Firefly Glen The Witching Hour - Printable Version

+- Wolf RPG (https://wolf-rpg.com)
+-- Forum: In Character: Roleplaying (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=5)
+--- Forum: Archives (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11)
+--- Thread: Firefly Glen The Witching Hour (/showthread.php?tid=39747)

Pages: 1 2

The Witching Hour - Abaddon - February 24, 2020

@Lethalle maybe? But Open to anyone, especially Nightwalkers or Moonspear wolves!

It had been a while sine his last visit to the Nightwalker's Haunted Woods, how was his father doing? Who lingered there still and who had left? Would he still be hated by a few members and be chased out almost immediately should he try to cross the borders once more as he would before? So many questions, and they all seemed so thrilling to investigate. As the moon's swollen face loomed over the night sky, the pale man wandered closer and closer to the the path that he remembered would take him straight to the foggy woods.

Staining his lips was a trail of dried blood, wolf of course as he had currently satiated himself before making the journey back to the woods. No corpse was left in his wake as the drunken wolf wobbled away in a drunken state, just enough blood drained to leave them lightheaded but otherwise unharmed. He wouldn't want to leave corpses around here, these were their lands after all, Moonspear and Nightwalkers.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - February 24, 2020

Just sneaking this in here.

This was a fitting place for her. Or it would be, had the spindly limbs of the trees not been barren, to cast down their shadows unto the land below. Time would change that, come spring, she knew. Besides, it was her time during the 24-hour cycle. Increasingly unsettled and distant, the familiar blanket of night weaved its magic to a least somewhat soothe her nerves.

The coppery taint of blood lured her forward in pursuit. Laced within that scent, was another. One of which bore some semblance of familiarity. Hot on his trail, Tzila would not let this wolf go unnoticed. When she saw the flash of silvery-white fur, complete with a blood-stained muzzle, her suspicions were confirmed. Abaddon. Forgotten son of Vengeance. This, was their first formal meeting. "If you are here to come back home..." She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth then, well aware that he had never been truly integrated with the misty woods. "...then you'll find things have changed." Her tone dropped to a level enough to imply that he may or may not like the news poised on her lips.

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - February 26, 2020

It didn't take long indeed for someone to come find him. To hunt down the specter and talk with a ghost. With an elegant turn, hairs flowing in his motion as his tail softly flowed behind him, multi-coloured eyes landing on the darker woman who already began to speak. Red-stained lips curled toward the skies almost immediately before speaking after her. Was it ever my home to come back to? He was more so of a parasite than anything.

But I am curious. What has changed since my last visit? He was no stranger to approaching, he glided forward, reaching out with his ears as he thirsted for her words. He had no ill-will on the woman for now, his hunger was satiated after all. What a lucky girl she was, she would have been a fantastic meal - maybe another day.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - February 26, 2020

Tzila had to admit, that she was pleased to be in the company of a wolf related to someone she once associated with. But his lack of any true ties to Vengeance or the Nightwalkers only enhanced the appeal. Maybe she was like him; a true loner at heart. "Hardly..." She drawled in a smooth, almost easy voice. "...what with how he shunned you." Her voice held little weight for that little subject, but a certain inflection of a different kind was there. Of potential understanding, if only allowed to open up one another's books, sifting through their earliest chapters.

The Shadow Queen in all her dark glory, broken only by a flash of caped blood, welcomed the Ghost forward. She turned in a sweeping move to curl her flank, then her hips around his form, before slipping away, breaking the ying-yang like formation. She settled to peer into those familiar but not, red eyes, a telling glint in her own. "Leadership." She offered at first, letting the weight behind the simple word settle. "Slain by but a whelp, in a contest for dominance." Tzila masked her disgust...her true emotions. She'd reveal those if and when the right moment came.

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 01, 2020

"...what with how he shunned you." Her words weighed heavily, but to Abaddon, the fact didn't sting as much as she perhaps thought it would. Abandoned by the giant after conception, he was merely a donor than a father. Expecting him to change was ridiculous, a child's dream, and even as a child, he didn't dream of such a thing. Offering the dark woman a high shrug, the comment rolled off his back like a duck with water. He was impervious.

Which one? The female or the male? He had only met the two of them after all, they were possibly the only ones who ever would dare such a thing after all. I'll assume the female, she was in control of herself. Trained by Vengeance himself too, no? She was trained by many in the pack as well. He pointed out. Maybe Vengeance was the source of his own undoing, putting too much work into the young and teaching them possibly a little too well.

Well, that was something he would take note of. Maybe not train the youth well enough so they may take him down eventually... learn from the giant's past mistakes.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 01, 2020

"The female. Her name is Hela." She clarified. "Vengeance did play some part in training her, but from what I understand, her mentor was a wolf named Black Hat. I believe it was with him, that she spent the majority of her training with." Tzila had never had much interaction in the way with Hela. Though taking down Vengeance on her own at such a young age was an impressive feat, as an adult, she did not believe it was a child's place to do so.

Her silver eyes narrowed with a detesting glint, still latched to his own. "I was never one to go with the flow. I am accustomed to playing by my own rules." Her voice was cold and un-yielding, a reflection of this deep rooted belief of hers. "And now...now to be led by a child, who has no leadership experience whatsoever..." Her lip began to curl. "It disgusts me." Her frustration was evident the more she spoke. She did not miss Vengeance. The pack was a free for all when he was Warlord, just as it was this very day. The only difference was that he had earned her respect. Hela on the other hand, had not. The Nightwalkers scent was faint on her black fur, a clue of her increasing disinterest in the pack.

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 01, 2020

That's no surprise. He said half-in thought while looking off in the distance. I don't know him, nor do I care. The young man said finally, he wouldn't be bothered by individuals he didn't know right away; and that was the end of that.

I suppose we are very different in that aspect. Desiring to go by "your own path" meant that you had to carve it yourself, and that, well, seemed like a lot of work. Something that Abaddon wasn't too bothered with either. He was accustomed to playing nice when necessary, following the rules and the way the others had led down for him. That didn't mean he didn't have fun with it too.

Then why not challenge her? If you despise it so much. With a smirk he said.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 01, 2020

At times, Tzila wished she could just find someone who would understand. Someone who could relate to her. But in this world that seemed to be too much to ask for. The curl of her lips turned into a humorous little smile. Abbadon had said something that struck her. "Mmn, maybe. In that regard." Perhaps she knew something he didn't. Despite their differing views, she did not find herself turning away to end their conversation. Or to lunge forth, lashing out to unleash her pent-up frustration. Instead she stayed, curious of this young man who carried his father’s blood in his veins.

"I have considered it. Thought about challenging long before Vengeance was dead." She tipped her head to the side, seemingly confident in her reasoning. "But this is Nightwalkers. I am fairly certain that if I challenge and won, I too, would soon be challenged. I also don't feel I have enough solid connections within to support my standing of such a status for long." Her face hardened severely for a split second. "And I've had more than my fair share of being outshined and humiliated in my young life." Her thudding heart began to return to its normal pace again as her nerves settled. "But that is beside the point. I don't want her rank that badly. It is not my pack...not something that I have built. I was never much of a team player anyways. I never once swore my loyalty."

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 01, 2020

So what's your plan? He said in a mocking tone. The man couldn't help but turn down his charm and crank his arrogance to its near maximum capacity. Create a monarchy because you don't think you can command others like him? So you'd shield yourself behind your own laws to protect your title. If there was one thing that he could give his father, that man was able to gather a crowd around him. For such a sick man, he was oddly charismatic. If that wasn't her plan, there's always a chance for a challenge regardless of the pack, and the glimmer in his sinister eyes was enough to try egg her on.

Why are you telling me all this anyway?

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 03, 2020

He was trying to get under her skin. She could see that. How very typical of a wolf descended of Vengeance's blood. Tzila very easily could have let him. Give in and lose her cool, as she so often would in her early days of youth. But she was beyond such things now. She channeled her emotions in a different way. For example, two could play at this game.

Impassive to his mocking, she answered with a voice un-faltering. "I could if I wished. But I have no desire to command such...senseless, chaotic beasts." A corner of her lips curled up. "I am, after all, more tactful than that." Tzila had displayed plenty of savagery in the Nightwalkers. A type that she had complete control over. Abbadon hadn't seen that side of her yet, so she'd leave him to assume. Inching closer, pressing into his personal comfort zone, upright tail swaying like a pendulum, she nipped the outer rim of one of his ears. "The real question is, why don't you take it yourself? It is his creation; you are his blood."

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 03, 2020

It should be easier for you to lead them, don't you think? Being the brains of the bunch after all. He purred in a gruff whisper, welcoming her in his 'personal space' as he pressed forward, closing any gap as he would not be scared away by such tactics. No, he was spurred on by it. Even if he was already fed, he had a ferral hunger, a desire to sink his teeth into her too. The demon could feel his maw stretch behind closed lips, itching to reach out and draw blood.

At this distance his hot breath should be able to be felt, exhaling softly through her fur and down to her skin (unless she backed away of course). A drunken smile found its way to his mug as his eyes continued to roam her, devour the woman with a new found thirst. He was a glutton after all.

If that is the only reason I have, the competition is thick with his blood. The brute that they called his father was a whore, in his travels Abaddon had met many who either were born in his wake or died in it. Few desired to search him out, but there had to have been others with just as dark of a personality who would relish in the thought of taking over their father's pack with a simple blood tie their excuse. I have no reason to lead, no desire to.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 03, 2020

@Abbadon

"Tch. It would be, yes. But I do not have the patience for those lacking in any sort of intelligence." Tzila had merely tested the waters when joining Vengeance's pack. At the time, it sounded it would be like a good fit for her. And while it was, in the sense that served as a fine outlet for her to unleash who she really was, the endless chaos was too much. She felt like she was in a three-ring circus with no ring master. Sure, she was just as savage and as ruthless as the rest of them. Just more...dignified. Not so blinded and with a one-track mind always on fighting, killing and blood. If she wanted violence, she wanted violence with depth. With a purpose woven within it.

This close, she could easily feel the warmth of his breath pushing past the hairs of her fur and onto her skin. It made her tingle. She noticed the growing look of lusty hunger in his eyes, but did not acknowledge it. Not yet. Instead she rose up to drape her forelegs over his shoulders, applying no unnecessary pressure to lead him to assume she was trying to force him down. She just rested, comfortably. "Then what will you do? I only joined this rag-tag bunch to get a taste. I'm like a parasite, you see. I take my fill and when they are worthless to me, move on." Her nose pressed close against the inside of his ear, against the thinner flesh where veins ran beneath the surface. She inhaled, as if to try and breathe in the entrapped blood there. "I ain't new to that lil game, I assure you."

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 03, 2020

Abaddon wasn't one to lose his tongue easily. A carefree, callous man who enjoyed saying what immediately popped into his head should it be something that would make an interesting scenario unfold. But now, right now, he was wordless as she hoisted herself against his thick shoulders. Her previous words fell on deaf ears, and the skull-faced man stood there with a maw slightly open as he eyed... her.

Or more specifically, that closer, more exposed, neck of hers. She was in striking distance. The world stood still in his eyes, deaf and mute as all he could almost hear was her heartbeat beating under that tender, sweet flesh of hers. He truly was that bastard's son after all. A beast of self indulgence, of pleasures. I will - He said breathlessly, the white smoke reaching around his muzzle and entangling into her fur as he inched closer... I want- Lips quivering -

Oh fuck it

He had no self control. The bitch put herself in this vulnerable position. Like lightning he struck with hunger, saliva spewing from his lips as he reached to draw blood. Not to kill, no, that would be a tragic possibility but all he wanted was to drink. He was simply being uncharacteristic about it at the moment, blaming the woman for teasing him and almost begging for his full attention.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 03, 2020

@Abbadon

Tzila had indeed put herself right in this very situation. Backed into a dangerous corner, with so many possibilities of what could go wrong. But, clever as she was, it had been entirely intentional. From the moment she met this ghostly wolf, she could smell the fresh blood on him. Rumors in the pack, when she was around, circulated from Valour's experience with the man. It did not deter her. Did not make her squeamish or in the least bit afraid. She had wanted this.

Carefully, she angled her neck down so his snapping teeth clipped the skin of her jaw, rather than the delicate expanse of her neck where the more crucial life supplying veins and arteries lay. Nicking one of those by accident would have her bleeding out in seconds. And neither of them wanted that. As her flesh split, spewing rivulets of crimson to weep between his fangs, the Shadow Queen did not whimper or cry out in pain. Rather, she let out a drawn out, sweetened hiss between clenched teeth.

At his shoulders, her toes flexed, the sharpened nails pressing down against his skin. The pale ear she had been nosing so delicately moments ago, she now took in her mouth. Her voice rolled forth in a low, slightly amused rumble. If Abbadon thought only her blood would flow today, then he was sorely mistaken. Driven by heated curiosity and the want to see how he'd react to the very same treatment, she bit down, easily creating a wound near the tip. She would taste him, too.

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 04, 2020

He was always careful not to nick an artery, sure every now and then he was off by a little - no one was perfect after all, but damn was he good at it. Here and now, he believed his strike was true, naturally he held with his teeth and let his tongue lap up the syrup. It was at her own little love bit did he realize she had indeed lured him in, that she did not struggle or even try to evade the initial strike.

Abaddon was greedy and even Valour would agree that he didn't like giving as much as he loved taking. Slipping from his throat, muffled by her skin and fur, a sultry growl rolled out and the pressure he was placing on her neck increased slightly. But oh how she tasted good, smelled good too, she was a feast for all the senses and the bite on his ear wasn't nearly enough to have him try to break contact.

In fact, he leaned into it. Into her. Muscular limbs pushing forward as his tail snaked behind him in a slow pattern. He'd want to take as much as he could without sacrificing her, such a willing soul to offer themselves like this was rare - at lest, those he didn't need to coax into it. For now, he was drunk on the taste. Pupils black and dilated in pleasure.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 04, 2020

@Abbadon

Her tongue rolled out, pressing against the broken skin to taste the weeping blood. She wanted to know what he, the quencher of such liquid, tasted like himself. She let it glide over her taste buds and roll down her throat, lips twitching in a sinister little grin while he growled, apparently in approval. The increasing pressure he applied did nothing to tear her away; she had far from enough. With a guttural rumble of a growl, Tzila practically shoved herself closer, begging him to rip her open further. As she had practiced before, she would use the sensation of pain to fuel her pleasure.

Having not been satisfied by the meager flow of blood from his ear (though it bled quite profusely as ears do), she un-hinged her legs from his neck, dragging her teeth away none too gently. She kept her head and neck angled pointedly down, so he might maintain his grip on her with only minor twisting and adjusting. Standing alongside him now, a contrasting dark flank brushing his pale furred one, she turned her teeth towards another target. The temple just above his brows. She bit down, creating deep puncture wounds in his flesh. Two not so little vampire like marks, which in time would heal long after their affair.

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 04, 2020

They both seemed to like it rough, teeth and blood were the main part of the attraction and such a willing partner only spurred on his thirst. He wanted more. Much more. He wanted to dive deep down into her in more ways than he was right now. How far would she allow him to go? He wanted to test it. Test her. And like every other encounter he had, he inched his way to trying their boundaries and seeing if he could cross them.

As she dismounted and walked herself to stand by him, he leaned into her, bumping hip bones as his tail curled around her hips. She bit into his temple and instead, he ran his tongue along the wound he had created, roughly, with as much pressure as a tongue could muster, lapped up the remains that stained her dark coat. He couldn't see it, but he could taste it. All of it. The pale man's lips were thickly coated in saliva and gore, dripping in certain areas as he was more focused on her now than his little kink. Every now and then he'd remind her of him with grazing of his teeth, watching her expression, her movement, with a fire and ice predatory gaze from under his brow.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 06, 2020

Dark lips wet with his blood, Tzila bared her teeth, snapping at the raw flesh. Peeling it back more, layer by layer. She twisted her supple neck, angled it into his bite, shuddering with approval. The pain was raw, real. Addicting like a drug she couldn't get enough of. She would be interested to see how her flesh healed up long after their gore fest was over. Smashing her cheek quite firmly against his own, she raised her chin, coating his brow with his own blood, dribbling from her lips. Perhaps marking him as her own plaything, from this point on.

Limits, to her, were meant to be tested and ultimately broken. Getting an idea whilst tiring of suckling the blood from the first wound, she abruptly yanked herself away, caring little if her flesh and some of her fur tore in the process. Provided he had released her, she moved ahead of him, nipping harshly at his pale legs. Then, with a suggestive flick of her tail, rolled down onto her stomach in a rare display of vulnerability. All the while offering him a toothy devils grin, laced with crimson pearls.

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 07, 2020

As she nipped and picked at his legs while she walked by, the rolling growl grew until he snapped at the empty air between them, bloodied fangs and lips in a threatening display - he was being playful of course, with no intention to follow through with his empty threat other than to push her further into their little dance. His maw and brow were caked in fresh blood, thick with the substance as he followed her lead.

As she laid onto her belly he was quick to act. Pressing his nose against the sensitive flesh, beginning at the pubis and letting it run up until it met with her bottom rib. Slowly, step by step he crawled his way up. Breath hot on every rib until he found her neck again, that wound, and took another taste of it.

Should she allow it all, the pale man should be above her. Legs on either side of her body. The air was thick with their blood, mostly hers but his was clearly entangled within as well thanks to her won intervention. Oh the things he wanted to do to her. The young man's blood boiled with anticipation and desire.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 08, 2020

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Possible sexual themes.

She rested there, exposed and vulnerable beneath his massive frame. Usually she liked to be the one pinning the others down; not vice versa. But with this man, the son of Vengeance, Tzila felt differently. She welcomed his power, his domination...his thirst for her blood. It excited her in words that dared not slip off her tongue, but were expressed in the serrated rise of crimson stained hackles.

Wired muscles twitched and flexed beneath her bruised, bleeding skin, the cool press of his nose like the inviting warmth of a flame. She wanted more of it...was drawn closer. Tipping her inky crown up towards him, with a purr-like growl, she snapped at the loose skin of his throat, then nibbled her way up to his chin. Any red beads that might have been shed, she kissed away with swift flicks of her tongue. Her shoulders heaved, rolling against the solidity of his chest, spine arching. Hiking her haunches just inches off the ground, rear legs splayed, she deliberately brushed her pelvis squarely between his legs. Her heat had not yet hit, but with the way things were going now, it might as well have.

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 08, 2020

Mature Content Warning

He groomed her, the blood had ceased pouring from the wound but the taste remained. In clumps of drying blood he's chew them clean and lick the rest to take every little bit of it, none would go to waste. From her doing his neck and face were stained in red, fresh and drying in various places. His pale body a canvas to her work and it didn't matter to him, it suited the blood thirsty beast of course. It was natural for him to be bathed in blood of his own or others.

Pressing against him, she presented herself for the absolute sin of adultery. He felt her warmth on his own member, beckoning him to come and play. Why would he deny her such a thing when he wanted it just as much? For a moment he teased, enjoying the moment a little too much as he continued to run his tongue along her neck and threaten to rip it out all at the same time.

It wasn't until the passion was at a fever pitch did their bodies finally merge, with a low grunt of pleasure, squeezing down on her with a loose grip between his teeth - he allowed nature to take its course. Heat or no, they didn't need an excuse. They were animals after all.

RE: The Witching Hour - Hedge - March 09, 2020

There is no telling what drew him closer: the blood, the hushed voices, or pure whimsy.

He had rolled in a mound of cold mud earlier in the day. It had smelled strongly like bile of all things, and he carried that smell with him for a while. As it dissipated, he found other things for masking. A yellow patch of snow; some hopeful flower buds, left crushed by the jut of his shoulder; a discarded rabbit burrow which he shoved his face deep within, snapping at the thick air. He was well hidden in the glen.
The smell of sex—or the precursive pheremones in the air, taunting him—was a detour he willingly took. From an alcove of brambles he lurked, cloistering himself behind a wall of nettles. In the summer these vines would be full of blackberries, but for now they were decorated only with thorns. A hunter's blind.
Ahead of him, if he ducked his head a certain way, he could make out their shapes—so he lingered, silent, mouth gaping, and watched as one climbed upon the other.

Cameo. He is very skilled at staying hidden.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 16, 2020

The growl that she held at the back of her throat, she let loose in a hair-raising snarl once their bodies meshed. With bared teeth, she snapped at any part of him within reach. Abbadon, though young, she found was certainly very much a man, as he took control of her, forcing their hips together while they let their primal instincts take over. She tipped her head up slightly, eyes rolling back. Yes...he was much better at this than that other man she had let have her, long ago.

Grunting, she felt themselves lock into place and she adjusted her footing to accommodate for this awkward positioning. "Stay with me...follow me...my vampire..." She breathed heatedly. She ruled the shadows themselves, and he, a bloodthirsty creature, was fit hardly anywhere better. She would tear herself away from the Nightwalkers, existing in the shadows with her demon. Tzila was too caught up in the heat of the moment, in the stench of passionate sex and blood, that she didn't even know they were being watched.

RE: The Witching Hour - Abaddon - March 16, 2020

Nature took its course, letting the rhythm of their bodies take over in a moment of carnal pleasure for no other reason than they could. If he knew about their companion watching in the brushes, he would have been all the more excited, shit, maybe he would have invited the little creep to join in on the fun. Abaddon didn't care after all, pleasure was pleasure and that's all that mattered in the end.

Once it was all said and done, instead of living in the moment, letting them both drink up the smell of adultry and bathe in their sin - she spoke, and he frowned. Is that was this is? Your recruiting method? Pulling himself away from her body, a few steps back to eye her with heavy scrutiny. I have no interest in pledging myself to a pack, let alone work in creating one from the ground up. The young man's tone was unimpressed, annoyed by a woman who used her body to try and coax him into following her like a love-sick whelp.

Come back after you have more followers. With this, he prepared to walk off and leave her be. Insulted, annoyed, at least he was able to get something out of it in the end.

RE: The Witching Hour - RIP Tzila - March 16, 2020

Spinning, Tzila forced themselves apart. Uncomfortable for her, but likely painful for him. His mis-interpretation of her words was not taken well. Not at all. She never did handle criticism or rejection well, and now he'd learn. Blood flying from still fresh wounds, she aimed a bite at his face with much more intent behind it. "Who ever said I was interested in starting a pack, boy?"

Her silver eyes narrowed into slits, tail raised, lashing. "You misunderstood. I only suggested keeping company for the singular sake of it. Nothing more." Stiffly, she stepped forward, ears pricked as she further drove her point home. "Do you really think I am so foolish as to of ask those who are explicitly not interested as you made clear?" With her interest fading fast, she turned away to leave. "Like I already said...I don't play well with others."