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Post by Dakota Spirit on Nov 18, 2007 2:36:49 GMT -5
Slowly but surely, a relentless rhythm entered at the forest's edge. A soft padding, a muffled beat as the male moved briskly across the earth. His paws landing heavy each time against the dry leaves and packed dirt. Practiced in the art of hiding his short comings, it would take a sharp eye to see the slight limp marring the wolf's grace. The old wound was announced again in the form of a thin white scar - were you to look close enough. Few did, and fewer still had ever learned the cause of the young mann's scar to begin with. Still, he remained a sight to behold. Completely jet black in color, the varg blended effortlessly into the equally dark shadows, leaving only his crisp emerald eyes left to be seen. Tall muscled legs left his standing slightly taller then most, but not so much so that he had to look down on others. Power came from his stocky build and wide shoulders. The male could never outrun a true pursuer and thus had developed into a strong fighter.
Slipping swiftly between the trees the young male kept his head high, tail arched. Recently returning to his past kerl life the varg spent the majority of his time traveling wherever the path took him. He no longer had any obligations, no rules or places to be...nothing but the realizations that only freedom could bring. Yet, a new idea was also dawning in the mann's mind. For all the freedom he had, there was an empty echoing in the pit of his stomach. He seemed to have no one left. Old acquaintances were broken and lost, pack members forgotten...everyone forgotten until the point that he was totally and completely alone. Even worse, the forest seemed to have taken on an empty quality about it. There was no one new, no second chances...nothing but the results of what now felt like one poor choice after another.
The wolf stopped abruptly, reminiscing for only a moment. Thoughts like these always brought up what little memory he had of his family. His resolve slipped then and without any reservation the big tough male dipped his head in complete mourning. For everything else had only been an illusion in his mind. The new kerl life, the freedom...it had been great for awhile but soon enough the old feelings and regrets had crept back in. There was no one for him to call to, no one to share the pain as before...he was alone again, and this time there would be no going back.
[Sorry if this is kind of confusing. I was sorta lost on what to do until the end when I attempted to rush a bunch of feelings in. Sorry!]
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Dane
Sikla
Shattered Nieten of Sarnes
You called me out; I shrugged you off.
Posts: 161
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Post by Dane on Jan 13, 2008 2:37:53 GMT -5
It's time to come to our senses
Up from the dirt... The soothing silence of the night-engulfed forest was broken by the rushed yet rhythmic breathing of one of its most noble inhabitants. From the maw of the wolf came his blood-soaked breath, rising in curled torrents and momentarily heating the air around him with the very warmth of his essence. Cloaked in darkness, he was rendered near-invisible, though the lack of noir-dominance from his tri-hued pelt prevented him from being completely hidden. The male's legs and underbelly consisted of a light creme, which then faded to a series of light browns and greys on his sides, and finally to black along the whole of his spine. But details were inconsequential in the black of night, and so the only thing that could be made of him besides the lighter contours of his underside was the bright intensity of his eyes; one, a chilling shade of azure as haunting as the depths of an iced-over pool, and the other a shocking contrast of pure amber.
There was a certain something in his gait that told of newfound success. Tail held high in the air, he displayed the confidence that had taken its time in finding him again. He owed much of what he now was to his new family; a congregation of the most foul-minded and wicked-hearted Varg in existence. Oddly enough, he now associated with a gang he had sworn never to become involved with. They leagued themselves with the Balkar and were considered the scourge of the land- a plague on the very heart of Transylvania. They called themselves Sarnes and hailed from the swamplands.
Pride still coursed through his mind at how the bull moose hadn't stood a chance. Of course the pack had had the advantage by choosing an injured target, but it didn't make their display of skill any less extraordinary. He had feasted his belly that night on the most delectable of sustenances, for its worth greatly outweighed that of the rank and spoiled foodstuffs that Sarnes was home to. Licking the memory of tasteful gore from his muzzle for the countless time that evening, his maw split into a grin. It lingered on his countenance for only a moment before transforming into a scornful grimace. The dream sequence that had been playing through his mind had now been replaced by a burning jealousy that he had only become aware of earlier that day. His love for his mother-figure had not been dulled, nor had her return of the compassion, though he felt pushed aside nonetheless by the newest addition to the pack. A large, ebon brute that fancied himself the center of the dark world had stolen away his mother's heart, and in so doing, had forced Dane from his most sacred place within. From the lack of respect he saw of the male to his less-than-innocent fraternizing with the younger females of the pack, he knew that the feelings Awiergan was playing were nothing more than control tactics. This male stood in his way, and frustrated him more than anything else. It was this frustration that had kept him from simply following the pack home; already he was tired of seeing the two of them together so ill-paired with eachother.
He had decided to take an alternate route across the river that ran adjacent to the Sarnes territory. Having waded through the icy waters at the most shallow point he could find, the fur on his underside still drooped heavily with water and threatened to turn to ice right on his body unless he was able to dry faster than he had been. Giving himself another violent shake, hardened drops of water were sent flying in all directions. Resuming his late-night wandering, he kept his head parallel with his shoulders in a stalking fashion.
Before long, a fresh scent wound its way through the cool air to his nostrils. The fragrance was free yet somehow familiar, though he did not dwell on it for more than a second. Following it for a short distance, a figure was soon visible through the shade. A well-muscled, looming beast, it stood hunched in a miserable fashion. The eyes were hidden, and for all he knew, it could be standing its ground in a defensive position. Peeling his lips back, his dual-eyes narrowed as he let out a deep warning growl from the pit of his stomach.((This thread takes place after the current Sarnes hunt- Shunke already knows that I am assuming we were victorious in the hunt)) |
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Post by Dakota Spirit on Feb 1, 2008 22:02:01 GMT -5
Dak's head snapped up as the sound of another approached him. Bi-shaded eyes stared out from his opposer's face, narrowed into small slits has his lips curled into an equally threatening snarl. For just a moment the obsidian male was thrown once more back to the dark recesses of his memory. He remembered once, long ago when he'd stood off against another with eyes like the stranger. Foolish and young, Dakota had taken a few steps closer...pulling his tail up high over his back and offering up his own juvenile growls. The confrontation had developed into something more when the two wolves had found a common ground, gaining a friendship in a time when there was nothing else. Yet, Dak hadn't seen his friend, Dane as he was named, in quite some time. This stranger, bearing such a close resemblance, seemed like another slap in the face. Fate's chance to show the dark male what he'd forgotten and left behind. That yes, he would remain lost and loney...seeing his friends only within dusty memories. The very though sparked an uncharacteristic anger within the mann.
He drew his head up high, arching his neck as his ears flattened against his skull. Dakota's piercing emerald eyes locked on the stranger as his chest swelled with an intake of breath. Pushing the air out, Dak's voice came in a deep and menacing snarl. His lips twisted like a pulled curtain, revealing the sharp white teeth beneath. The male seemed to have undergone a transformation. His feet spread wide, mouth open and slick in saliva...he looked ready for something beyond a scrap with one wolf. Dakota stood as if he as on the edge of world, waiting to reclaim his life...as if that were an option. As if by showing up this one varg he could prove himself, regain his free spirit...but it was nothing. Nothing but a lost mann backed into a corner and nowhere left to turn.
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Dane
Sikla
Shattered Nieten of Sarnes
You called me out; I shrugged you off.
Posts: 161
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Post by Dane on Feb 7, 2008 5:03:35 GMT -5
The previously solemn form of the stranger was quick to shift to one of opposition. So he wasn't as peaceful as he seemed... no one ever was. There was always something dark that lingered beneath the surface of all creatures; if they normally possessed a light spirited and calm personality, it was all the more worse for them.Years of pent-up emotions could break a Varg that way, it was best to stay on guard. After all, there was nothing wrong with being angry, or even letting frustrations turn to violence from time to time. It wasn't how he had been raised in the beginning, but this was a new beginning. Morals changed, and opinions, as well as loyalties, were never set in stone.
Drawing in the form of his opponent, he began to size up the situation. Should things turn violent, he wanted to know what he would be dealing with. Adrenaline began to rush through his veins at the sight of the beast. His bulk was large and matched his own almost equally. From his throat came a deep snarl that mirrored his own. They were in the Kerl lands, so the loyalties of the Mann were unknown. In the darkness, nothing mattered. They could be complete strangers, each with separate lives, families, loved ones. Individually, he was sure they each had their own share of problems, frustrations, but in the dark... none of that was evident, and furthermore, none of it mattered.
Still, there was something about the stranger that made him hesitate. Emerald lanterns flashed in the night, within them was an untamed spirit that dared him fight. They reminded him of a soul he once knew, and even cared about, but those days had long since passed. He had moved on from such memories, though he wondered how he could possibly run from something that was right in front of him? His mis-matched orbs glinted dangerously in the darkness as he parted his maw to speak in a deep, frigid tone. "What business have you here, whelp?" He spoke authoritatively as though he owned the unclaimed territory himself. Eager to stir up a conflict, his hackles bristled in anticipation as his tail curled dominantly over his back.
//I know this post isn't great, but I hope it gives you enough to work with//
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Post by Dakota Spirit on Feb 19, 2008 0:14:36 GMT -5
Dakota stared deep into the stranger's eyes. There was something there for a moment, a flash of defiance that he'd seen before. This male didn't just look like the obsidian wolf's past...he acted like it too. At least for a fleeting moment, before whatever he'd seen became tainted in a new harsh voice. A new attitude. This was not his old friend...just a sick replica. "Bold words...", he snarled in response to the mann's question. It had only taken a moment for Dak to catch the sent of others upon the stranger's pelt...he was thick with them. A pack varg, he figured. "Bold words.", Dakota repeated. "For one so far from home, far away without his pack to come and rescue him." His emerald eyes flashing dangerously, Dak lowered his head and bared his teeth further. He really hadn't been looking for a fight, yet now as one stood there before him...the dark male felt himself mentally pushing for the climax. He yearned for conflict, for a flesh and bone body to take his turmoils out on. Something real to fight, something besides the specters of his mind. Besides the ghost of his past.
The black mann's mind roared with determination and adrenalin. Taking a few steps forward, Dakota threw his own tail up high. "So long as you're set to lose on this day...", he whispered harshly. "I might as well know what they call you." Stepping ever closer, a maddened smile spread across the male's face. "Afterwhich...", he added darkly. "You'll know you were punished at the will of the they call Dakota." They being a relative term...Dak hadn't spoken to anyone in quite some time now. He held no reputation in these forests, nor would he normally act out in such a way. Yet as they say, it takes a beast to bring out the dark in everyone...and at last it seemed as if the decile varg had encountered his. The one meant to finally push him over the edge.
[Oh, cheesy ending - my specialty!]
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Dane
Sikla
Shattered Nieten of Sarnes
You called me out; I shrugged you off.
Posts: 161
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Post by Dane on Feb 19, 2008 2:06:21 GMT -5
A challenge. That was what this mann was presenting him with. He felt a sly grin spread over his features in the darkness at the mann's satisfactory reaction. He had been hoping for anger, and now that he'd found it, a passionate fight was something he could not turn down.
Countering the male's emerald gaze with his own, he beamed with something like sick pride at the poison words flowing from the stranger. To have it be acknowledged that he was now in a pack felt good, for he was certain that he carried the scents of his packmates on his pelt as he roamed. He wondered if this male could sense the distress that brewed in the swamplands, if the twisted insanity and overall sickness of the darklands clung to his pelt, and whether or not it was an accurate summation to the stranger of the changes he had had to endure. He doubted it. It would be impossible to tell such a thing from an introduction, and even so, no one knew what he had gone through to get to where he was. The loss of his family, the loss of his friends, and the rekindling of trust among those who were undecidedly deserving of such a thing. Of course, it was too late to judge now. He was a part of the mob, and when faced with a searing loneliness, it was clear what path he would remain on.
He only grinned as the man spoke, trying his best to intimidate him. The opposing male's position had shifted to one of full-blown aggression, his attitude revealed that he thought rather highly of himself and of his abilities. "My, my, aren't we confident?" he chided, his voice on the verge of a sneer. "I wonder what that says about your skill." He didn't need an entire pack for one Varg. Even had he been matched against a member of the feared Balkar, he would be sparring against his own blood, and no doubt there would be repercussions for turning on alliances. He hoped for the sake of his family that this brute was not of Balkan decent, and that the Night Hunters would not be so foolish as to attack their own for the sake of waging a petty and disastrous war.
It was all he could do to keep from laughing at the male's arrogant display. He wagered that in the end, he would prevail without effort, though there was no way of knowing just what he was matched up against. The soldiers of Sarnes, Nietens as they were called, were ruthless warriors. He had honed his skills since he had joined the pack, refined the dull foundation he had built up as a Kerl. He had no doubt in his abilities, but he kept all new-found confidence to himself as not to look foolish.
"Dakota..." he repeated the name, letting it slide over his tongue with ease and condescending tone. He had mild flashbacks of a friend he once knew and loved, though the striking brilliance of his emerald eyes was dulled by the passing of time and the changing of feelings. If this was indeed the same male standing before him, he held no remorse for what he was about to do to him and felt no hurt from the insults thrown at him. Things had certainly changed, he would give him that, though the fact that they had been old friends was only incentive for him to rip him apart. "I knew a Dakota once," he spoke, his tone serious and with no hint of remorse. "He was always one to jump the gun on things. Had a lame leg, too, if I remember correctly. Didn't make for extraordinary bragging rights." His shining, two-toned orbs bore into those of the ebon male as though he possessed knowledge that the other did not. "But such information is of no consequence now, for I know that that Dakota would never make such crude threats. His parents were butchered, you know. And I think it took the fight right out of him." His voice had cascaded to a more violent tone, as though he was cutting down the mann at the same time he was baiting him. Hackles bristling, he anticipated the retaliation that no doubt would be brutal.
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Post by Dakota Spirit on Feb 19, 2008 23:39:48 GMT -5
[Dak knows Dane's history, right? If not, let me know and I'll change it.]
The area around them grew into a stoney silence as the bi-eye wolf spoke his words. It was a tribute to how well Dane knew Dakota, that he could even bring up family history. Yes...Dane. His old friend after all, one of the few that even knew such details of the black wolf's background. It seemed fate was not playing a cruel trick after all. Rather, it was revealing a cold and desolate truth. Narrowing his piercing eyes, the male took the last remaining steps that would bring him face to face with his opposer. His lips were no longer twisted up in defiance, instead his face appeared wiped clean. His eyes stared coldly ahead, locking into the gaze of his insulter. His brother. Or so he had thought at the time. It was clear things had changed...for both males.
When he finally spoke, Dak's voice was but a deadly whisper. "I remember some history of my own.", he hissed quietly. "I'm not the only one with butchered ancestors, it seems. Yet where mine were taken at the teeth of the Balkar...our own species, your family proved to stupid to stay away from human camps. Shot down, they were. Tell me, Dane. Were they stripped of their pelts too? Did their skins warm the human children as you laid helpless?" A bitter chuckle bubbled in the male's throat as he took in a deep breath of Dane's scent. "Though it appearers as if that no longer taunts you. Judging by your putrid scent, I'd say you've found a new family, eh?"
Slowly circling his once trusted companion, Dakota sized up the competition. They were equally matched, both sporting a well toned body of justifiable size. When it came down to it, this would be a battle of will and nothing more. "This new group, of yours?, he asked in the same quite tone. "What ideas have the filled your head with? What delusions of grandeur? How desperate were you when they found you? Nah...I imagine it didn't take whoever owns you now, who ever did this, long to taint your mind." He grinned the same crazy smile as before. If this were to truly be the end between them, then Dak was going to at least have fun participating. He had approached everything in his life up to this point, with a care free spirit...why should now be any different. Why should Dane hold any power over his mind, over his ability to fight back.
Yet, Dakota remained unwilling to strike first. He would be quick to defend himself, but when it came right down to it - within the back of his mind a love and compassion for the relentless stranger still held true. "I'll tell you what, brother.", he said leaving the choice up to the grizzled male. "You truly want to see how much fight is still within me? Then you step right up." Bowing his blocky head low, Dakota gave a small show of respect to the one last friend he'd thought he had, the one he had yearned to see again only moons before, while at the same time preparing himself for whatever attack was sure to follow.
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Dane
Sikla
Shattered Nieten of Sarnes
You called me out; I shrugged you off.
Posts: 161
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Post by Dane on Feb 23, 2008 19:53:18 GMT -5
How can you laugh when you know that it hurts your friends? There was no longer any doubt that the male before him was the same of which he had spoken with such animosity. How two friends could speak so illy of each other was not so much a question, but an answer. The unforgiving hands of time, pitted against the two souls, and the inescapable changes that resulted, had been enough to sever their friendship. Life had a way of twisting and turning relationships until they didn't mean anything anymore, especially if those involved had little means of seeing each other in the time between that passed. It might be fair to say that not all of the blame should be cast onto time and changing seasons, but that the two of them were partially to blame as well for not having pursued their friendship.
The eyes of Dakota were cold, his expression stern. No joy could be found there as had been present in earlier days, when things between them were still good. Dakota was as good as a stranger now, though his words still stung as though the tri-colored male harbored love for him still, somewhere deep inside. He was hurt deeply that his friend could say such things to him, after what seemed like years of absence. That had been torture enough, and then to go on and not offer an explanation, but instead a harsh rebuttal, was unacceptable. There was no way their friendship could emerge again, unscathed and untainted. It would be best to break whatever ties remained, and have nothing to do with each other for as long as the other lived. Dane had already moved on from his past, or so he had thought. He saw now that things were different when a mark from the past was staring you straight in the face. Those frigid, unyielding eyes...
Without any notable change, Dane stood and took the brunt of his brother's remarks. At the end of the smug rant, he offered only a smile. Behind the mostly gnarled expression, there was a fragment of remembrance that lay beneath. He regretted what he was about to say, and moreso, what was about to transpire between the two of them. There was a part of him that felt ashamed of what had already happened, that he had already let things spiral so far out of control. He missed the times they had shared together, though he also knew that there was no going back. More than anything, he wanted to eliminate the chances of him being abandoned again. He could feel no pain from someone he cared not for, and so the only option now was to crush what was left, as well as the odds that were against him.
"Dear Dakota," he cooed exasperatedly, as one might who was preparing to explain the same point for the thousandth time, "You should know as well as I do that wolves cannot be fully to blame for the actions men carry out against them. Unless, of course, you would care to include your foolish self in the same category of my deceased parents, in that you too were too stupid to avoid being scathed by man's cruelty." he was satisfied with his remark, for it not only took the blame from his parents, but turned Dakota's own degrading comment against him. His pride was not as observable as Dakota's, however, as he was attempting to maintain an air of maturity, to some degree or another, rather than resorting back to the sniveling, underhanded tactics as the mann before him.
His eyes followed as Dakota circled him, his actions prophesied an attack, though which moment he would choose to strike, he was uncertain. In the mean time, he was merely being sized up as the male attempted to break him down by speaking crudely of his family. "I would much rather have a family," he began, and then issued a short pause before adding, "Than be forced to wander the world alone." He had been forced into a solitary life for too long, and he remembered too well how numbing it could be. He wondered if Dakota might be experiencing a similar feeling. "And what of you? I can find no scent of another being on your pelt. What does it feel like to tread without company or the love of a companion? You may as well not exist at all." You are dead to me, his mind spoke solemnly, and the look on his face seemed to project the thought to the world.
Reclining onto his haunches, he doubted his friend had the capacity to actually start a fight. Adrenaline pumping through his body, he was eager to see what the man was capable of, though he didn't feel quite like initiating the start of it either. There were other ways of getting things rolling. "I knew you didn't have it in you," he grinned exposing his fangs, his words all the while mocking him. "You didn't mean any of those things you said, did you? You're a coward, just like you always were. I was a fool to expect any more from you."And somewhere in the distance
they heard something someone said,
How did it come to this? |
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Post by Dakota Spirit on Feb 27, 2008 1:51:44 GMT -5
[God-Moding Approved]
So there it was. The final stroke. Dane hadn't lashed out physically, but he'd approached Dakota with the same venom laced words the dark male had produced only moments before. An eeriy echo seemed to follow the grizzled mann's words, resonating in Dak's ears like a cruel taunt. He stared at his old friend for a few precious seconds, fire swirling behind his emerald eyes. Then, without a single word in retaliation, Dakota sprang forward. His bulky body sailed quickly across the small space separating the two wolves. With a resounding thud, he crashed into Dane's chest, sending both males spinning across the earth's dusty surface. When the tail spins had finally ended Dak could feel his head swimming with confusion but non the less he quickly locked his eyes on the Dane's gray body. "On your feet.", he snarled deeply, dark lips curling up into a resentful sneer. "You want to fight then fight! Don't wait for someone else to do the job for you!"
The words roared from within the male with such a deep level a ferocity, that he was momentarily startled. Kept dominant deep in his heart, a cold and black hatred had brewed for all the misfortunes he been left to endure. With his crisp emotionless insults, Dane had successfully cracked the very composer Dakota had worked to build over his life. Now, as everything came bubbling to the surface, the black wolf guessed the pain he felt was akin to his soul finally being ripped in two. Torn between his emotions, Dak felt wave upon wave of confusion continue to flood his mind. Pride for his family, and love for his lost companion. The void that had once been filled by Dane's camaraderie emptied rapidly, leaving nothing to guide the male but pain and despair. His eyes glazed over, blurring his vision into nothing more then colored shapes.
"I told you to step up!", he shouted at the gray wolf. Though he'd known it was coming, the realization that this was indeed the end rested front and center in his mind. It quashed any hopes of valor, of reconciliation, anything he had been considering was suddenly gone. Feeling the blood pound within his ears, Dakota lowered his head to Dane once more. How easy it would be..., he thought quickly. To just end it all...to let him win." He stood, watching his friend, waiting for the attack, praying that everything would end quickly. "Do your part...", he whispered, voice catching. He knew Dane would force him to retaliate, to defend his life, as bleak as it was - but the obsidian male could not bring himself to strike again. He wondered gravely, if he'd ever be able to stand proud once more. It seemed, at last, the spirit had finally been sucked from his very being.
[Hope this came out ok. Had to give Dak some regrets and feelings - so things can progress  I was a little misty eyed though...splittings are so sad]
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Dane
Sikla
Shattered Nieten of Sarnes
You called me out; I shrugged you off.
Posts: 161
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Post by Dane on Feb 29, 2008 0:29:20 GMT -5
Behind his smug facade, there lurked within a deep resentment. How far had they come in the beginning, only to regress back to their hostile first impressions? They had triumphed over their initial adversity, but it was clear now that it had been a waste of time. All for naught... he mused sadly. His heart was breaking all over again, even though he had promised himself months ago that he would remain indifferent to such affairs for the rest of his life. With his newfound family, and even with his new mother, there was a void that had yet to be filled with the ties of brotherhood. Solemnly, he doubted, that he would ever be whole again.
The eyes of his ghost-like companion rehashed the present turmoil that he had almost let himself forget. Denial and regret were quickly swept away as he studied the countenance of the black Varg; his emerald eyes were hazed with malice, and though his own burned with less intensity than their jaded counterparts, there was still a flicker of provocation meant to entice the other into fighting. Though his intent was to wage war by all means, he could not bring himself to make the first move out of thin air. This, he left up to his old friend, though he was unsure if he had the stomach to do such a thing. He hoped, for his own sake, that Dakota would be able to attack him. If not, the both of them would be forced to stand against eachother, carelessly launching verbal cuts at one another until each lost more of the other than had already been stripped away.
As much as he had been hoping for it, when the moment finally came, he was caught completely unawares. Without warning he felt the entire weight of Dakota barging into his chest and knocking the wind out of him. With an initial whine that came without thinking to most who were inflicted with a heavy and unexpected tackle, Dane tumbled to the ground, the two soldiers locked in a spin until the dust settled and he was forced to look groggily up at his tormentor. At the male's words he could only produce a grin as he rose slowly and deliberately to his feet. He actually did it, his thoughts betrayed his surprise more than his appreciation for the deed. The damned fool actually did it.
Standing now to face the dark male, his neck was bent downward in a defensive pose as his contrasting eyes leered upward at Dakota's face. "You leave me no choice." he spoke with a grin, his expression mocking one who was ill and deranged. He did not linger long before he rushed forward to oblige the mann's dark wishes, quickly closing the gap between them. Jaws agape, his teeth glistened with pent-up saliva which would soon mingle with traces of wolven blood. Reaching his target, he quickly switched tactics from a head-on assault as to maximize his chance for a hit. Pivoting his body sideways, his sharp fangs waited eagerly to be plunged into Dakota's throat.
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Post by Dakota Spirit on Mar 3, 2008 23:53:34 GMT -5
Bitterness swam across the dark male's face. He'd given up having a choice in anything long ago. It seemed no matter where he went or what he did, there was always pain and despair waiting for him in the shadows. Dakota's black ears flattened against his skull as his eyes continued to flash between anger and regret. His mind swirled with more and more dialog. Things he wished to shout out to the grizzled male. Thoughts and feelings he wished would disappear. Emotions played tug of war with the male, forcing him to relive his memories again and again. How does it come to this..., he wondered silently. How does one go from being so happy to....this. Then, his emerald eyes grew dark. Dane HAD had a choice. He'd know it was me right from the start....he could have walked away, he could have done anything but this. He could have prevented everything. Dak had been working on saying so, when the attack he'd been waiting for finally came. Within seconds, Dane was streaking across the hard ground, teeth hungry for the taste of blood.
Eyes wide, Dakota twisted his body to the side causing the brunt of the attack to hit him along the back and side of his thick neck. Snarling in pain, the male could feel Dane's sharp teeth carving deep lines through his flesh. He felt his own warm blood pump out and down his coat, a sticky blanket of gore left to drip down to the earth. Seeking to end the assault, the male once again used his weight to his advantage. Deftly twisting himself from Dane's grasp, Dakota found himself face to face with his old friend. Finally pushed into fighting, the black male crouched upon his powerful legs. Muscled coiled tightly beneath his skin, ready to spring into action. This time when the male lept after his assailant, the only thought on his mind was causing he maximum amount of damage possible. His white teeth snapped dangerously, green eyes alight with the desire for revenge. His inky claws were reaching out, inches away from contact. Any second now he was sure to meet the satisfying feel of flesh between his paws. His mind forgetting all else, flooded with the lust of battle.
Leaving behind the hope and pain and despair, Dakota watched his enemy through malicious eyes. Dane hadn't know what he'd stepped into to. He still had so much to lose. Dakota, having lost more then he could bare, had returned to the manic state with with he started this fight - found himself intent on doing one thing and once thing only. Making the gray male pay and pay dearly, for all he'd done.
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Dane
Sikla
Shattered Nieten of Sarnes
You called me out; I shrugged you off.
Posts: 161
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Post by Dane on Mar 8, 2008 2:29:32 GMT -5
You'd better stop
Using me up
'Cause I've had enough Rather than connecting full-force with the male's flesh as he had intended, his fangs instead merely brushed the surface, barely drawing enough blood for his satisfaction. After being pryed off by Dakota's dodge, he veered to the side, his skid of a landing kicking up dust as all four feet were once again placed squarely on the ground. Through the dust he could see the black fiend, his emerald eyes were wild with a crazed anger that he could feel boiling up in his own soul. The scent of blood filled the air as it dripped from the wound he had carved through the male's pelt, some drops even reaching the ground. For a moment their eyes met, two glares to compliment eachother, and time seemed to stand still.
In Dane's mind, he was both defending himself and seeking vengeance on his past. There had been a time when he was shy, when he would simply shrug at the pain he felt and let it slide hopelessly by as something that was inevitable. He had felt that nothing could be done to prevent such abandonment, and that whatever hurt he was experiencing was probably something he had been deserving of anyway. The old Dane only wished for happiness and better times, though he did little to achieve such an end. Luckily, he had found his less-than-fairytale life elsewhere, away from the open Kerl territory and within the loving embrace of a pack. It was much different than the loving pack that had been prematurely taken from him as a cub, but love and compassion of a different kind emanated form the filthy confines of the festering swamplands. He was not considered a loner there. Not even the title of 'misfit' or 'Sikla' could be pinned on him anymore, for he was amongst the damned as a member of Sarnes. Every wolf had felt, pain, remorse, frustration, anger. They had all been scoffed at, made a mockery of, doubted their own significance and worth. Some had taken their grudges out farther than others had, some had even killed before. No matter what experiences he had in common or whether or not they were as extreme, he knew that he had finally found a place where he fit in with others who felt a similar emptiness. Together, crudely labeled a band of 'outcasts', they had found a common ground and the acceptance that only a true family could afford to give. Dakota had mocked such a bond, but what did he know? Dane could smell no sign of any other being in the world on the mann's pelt. He was alone, just like he had once been, and he could tell by the void in his glinting eyes that he was hurting from it, too.
It would have been so easy, he thought as the male began to charge at him, for all of this to have been prevented. There had been ample time before the fight broke loose for Dakota to apologize. Had he not seen the sadness lingering behind Dane's eyes? Perhaps he had been too hasty in his masking such feelings, though they had been there as they always had. How simple it would have been for the two of them to throw down their barriers and express their true feelings, pouring out their souls to eachother as they had done in old times. Unfortunately, as in most cases, one did not realize the simplicity of preventing such hostility until it was too late. In the heat of battle, there was much doubt that either of the two males would relent now. Everything appeared to be spinning, the haze of reflection was wearing thin, causing reality to speed up again and hit him full force. This time, in the form of his friend slamming into his side.
The impact caught him off-guard, the feeling of the mann's sharp fangs digging intently into the skin on his back caused him to flinch. Throwing his head back, he glared straight into Dakota's eyes before whipping his body in a half circle to disorient the mann before rearing back and sending the both of them crashing into the ground.
With his body toppled on top of his enemy, his legs flailed as he attempted to right himself. Wrenching himself from Dakota's grasp, he snarled in pain at the chunk of his shoulder that was ripped out in the process. Though not enough to cause blood loss severe enough to kill him, it was still a battle scar that he would carry with him for the rest of his days. Blood flowed from the wound like the waters of a rushing river, quickly converting the muddled browns of his pelt to a steady, crimson cloak. As soon as he was on his feet, he spun around to face the downed mann, immediately moving to stand over him and place a paw firmly on his throat while one of his back legs served to pin one of the hind legs of his captive. Staring down at him, his face was far enough away so that if the male snapped, he would be out of danger, but not so far that the intense hatred in his eyes was indiscernible. "Give me one reason..." he began, his breathing forced and words heavy, "Why I shouldn't put an end to your pathetic life right now."
He had made it so easy in the beginning. All Dakota had had to do was apologize. Was it possible that the ebon male was unaware of how much pain his absence had caused? He acted as if he was the one who had been slighted, when in fact Dane had been forced to change his entire lifestyle because of him. Even the Tor-forsaken packland he now called home was because of his prolonged abandonment, brought on by the avoidant mann who was now at his mercy. For moons he had longed for a renewed introduction. The words from both sides had played in his mind like a motion picture, but the fairy-tale ending had always been present at the end. He had waited for what to him had been an eternity for his friend to return from him and save him from his depression, but no such salvation came. Instead he had been blessed with a hasty decision and an arsenal of excuses for why his new life was better than the of which he had constantly dreamt. Now, the encounter had finally come, only the two parties had been rejoined too late, and the perfect-ending to the make-believe friendship had been rendered impossible.I'm ready to forget the reasons
That keep me here ((Godmoding approved before-hand. Sorry it got a little out of hand length-wise. Let me know if you want anything changed, Dakota.)) |
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Post by Dakota Spirit on Mar 9, 2008 16:32:33 GMT -5
Is it better now...
Within moments, Dakota felt the solid muscle of Dane's body beneath him. With a sharp clamp of his jaws, he felt his opponent's blood flow. Like a river of warmth, it surged into his eager mouth drawing forth the first stirrings of blood lust. Closing his raging eyes, Dak dug his teeth into the flesh searching for more and more of the warm sticky liquid spilling from Dane's wound. So drawn in by the spoils of a supposed perfect defense, the ebony male was throughly surprised to feel his body suddenly slamming to the ground. Wind expelled from his lungs under the pressure of the grizzled male who came crashing down on top of him, causing Dakota's brain to fuzz over in dizziness. Before he could fully recover, another sort of pressure came down on him. Slamming down against his throat, Dane's strong paw choked out the last remain drops of air Dakota had held within him. His powerful back legs remained pined to the ground, leaving the male near defenseless. Still, he did not feel the impending pains of death. Instead, his emerald eyes opened to see the sneering face of Dane just above him. A threat seeped from his gray lips, demanding that Dakota plead for his life, that he give the killer one more chance to deny him. Narrowing his eyes, Dakota stared up into Dane's mismatched gaze. "You know why.", he hissed. His voice was heavy with exhaustion and a deep loathing that could only have been born from such betrayal. "Your darkness is your own, Dane. You know as well as I do, that my death will bring you nothing but paws perpetually stained with my life-blood." Sucking in as much air as he was allowed under such confines, the dark male lifted his head slightly wincing at the added pressure it caused to his tender neck. Dak's cold features only seemed to intensify as the moments ticked by. "You are lost", he spat. "Not even the gift of my life can cleanse away your sins." He dropped his head back in, letting it thud softy against the rocks. His voice fell to a whisper as he continued to speaking, adding thoughts that reflected more on his own turmoils then Dane's initial question. "It seems that which I sought, is far beyond my grasp"Drawing forth his dark foreleg, Dakota placed it heavily around Dane's grasping paw. He knew he could move the grizzled male, or at least cause him to miss his target but the effort needed refused to well within Dak's body. So he remained still, pinned beneath the male's body. His eyes flickered dangerously, continuing their vigilant watch of his enemy's face. Yet deep within them, something else began to surface. The inkling that this was preventable again began to burrow within his mind. Perhaps if he'd reached his old friend sooner, perhaps if he'd sought him out with more ferocity, perhaps if he'd been the brother he'd always claimed to be, none of this would have happened. Instead of the strength he needed, a deep seeded wave of regret washed through his body racking Dakota with more guilt then he'd ever imagined possible. Still, his gaze remained hard and unyielding. The regret and pain within him had always existed - it was Dane who had remained to stubborn to see it. So he would have to decided the fate of both of them now, without any help from the ebony male. ..Do you feel that all is fair [/center] |
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Dane
Sikla
Shattered Nieten of Sarnes
You called me out; I shrugged you off.
Posts: 161
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Post by Dane on Mar 16, 2008 12:22:09 GMT -5
Where are those happy days?
They seem so hard to find Pressing his paw down harder on Dakota's throat, he took the time to leer into his eyes, trying to pick out any sign of remorse or regret for what the two of them had become. He knew full well that such a blunt stare in his kind was used to show dominance and often instigated fights with the uneasiness it caused. For the moment though, he had his opponent pinned, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. He wanted to hear him beg, it was too late for respect now, for it was right to say that the two of them were far beyond such trifles. For a moment he found himself lost in those eyes. Worlds of green light that once shone with such love of life and a jovial spirit were now cloudy and dismal, a mere fraction of the vigor they had possessed only moments before was all that was left now, the rest had flickered before finally burning out. Through the shade of deep emerald he could easily discern an absence of the bond they had once shared; the trust for eachother they had once held close had been dispelled in far less time than it took to build. The melancholy void in Dakota's eyes was soon replaced with a burning hatred; the males had switched places in that Dane's abhoration was now a feeling of emptiness. For the first time in a long time, he felt more alone than he could remember.
The male's words sunk into his soul without hesitation, causing him to rethink the whole of his actions. Had he been too hasty in assuming that Dakota was solely to blame for his misery? Furthermore, was he correct in assuming that his old friend had done so deliberately, and without shame? For a brief moment he felt the weight come crashing down on him, though he was quick to turn again, snarling in reply to Dakota's rasping incrimination, and sealing away any appearance of guilt he might have been giving.
"Shut up!" he screamed at his captive's face, pressing down harder with his paw for emphasis and threatening to snap the male's trachea. "You have no idea what your death would bring," he sneered, his nose almost touching Dakota's, "the reparation it would grant me for being forced to endure your treachery." The words Dane spoke did not echo the thoughts in his head, for he knew, as the ebon male had said, that killing this mann would not satiate the craving for revenge, nor would it ease his troubled soul. "I may be 'lost', as you say, but it's a life far more desirable than waiting tirelessly for the company of your sorry carcass." There was no fear of being abandoned by his pack, for the bond they shared, twisted as the tethers were that held him there, was still strong. Though not the conventional 'family' that came to mind when one envisioned a pack, he was still convinced that his time there was better spent than waiting for better things that would never come.
On the tense surface of his arm, he felt the lighter pressure of a paw being pressed against his skin. His gaze instantly shot down to glare at the form of Dakota's paw resting on his arm, as if it were trying to shift his hulking mass all by itself. At first, he felt his rage build to the point of nearly exploding in a frenzied outburst, but something held his anger in check. The strength needed to push the tri-colored male away was not present, whether by the dark male's own weakness, or by choice. The gesture could have easily been likened to a good friend placing a paw reassuringly on the arm of another to offer condolences. Turning his gaze to the male's eyes once more, he was surprised to find what he had been longing for all along. Regret, sadness, an implied apology that could very well have been imagined by his desperate mind. Steadily, he felt the press of his paw let up until it was merely resting on the male's throat. Withdrawing, he took a few steps backward, leaving the male to recover and breathe freely. He could no longer look at the male, or at when he had done; his shameful gaze was averted elsewhere for the time being; a tree, the horizon, the ground, anything to keep his attentions away from his sinful work. Inevitably, his gaze was drawn back, and he was left alone, wondering what had happened; his eyes reflected what he was sure had seen in their emerald counterparts, and the apology his gaping maw would never be able to choke out resided there like a specter. |
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Post by Dakota Spirit on Mar 17, 2008 1:36:13 GMT -5
Feeling the weight slowly lift from his bruised neck, Dakota sensed the first few waves of mixed emotions wash over him. He'd been so sure this was the end. That each rasping breath was counting down to the moment when Dane let loose his anger. He'd been sure of it. There it was, the hidden darkness clouding over what should otherwise have been relief for the continuation of his life. Secretly, deep down, the ebony male had been praying to the gods for Dane. Praying for him to stay there in his darkness, to go ahead and snuff out his now pathetic life. What would it be to him, after all? The grizzled male was obviously beyond any scope of normal life. He could have done them both a favor in seeking his revenge and ending Dak's torment.
None the less, once Dakota had risen to his feet the blackened thoughts slowly began to ebb away. He watched his old friend endure what could only have been described as inner turmoil. His face took on expressions Dakota had never thought to see there again. Pain and regret seemed to have finally pushed through his anger, turning those bi-colored orbs into a haunting stare. Dakota swallowed gently, trying to cox the feeling back into his raw throat as he moved forward a step or two. His head tilted to the side in question, Dakota felt a rush of sadness for his lost brother who seemed not to know his true tormentors. His voice passed almost unknowingly though his lips, coming in a soft whisper. "I know what it's like to fight ghosts....", he said. The words were not meant for Dane, but instead for the dark male himself. He'd been wrong in assume Dane was too far passed saving. He'd been wrong and it was as clear as the pain on his friend's face. "I know what it's like to be at war with yourself."
In this, Dakota felt his heat begin to pump warmth once again through his body. The cold features of his face began to soften with each passing moment. Here in was his purpose. Here was his saving grace. The chance to make up for all he'd done, to bring his friend back from the brink. He had to live for this. He wanted to live for this and nothing more. Raising his voice, Dak addressed the other male for the first time since the attacks end. "Go back.", he said somewhat shakily. "Go back to your....family." Try as he might, the mann could only keep so much of the venom out of his voice. His anger was no longer for the trouble grey wolf, but for those that had twisted and turned his soul into something rotten. It was all he could do to choke out Dane's word for their bond...to recognize them as anything but scum. Swallowing again, Dakota pushed past his distaste and continued. "Tell them what's happened here. Tell them that you are no longer their property." He stepped forward again, wanted to get closer but knew he may very well already be pushing Dane's last bit of patients. "Tell them I'm coming for you. His voice no longer shook. Instead, it had taken on a sense of pride and energy that had once been common parts of his attitude. For a moment he sounded like the old Dakota. The lumbering warrior, promising to protect those he cared about.
"I'll come for you.", he repeated again, voice solid and strong. He wanted to convince Dane to come with him now, to never return to whatever vile lands he now dwelt in, but he knew they both needed to be alone. To work through what had happened. To remember who they were. The male's emerald eyes watched Dane steadily. He wasn't sure what sort of reaction his words would bring. How would he take being abandoned again? Would he understand the reasons Dakota needed to leave? Would he see the truth behind this words? Endless questions buzzed through Dak's mind, but he knew at this point there was nothing else he could do. A small sad smile flicked at the corners of his dark mouth. "Goodbye, brother", he whispered quietly. "Look for me when the time is right..."
Stepping back away from the Dane, Dakota turned suddenly on his heels. The faster this parting went, the better it would be for both of them...he was sure of it. Moving into an easy pace, the ebony male carried his head low accommodating the wound that now lay there. With his scared leg limping more predominantly in it's stiffness, a bit of Dak's old flair was still evident in the way he moved. With a purpose and a plan he was free to be confident, no longer falling prey to the dark specters of his past. Reaching a small clearing of trees, the male turned slightly allowing himself one last glance at his friend. He whispered one more quite goodbye in his passing, hoping the prayer would somehow come true. "Remember who you are, Dane", he said. Remember what it's like to be free..." Then, vanishing into the underbrush he made the painful parting that had been written for them since the very beginning. He would leave his friend now...but there was no doubt in Dak's mind that he would one day meet the true Dane once again.
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