Indulging in Dark Delights [joining]

[Kilian]

The day had been hot, the air heavy. Fenris had gotten better at making the Lera below suffer, forcing them to endure hellish temperatures with no end in sight. Varg were dropping like flies, succumbing to sheer exhaustion and dehydration had they been too unlucky or too foolish to find a pool of shade or cool river. Kilian supposed he had no room to complain, for he was blessed neither with a dark pelt nor a thick coat of fur. He was sharp enough to keep hydrated, and sensible enough to know when his body could use a rest from his seemingly unremitting travels. He reserved such breaks for moment of dire need alone, for his journey was drawing near its end, and his destination was an important goal indeed.

Agile paws and limber legs had carried him far across the rugged terrain. What had started as a fleeting fantasy from pup hood had turned into a full-fledged burning desire; the roaring flames of ambition had forced his nonstop travel. Being of a lithe and athletic form, his streamlined body was built for such distance, no doubt his stamina had been strengthened by the trek. His once soft pelt had grown coarse and worn, the brown-gray hues that faded to light tan along his belly had no doubt grown darker with the rising dust stirred up by his quick pace. Flecks of black remained scattered throughout his topcoat, the fur along his shoulders consisting of an ebony hue.

He had trudged through the river; the dividing point between the light and dark lands. His fur still soaked to the brim, he found himself the victim of an unforeseen downpour. While seeking refuge in an abandoned cave of stone he had been visited by a strange, serpentine entity; a baleful apparition of flesh and blood with a voice as smooth as silk. They had proven to have common interests, and while the reptilian spectre certainly had his unorthodox methods, Kilian could see himself calling him a companion should they ever meet again. In the meantime, he was out for himself, the completion of his destiny now sat mere footfalls away.

Despite being confronted by countless distractions, he had finally made it. The silhouette of the legendary Stone Castle sat perched atop its prominence, its ominous spires jutting up above the line of trees. Amber eyes alight with excitement, he could feel his breathing rate accelerate, his tongue lolling excitedly from his gaping maw as he stared up at the stone columns that lingered just out of reach. Resuming his journey, his pace had quickened to a trot which carried him farther and farther into the darkening forest. All around him the trees grew out in awkward positions, they curled around each other and seemed to devour anything within reach with their eager, grabbing branches. Coming to a clearing, he avoided the clutches of nearby limbs. Throwing his head into the air his voice rang out into the blazing night sky, sending the crows in a frenzy, the beating of their wings providing a backdrop to his song as they fled from their roosts. The haunting melody encompassed all of his dark desires, mixed within were the weary tones of exhaustion coupled with the confident nocturne of a long-awaited conquest. As the remains of his song echoed across the territory, the stars taking time to recover from the tumultuous tremor of his ambition, he searched the line of trees for peering eyes or bared fangs, his own maw pulled up into a crazed grin. His eager heart pumped with adrenaline at the prospective promise of his admission. For too long he had waited for his paws to reach this hollowed ground, and now that he finally stood here, the effect was near ecstasy. "Something wicked..." he began, his voice quivering with excitement. "Come, come and find me. I'm here for you," he hissed, his vocals dropping in pitch but growing louder, more confidant. Settling down onto his haunches the mann sat and waited for any sign of the approaching danger that he hoped would come, his tail wrapped tightly around his paws.

[Carcharoth]

(I hope you don’t mind me altering this slightly due to the change in seasons...sorry repeatedly for the wait >.<)

The air grew thin and desperately cold despite the Balkan forest of withered black trees growing too close together and entwining almost every available space they could consume; winter was clearly hitting the land hard and even this forsaken territory would not escape it. Thick clouds loomed overhead, whether they carried with them rain, sleet or snow know one would know until they opened. The land was relatively icy and solid; turrets created in the earth from heavy footed beasts were frozen solid and made to look like blackened waves between the even darker rotted roots.
Thankfully the bitter winds and thin chill in the air was no problem for the brute who stalked the lands. His bulk was that of enormous quantity and his midnight pelt had grown thicker with the coming season, just like it did ever year that passed. He longed for the bite of Wolfbane’s Winter as he suffered through the horrifically heated summers in Transylvania – even then the Balkan lands held little confinement from the humidity. With each callous paw step the mann took the sagging, loose skin around his underbelly swayed back and forth in a grotesque manner which often caused most beasts to turn their head in disgust; this often caused their quick and unfortunate demise. If that wasn’t enough to dub the brute hideous, his facade was no pretty painting either. Aloft his cranium only one ear stood on end, the other was merely a tuft of ebony fur from which ran a silvery scar that cut through his left eye leaving it a milky globe of empty sight. It had been a brutal injury at the time, though had now healed into something that assisted in the First’s character – something that even the toughest of his recruits still found disturbing.
All within the land was silent - other than the heavy breathing and footfalls of the obsidian monster – until the sudden snap of flapping wings and the booming call of a stranger within his lands broke through the thin air. Halting himself to an abrupt stop, Carcharoth’s muzzle twisted into a sinister sneer, his good eye glistening in the dim light like a poisonous emerald jewel. “Ah, at last a little fun to brighten my spirits,” he grumbled to himself on reverberating vocals.
Turning swifter than what seemed possible in the space given and in relation to his hulking form, the First fell into a heavy lope and pushed his way through the undergrowth to reach the invading sikla, branches and bracken snapping and tangling itself within his thick winter pelt. It didn’t take too long for the clearing to come into his sights and the rather relaxed mann sitting without a mere aura of fear in the centre.
A deep, unearthly growl rumbled within his deep chest as he strode with all sense of authority and power through the tree-line and stood before the stranger. His milky orb, though blind and sightless, stared intently into the eyes of the rugged youth, his emerald orb doing all the scrutinizing. “Well well well, what do we have here? An intruder?” he spoke with in a threatening tone, sneer turning into a devilish grin as he took a step closer. Craning his neck forward he leaned in closer, yellowing teeth revealed as his lips were pulled back and his hot breathe was free to run in a misty plume over the gray mann’s muzzle. “Do you know what we do to trespassers who act a little too big for their paws?”

(sorry, not RPed in a while so I'm a little rusty...)

[Kilian]

//No, I don't mind at all. It would be silly to say it was still summer ;)//

His breath plumed up in front of his face as he sat, waiting. His heart was pounding so loud with anticipation that it seemed to quake the forest entire. Clouds congregated overhead as though they knew of the impending confrontation, their apathetic, gray tendrils spanning over the vast heavens just waiting to burst and tear a hole in the sky. Patiently he sat, unmoving, his form entirely mistakable for a misplaced statue whose true home was the Stone Castle. Ever so slightly his tail began to tap the ground, pounding in time with his racing heart and some other, unknown rhythm, though the hidden element was soon to be revealed.

Within moments the tremors came; great shockwaves that surged across the ground, through his paws, and straight into his skull. A steady, heavy pounding that told of the land's humble guardian and his less than graceful approach. Kilian continued to sit, unphased by fear and instead engulfed in a sort of excitement; ecstacy, even. He was quick to hide his creeping smile, however, when the obsidian form of a colossal terror overwhelmed his vision. The terrible beast showed no signs of slowing, but the smaller mann managed to somehow maintain his pose, despite the gripping sense of panic that caught hold of him moments before the halt of the brute.

The hulking mann was unlike any he had ever seen! Even his most phenomenal fantasia could not live up to the physical reality, the Balkan standard set by this mann. He had no choice but to now put into question his place among these males, for it was clear that if this mammoth was the standard, then he had no business in these lands. Still, he though, not all of the brutes could have attained such a size, for how would they send such stout individuals off to scout the perimeter and spy on rival packs? The notion did not make sense, and so, a slight spark of hope was ignited within his mind.

The ebon male's vocals caught him somewhat off-guard and seized him back to reality. He was being questioned, interrogated even, though he knew this was merely the beginning. In truth he was fearful of this mann, for he could easily take his head off with one sinister snap of his iron jaws. Still, a fight was not what he was after. If he could only put himself into this mann's favor he might stand a chance. Desperate to keep his attention from wandering to examine the beast's grotesque form, he turned his amber gaze to the male's face, and was met with an unwelcome sight. One of the behemoth's eyes was a sightless, glowering orb that mocked the goddess Tor, while the other was a sickening shade of green to match his sudden feeling of nausea. Still, he managed to focus between the two eyes, and somehow avoid falling victim to their gaze. "I called for Tratto's Blessing, meaningless as it may be in these lands... though Why ask permission from a fallen monument when there are true gods about who should be honored?" His voice was cool yet humble as he spoke to the male.He knew he had entered the Devil's Realm and that the demons that dwelt there deserved the utmost respect. His pride long-since swallowed, he offered a bow of respect to the male, all the while keeping his eyes focused on the yellowing daggers before him. "I was hoping, perhaps wrongly, that you might consider me a confederate, rather than a trespasser. I would think that most Varg have mind enough not to set paw on your land without some kind of purpose, and purpose I most definitely have." dismissing the rank fumes of the mann's breath, his words were calm and calculated as though he had practiced them before. The time he had spent waiting on an encounter had passed, and now his moments were spent in anticipation of his judgment. He knew it wouldn't be easy; Simplicity was not what he had expected, though he hoped that he would be faced with as painless an admission as possible, rather than a rejection that lead to his ultimate demise.

//If you need anything changed, don't hesitate to let me know//

[Carcharoth]

The scent of fear was rather evident from the intruder, no matter how well his demeanour managed to hide the fact that it was just a brave face he put on. It was like a shot of some sickening drug injected straight into the First’s blood stream causing his lips to curl back further and his grin to turn into a full on jester smile; all yellowing razors on show and ready to strike and the first sign of falter. It had seemed like moons since he’d had the pleasure in tasting varg blood – though with the plan he’d put together in his corrupted mind he should be tasting it soon enough from the infamous land of Koran.
Moving his mind back towards the situation at hand, Carcharoth assessed the tone in which the varg replied. It appeared humble and respective, but then again it was very rare – unless one was visiting for a rather swift death wish – for a varg to show disrespect and insolence within the Balkar lands and faced with a formidably trained warrior. So this scrawny kerl was looking to swindle his way into a partnership? To prove himself worthy enough so that he may actually gain respect from not only the all male pack but from the pathetic dribbling varg that call themselves putnar in Transylvania? Of course it seemed pretty obvious, why else would a varg with deportment like this be sitting so serenely in such deadly lands? It was certainly something that sounded like plan, after all the Balkar were dwindling in numbers quite drastically, yet how else could this varg prove himself worthy of his ranks?
Carcharoth growled darkly, pulling his neck back and frowning deeply whilst his eyes scanned once more over the younger brute and taking into account of his stature. He was rather delicate in size, tall yes but a little on the scrawny side – at least in comparison to his own beefing bulk – though that would certainly come in handy as the pack needed more Nihtgenge, but that wouldn’t stop him from making a rather lithe warrior if needs be. The First contemplated this for a moment before he brought his glare back up to meet the eyes of the stranger. “Are you not going to tell me your name and your full intent on coming to these lands stranger? You have merely hinted so far, I’d love to know the details,” he questioned, voice growing darker and more menacing with each word.

(sorry it's lousy, just jibberish now >.< )

[Kilian]

While the menacing beast took a moment to examine his form somewhat thoughtfully, so did Kilian seize the opportunity to examine the brute. His size was intimidating, to say the least, for he had the solid structure of a grizzly and towered far above Kilian, even as he stood at his tallest. Loose skin hung grotesquely from his sides and swayed below his belly in time with his heavy breathing, while muscles bulged out from his frame, toned, no doubt, from his years of service to the Balkar, and they gave the impression that he could crush a Varg's skull with little effort beneath one of his large paws. It wasn't until now that he realized one of the mann's ears was missing, mere tufts of tussled fur standing where a pointed aud should be. The scar that told of the injury traveled over the socket that housed the eerie, clouded orb, and continued down his cheek. What terrible battle must had ensued to cause such a defect? It was enough to make him cringe inwardly at the thought of adopting such a trophy himself, though a small part of him almost hoped for it.

The deep baritone of the brute's voice brought his attention back to his face, where he found plastered upon it an unnerving frown. Were he to be found unsuited for these lands, he was sure this mann would waste no time in making a carcass of him. Had the judgment already been passed? He put on his boldest face, his amber eyes serious as they tilted up to met the uneven gaze of the First. "Of course, my apologies," he said fearlessly, offering another bow for his insolence. If he wasn't more careful his stupidity would soon get him killed! Angry with himself, he straightened his posture and rose his gaze once more to the ebon Varg's face. "My name is Kilian," his own name sounded foreign on his tongue, when had he last spoken it? "My purpose on this day was to meet with a Balkan superior, one of which I am most certain you are, and brave whatever test they would set me to, with my primary goal to become a member of this renowned and dreaded pack." His eyes were shining brightly now, with admiration for the title he might soon carry and that this mann already did.

"Words spread like fire through the forest, and I heard that Balkan numbers were dwindling. I know not if this is true, though if it is, is it not necessary to build up what was once so glorious, in order to restore much needed order? I am here to help you do just that..." He hoped to high heaven that his tactics were working, and that he would be able to convince this man of his potential, though he knew that if he were to be judged on appearance alone, his chances would not be good. "I know I possess not much in way of bulk, though I can assure you that I am surefooted and able to hear things others might merely blink at, if you know what I mean." He hated to feel as though he was boasting his every asset, though they were characteristics that would hopefully spare his life and prove his worth. "While I am not the most skilled in combat, as Varg of your stature surely are, I could hold my own in a fight if needed." With that, he silenced himself, his ochre orbs searching for any sign of approval on the mann's grim features.

[Carcharoth]

Fear and disbelief flashed behind the amber eyes of the stranger, causing Carcharoth’s frown to rise on one side, giving the impression that he was scrutinizing the kerl further. With sudden haste, he composed himself and masked the tension in his expression with a veil of bravado. Words began to stream into the night’s silence, the First’s single aud picking each one up individually and contemplating them with a content and satisfied mind. So this Kilian fancied himself worthy amongst the Balkan ranks? That to begin with seemed obvious enough, but now the First had to put into perspective the position he was in – accept or reject?
Carcharoth took into account the positive aspect that he both witnessed and the stranger chose to tell of himself; stealth, lithe, surefooted, composed, direct and respectful. They were all very good points that would take the kerl far as a Nihtgenge and as a Balkar under Carcharoth’s control. With very few flaws and the truth being that his numbers were lacking in size, there was very little reason to turn Kilian away – and they both knew it.

That didn’t stop the brute from remaining silent, causing the tension to grow and the fear in Kilian to grow – how often was it really that Carcharoth got the chance to toy with his fellow varg? He was hooked on the fear and anxiety of others, and the flow he was receiving from this potential pack mate was never going to suffice his hunger for it. So instead he merely grunted and settled back onto his haunches, hackles relaxed and his expression twisting once more into a sinister grin.
All anger, fury and malice evaporated from the ominous First as he relaxed into his more natural and charming demeanour. A deep chuckle shook his chest and the loose skin which now hung over his folded limbs. “Well now Kilian, I appreciate the honesty. Yes indeed I am indeed a well respected member of the Balkar; the First if you will,” he growled on suddenly casual tones, glimmering emerald orb still remaining fixed on the amber pools of the kerl. “And I must say, with proper training to prove your worth, you would make a fine Nihtgenge of the Balkar ranks. Is this acceptable to you?” he queried almost without question, knowing that if Kilian at all refused the position it would be the last thing he ever did.

[Kilian]

His brave and confidant demeanor began to waver ever-so-slightly under the ever-watchful gaze of The First. The sightless eye especially seemed to lock on to his very soul, even when the emerald hue was turned away. He tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat, praying each second that the silence would be broken, though hoping, too, that the brute would consider him favorably. As he stood motionless, he thought that he caught a flicker of amusement on the face of the First, though it did not materialize in a way that was obvious, but was apparent more as a subtle undertone. Could he be enjoying this? There seemed to be no doubt that he was; Balkar were, after all, driven by the fear of their victims. Already Kilian understood this concept, it was a feeling of elation that he too experienced, though if he made it into the Balkan ranks, he would have time to hone the skill.

A bit of the tension dissipated once the larger male assumed a more casual position. Kilian remained standing and kept his nerves about him, for however hopeful the situation looked, he did not want to look too comfortable in lands that were not his own. Put off at first by the brute's haunting chortle, he found himself relieved at his words. His eyes widened a bit upon hearing the title of 'First', and he felt his body grow tense with apprehension once more. At least, he thought, he had been conducting himself accordingly by this male's standards. "Yes Sir," he promptly responded, unable to conceal all of the ecstasy from his rich vocals, before offering a bow to the lumbering male. "How ever could I refuse?" he asked sincerely, amber eyes glistening as they peered up at malice-filled counterparts. He had caught the threat lingering behind the male's inquiry, though there wasn't a fiber in Kilian's being that could have wished for anything else. "There is no higher honor, I assure you. You will not be disappointed, Sir." Again his heart was racing, this time with honor and pride. Finally, he would become something worthy of the respect he had been deprived of, he would be able to think of himself and see only success. Flashing a crooked grin to the half-blind beast, he knew that he would keep his vow or perish.