Wolf RPG

He pulled himself out of a deep, dark place. His mind swirled and colors reverted slowly back into focus whereas for the past hour or so he had only been capable of seeing black and white. Haunter stood frozen in place for a pregnant pause, disoriented and disheveled until the feeling in his limbs began to return and the fur along his spine could freely ripple again. The black dog didn't relax, but rather loped off into the sunset, traipsing right out of Swiftcurrent Creek in a quick-stepping trot.

He arrived in the Wetlands sometime later that night, the moon high and his pelt cool now that the sun wasn't bearing down on his dark pelt like a magnet. Yellow eyes scanned back and forth as he continued walking, the scant, leggy wolf appearing slightly crazed around the face: his tongue lolling, mouth slick, eyes wide, and oily fur sticking out oddly around him. A vicious porcupine, tall and hateful in appearance. A damned demon that shouldn't be approached.

He appeared to be hunting, though he hardly took the precautions of a hunter, like silencing his large-footed steps or easing his breathing to a lull. The warm summer night enveloped the wolf as he splashed forward purposefully; searching for something that would never be found.

"...For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear..." she finished her prayer to Mephala as she sat by the goose she had killed. At night the birds always found a good place to hide, but she was skilled in finding them in the dark. This waterfowl had been unordinarily alone, perhaps a male who had failed in finding a mate.

The black-furred priestess was about the feather the goose when she heard something faintly moving in the water. Her indigo eyes fixed on a silohette in the marsh slowly approaching her. She did not move, only glaring at it intently, watching as its features became more defined.....

A wolf, male, with mad yellow eyes. His fur was dishevelled and matted, tongue lolling wildly out of his maw. The Priestess of Mephala said nothing as she grew into view of the mad wolf. There was no good reason in provoking him.

The smell of blood began to trickle over the scent of water. He followed it mindlessly, long head roving back and forth as his spidery legs drew him forward like a thickening, graceless shadow. Hunger creased his belly, and the maddening wolf approached the scene without pause or regard.

She melted into his view, shimmering into sudden clarity like a Wetland nymph, and she guarded her kill quietly from the advance of the inky wraith. Acidic eyes met her deep, searching blues, and he curled his lip at how openly she observed him. It made him feel strangely judged, and his erratic thoughts began to take a violent turn—there was no Fox here to prevent it from happening either.

"Your kill," he hissed in that raspy, misused tone of his, a deep, rumbling noise between a growl and a rattle. "I want it." Licking devilishly slick chops, he stared at her violently, keeping his teeth at bay but there was a definite threat there without him having to show them.

The insane wolf walked closer and closer, his head swinging side to side as he sniffed, searching for something. When he came in her direction, she knew that he could smell her kill, and the black wolf pressed her body over the goose. She would not let him have it. It was hers by right.

He found her and his insane, wild yellow eyes met her calm, calculating blue. Your kill. I want it. he snarled at her, licking his lips. She met his threatening gaze levelly, not flinching or moving. "Fine." she said firmly, before moving away to allow the mad wolf to eat her kill.

"Fine." A clipped answer, but satisfactory to his needs. Acidic eyes brightened in anticipation, eager and starved for the wafting scent of blood that permeated each of his senses. His nape and spine bristled, making the leggy wolf appear as a stretching, spiked shadow. The inky monster moved forward slowly as she allowed him space.

Cautious, though unafraid of consequences, he stepped near to claim the bird, tucking his one ear and casting a hateful glare in the female's direction as he crouched to snatch her meal away. He would take the bird's neck in his jaws, and swing away in the next moment if she allowed it as she seemed to be doing.

The mad wolf looked satisfied, staring now at the goose that lay on the ground unattended. He moved forward to grab the fowl, not before giving her a hate-filled glance. She merely returned the look with a cold stare. The black wolf crouched, ready to pick up the bird. Seizing her chance, Meldresi darted forward, grabbing the goose by the breast and ran as fast as she could.

As she ran, a part of her wondered what could have made the wolf as mad and feral as he. He did not suffer from the maddening foaming mouth disease. But madness could be brought about by other factors, like certain fungi, abuse both physical and mental, a bump on the head.