The Tangle Pure intention juxtaposed

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@Priest! - screams internally -

Drip -

Jagged claws dug into the dirt and scraped on the rock as the leviathan slithered through the thorny brush.

Drip -

Crimson liquid training his path as he eerily carved a path through the dense, dark, forest of thorns - for a beast such as himself, such elegant and snaking movement shouldn't be possible, and yet here he was, a nightmare wandering through the moonless darkness. Caked on his maw, dried in lumps of ooze as it fell from his morbid maw, congealed blood bounced with every step he took. 

Thorns softly prodding his skin through the thick coat that graced his wretched being, scraping his skin and softly detangling the knots they found as he brushed passed. Tonight was a night that he much needed, Rusalka had proven to be a much-undeserved headache, and frustration had to be vented out. The poor canine he had come across just moments ago didn't know what hit him... or perhaps her - it was hard to tell now at least.

Behind, in his wake, a mangled corpse of what used to be some kind of canid. Entrails dragged around, bones split and scattered, the head... lost somewhere but the lower jaw easily spotted somewhere in the heap of what used to be life. 

At least what used to be a maddening desire for death, carnage, and screams had been satiated and the man felt a sense of bliss as he aimed his path to return to Rusalkan borders - unaware that he was not as alone as he had thought. Breaking through the thorns into some kind of rocky clearing, cardinal irises took in the sight.

---

It came to no surprise to him, the fool Sahirian that wandered off from his Family to find food for them, that he would simply happen upon the scene of murder so soon. It seemed everywhere he had wandered off to had either signs of uncivility or something was deranged enough to either kill or near be killed. While the bastard knew his Family was far from proper and regal, they weren’t savage murderers. Well, you know what, he couldn’t even speak for all of them. Alula, her supposed sign being Purity, had just killed, or gotten killed 2 members of their Family. Should she had been in his Family sect, her affinity would have been retrialed to see if this was fate, or if this was fatal, for her. There was no doubt in his mind that she was connected with purity- but he had to figure out how the Ancients had rigged her life to suit this affinity. Preservation or pestilence?

It was on these thoughts that he had just come to notice that there was no prey in the vicinity. Literally none. Not just the ground dwellers, but not a single aerial meat, either. And it disturbed the Sahirian, as it meant something was off. Yet blood stood thick in the air, copper filling his nose with a deceptive lure. And so cautiously, he followed the trail with his nares until his curiosity was rewarded with a scene. A murder scene. 

Scattered on the grass, fleshly tatters and only just felled remains of what? A fox? A coyote? A wolf? Something that once had four limbs and now only two, while the other pair lay a meter away and in painful position at that. Eyes stared up at the trees with a horror so fresh in beaten hazelnut irises that Priest looked with them to see if what had destroyed it so mercilessly still prowled the heavens above. Shaking himself of such a notion, Priest took a step forward and sniffed the corpse, as not even flies had gotten around to noticing this meal just yet-

and he pulled a piece free, chewing it with the only contentment he could. 

Mhhmn...tender. And he thanked silently whomever beat the shit out of it.
Not even aware that the chef was still near.

This place was a maze, without realizing it, he had gone in one big circle. As he emerged from the brush, taking a look around, he found himself where he had started off. The mangled corpse lay in the middle, red painted in every direction around it - and at its side, was someone new. He watched for a moment, blood, dangling from his chin as it desperately tried to hang on, finally let go and splattered onto the ground. 

A grim smile found its way to his muzzle as he watched the other enjoy the morcels he had left behind. Do you like it? Voice, as smooth as butter and as deep as any lake, verberated from the chasm he called a mouth.

There was something amusing to him, watching someone else feast on the carcass of another wolf, cannibalistic carrion. He felt no need to defend his prey, he had left it after all - the rest belonged to this new fellow who was already chewing on bits and pieces.

---

The voice melded from the Unknown with less effort than breathing, itself. Almost more natural than any finches and crickets in the forestlands. It was only right that such a scandalous and demented baritone roamed unhindered and smooth as it had here, in this bloodiest display, today. That Wolf could have been born amongst carnage like this, and none could question it. 
Not even the Divine of Torment. 

“It’s...not the first time I’ve eaten another wolf,” he admitted after slowly pulling free the almost mignonette of the shank. But that wasn’t the answer to the question, now was it? He asked if you liked it, Priest. Not whether it was your busted cherry on fucking cannibalism. “It’s a nice piece, this one. I’m enjoying it.” Compliments to the fucking chef. 

Another swallow, and Priest could only hope he wasn’t next on this man’s menu. As much meat was left, the Sahirian could only piece together that this meal provided wasn’t eaten very much by the killer - no... they were killed just for the hell of it. “Some taste rangy, but this one’s kinda sweet. A little more savory than the average passerby. You made a good choice.” 
He hoped a bit of compliment would sate the killer’s palate. Priest didn’t even hope that this wolf was a member of the Family; otherwise Krynn might have a new bestie who enjoyed death just as much as she did.

With some odd, sadistic, elegance, the leviathan stood. Staring. A serpentine-like tail swung around from behind, encircling his hips in a semi-circle where he stood. Watching the other male as he chewed and eventually spoke. Clearly the other had more taste than the earth cloaked male, Vengeance couldn't care less about how someone, something, tasted, all that mattered is that his belly was full.

It wasn't a choice, he was just there. A random victim, purely by chance. Wrong place, wrong time, with the oh so very wrong company in tow. Although he still wondered what that milking mother would have tasted like, she smelled oh so sweet, and tasted as such from the few drops he managed to get from her (@Cassiopeia tagging for reference you sexy sexy beast).

You seem to have a pallet for such things. Tell me. Have you eaten a mother to a new litter? Perhaps this man could tell him if it was as satisfying as he thought it would be, should he come across a new one...

---

His mind kept wired to every step the company took, keeping auds on the cool and near invisible plats of the pads of this Vengeance. Something inside of the Sahira shivered at the comeback to his compliment - "It wasn't a choice; he was just there." Divines above, this was about to be the worst. He was stuck with someone who simply put- killed a passerby. This soul could have had a family, a mate, a pack. And his nares couldn't scout anything about him beacuse it was just...a mess! 

The hellish voice brought another topic to his attention that stemmed from the initial carnage. Had he ever taken the future away from a just-made family? "No- I've only eaten whelps left behind by a deceased dam." He couldn't find anyone who could bring them up, and he damn sure wasn't gonna have them suckle off of his Family, because the whelps were not Sahirians. So...he got it over quickly. As much as it went against his nature to avoid letting them suffer, he wouldn't have been fulfilled in it because he wouldn't be able to taste the woe in them long enough to sate himself. Whelps don't last very long when their starved. 

Finally he turned from the meal, lapping up the residue of red with a quick pair of laps and the rest awayed with a push of paw. Indigo sapphires settled on this mystery murderer with nothing behind them but subtle curiousity. Priest wouldnt dare let him know his iinside feelings. And he damn sure didn't want the man to feel how his insides felt. Or tasted, rather. "I'm guessing you have?" he asked with a minor tilt of crown that would show he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest should the answer have been yes. 

As he conversed with this stranger, he pondered what the outcome of this situation would look like. Because of-fucking-course he'd have to be found out by this snake bastard. But what if he could be some sort of ally to him rather than adversary? 

Regardless of how well the other tried to hide his feelings, Vengeance could feel the unease. Taste it in the air. It excited him further. Like a predator watching their prey stumble along, knowing they were being watched, but unaware of where was safe for them to escape to. That electricity in the air, it electrified him - gave him that thrill he oh so hungered for regularly. He was a beast that never desired a peaceful life, Vengeance thrived in the misery of others, in violence.

Fur fluffed at the feeling of excitement. Not quite bristling in defense, but at the sheer feeling of thrill. Like goosebumps on a thrill-seeker who has their fill. Damn. His answer still evaded him.  I suppose it was out of mercy. He suspected. It seemed like the other was more of a mercy inducing individuals rather than hunger driven beast like the earth-toned behemoth. It seemed he remained solo in that title, although more and more he met cannibals in their own rights. It was interesting to see how individuals were so similar and yet so different in such a dark taboo meal.

 No. Thinking back to that female, he found himself irritated. Tail lashing behind him as though to try and express his crotchety mood. She smelled so delightful, and tender, perfumed of milk. I wonder if such a smell tastes just as sweet. He pondered for a moment, thinking back to that scent that drove him to such a desire. Something he had still yet to satiate and would not until breeding season came back around in the new year.  Just thinking back to it brings me great hunger. This time his gaze fell on the male standing... hunger-striking his gaze once more.

Could he be starving once again? So soon after beating the ever-loving shit out of the previous one...

---

His body did not tense at the words- only his mind. Everything heightened, and Priest felt the air thicken as minutely as a whisker falling from ripely olden jowls. He tasted everything the brunette male slid to him, and even moreso felt the sludge of poison that writhed serpentine and despairingly sly in his direction. The thick ruin that would soon follow, and the maniac desire that fueled it. The desire for chaos, the thirst for self-rightous destruction.   

Don't you miss it?

Gods above, he did. He wanted it so badly...he wanted the tearing and the rippage, the carnage and the disaster...

Then let it go...release yourself...lose control.

His voice was softer, baritones cascading in a frigid fire of words the opposing male clearly couldn't understand, certainly different from the manner which he politely spoke prior. Free from his jaws was the fresh carrion of the meal- no, they were stained, but allowed free rehearse of his command. Priest would give this man the oppertunity, the one chance to save himself before he truly did relapse. "Dary nenx hadoti nun, snus." His blessing, for this man to keep his life while he could, was laid before him, a twinned path that led to either dawn, or dusk. 

What most of his Family did not know, was that Priest was born under a Sinbound sign. His mother, Dibella, strove to make him the complete opposite, fighting through tears and eventually her own demise to fight natural order and demand of the Ancients. He was a cunning fucker, eluding his destiny when and where he could...

but in times like this, he thought as he unrolled his shoulders and allowed his cape to rise, a harkening of nothing but obsidian night and trimmed lavish in a ruffled swirl of mahoghany-auburn rue in the undertones...

Fate could truly never be culled...

His claws lethally gripped into the loam and tarnished grass, dipping sharp through the spilled blood and speared flesh of the corpse.
He wasn't dying today. Patience  stretched, a thin wire that only the most delicate and experienced archanid could dance upon...

And time slowed as the answer was made clear, here and now.

Rolled a 3 out of five for damage roll!

No other words were exchanged between the two. Though the other did not tense and feed the electricity in the air, Vengeance was already far too excited to back down now. His bloodlust once against ignited for no apparent reason other than the desire to draw the delicious red wine in a new target. With sweeping feet he slowly closed the distance between himself and the other male, a cocked head with a devilish grin, he eyed the man like nothing other than a piece of meat. 

Perhaps you'll put up a better fight than they did. As he spoke his unusually calm syllables, the moment his jaws shut with a light click - he was off. Barrelling forward with all his might, eyes a flare with lust, burning bright as jaws split, revealing the yellowing armory within. An unusual tactic for him, Vengeance did not attack straight forward the moment he got within striking distance. Instead, he feigned left, kicking back with his legs to push him just to the side of the man and reach forward to grab onto any flesh he could, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake - preferably the neck as he eyed the muscle and vein within. 

Using his momentum, the swung his rear around away from the man's face and attempted to use whatever thing he had grabbed onto, and thrust with his hips to try and control the movements of the other by putting him off balance. He wasn't playing around... he was beyond excited.

Health (20/20)

---

The bastard allowed himself to feel the stillness before the storm, to embrace the static through the air as the finality of his warning went unheeded. He knew nothing was going to stop the connection of fangs to his hide, so he forced himself to remain still as the barbaric pest rushed him. He would allow his enemy's vehement angst to fuel his own dark fury. 

The man hit him with a clip of fangs with acute accuracy just behind his right shoulderblade. He flet the wind rush clear from the space between them, replaced with the passionate push of ebergy the male exherted onto Priest - the blow was solid and sharp, and it wasn't a moment later that Priest felt himself naturally fall in line with the bide of time. Those precious seconds he gifted the peon to level his power and attack, those same destructive seconds were the ones used for Priest to lean with the sharp connect and use it against him. Energy, neither created nor destroyed, was a memorable lesson for all predators. And Priest was no fool on this tactic, as he used the momentum gifted to him by the adversary to pull a handsome maw over his mauled shoulder, grip the foe by the side of his own scruff, and attempt to fling him free in a slam away from him and his now lightly imbedded shoulder. 

This was going to end bloodily for both of them, he thought. Surely this decision would cost him considering the male was locked into the flesh, not necessarily the meat. This was gonna fuckin' hurt.

Damage received: 3/5

Health reduced to: 17/20

Damage dealt in response: 4/5

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