolf. If she was going to be dragged by someone, it would be by either her sister or by Coop on a sled on a winter morning. This wasn't either of those things that she was thinking but the fish decieved her. How could the fish trick her in being kidnapped by another wolf. That was almost impossible and yet it happened.

Maybe Coop will rescue her. He has to rescue her and the other wolves that were sorta infront of her. She was looking at the others that were kidnapped or in this cased wolf-napped. She bent her head toward the wolf-napper. "Don't you get hungry once in a while? What's your favorite food?" She asked politely. "Maybe we'll go hunting after this. What'd you say?" asked Missing. "By the way, I never got your name. I'm Missing!" She introduced herself. "What's your name?"

[/color][/blockquote]

Only if you didn't.

[Sivoncé™]

Rushing through the woods, the dark pelt of night wearing thin, Assyria escaped the battle with her chosen capture -- a Sheeran neophyte. It had been a spur of the moment idea, something that had been practiced in the past, though not in such significant volume as tonight. Others had followed Assyria's example and snatched up helpless packwolves, taking them away into oblivion while their packmates fought on, unknowing that the real danger was working behind their backs. The Sheeran civil brawl had been the perfect cover for their escapades, though a few Yozorans had spoiled their cover. Luckily, they dealt with the complication and sped off fast. None but the she-wolf's family had even seemed to take note that she'd died. Some pack she had! Goes to show what poor condition the packs are in, dwindling away....

She threw Missing forward harshly to the ground, blinking at her critically as she trilled off on a barrage of question. "My name is Assyria," she woofed flatly. Maybe she's heard of me from my place in Verlust's Gaurd, but she's young, and it's unlikely. Seniors' tales fall on deaf ears when they leave the nursery, and that was one story that was too gorey for puplore... "And you are a prisoner."

[nighty!]

M

[/font]issing nodded slowly because of all the bumps from being dragged on the ground. Then she was thrown from point A to point B. After that the wolf who was dragging MIssing told her her name. "Nice to meet you Assyria," she woofed back. Assyria was a really nice name. She doesn't like her name: Missing. Why Missing? Why couldn't it be something else. Oh well.

She listened to what Assyria said to her. Missing was a prisoner. "OhMyLupis I love that game! That game is soooooo much funnnnn. My sister and I use to play that game when we were pups. My sister's name is Tourniquet. We like to trade off of who is the prisoner and who is the wolfnapper. The game is soooo fun." She got all excited about being the prisoner. Missing remember playing it, they had so much fun together. Fun fun fun.[/color][/size][/blockquote]

[Sivoncé™]

Assyria padded closer to the young neopyte, surveying her closely. She listned keenly as she trilled on about games in the Sheeran terras, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and through in throw rock at Missing. No surprises there, then. The Sheerans are still as soft as ever....an insult to Blood Mist and their heritage, as always. These wolves never really change, do they? They just seem to get dumber and dumber, forgetting their past because they think it has no effect on their future. Hell, do they even know what Blood Mist is?! We'll change that. This time, no matter what happens, Blood Mist stays. This pack will never die. If anything, the Sheerans can fricken but out of our place.
She bent down until her icy breath curled around Missing, her eyes only inches from hers.
"Games, hm? All right then, we'll play a game. I'm your captor, you're my prisoner. You mess up, it's game over, understand?" She straightened herself sharply and studied the forest, waiting for more packmates to appear. She turned to look back at Missing, though it was a look of mild disinterest. She sighed heavily, murmuring, "Do you like stories, Missing?"

[♫Flisk♫]

Flisk listened to the sounds of the wolves around him. The blackness was fading and he found himself groaning with pain as he turned over. Squinting, he opened his eyes and peered around. The scent...that scent of evil...filled his nostrils. He shook his head and quickly regretted it as a fresh wave of pain made him yelp in agony. He was sure he was heard and closed his eyes again. So much for staying on the down low. Rolling over, he fought the pain to get to his paws and stumbled to see a wolf named Missing and some other wolf, the one with the smell that made him shiver with fear. The young male neophyte walked towards Missing and the other wolf, wondering silently to himself how he got here. He had smelled the wolf that captured him on him, but his scent had gone the other way, as if he'd been chased off or had been killed on his way to get prey. Flisk thought the latter. Turning, he stumbled into Assyria and then flopped onto the ground, head spinning.

"Urgh...where am I?"

[Sivoncé™]

In came the fleet of demons..

Regulus thundered in, his pawsteps uneven due to a combination of exhaustion, carelessness, and injury. A wolf was slung over his back -- a she-wolf of faded white and Siverian sent. He dropped her to the dirt next to Flisk, not showing much care for the fae. He stepped back to regard their prisoners, then frowned. He stood back and let out a sharp howl -- a signal to the others of the pack. We can't have the captured outnumbering us, even if they are helpless nitwits....

Freya was thrown harshly to the ground, the pain in her head resonating and pulsating in time with her heartbeat. Her vision was blurry, but after a few moments, the images stilled and she could see clearly again. She was immobile as far as escape, even if she knew where she was. Her hind legs were badly sprained, and she was sure she'd be dead meat before she could even think of trying. She looked around, catching sight of Flisk and Missing. "Yozoran, right? I'm Freya, Siverian. Name?" she murmured to him softly, her tone too low for the Hellfirians to hear.

Arachna flew in like a haunting raven, the she-wolf on her back small and frail-looking. She was a slim-figured female, petite and slender. Arachna slid her to the forest floor a little more gently than the others had with their prisoners of war. She regarded her for a moment, then padded off towards the edge of the clearing. Behind her came Babylonia, Crimson, Arkantos, Enferian, Nepthys, Snare, Paris, and Bloodsbane. They formed a rough circle around the hollow. Escape.....it was impossible, now.

The prisoner raised her head, water pouring down her face, eyes bloodshot. They rested on Flisk, wide with recognition of her packmate, but still drowning in sorrow. "Flisk..." Neveria breathed softly. "Tria....she called for you but you....you got caught like me......my mother.....Saskia....she's dead. They killed her." The words caught in her throat, she buried her face against her paws, distraught. "They almost got Autumn, too, but my mom and dad -- that's Crow -- they came in and tried to stop them. Autumn, Tria, and Kasparr got away....so did my dad." She blinked up at Flisk, whimpering slightly. "They won't rest now that we're gone. They'll get themselves killed!"

[nighty!]

Missing was almost overjoying herself. Normally when her sister and herself plays this game, their mother would be the the villian, just for fun. Mom would be like, I got you and you'll never get away. Then her sister would be rescuer. Wait Rescue? Isn't there going to be a rescer. She'll just ask. "OK, I get the game but who's going to be the rescuer, there's always a resucer in this game.

The neopyhte turned toward the other neophyte who somehow got there. "Hey! Where did you come from!? And I don't know where this place is but my friend Assyria and I are playing prisoner, she's the capturer and I'm the prisoner. I love this game. I use to play this game with my sister and my mother all the time but-" She paused. Missing never really talked about her mother before, she knew she had one but never saw her, or her father. "they're gone." The Sheerian finished.

[/blockquote][/color]

[♫Flisk♫]

Flisk felt the pain silently. As a burly male dropped a femme by him, he felt the fur on his back rise with fear. He was a measly neophyte compared to this scary looking wolf. He let out a low growl and lowered himself to the ground before listening to all the females around him. Am I the only guy here or what? Something was definitely wrong.


Freya spoke to him and he tried to look brave, but seemed to be the most freaked out of all. Trying not to shake, he lay down, pain seering everywhere on his body. He sighed and winced as another wave of pain sent his muzzle twisting into a grimace. He opened his mouth to the femme and let the words glide out.

"Yozoran...my name is Flisk. Of course I had to be the one that was knocked out."

He grinned despite his position and moved on to the next female. When she spoke of Tria, Flisk grew rigid. He couldn't bear the thought that he was seperated from her. Shaking his head, he nodded.

"She better not die. I couldn't stand it."

At last he saw the neophyte who spoke to him. It was Missing and she seemed extremely stupid. Flisk shook his head, hiding his disgusted look. When he looked up, he was ready to dish out the truth.

"This aint a game. This is real life and if you say one wrong thing, you will DIE. This isn't fake and there is a very good chance there will be no rescuers. Who knows what they will do to us. Whether they torture us, use us as hostages, or turn us into one of them, brainwashing us, it won't be pretty."

He eyed the other wolves surrounding them and his heartbeat raced with fear. The scent poured out of him and he was sure that those wolves that weren't on his side could smell it and were laughing at him. He was the only male he'd seen so far and it felt a little humiliating. This was life or death. Life...or DEATH.

[Sivoncé™]

Freya looked between Flisk and Neveria, then to Missing, head spinning. "Life and Death, hm?" Freya mumbled thoughtfully. She looked again at the surrounding wolves, a bitter smile creasing on her maw, cracking blood as it upturned the corners of her mouth. She looked at Flisk now, her smile sad, her eyes solemn. "This is worse than that, I'm afraid. Flame and Death aren't here to cover our asses this time."

Neveria crawled closer to the others, looking at Freya intently, but confused. "What do you mean? Flame and Death? Those wolves who started the war in the old territories? What do they have to do with this?"

Freya raised a brow, and looked like she might laugh if she weren't so terrified. "The she-wolf that brought Missing. I know her. I watched her fight in one of the most climatic battles of wolven history. I was a pup....so, so young. It was one of the very first things I saw. Ever." She looked at each of them seriously. "We're going to die here. Forget about your packs. We're going to die....or something much worse...and believe me, if I'm right, it can be worse." She looked miserably between each of them. "How much do you know about the history of the packs? The legends, how familiar are you with them?"

Neveria shrugged, a little weirded out by Freya's predictions. "I know as much as every wolf -- the basics."

"But you don't know how Death and Flame started the war, did you? You don't know the other wolves involved, either."

Neveria shuffled her paws, slightly ashamed. "Well....no....not many wolves these days do---"

"Exactly," Freya snorted bitterly. "We're forgetting our history, so we're making the same mistakes over and over again..."

Assyria narrowed her eyes at Missing, picking her up by the scruff and taking her towards a dark den. "Take a load off for a while, we'll finish our games later." She whirled towards the three remaining captured, her icy gaze narrowing as Freya spoke in low whispers. "You three get in there or I'll throw you myself!"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Following the howling of their brethren, a group of battle-scarred Hellfirians made their way through the underbrush. Leading the way was Shiver, who refused to say a word to any of the wolves that followed her. Frenzy, Temper, Macabre, and Morgan followed behind. Kill was limping far behind the others, eyes narrowed as she replayed the battle in her mind.
Spilling out of the woods to join the others, Shiver, Kill, and Morgan took immediate interest in the captives, and positioned themselves near the den that Assyria was using. The remainder settled around the outskirts, appearing as intimidating and bloodthirsty as ever with all their scars.

Morgan was the first to approach Assyria, his steel blue eyes hungering for sadistic sights. The twin scars that split his face only served to emphasize the fact. “Need any help with them?”
Of course, whatever happens here would never compete with the fun I had with Sanceul… I wound up in Hellfire for it, sure, but it’s not like anyone but the two of us knows anything about that… in any case, handling captives? That’s my area of expertise, right there!

[♫Flisk♫]

Flisk shivered, eyes wide. He listened to the wolves talk of such he didn't know about. The only real thing he understood was the part about death...or something worse. What could be worse than death? Torture? Ugh...Oh why is this happening to me? Noticing that Regulus did not growl back at him, Flisk shifted his attention to the wolf circle around them. There was four of them and so many of these evil wolves surrounding the measly four captives that shrunk to the ground.

Flisk eyed each one of them hatefully, a glint of fear always peeking through his gaze. He was ready to faint from exhaustion and fear, but fought it with all his strength. There was no way that he was going to pass out here in front of all these wolves. The things that they could do to him! Horrible. The tiny male neophyte blinked silently as Assyria walked over. He licked his lips and closed his eyes as she picked Missing up. What could they have in store for us? Just then, Assyria growled her command and Flisk followed it humbly. He entered the den. It was extremely dark, but his eyes got adjusted quite quickly. When he saw Morgan, he closed his eyes for the scar made him want to vomit. Silently he held back his tears.

[nighty!]

((Missing isn't stupid, she just has a short entension spand ))

Missing almost jumped when Flisk was talking to her. Life and Death? Right now, she only knows like the basics of fighting and defending herself but she can't run without getting killed, can't sneak away without getting killed. Practically everything without getting killed. Except for teleportaion, then they can't get her. Only if she could do that. She then got picked up by her friend and took her to a dark den. "Oh OK! We'll play later!" She woofed.

[/blockquote][/color]

[Sivoncé™]

Assyria turned and came face to face with Morgan. She tilted her head at him, a small smile forming on her maw. She gave him a once-over with her eyes, regarding him thoughtfully. He's not half-bad looking, but I don't trust him so much. Doesn't have Blood Mist heritage. Needs to prove himself a little more.....still. Torture sounds delicious.
"All right, I guess it could be good entertainment -- it's been a long night, we could use some fun..." she turned her eyes, bright and gleaming, on Freya and Neveria as they stood shakily, stumbling towards the den.
"Whoever gets there last gets to spend some quality time with Morgan," she barked icily, backing away from the den opening.

Freya's blood froze as Assyria's words trickled down, glacial icewater to her spinal cord. She gaped openly at her, shivering violently. She slowly turned her head towards Neveria, tears welling in her eyes. This isn't fair...she can't just pit us against each other! She swallowed hard, her back leg collapsing from the effort to hold her weight. She felt resignation wash over her, and she turned towards Neveria. "G-Go, I can't g-get up anyway." She blinked looking at her meaningfully. She dropped her tone so only Neveria would pick it up, "Neveria, don't forget about the legends. Don't forget what I told you....remember the name Blood Mist. Ask the others---" she broke off as Assyria loomed over them, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Get moving!" The Hellfirian ordered.
Freya closed her eyes tight, not wanting to know what would happen next. Be safe, Neveria!

Neveria could only stare, dumbfounded as Freya volunteered to play victim to this wolf's cruel games. She shook her head back and forth, denying her words, but as Freya went down, she knew the she-wolf meant what she said. Neveria padded away from her with lead-weighted pawsteps, heart thundering in her chest. Blood Mist!? Blood Mist, I know them... She joined Flisk and Missing in the den, going to the back and curling up there, covering her ears.
"Flisk, Missing, get back here. You don't want to hear this..."

[♫Flisk♫]

((I wasn't saying Missing was actually stupid, I was saying that was what Flisk thought ))

Flisk snuffled quietly, tears gone now. In the place of his sadness was anger. He wouldn't let these femmes suffer, not when he was a male. He stepped forward near the edge of the cave, blocking the entrance from Missing. He looked at so many of these wolves. How could they turn evil like this, kill and torture and be okay with themselves? How did they learn to transfer guilt into more bloodlust. How could they do that without any hint of distaste in themselves. I have plenty of distaste to go around. Flisk thought bitterly. His rage was building slowly, something strange for such a quiet neophyte, but it seemed that he did the wrong things at the wrong time...all the time. He got knocked out, brought here, and now he was about to risk his neck to save others. That last one wasn't so bad he guessed.

When Assyria barked for Neveria and Freya to move to the cave, Flisk went into a silent outrage. If Freya couldn't move, then it wasn't fair. Neveria would be smothered in guilt if he didn't move now. When Neveria told him to move back, he did not answer. Closing his eyes, the fear set in, as did the determination. With a low voice he growled.

"Take care of Missing. I'm going out."

He knew in his heart if he did nothing but watch, he too, would drown in his own guilt before he jumped off a cliff to end his life. So, in his own stupid moment, Flisk darted out from the cave to stand in front of Freya protectively. His paws prickled with fear, but the rage surged and he barked.

"Hey! That's not fair...she can't move."

[.Rabid Lycan.]

An approving smirk stretching across his features, Morgan turned his attention towards the remaining captives. Upon hearing Assyria’s words, he chuckled darkly, already contemplating possible tortures that he could impose onto his prey. This will be fun. I may not be an original BloodMist wolf, but I might as well be—they sure know how to have a good time!
At last, only Freya remained. Openly pleased, the brute approached the captive and placed a paw on her throat, pushing down experimentally (as if to see how much pain he could cause). He was grinning, a sort of wistful gleam in his eyes, and he muttered, “So, we have a winner…”
“Hey, that’s not fair… she can’t move.”
Swiveling his head about, he scowled at the newcomer. “Oh, looky here—the big strong male wants to be the hero, is that it? But rules are rules, and she was the last one.” He shifted his gaze to Assyria. “What do you think, Assyria? Should we make exceptions?”
Hmm… I prefer females, but torturing a male? It would be something new… but to give a captive his way is sort of defeating the purpose. Urgh, things were so much simpler the last time I was alive.