Face To Face With The Enemy (Joining)

[Genocide]

{You're another sh#t talkin' punk to me.}

Rrrrghh...Oh he remembered these blood soaked lands, the dark soil having been made foul with the blood of vargs before him. His scars burned at the memory of the one eyed demon that had inflicted them upon his muzzle, he bore four of them, two on the above jaw and two on the bottom, thin jagged brands they were. The memory forced foul lips to curl up and a hiss of death ridden breath to hiss out of his blood stained fangs. Oh he remembered Carcharoth so well, that monster of a Varg who demanded respect with his mere presence. Royal blues narrowed slightly as they danced over the burned and sickly looking trees swaying in the ever so gentle breeze, their dance not one of life but of impending death and horror, bloodshed hot on the heels of both. Like some sort of blood sucking parasite sucking the life from the land. Oh he remembered Carnage as well, also a large brute but carrying more of a Halloween feel to his pelt. Snorting he trudged deeper into the territory, before he had been cocky and soon learned from his mistake.

"Hmm... they're close... I can smell them... they're not hard to miss." this was true what with both of their large sizes, it wasn't exactly easy to hide two vargs that big. Genocide himself wasn't as big as them... but he was big for a wolf, not like Carcharoth and Carnage but he was big. "Yes... they're here alright.... I remember their scents well enough from the last encounter." the scars burned again as he mentioned it, his tongue slowly lolling out to lick at and sooth the burning scars "However it's far too boring being a kerl anymore..." he muttered to himself as soon as his tongue pulled back into his hot mouth, black ears flicking back slightly as a frown curved his lips and he laughed a bit "Most likely they'll want to tear me apart from the last encounter." he knew he had not made a very good impression on them last time, considering he had ripped a chunk from the short tempered Carcharoth, he knew he had little chance of joining but he would attempt it anyhow, it was a nice little challenge to try.

Slowly he stopped his trot into the dark and decaying territory of the feared Balkar, lifting his head and sniffing the air softly, chops curling back up as their scent came closer and closer. He wasn't sure which one it was but he knew they were there "I know you are nearby... No point to hide, is there?" he smirked a little mentally, rather enjoying his own mental mind game, this would be such fun to go through, sure he may get hurt in the process but heck it would be amusing to see what would happen in this next encounter with killers, being one himself this would become interesting and possibly deadly within the first few seconds of confrontation. But like they said, no pain no gain, and he was ready to go through pain, it was no stranger to him, by now they were good friends. So he slowly settled back down on his haunches but remained taunt, on guard just in case things got a bit sticky... this was his idea of fun, and he loved every second of it like a drunk loved every drop of alcohol he could get his hands on, complete euphoria.

{now back up and sit down, shut up and act like you need to be}

[Carcharoth]

A foul stench was in the air; reeking like that of contaminated meat, something that no varg would want to touch or taste...unless of course starved to the point of near-death. The stench, funnily enough, was rather an acquired taste, and something that was greatly savoured by the First of the Balkar. The most rancid blood had touched his sharp tongue in the past, and no matter how sweet or how bitter the taste, he lavished each drop he could drink. Carcharoth did not gain his rightful status or his massive stature by being picky – what was there to gain from that?
Yet the scent that was tickling the monster’s nasal tonight was not that of a rotting carcass, it was in fact a rather insignificant little sikla who for some unspecified reason had decided to make a second appearance to his beloved, revolting lands. The ebony brute had been lazing in the Meeting Place after scouting the borders - they had been relatively busy the past moon from newcomers either seeking to join his ranks or from random Kerls wishing to stir a little trouble amongst the all male pack – when the chilling breeze of winter which seldom traversed through the cursed lands tickled his fur and brought with it the all too familiar scent.
Lifting his enormous head form his resting paws, the single aud aloft his head perked and swivelled in the general direction of the borders, his brows furrowing into a frown. “How curious,” he muttered darkly to himself, emerald hue flashing maliciously whilst his blind pearly eye swirled in turmoil. “Can’t believe the little runt has decided to show his marred muzzle back in these lands for a second time!” he snarled at last, his lips curling back with sheer distaste.
Pulling himself up onto his sturdy legs with effort, the enormous brute allowed a deep rumbling growl to tremor in his chest before taking off towards the border in a heavy footed lope. Grotesque, loose skin that hung from his belly swung back and forth violently with his speedy advance, a sight that would turn even the strongest varg’s stomach. The evident scar on his shoulder felt suddenly fresh once more, causing a spontaneous rush of bloodlust to suddenly arise behind the First’s eyes, turning his vision red with hatred and spite. Oh this little runt would surely pay for his actions, for since the departure of the rotten weed Carcharoth had had time to mull the situation over and was now not quite so willing to bargain with him.
On approach to the borders he slowed himself, instead of making a show he took time to calm his temper and merely lowered himself into the undergrowth. Despite his colossal size he was fairly well hidden in the thick entanglement of shrubbery, his ebony melt assisting in masking his presence. Though at the sight of the approaching, snivelling little shrew, Carcharoth’s temper threatened to erupt once more as the mindless jabbering broadcast itself from the mangled muzzle of Genocide. Replacing his fury with amusement, the First chuckled darkly as he rose from the earth and presented himself to his former conquest; he knew all too well that anger and aggression was what the runt wanted from him, and by golly he wasn’t giving in to temptations...not for now at least.
Stepping towards the seated Kerl, Carcharoth allowed his tassel to rise alongside his hackles in a show of dominance and authority, miss-matched eyes boring down into the royal blue pools of Gen. Halting himself several feet from the weed, his muzzle distorted into a sinister sneer as his vocals quivered with contempt and serious control. “What does the snivelling runt want this time? Did we not make our impressions of you obvious enough last time?”


(sorry it took so long and it's a bit, naff, but hey it's moving forth)

[Genocide]

{In this town we call home everyone hail...}

Unflinching but calm for now the 'Sniveling runt' merely stared into those unworldly eyes, one a stark milky white that was obviously unseeing but actually gave to the illusion of the hulking beast perhaps seeing beyond you with it, tearing into your mind and soul. The other a deep forest green that swirled with both hidden anger and amusement, the hidden anger causing the slaughter house wolf to mentally smirk at the idea that he had managed to get under this beast's skin and peeve him off. But he was not here for that now and, despite misgivings from the first meeting, he was willing to put aside his grudge against the monster for now, scars burning at the very idea but he ignored them. Keeping eyes locked with Carchoroth's own he began to speak, fur unbristled and tone remaining calm but more subdued, he was not the cocky fool he had been the first time he came here... he may not like showing this hack respect but if he wanted to live and remain in a single piece he would have to, "Yes... your impressions were made quite clear." he murmured quietly but did not move.

Instead he kept a silent but unwavering stare with those royal blues, ears flicking back slightly as he held in the urge to make some sort of snappy comeback, it really wouldn't do for his neck to be torn into two now would it? For a moment his attention was almost wavered by a rather strong wind breaking into the area, snapping branches from the trees and rustling both large wolves' fur but still he did not move, he did not tremble and he did not waver, he would not back down or run like the last time... no way on this earth would he allow himself to do that, for now he was quiet, waiting on response.

{...To the Slaughter song}

[Carcharoth]

Moments passed without a flinch nor even a chuckle from the ruddy pelted runt, his expression remaining calm and focused. Raising his brow, Carcharoth refrained from growling and merely stood fast where he was, not wanting to jump the gun and rip the shrew’s head off just yet; he’d at least first see what he’d come crawling back for. Genocide’s royal blue hues stayed firmly attached to his own glaring eyes, proving his lack of fear and self-control. Unfortunately for him, the First’s restraint was often held by a very thin thread which could snap at any unforeseen moment.
Whilst awaiting a response from the kerl, Carcharoth released a sharp breathe of impatience, his misty breathe rising into the air like a plume of smoke. If he was trying to make a better impression this time he wasn’t doing very well to succeed; no matter if he was composed and kept his tongue in check, answering the First’s question would have been a little more intelligent than holding it back altogether. Mumbling words caught his attention swiftly and his single aud perked forward, taking in each carefully constructed word. What was this? No cheek? No snapping back? A simple answer; no purpose or reason to explain his sudden appearance. Something was definitely up.

The anger that had been simmering beneath his skin suddenly boiled to the surface, his controlled expression turned and lips were pulled back sharply into a razor sharp snarl. Hackles that were already erect suddenly prickled up to their peak as Carcharoth’s chest rumbled deeply with and rolling growl. Was he purposely trying his patience yet in a new and sly fashion? Whether he was or not, it was surely having an effect on the First’s frail tolerance of the runt.
Continuing to remain where he stood – knowing full well that if he allowed himself to take a step forward he’d simply break with the blood lust – the massive brute awaited a continuation of the varg’s explanation to his sudden appearance. When after moments of deafening silence passed, Carcharoth let another growl quiver in his throat, words of impatience evolving from the tremors. “Then your reasoning for this unwelcome return would be?”

[Genocide]

Instantly but strangely slow the slightly smaller mann rose to his paws but wisely kept his tail lowered and his expression placcid and calm, royal blues darkening slightly to show that even his own patiance was wearing thin by the larger mann's own short temper but obviously he had smartened up enough to not snap at the devil in black fur and instead spoke directly and to the point but making sure to keep any cheek or snide remarks to himself "To be direct, as I'm sure you desire at the moment, the reason for my apparently unwanted return is this... to join the balkar.... nothing more." normally he would have said 'nothing less' as well but obviously it was not the wisest thing to say to the angry one before him less he desired to lose a limb or two.

Staring at the glaring eyes he lowered his ears a little, showing he knew he was not in any place or position to even think about challanging the large beast but he seemed to show no fear at the thought of this angry creature of wolfbane snapping and attacking him "Although.... I'm sure that the chances of such a thing have slipped down the proverbial drain due to our last.... meeting." he spoke quietly but loudly enough for the other to hear him with no difficulty, keeping his tone flat and showing no bitterness or anger, but his eyes flickered with the living flame of a grudge making it obvious the runt from the first meeting demanded blood, oh he wanted his revenge on this brute for adding the scars to his muzzle.... but he was too smart now to even think about following such urges... or at least... if he wished to see tomarrow he would quell his desire for bloodshed.

[Carcharoth]

Sorry for my absence Gen, I will work on a post for you this evening and try to make you an official Balkar alright? Just wanted to give you the heads up if you sign on before I get it done