Post by Tasá on Dec 16, 2005 9:10:01 GMT -5
The red sun rose it's fiery head up over the lands of Transylvania, the snow changed its hue from the blue-greys of the night, seeping red like blood from it's icy pores. The scattered clouds oozed this crimson light, turning the sky into the apparent likeness of a cracked ribcage. The whole body of this world turned red, wounded, and frozen; caught in the deadly grip of winter. Bare trees creaked and moaned in the chilling wind as it hissed past their trunks, ran through their branches, toying with their bone-like limbs and pushing the snow that they had dutifully collected as it fell form the sky, pushing it with a thud onto the snow-laden ground beneath. This winter was chill, but not the worst seen by a strange looking oddity that wandered purposely through the tortured trees.
At a first glance, one of a suggestive imagination might think this creature as a varg, once dead, and now risen back to haunt the living; and in a sense that was true. This varg, if she could be called a varg, probably should have perished a long time ago, but her rigid stubborness kept her in the world of the living, a constant menace to any whom were unfortunate enough to find themselves in her presense. Another varg might look at this kerl and immediately notice her strange appearance, for it screamed out-of-proportion - her genes dictated that she bear a larger build than she currently owned, a big, muscular, fighting build. However, fate had intervened and deprived her of food and nutrition, so this faemme was forever condemned never to fit into this build. Instead, she was painstakingly thin, her legs were like sticks of bone where, as she moved, the movement of her muscles contracting and relaxing could easily be seen. Her ribs jutted out, each one making their existance well known. As she inhaled and her ribcage swung outwards, it was as if her ribs were about to tear upon her skin - making an escape from the grosteque body they were encaged in, a final bid for freedom from their elongated slavery.
Her pelt ruffled up along her back, where the segments of her spine made a bumpy pattern. And her pelt itself was something of a vile thing to observe. Its original colour? Who could tell? For it was caked in grime and filth, all matted and unkempt, it was obvious this kerl had not groomed herself for many moons. A good guess at it's original colour would have to be, a light grey/brown, darkening along her back and on her tail. It was also parted and disturbed by a multitude of scars. These littered her body, numerous beyond count, and the most prestigious and noticeable of these were the tiny teethmarks that pocketed her wiry and bristly tail, not made by any other varg that walked this earth, no, this kerl had inflicted them upon herself. One piece of evidence towards the fragmented and twisted mind that brooded behind her black glittering eyes. Next, would be her left ear, it stood upright, a proud yet battered warrior, shredded, by none other than the vicious and current First of the Balkar, Serg. For this faemme had a dangerous if not psychotic hobby of picking on Balkar. A mini vendetta that stemmed way back into her history. But her most favourite enemy yet would have had to have been the small red varg, Leohlic. Her lips curled into a snarl, revealing her teeth to be yellowing, but still strong, however a powerful head-on collison had left her with only half of one of her upper canines. A deep throated growl emitted from her whitened maw, aged before its time, that was one thing she had to thank Leohlic for. But she had spilt his blood, just as he had spilt hers. And now, dead. She had had to move onto other specimins.
Tasá, for that was this rotten kerl's name, had had an interesting life to say the least. And another one of her favourite hobbies, was dicing with death. She knew that this was not a particularly dangerous pack to enter. At least, not in her books. For GeRad she thought of as being filled with soft-hearted and weak fools. She also had the clear-cut advantage of trickery and deceit. It was not difficult for her to look as if she was frail and weak, belying her powerful bite and ruthless insateable hunger for the flesh of her own kind. She would taste blood here, she had no doubt. GeRad was on the edge of war and their frayed tempers would be easy to break. a pinky tongue emerged from a twisted maw that smiled crookedly. This territory was still foreign to her, although she had crossed it many times in the reign of the previous Alphas. But maybe finally she would catch a glimpse of the Dragga of this pack, having already been acquainted with the Drappa. And maybe, if she was exceptionally lucky, maybe she would get to converse with one of their little runts. Her eyes glittered with a carniverous light.
Maybe she would get to rob Serg of one of his little prises by eating one of the little loves herself?
Slavering at the thought, Tasa's head slunk lower as she prowled deeper and deeper into the lands of GeRad. One of these days, one of the vargs of this pack would reveal themselves to her, and then her fun would begin.
At a first glance, one of a suggestive imagination might think this creature as a varg, once dead, and now risen back to haunt the living; and in a sense that was true. This varg, if she could be called a varg, probably should have perished a long time ago, but her rigid stubborness kept her in the world of the living, a constant menace to any whom were unfortunate enough to find themselves in her presense. Another varg might look at this kerl and immediately notice her strange appearance, for it screamed out-of-proportion - her genes dictated that she bear a larger build than she currently owned, a big, muscular, fighting build. However, fate had intervened and deprived her of food and nutrition, so this faemme was forever condemned never to fit into this build. Instead, she was painstakingly thin, her legs were like sticks of bone where, as she moved, the movement of her muscles contracting and relaxing could easily be seen. Her ribs jutted out, each one making their existance well known. As she inhaled and her ribcage swung outwards, it was as if her ribs were about to tear upon her skin - making an escape from the grosteque body they were encaged in, a final bid for freedom from their elongated slavery.
Her pelt ruffled up along her back, where the segments of her spine made a bumpy pattern. And her pelt itself was something of a vile thing to observe. Its original colour? Who could tell? For it was caked in grime and filth, all matted and unkempt, it was obvious this kerl had not groomed herself for many moons. A good guess at it's original colour would have to be, a light grey/brown, darkening along her back and on her tail. It was also parted and disturbed by a multitude of scars. These littered her body, numerous beyond count, and the most prestigious and noticeable of these were the tiny teethmarks that pocketed her wiry and bristly tail, not made by any other varg that walked this earth, no, this kerl had inflicted them upon herself. One piece of evidence towards the fragmented and twisted mind that brooded behind her black glittering eyes. Next, would be her left ear, it stood upright, a proud yet battered warrior, shredded, by none other than the vicious and current First of the Balkar, Serg. For this faemme had a dangerous if not psychotic hobby of picking on Balkar. A mini vendetta that stemmed way back into her history. But her most favourite enemy yet would have had to have been the small red varg, Leohlic. Her lips curled into a snarl, revealing her teeth to be yellowing, but still strong, however a powerful head-on collison had left her with only half of one of her upper canines. A deep throated growl emitted from her whitened maw, aged before its time, that was one thing she had to thank Leohlic for. But she had spilt his blood, just as he had spilt hers. And now, dead. She had had to move onto other specimins.
Tasá, for that was this rotten kerl's name, had had an interesting life to say the least. And another one of her favourite hobbies, was dicing with death. She knew that this was not a particularly dangerous pack to enter. At least, not in her books. For GeRad she thought of as being filled with soft-hearted and weak fools. She also had the clear-cut advantage of trickery and deceit. It was not difficult for her to look as if she was frail and weak, belying her powerful bite and ruthless insateable hunger for the flesh of her own kind. She would taste blood here, she had no doubt. GeRad was on the edge of war and their frayed tempers would be easy to break. a pinky tongue emerged from a twisted maw that smiled crookedly. This territory was still foreign to her, although she had crossed it many times in the reign of the previous Alphas. But maybe finally she would catch a glimpse of the Dragga of this pack, having already been acquainted with the Drappa. And maybe, if she was exceptionally lucky, maybe she would get to converse with one of their little runts. Her eyes glittered with a carniverous light.
Maybe she would get to rob Serg of one of his little prises by eating one of the little loves herself?
Slavering at the thought, Tasa's head slunk lower as she prowled deeper and deeper into the lands of GeRad. One of these days, one of the vargs of this pack would reveal themselves to her, and then her fun would begin.