Bearclaw Valley ghost of a monster child

this will be an M for violence rated pack meeting, therefore it is optional, though attendance is strongly encouraged. @Astara @Revui @Ico @Orson @Toad @Skoll Almir @Aventus @Avicus

exempt: @Evien @Rosina @Ikkalrok @Glaucos @Astyanax (feel free to make cameos and/or join if able, exempt due to doctoring, wounds, & babies)

special mention: @Jaylen

somewhere between the rain and the lightning that had forked, merrick understood the drumbeat of the bear's words in his heart.
the pale witch lay recovering from easthollow's punishment. merrick could have almost forgiven their defense, given the mauling of their dipshit prince, but they had ignored him, turned aside his parley.
and now ursus wept with new blood.
somewhere in the storm, merrick had come upon a rawboned starveling, robbing a far cache of meat gone high with rot. there was no mercy in the devil; he drove the hapless creature toward the field of blue flowers, and there he savagely beat the interloper.
when only struggling, feathered breath remained in the bloodstained flanks, merrick lifted his dripping muzzle into the misted rain and sang a great and terrible dirge for ursus to assemble amid the now-reddened blossoms.
behind him, the downed wolf parted its jaws to beg.

cameo unless addressed!

when merrick called, the bear came. he roamed in distant edges of the valley, but now he found his way to the sound, peeking out from foliage as if afraid that the wolves might see him. but his head stuck up, and beady black eyes witnessed bloodshed. a wolf. why was merrick howling? was this wolf a threat? it looked beaten half-to-death, and though jaylen was not purposefully violent, he was no stranger to killing. he was a meat-eater, after all. perhaps then, this is what that was. the bear recalled that tough times called for cannibalism in the north, and though he was not sure why times would be tough in midsummer, maybe these wolves were hungry. and so he watched on, unable to pull himself away, staining his brain with the image of ursus' bloodlust.

The song that came to him was eerie. Toad was glad to have returned to Ursus, gladder now to join Merrick for whatever terrible gathering he had planned. He was quick to make his arrival, coming from his den near the rendezvous and journeying to the place where the blue flowers grew purple and red. Beautiful to him.

And there stood Merrick proudly over the begging, heavy-breathing, half-dead idiot that had dared to wrong Ursus in some way or another. Too many times those coming close to Ursus or within their borders had gotten away. Toad imagined this as Clay, and Valour, and Clarence all in one. And though he wished to dive in, he restrained himself, though giddy smile touched his face and he licked his chops with hunger for this fool's life.

He was prowling along the mouth of the valley where their borders lay, and then the call rose. It did not sound any different to Revui from any other call to arms, but being Merrick's voice he was quick to react. He moved at a slower pace because of his recent injuries, however, he arrived just as Toad did. The scent of blood was strong further ahead and incited Revui in to a gallop despite the burn of his torn skin; he paused midway along when he scented the bear, and wondered if it was here to observe them or perhaps it was the target. He looked around hastily, then continued on when he did not see the creature immediately, circling where Merrick and Toad loitered with his usual scowl upon his face.

The scent of blood struck Ico like a lightning bolt to the chest, seizing his heart mercilessly in a vice-grip that loosened and then tightened and then loosened and then tightened in one panicked heartbeat after another. It was as if it were Ico's blood being spilled. He feared to answer the summons of his liege, but then he thought of the puppies... those wide-eyed little innocents...

Thus Ico found himself approaching the scene with intense trepidation, his step as silent as paws could be as he took a low, nervous position next to Toad, watching Merrick's cruel handiwork with horror in his soul.

One way or another, Aventus found himself amidst the adults.

He didn't see Jaylen lurking on the sideline, or he might've been inclined to drift toward the bear and away from the heady stench of blood that wreathed from where the wolves congregated, laced with something else, something more sour. Aventus knew that smell all too well. Whatever was happening over there was causing a great deal of fear, and for once, it wasn't his.

This drew him in, a little black moth to the warm flame of their bodies, until he could peek past someone or another's leg to spot the scarcely breathing victim on the ground. He expected to feel his own fear rising, swelling in his chest. Something swelled there, alright, but it wasn't the sensation he was expecting. It was warm, buoyant, and fluttered behind his sternum with frail little butterfly wings.

It was excitement.

Skoll found himself going to the meeting, despite having a feeling something may be up. The scent of blood, and somehow a bear. (He made a note to go see if it was still around later) - when he arrived, it appeared that some others had shown as well. Faces he knew, and one of the kids. Skoll ignored the fact the pack had young within it for the most part, for his role didn't have anything to do with it. 

Somehow he found himself anticipating what was going on.

Evien had decided to show up today, briefly. It wasn't common for Merrick to call them like this, and he felt it might be important. However, as he approached, dread swelled in his stomach, unsettling and heavy. The scent of blood hung in the air, and he slowed in his pace. It might have been wise to speed up, but... he had a bad feeling about this. 

Upon arrival, it was clear that his instincts were correct. Merrick, striking and tugging at something within Evien's chest, stood atop the stranger - bleeding and battered and begging. 

Evien's eyes burned, and he stopped a ways off. He should say something, should stop this senseless killing... but that didn't work before, so why would it now? His ears pressed against his skull and his head lowered in something akin to defeat. The only reason he was here for now was if Merrick wanted to say something, but shame and discomfort were clear in his expression.

A howl. She wandered reluctantly to the epicenter, only to find that she was not the first to arrive. A myriad of faces, some she recognized, some she didn't, all looking to the same place. Merrick. Blood. Bear. 

Disgust rose in her chest, forming to bile as she saw the battered wolf behind Merrick. Wot the hell is this!she barked, her lips curling.

blood between misty sheets of soft rain. merrick’s howl, cold as stone against the summer skies.

astara followed aventus reluctantly, pausing every now and then to cast her gaze back to Avicus; who surely would come along.

she wondered what dark design Merrick had in store; her gaze swept from the bear, to the beast, to the dribbling wolf held to the ground. she noted the other wolves around them gathering and looked silently upon merrick, eyes flat with no hint of Aventus’ stirring excitement.

"clearly, it's a family get-together," merrick scoffed toward orson, orson and her outburst. 
she choked out her last she never fought  dirt dirt dirt she breathes dirt now
merrick turned his one eye to burn upon each one of them in turn, aventus in particular. the boy seemed gripped by something unfathomable, dark, incomprehensible. the bearwolf's teeth glinted in the rainswept night. "for anyone who needs backstory, i caught this one stealing from us." he jerked his muzzle toward the features of the wolf upon the ground, features twisted in a rictus of pain and terror.
"it does not matter who he is. who he was. who he might have been. he stole meat from your throats, and so he's here with ursus now." merrick's violent cyclops-stare fell to 
indra indra indra indr —
avicus
and he stared at the pair of them.
and his sides undulated with breath.
"the gods have been kind enough to grant ursus a visitor," and merrick turned his dripping muzzle toward jaylen. "you must always respect the bears," he growled to the listening ears. "they are why we have been blessed." rambling now. he cast a glance toward their bleeding captive.
"come here," washed his voice, single lantern-eye coming to rest upon the cubs of his blackbird, lapping up against their tiny paws as merrick beckoned the fledglings forth.

the one-eyed man howls, and Astara rises to answer it. Aventus has already gone; she sees his dark form retreating in the distance, headed to the summons. for her part, the girl dutifully follows her mother, leaving the whelping den uncharacteristically empty. they are older now, and the world is theirs to explore, to command.

Avicus sits alongside her silent mother in time to catch Merrick's words. her ears cup forward, trying to find meaning in them. but nothing else matters when his eye falls upon her, clearly beckoning.

she glances at Astara, a query in her gaze. it is then, when she stares back ahead, that she notices the bleeding wolf on the ground. dead—no. still moving, still breathing. curiosity more than anything else pulls her forward. the iron tang, so familiar (the brown, furry creature had been cloaked in that scent, as had the chickadee). but this is overwhelming.

her nostrils flare, mouth slightly parted. she stops a wolf-length away and looks at Merrick, then examines the prisoner, reptilian stare scanning his wounds.

not dead. not yet.

astara did not need to wonder for long; a thief, now captive.

living, but soon dead.

she caught her red dove's curious glance back to her. go on, astara seemed to say -- not entirely oblivious to the excitement that seemed to rise around her brother like a darkening miasma.

they were her children, that no one could argue -- but in this hour, they were explicitly merrick's.

she set back on her haunches and watched, feeling tension ripple from her frame like lapping waves as her bear beckoned her children near.

should he kill them --

The more that gather the more intrigued Revui is in what has drawn them: this bloodied thing, possibly still alive, twitching at Merrick's feet. When Merrick ushers one of the children closer Revui is less interested. He watched the way Astara prowls around, urging the child in equal measure. He looks to Evien and wonders if the medic has any desire to protest against this lesson; but otherwise he is lethargic, bored with this event the longer they linger there without action. The withered creature they are surrounding does not have long before it meets its end, and Revui lingers in appreciation of the spectacle.

The pack's reaction to Merrick's spectacle was mixed. Aventus could smell the various emotions in the pheromones wafting from each wolf. A mottled grey wolf, a burly sterling silver one, and the impossibly tall black wolf that he'd met before emanated the heady musk of excitement and anticipation, while the cloud-borne Ico, a chocolatey male wolf and a tawny she-wolf seemed nervous or outright upset. This combination of feelings made Aventus' tummy swirl uncomfortably even while his heart beat faster.

If there was ever an opportunity for Aventus to walk the path of atonement for the evils his parents had committed in their lives, now was the time. He could heed the agitated airs of those opposed to this show of violence and grow to become a wolf who abhorred this sort of senseless killing. Did a wolf truly deserve to lose their life for the crime of starving?

But he was the son of Merrick, of Astara, and a descendant of the mad Melonii clan. A Redhawk son, whose line had produced many a mercilessly fierce wolf, even if Indra was not among them. Fate had plans for him, and they didn't include being the anomaly. Aventus crept forward when Merrick beckoned, having understood precious little of what was said, but he didn't need to. The trespasser was immobilized by his suffering and something about that sight, a wolf behaving so much like prey, awakened a hunger in Aventus.

A thin rope of drool fell from his slack jaws as he stared down at the fallen wolf.

red and dark; light shining behind one's eyelids; the shadow of sleep. children who summoned their own spirits. he did not look to his blackbird.
he did not look to the others; he was utterly consumed by each movement of their small paws, carrying the pair toward the inexorable power of the one that ursus called witch. and yet he was drunk upon the agreement of them to he as had never been before; some tiny link clicking into a notch long before made to house it.
a blink; the eye with its blaze of scars; merrick tasted salt between his teeth. some warm river that cut its way along his hardworn visage.
the downed soul's limbs began to churn against the ground; they could not raise up, only watch in a soaked, half-horror, as the bearcubs approached.
merrick drew a breath, watching the saliva drip from the dark jaws of the boy. and the girl, further back, but no less intent upon the trespasser that had fallen to his jaws. he lifted his head to all of ursus; he held his lover's aubergine stare, smile curling like the edges of shaved bark, an ear-and-a-half sweeping toward the little ones, the little wolves grown up from grubs that mewled at their mother's side.
something, now, something — he must make it so;
build for them a legacy from the roots up. his birthright had been bitter as wormwood, but there was no such reason it must be so for 
a pebble's insistent knock behind the door of his forehead. merrick blinked, lowered his muzzle conspiratorially toward the pair, glancing over them with the firegourd wash of his single eye. he stepped over the harrowed body on the wet grass, and in a motion of fluidity, merrick threw wide the gate of the prisoner's throat, a gout of crimson flaring wide as he sought to anoint 
"my children!" the bearwolf suddenly exhorted, suddenly choked with tears as the spinning death painted all in its path with a torrent of scarlet that appeared as a mist within the rain-filled air.
"ursus loves you." no heaviness in his jaw when he spoke, no clench of anger; they were his. they belonged to him, and the bearwolf at once sent up an exuberant howl of welcome and cunning threat toward those who would ever raise a paw to harm the pair of young bears that astara had granted him.

100th for ursus <3

Toad didn't need a backstory- but when one was presented, it made him hunger all the more. Thief. Ursus gripped Toad's heart tightly now, he felt a burning loyalty to them- and any who had the audacity to steal deserved whatever pain Merrick would deliver. The leader spoke of bears- and then he was inviting the arrived children closer to the almost-corpse. 

The zombie wiggled, pawed, trying to get up, could not. Toad was something feral there, might've drooled watching that bloody thing. And then the leader, in some state of emotion which Toad had never witnessed- he was painting the sky red as almost-corpse became corpse. The light that shone through droplets made it seem like stained glass, and soon the children were stained too, showered in the blood of the once-thief. 

Some of that shower touched Toad too, and he licked the touches of blood from his lips, though his eyes had shifted from the dead towards Aventus and Avicus. Children anointed in blood. Geez, this place was different from home- if only mom could see him now. He smiled softly.

As the grim proceedings unfolded like a horror story, Ico subconsciously moved an inch back and then another inch, until he was no longer standing beside Toad but mostly behind him. The wide-eyed Chronicler peered beyond Toad's mottled brown shoulder, the view mercifully half-obscured; but not so much that he couldn't see what was happening. And hear it. And smell it. And feel it.

Ico had met the little Bearberries before — he'd even told the boy one a merry little story of adventure and ambition. But now Ico felt like a child himself, tremulous and fearful, as the actual puppies were summoned forward by Merrick and approached with such fascination in their eyes. They did not know it, but these younglings had chained Ico to Ursus, for Merrick had told him to sweep his family away to safety should the patriarch be struck down by fate.

Now Ico could see this wretched promise in context. He could not tear his gaze from the bloodbath, but he perceived a general aura of respect, anticipation and curiosity from most present. This contrasted so much with Ico's feelings that he felt as if he were drowning. Even if a mad, warring chaos should envelop this pack in its entirety, Ico was far too slight to make any kind of forceful attempts at saving the puppies, but more importantly — they would not want to go. Avicus and Aventus were children of madness, children of war, children of chaos. Ico could see that now.

But most of all he could see Merrick. Merrick, the ragged leader who, for one moment by the river, had opened up to Ico and seemed earnestly fearful that his own bloody ways would bring death to his house. And here he was; purposefully making that happen. Slaughtering an outsider for all to see. Making enemies like a cloud makes rain. Waving his red, red flag; come and get me, world. Come and kill my family.

As Merrick coated those babies in a cascade of blood, the joyous howl that followed seemed to start a wildfire in Ico's heart, and it spread rapidly, painfully, filling him from ears to tailtip. He quickly realised that by now he had backed away so much that the scene was barely visible any more, and he himself was partly obscured by elm trees. Either it was raining again, or his vision was obscured by tears.

The ivory wolf turned into those trees and ran — then ran faster still. He tried to block out the sound of that harrowing howl, but it filled his entire skull, and continued to echo and echo for miles to come, even as he crossed the border and didn't slow.

Ico fled.

oh. there is something beautiful about the way the one-eyed man splits open the other wolf, the way blood leaves the throat in a torrent. so powerful, even from a slight distance, she feels the still-warm spatter upon her face. droplets on her nose, the tips of her ears, her chest. she is loath to clean herself.

"my children! ursus loves you." Avicus stares at Merrick. he is filled with an emotion she's never seen from him—or anyone, for that matter. she is mesmerized.

and then her eyes move to the body, which is moving, but not as much. twitching, trembling. the fearful light that once dwelled within that gaze is dying out, replaced by something cold. dead. just as she has crushed worms and beetles beneath her paws, the one-eyed man has stolen life, too. though this life is larger, greater.

how can she learn this power?

still a little apprehensive, the crimson-painted firebrand approaches the corpse. she presses her muzzle into the gaping wound, the flow now slowing to a pungent ooze. her tongue leaves her mouth and she tastes; it's much like the slurry, much like—

blood, Avicus remarks, and stares at her father with an expression bordering on gratitude. he continues to feed them, to provide for them, and for that, she is grateful.

Skoll watched as the ground was painted red. Even moreso than it already was when the zombie of a stranger was brought there in the first place. He watched as Merrick called out a howl for the children, as the blood of the other wolf stained the grass in a call for anyone to try and attack him and those kids. He was making a beacon for those that found the pack too feral to come try their luck with teeth and nails. 

He was obligated to not leave the pack, but he could get up and leave the meeting like a shadow of the man he was. 

Exit

her children were enraptured, demonstrating finely they were proud bearers of ursus' power and ilk. astara watched with pride, though her sharp gaze never once passed idly over merrick.

no matter how he acted today, there was still that lurking fear in astara's heart he might one day strike them down.

as both children neared (and one licked curiously at the violent garland of red pulsing from the stranger's flesh), astara's attention was stolen by the fleeing ico.

were she not laden with milk and the responsibility of those who drank it, she might have pursued him.

she might have coursed after him as if he were a fox and she the slavering hound -- might even, have then, made an example of him too --

her gaze darted back to merrick, to ascertain if he saw the limits of his fair accolyte's loyalty.

their vengeance would come another day. astara would not forget. not the scent, not the traitorous act -- not the fact they had supped and fed him for weeks only to have him desecrate a ceremony for her children.

a malignant stirring rose in astara as she watched ico leave.

watched, as skoll turned away too.

a hideous loathing filled her heart, that her children would not be received gloriously by their own packmates.

oh, would her teeth find these treacherous wolves later.

Before him: Merrick, whose teeth cut through the fur and flesh and sinew of the trespasser's throat and released a crimson spray from the severed jugular. It came first like a fine mist, settling on his flaring nostrils, and then with a gush the stranger died and Aventus felt the warm splash of blood across his chest.

Behind him: the pack, experiencing horror and ecstasy alike.

Ico's departure was unmarked. Skoll's, too. Aventus had eyes only for the slain wolf. His moral compass was newly minted, and if ever it would've pointed him true, now its misbegotten needle guided him only down a dark road. The trespasser was only meat and blood and vessels and bones—no more than prey. No more than the occasional chunks of meat brought to them to complete the process of weaning them away from mother's milk.

As befits prey, Aventus sank his small teeth into still-warm flesh and began fighting to wrestle a small morsel free from the dead wolf's armpit. Eating one's own kind was a taboo that was taught, and he'd missed the memo.