Kapvik reveled in his agony. Scratch has earned the brunt of his latent sadistic mannerisms. Anything less would be a mercy and he was in no mood pulling punches. Not after everything that has happened. Scratch just might be the outlet he needed to get rid of this accumulation of agitations festering inside of him like a sickness. Lucky for Kapvik, bad for the trickster.
INDENTAs planned, the wolverine gripped Scratch's pharynx, effectively crushing it. He placed his paws elsewhere as he began drubbing the fox with gruesome shakes of his head. Left, right, up, down. A shattered spine, a broken hip, a decapitated head. Kapvik played with his catch, painting his surroundings in blood. Oh, but it was not enough! Not yet. His grotesque masterpiece needed an extra edge to set it apart from others. Dropping his chew toy, he inspected the damage done. There was nothing wily about Scratch now; his cranium was gone, his extremities broken, belly bloated with rearranged innard. The sight before him was a ghoulish beauty until he looked upon the fox's neglected head.
INDENTBlank eyes stared through him, unseeing, haunting. Face stricken into one of shock and pain. Fur matted with blood and mire. Kapvik picked up the head, incisors poking through the eyes. Blood marked him, forming renewed rivulets down his soiled throat. It held no taste now having drunk himself full. Teeth carved flesh and sinew, peeled from bone. The brain was left untouched. Marveling the bloodstained skull for a moment, he turned back to the body with a snarl. Fangs ripped open that abdomen and thus he began thrashing the cadaver with resurgent fever. He did this as he stalked through the trees, decorating them with blood and organs in equal measure. The trees began to thin out minutes later. Exiting the vale, Kapvik deposited what little was left of Scratch on the ground. Nothing resided within him now; a husk of fur and blood. No bones, no organs. He was literally a loin cloth.
INDENTThe fauna was no more and this sated him. Peering over his shoulder back into the forest, he looked upon his path of devastation. A pleasing sight to the Epsilon. Languidly, he circled around the glen to head back. He would greet his pack mates with a homicidal, raunchy mien. Savage, untethered, ruthless. A macabre artist fearless of adorning his art.
INDENTAs planned, the wolverine gripped Scratch's pharynx, effectively crushing it. He placed his paws elsewhere as he began drubbing the fox with gruesome shakes of his head. Left, right, up, down. A shattered spine, a broken hip, a decapitated head. Kapvik played with his catch, painting his surroundings in blood. Oh, but it was not enough! Not yet. His grotesque masterpiece needed an extra edge to set it apart from others. Dropping his chew toy, he inspected the damage done. There was nothing wily about Scratch now; his cranium was gone, his extremities broken, belly bloated with rearranged innard. The sight before him was a ghoulish beauty until he looked upon the fox's neglected head.
INDENTBlank eyes stared through him, unseeing, haunting. Face stricken into one of shock and pain. Fur matted with blood and mire. Kapvik picked up the head, incisors poking through the eyes. Blood marked him, forming renewed rivulets down his soiled throat. It held no taste now having drunk himself full. Teeth carved flesh and sinew, peeled from bone. The brain was left untouched. Marveling the bloodstained skull for a moment, he turned back to the body with a snarl. Fangs ripped open that abdomen and thus he began thrashing the cadaver with resurgent fever. He did this as he stalked through the trees, decorating them with blood and organs in equal measure. The trees began to thin out minutes later. Exiting the vale, Kapvik deposited what little was left of Scratch on the ground. Nothing resided within him now; a husk of fur and blood. No bones, no organs. He was literally a loin cloth.
INDENTThe fauna was no more and this sated him. Peering over his shoulder back into the forest, he looked upon his path of devastation. A pleasing sight to the Epsilon. Languidly, he circled around the glen to head back. He would greet his pack mates with a homicidal, raunchy mien. Savage, untethered, ruthless. A macabre artist fearless of adorning his art.
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Messages In This Thread
Broken but not dead [M] - by Scratch - July 30, 2015, 03:08 PM
RE: Broken but not dead [M] - by Tatsuya - July 30, 2015, 04:52 PM
RE: Broken but not dead [M] - by Scratch - July 30, 2015, 06:31 PM
RE: Broken but not dead [M] - by Tatsuya - July 31, 2015, 04:04 PM