Lust for the Crimson, Crave for the Ruby

@Grimnir



Slade had found the scent, the one he had not listed down in his folder of met lupines, ones who were at least not tresspassing. The dark king had found it a bit peace inducing that he did not have to be smothered by the constant prescence of another pack member, for he desired solitude. He was a beast who did not care for the company of others, for it only distracted him of the world around him.

Yet, tonight was different. It was that night, that he had to meet this wolf, and store the identity and personality in a file of rememberance lodged within his mind. It wasalso, a duty he had to maintain as a soon to be Warden of the pack lands, that he know each and every soul that tread on the haunted grounds.

His shimmering locks of ebony glistened with light flecks of icy snow crystals that had made themselves home on his hide, the man getting the appearance of a phantom, one who bore the proud mark of the Dark Brotherhood on his shoulder. Such a lovely thing, the sharp crimson paw, the dangerous contrast of color to his thick shadow pelt. It gave him the sigma of authority he felt he had the right to bear, though with the right came his humility to the proper officials, and as of themoment, those were only his pupil, MoonBane, and the etheral priestess and very Alphess, herself, Meldresi.
He need not bow to others.

Slade only needed to cast his fiery golden embers across the dark forest a few times, before they found purchase on the pelt he had to connect with the scent. 'So this is him,' Slade mused silently.
The massive wolf shook his thick ruff, and followed through with the rest of his form, until his warm hide was free of all matting,and spoke the deep baritones that enstilled the area to the revernce of deathly silent soundlessness.

"Oh, illusive one, how softly you walk. I welcome you to these woods, as a fellow member of Black Feather."

He was only wandering, admiring the dark woods. This is his place now. Where his uncle had raised him was much... brighter. It was a weak place. Somewhere Bragi would live. That pathetic wolf, he thought he could cure Grim. But the fool was wrong. Grim wonders how the oaf believed he could crush the darkness. There was never any hope. None, the voices agree. Dark, they say. He doesn't remember much of his birth home. It was probably weak too. He can only recall the sound of water, the dark brown of his mother's coat. Were his parents evil? Perhaps not his mother. His father then? He doesn't know. That would have to be where the evil came from. A grin touches his muzzle. He may enjoy meeting his father. Too bad Grim will probably never meet him. If he did, he would kill him.

A voice interrupts his thoughts. He turns. A black wolf is there. What did this one want? He snarls internally. On the outside he manages a small smile. In his minds eye a scene plays. He rips into the stranger, angry for the wolf speaking with him. Using claws, he tears apart the male's face. Teeth gorge out his eyes. He then slices open the black wolf's belly, dragging out his innards. The images fade. "Hello," he draws out slowly. What exactly had this wolf said? He doesn't care. The question is why. Why is the wolf here? His nose twitches, he sniffs. This male has pack scent. So that is the reason. Another potential victim. Though all creatures in his path are victims. This one more so. Blackfeather Woods will fall. A Red patch marks the wolf's shoulder. He narrows his eyes. It's a paw print. "What is that?" He questions, attempting to act friendly. It could very well end up being his mark. A paw print of death. He smirks. Stop! The voices warn. Hide! They snarl. Lips relax, he is smiling again. Did the stranger notice? He hopes not. Day one and his intentions leak through. Deception was easy. He was good at it. No time to start failing now.

If the wolf had noticed, would it matter? He could play it off. Drip out a lie. That was the easiest. He was creative with his lying. Not enough, the light inside whispers. Bragi knew, it sweetly hummed. That goodness again. He squashes it, pushing it with the dark. It flees. His uncle is dead. That never mattered anyway. The fool knew, but he blinded himself with hope. It was fun while it lasted too. A lovely shade of fear always hanging over the old wolf. He gazes at the black male in front of him. Would this one be the next victim? This male is large like himself. He would make a good challenge. Grim can see an excellent fight with him.

"It is a mark of death dealing. The Sigma of something you may become one day, a feared murderer."

Slade saw a spark of something in this man. It looked too, like something he held within himself, once upon a time. A time so long ago, when reasoning and justice failed even him, the leader of The Nightmares. A greatly respected pack, only to fall from the affair his wife had. A heartbreaking thing, it was. What was this that lay active in this man's own gaze? This similar state he too, spent every day in?
Ah, the name of it...
Insanity.

"Who are you, wolf?"

Slade kept the peripheral on their surroundings, his volcanics locked onto the company before him. He definitely had more to investigate of this agouti, this one he had never witnessed tread through the pack lands.

He takes a pause. The mark is for murders? Was this pack like him? Did he have to hide then? These wolves could be allies. Rethink, the voices advice. Killers, they tell him. His view shifts. Lips pull into a wicked grin. This is all too perfect. Here he had planned to destroy the pack. But he could lead them. Take them to other packs. Bring war. It would be more fullfilling. There would be more blood. More death. His body shivers at the prospect. He doesn't hide it. His ambition just grew even bigger. "Murder?" He says. Voice horse, eyes gleaming.

The wolf makes him giddy with a simple question. He slowly steps closer. Only a breath lays between them now. Fog fills his view. Something barks out from between strong jaws. Laugher echoes off the trees. "Who am I?" An important question. This wolf will get a demonstration. Show him, the voices urge eagerly. Make him bleed, they cheer. His tone deepens, eyes wild with excitment. "I'm a murderer." He lunges, teeth bared. He wants to test this one. Is the black male worthy of such a mark? Grim will prove that he himself is. Such a glory this pack. Murderers! It is so perfect, so beautifully perfect. Fate must have brought him here. Answered the lust in him. His inner kindess will be snuffed out. He will be free. No more hesitation. Nothing to hold him back.

Had he hesitated with his uncle? Perhaps. He could have wrung the life out of the oaf with his own teeth. That would have been more exciting. Instead the herd had trampled him. Grim had walked up to the beaten and bloody body. Broken ribs had punctured through Bragi's light brown fur. Blood soaked every inch of him. His bottom jaw had been missing. His back twisted so his hind legs were on the other side. It was a gorey sight. Grim had enjoyed the dark red scene. Had his unlce known it was Grim's fault that he died? He hopes so. But that question will always lay in the corners of his mind. He regrets not doing it himself. Where he could watch the fear in Bragi's yellow eyes.

The wolf was unstable, a russet with wild intentions, intentions Slade could not decipher.
The thing with being absolutely lunatic, was the spontaneous leap from motion to motion, being able to flick between motives as if they were weapon choices.
And these were weapons Slade held casually within his closet, but weapons this russet held out to the open, daring any and all to make a move.

He lunged, a swift action only met with returned fire. Slade stole the second of slipping to the left, and stiffly aim a headbutt to the opened jaw of the attacker.

As time slowed to The Nightmare, unsure of whether his blow was successful or not, he spent the precious seconds thinking.
How dare this man try an attack on him? Hostility to a superior? How could Meldresi waste her divine time on such a rancid fool, a imbocile who had no respect to the natural heirchay?

A hard skull meets his muzzle. Pain sends waves up his face. The dark male had dodged him. Good. He doesn't want an easy opponent. This male should be a challenge. The red mark is proof of that. His head shakes off the pain. A glint of joy shows in his crazed eyes. He will enjoy this. Win, the voices command. Destroy, they cry. Determination sings through him. This wolf will feel the sting of his fangs. His head twists around the side of the wolfs head, forelegs rearing up to try grabbing his opponent.

Will his blood lust take over? Killing this wolf will do him no good. Blood excites him though. It is hard to control evil. The sight of red usually blinds him. At that first sign will he lose himself? Perhaps. But this wolf may be able to hold his own. Murders. They both crave death. That would make them both strong? Fighters, the voices tell him. Lust, they say. Yes, they should both be good. With death in their veins how could they not? But this wolf. Does he give in to his lust?

Slade had no reason to kill this male, but every other kill he committed, he found less and less reasoning for it. He no longer needed reasons for embellishing a once living thing with death. It now slipped his mind. If anything, he wished this male would simply cease his futile attacks, and leave the pack grounds.
Or cease breathing. Whichever was easier.

Another move was issued, a strategic one other than the blind sided jaw whirl that had been previously performed. There was nothing Slade could have done for the attack to his cheek, however the Nightmare allowed the russet to latch himself to him. Real connected, he was. And Slade issued a move that could have smashed a pup.

Once the agouti was wrapped around him, Slade crouched, then burst forward on his hinds, flipping the both of the hessians over, however, with Slade now on top, he landed on the stomach of the russet. Then he stood, his face contorted into a menacing snarl that could hav scared a bear.
This wolfs final chance, before Slade would come to terms with no mercy.

"Stand down, or reap what churlish seeds you have sown, you filthy and pathetic excuse of a wolf. I repeat, stand down."

Teeth latch onto his opponents face. He bites down hard. Before he can tear into the male, Grim is forced onto his back. His grip is loosened. Now the black wolf stands on him. Words call for him to stand down. Grim knows no such restraints. He ignores the insult the wolf calls to him. What use was insulting an opponent? They were merely words. Words are power, the good in him echoes. Anger flares inside him. Words are nothing. Action is what matters. If a wolf is dead, what words could they voice? None. Both anger and joy roll within him, giving him strength. He twists, ignoring the pain of getting his front paws beneath him. He shoves himself up, hard. Jaws wide, he strikes. It's gone too far now. The dark voices sing in his mind. He can't understand them. They all try to speak at once. But he knows they call for blood. His mind is starting to blur. A focus of tearing into this wolf drives him. It won't be long before he forgets himself completely. He teeters on the edge of sanity. Not that he was very sane to begin with. If he loses himself here, this fight will end badly. He doesn't care who wins. Who loses. All he cares about is his need. If one of them dies, so be it. He doesn't care about hiding now. This is a pack of murderers. Death is common to them. They should understand if he kills. He can't help himself. But he can't die here either. Not if he wants more deaths. The thought almost sobers him. Almost. His lunge for the black wolf doesn't take a pause. He will have his fight.

And the bit of mercy he offered was shoved aside, and thrown into flames.
So be it.

The russet retaliated, bucking him off. Slade, already concerns with putting space between them, obliged. Landing on his fours, the brute felt his hackles raising, unfurling, and giving him his bear like appearance. As much as the dark king desired, it appeared he would have to end the life of this new member. A psychopath at least knew he was insane, however, this wolf played a foolish set of cards.

Crimson slid down his face, the rubies trailing to his maw, and eventually dripped to the tussled earth underneath him. As much as he hated to indulge, this was a matter that could only lead to pain.
Slade flipped out a dark tongue, the grey becoming stained with the hot scarlet, only to be slid back into his mouth. Such a tantalizing flavor, blood. Even his own, exotically delicious. The exquisite flavor war between sweet, and salty. Between sugar, and copper.
The results were well met.
The sample, as minuscule as it was, had enough impact to send him into a blood lustful fury.

Volcanic orbs seared within their deeply set depths, nearly luminescent in the ethereal atmosphere of the night. They gleamed, ferocious hell borne infernos desperate to consume the soul of the enemy in their path.

Thickly layered fur shimmered, the light wind torrenting peaks upon his hide.
His claws slid out, latching their ebony hued points into the harder dirt.
His banner, an angered serpentine figure, it lashed horizontally, whipping his muscular flanks, ceaselessly.

Time seems to slow for Slade, the lunge the agouti performs only a fraction of speed less than what is was. The Dark King smiles, and offered the dagger lined jaws his left shoulder, feeling the connection of the bite to his body. The pulsations of pain made themselves known as he felt the ivories buried within his shoulder, but the pain only fueled his drive for retaliation.

A returned counter.
Opening his maw wide, the fangs shining brilliantly in the lunar light, Slade arched his neck, and threw his jaws downward...
Straight towards the back of Grimnir's neck.

Crescendo melted from the shadows, not especially eager to interrupt this fight. Especially if a fight included Slade. "Grimnir. Been here for a week and already in a fight with a superior?" Crescendo stalked toward the two, cold silver eyes examining, considering. He was unsure whether or not they would hear him, considering Slade was lunging for the russet one. Both were covered in crimson, ivory daggers flashing.

Raven had heard the sounds of snarling and scuffling, and dropped the bit of plants she had collected to draw closer to her Naturalist trade, only to dash into the mist of a fight. One wolf, a russet, she didn't recognize. The second wolf..The ebony one,..she saw exactly who he was. Fear shook her body, and she released a whine that her previous mentor would have probably sneered at.
It was Slade...
Her Uncle. The very uncle who had tried to kill her in his psychopathic meltdown in the kingdom he ruled.

"Sl..Slade?"

As much as she wanted to hate him, she couldn't find herself performing such a emotion. This was the only family member that she had seen in the last 2 years.

As though she were entranced, she began to walk closer and closer to the fight, trying to ensure that this was him, that this was the man she could still call family.

Kove just comes strolling in like what's happening is no big deal at all.

Noise.

Growls, snarls, the snapping of jaws... They were noises that the pale being wouldn't usually mind, but today it seemed like nothing more than noise to him. Still, he followed the sound, a yawn escaping his maw as he trotted towards the fight, not caring to move too quickly. He'd expected to see someone of the pack having a go at some trespasser, but the only scents that reached him were one's belonging to the woods. Had he been at any other place, Kove would have thought it odd, the same would have been true had both wolves belonged to the Brotherhood. Only one of the two did, though, and that was the shadow lunging towards the back of some new wolf's neck. He considered trying to stop the attack, but saw no point to it. It was the back of the neck, and he was sure one of the three not involved in the fight would stop before the hand of death was dealt.

Steadily, the ghost grew closer, not bothering to hide his appearance, or keep at a distance as he moved fairly close to the scuffling wolves. Kove kept himself back far enough so as not to be dragged into himself, but not too far that he wouldn't be able to intervene if things got too far out of control. "Sparring are we?" he inquired, taking a step back from the two, then throwing a glance towards the other wolves around. "No, that doesn't seem right... This one piss you off in some way, Slade?" He found his legs moving him around the two, eyes watching for any signs that meant one was about to do something more on the deadly side. The expression the ghost wore was not that of curiosity or interest, but fell closer to being a relaxed one. "Should probably stop before someone gets killed. Wouldn't want to kill a member of the pack, would you?" Kove wasn't too sure as to whether or not Slade, or the unnamed wolf, would actually kill someone in the pack they both resided in. He hoped not, though, for he didn't want the pack to lose members.

Grim hadn't noticed the three wolves appear, nor did he hear them. He is too intently focused on this fight. Nothing else matters. His teeth are now sunk into the black wolf's shoulder. Wetness coats his tongue. He savors the taste. Fangs grind deeper into his opponent. Then there is a shift of movement. Pain sears his neck. A snarl drips from his muzzle. He jerks to the side, freeing the wolf's shoulder from his grip. Fear of death does not reach him. Only a need. Grim jumps up and twist to the side. Jaws reach for a limb. His aim is to crush bone. Lame his opponent. If he can manage that then he will play with this black wolf. He would dart in and out, leaving an open wound here and there. Maybe he would crush more bones. He wants to hear this male squeal with pain. He wants the murder marked wolf to fall and fear him. Grim is eager to watch the terror enter the gaze of this fighter. He is on the very edge of his sanity now, tipping over into darkness. Once he falls, nothing will be held back. Teeth will shred and tear at flesh. Claws will scratch and gorge large wounds. He won't toy with the male then. He won't wait to see the fear. He will simply make this wolf cease to exist.

*takes forever to join*

The sound of fighting was what accompanied the frightened and confused shrieks of her children. The priestess growled, an uncommon sound from the normally placid and calculating female. When her children were involved, the dark woman instantly became a beast from the nether regions of Oblivion, one of the ferocious Spider Daedra themselves.

Slipping out of the den and tracking the sound to it's source, Meldresi hissed with outrage, annoyance at shock to see the forms of two large wolves fighting, with three others around them, watching and not intervening. The alpha stalked closer, her anger rising as she identified who was fighting, which was more important to her than who was watching. Slade and Grimnir.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" The priestess screeched, the malice inside her raising her voice several octaves. "Kove and Crescendo! Apprehend Grimnir NOW!"

[size=x-small]I am confused about the post order, if this is wrong someone tell me in there next post. I'll fix it if it is. : )[/size]

Crescendo's pelt rippled apprehensively as more wolves arrived. He had never been the most social, even at such an exciting scene he didn't like to many wolves here. What irritated him most was that the russet one heed not their words, intent, it seemed, on killing Slade. He had no time to consider jumping into the fray, however. Crescendo sunk low when the dark queen approached, his silver eyes evaluating her ever move. She was beautiful, this queen, but sadly already taken by the pale one, Bane. Her anger and outrage was clearly written on her face and stance, and with her words, Crescendo smiled coldly. "Gladly, ma'am."

With naught a sound, the night pelted warrior leaped into the fray, pelt rippling like water. He aims for the back of the fucking idiot, his excited mind barley holding onto logic and cunning. Slavering jaws open wide, ready to clamp down on the neck of the imbecile on contact, forelegs ready to clamp around the brute, hold him in place while glinting daggers of teeth dig deep into his flesh. He can already imagine the blood, the taste of victory in every sense.

Sorry for the holdup!

The pale being gave a simple nod to the dark Queen of the Woods, the muscles in his body bunching a bit in response. He watched as the other male, Crescendo, launched himself towards the attacker, and the Inuit's own body went into motion. He leapt forward with ease, long legs working to his favoring in getting him where he needed to be quickly. His intentions where to land on the back of the multicolored wolf. While Kove knew that increased the chances of sending them both rolling, he did not care too much. Then, at least, the wolf would be on the ground and 'subdued', to a certain degree.

If he was successful in what he wanted to do, the pale man would stand with his front paws planted firmly on the others side, leaving enough of room for Crescendo to get his teeth around his neck. A low growl would tear through his throat and he'd snap his jaws in the wolf's face, all to make it clear that he was not to fight back.

Something rams into him, pulling him from the wolf he was intent on killing. The world spins. Teeth reach out to try grasping whatever had sent him rolling. When he comes to a stop, a body is upon him. Something sharp makes contact with the back of his scruff. He struggles against the two weights on him, snapping and snarling. Strong jaws search for flesh. He isn't done yet. Not enough blood has been spilled. The two on him now can bleed. Grim manages to get his paws beneath him, he lunges up towards the one standing on his shoulder, aiming for a leg. They will regret interfering. This was his fight. He had wanted to test Slade and to show that he should be the one with a mark of death. Grim wants these wolves to fear him. To know that he is dangerous.

(Gonna do a little PP to finish this up. Seems like this is getting really old, and if you want me to change anything, send me a P.M.)
@Meldresi

What followed next was a hail of blows and counter blows, biting and clawing and lunging. But the single, russet wolf was no match for the two males who both outranked him and outsized him. Soon, however hard he had fought he lay beneath the two males.

Crescendo panted, now he was 99% sure this wolf did not have all of his sanity with him. Any sane wolf would not have fought against two wolves who were both his better. Any sane wolf would not have picked a fight with a superior. He snapped and growled at the male, aiming a few heavy blows to his head. When he was sure that the other was in no condition to fight again, he turned to Meldresi. "What do you wish to have done with him, ma'am?" he asked.

[ooc] @Grimnir Going to PP and use this as an excuse for Grimnir's disappearance[ooc]

Meldresi snarled at the tan wolf, no...monster. How dare he attack one of their own unprovoked! And yet, she had no idea what do to with him. She would have had him killed, if need be, but she sensed that Grimnir was faintly, dimly loyal to the pack. But he needed to understand that to be a pack was to trust and respect your pack mates, not brutalize them. "Grimnir, I will be merciful to you this once." She hissed, her tail tall behind her head. "You will live in the swamps for a month, maybe more if you still insist on being insubordinate. You may not cross back into pack borders for that whole time, and you will contemplate your actions. Cross into Blackfeather land, and I will have you killed. Attack another one of my wolves, and I will invoke the Wrath of Sithis, and you will beg for death." Her punishment delivered, Meldresi gestured for Kove and Crescendo to drag Grimnir away. Her concern now was more for Slade, who had slipped off after her arrival. She did not know the extent of his wounds and was worried for the Dark Brother. She slipped off into the darkness, leaving Grimnir to his fate.

Some PP of Kove taking Grimnir away after giving him a moment to say anything else (if he had anything to say). Wanted to get my third post in so this thread is closer to being archived. It's been going on forever, omg. xD

The pallid man kept his gaze strictly on the crazed wolf as he waited to hear what would become of him. Surely, after attacking one within the pack, his punishment would not be a light one. When it was made known what would become of him, however, Kove believed him to be getting off easy. He kept his mouth shut, though, as he trusted the Queen's words and views. If she believed that such a punishment was a reasonable one, then he would agree with her and follow up on it. Besides, it was more than likely his strong sense of loyalty that made him to believe Grimnir deserved more. Before carrying out the punishment given by his leader, his copper gaze gave the area a quick scan, but found nothing that resembled Slade. He wondered where the dark man had gone, but had no intention of going after him. Some wolves needed to lick their wounds in solitary, and he wasn't one to interrupt such a thing.

For a moment longer, he waited. After letting a long enough bit of time pass so the wrong doer could say any final words, he started pulling him away by the scruff. He knew where the swamps were, as they weren't hard to miss at all, and he steadily made his way towards them. With each step he made sure the other male was still there, and every so often he would pull him by his scruff just to be on the safe side (and to make the trip move along faster). Even after they'd reached the swamps, Kove had continued to pull him along, not stopping until they were a decent distance in. Only then did he allow himself to slip away, vanishing just like the ghost his pale coat gave him the appearance of. Promptly, he returned to Blackfeather land t continue on with his day, easily removing the other wolf from his mind. He would not allow him to bother him, nor would he even recognize his existence, unless he tried to return before he was permitted to.

Sorry kove! That'd be my fault. Was gone for 3 weeks due to a move. This'll be the end of it though. 

Grim snarled as he heard his punishment. He hated swamps. They smelled. They were wet and filled with bugs. But what did he care about staying outside of the pack for so long? It would give him some peace. The other wolves always seemed to bother him. No matter where he escaped to in the territory they always found him. Though he did not like the fact that the wolf holding onto his scruff was dragging him to the swamp. Grim fought him. He lunged at the male's legs and tried to twist in his grip. Grim ignored the sharp pains of the wolf's teeth. He didn't need to be dragged. The need for blood had left him after Meldresi had spoken. And yet the wolf had dragged him all the way to the swamp.