Muddy Banks

[Shunké]

Damp ebon paws glided upon the grassy plains, touching the soft earth effortlessly. Muscles rippled under the fae’s short damp pelt, as her nares flared with every intake of breath she held in her pitiful form. The air wasn’t exactly cold, but has a touch or warmth in it, which made emerging from the river almost stimulating. The tall, dog- like erect auds swiveled attentively, from the grounds beyond and in front of her to the vargs following behind and beside her. Her bicolor oculars gleamed within the Goddess-less night, though all was dark she knew that within hours all would be doused in brilliant colors of gold and reds. Fenris was on his way, she knew it- but they would arrive at their destination well before then.

The Anwelda, Drappa of Sarnes held an eager vibe in his sickly body, she looked simply delighted to be here. After all, her pack had been anticipating upon this arrival for a moon now, each wanting to see if the rumor was true. The one who started it all, or so they say; Shunké was only a cub, it was “before her time”. It was Cwen, who was once a subordinate of Sarnes many moons ago. Apparently, Cwen had returned to Sarnes pregnant, seeking assistance with the father of the unborn cubs. The father was deemed unworthy, for he was guilty of having a second mate; a mutt of all things. The father’s name? Draeg.
Shunké was sketchy on the details, but she knew that somehow a brawl broke out in Sarnes, and apparently one of Draeg’s previous cub was killed. The unhurt Draeg and Cwen ran off to give birth to the unborn cubs, and soon took over the pack of Ge-Rad. There were a few more bumps down the way, but none as big as the attack on Zukozu. It seemed, to some of the vargs within Sarnes that Ge-Rad had to be knocked down a few notches, or “put in there place”. After all, they were the Sikla pack of Transylvania, now that Dreogan had been knocked off the map.

Shaking her head, Shunké ran her smooth pink tongue along her muzzle, as if to bring her mind back into the realism of time. Her previously cantered pace slowed now to a steady trot, as her bicolor oculars traced the precincts of a smooth, pearly surface. Shunké had been here before, just one winter ago. The encounter had been humiliating, but with great effort she was able to repent it; until now. ‘That’s right, you’re gunna screw up just like last time, in front of you dear brother. I wonder, now that he knows your little “secret”, if he’ll hesitate when he crushes your windpipe’ Tarquin laughed. It was just like him to bring up such a thought, especially about her brother. The scary thing was, he probably wouldn’t.

Mud squishing in between her black digits, Shunké finally came to a halt at the pond’s edge. Like she predicted, it was still dark out. Her nares flaring once more, no scent seemed to stand out at an alarming level; were they sleeping? Then again, it could just be her, the air was still after all. How long would it take for then to find us? Her gaze shifted back to the untouched surface, something in her memory began to manifest itself. “Cwen’s Pond”, she was told it was called.“How perfect,” Shunké purred, her features curled upward with sheer amusement. [/b]

((Stealthy vargs XD Preferably, the Balkan and Sarnes vargs to go ahead and "announce" their presence first. It would just be easier. And, edited for Ziev.))[/color]

[Zukozu]

[glow=black,4,000]((I'm really pre-occupied with other stuff so my entry will be a bit pants but I wanna get my entry over and done with so I don't have to worry about putting it off >.< ))

Dirty babe
You see the shackles
Baby I’m your slave
I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave

Long elegant legs cycled effortlessly beneath the sleek form of a Sarnes Craeft, her beautiful body flaunting itself with every confident and direct movement it made. A lustrous feathery tail was held out behind her and swayed back and forth with each step, enticing the one behind as though it were a lure. The bitch’s slender muzzle bobbed up and down with the rhythmical motion of her gait, almost as though she were dancing to a song that were forever playing inside her head. The one striking image of this luscious little wench was her wild and fiery eyes, flashing and flickering as though wildfire literally resided within their depths. If Zukozu did not hold such a feminine physique, then anyone who had known the former First of the Balkar Serg would have sworn she were him. And though she was not his daughter, she was in fact his niece and held high hopes for him for the future.

Around her were the members of both the Balkar and Sarnes, an allied pack that though both had blackened hearts, were entirely different in their ways. The Balkar were feared and malicious, uncaring in their manner towards other varg. Sarnes however were more twisted than brutish. They were sinister and conniving. Silent in their ways and truly insane. And Zukozu fit into this category with ease. Conniving, lying little bitch.
The reason for this attack on Ge-Rad; Zukozu. Were Ge-Rad ruthless vargs that attacked any varg on sight for reasons they didn’t even care to find out? Of course not. They were a pack of siklas that respected every varg for who they were, attacking only with good reason. And why would she know this? It had only been a few suns ago she had visited the pack’s borders to negotiate a non-existent deal with the pack’s Dragga Draeg. He had – wisely – declined the offer she made of a truce between the two packs, but the main thing was that he and his two packmates had seen her. Now – they would know the truth of Sarnes. The revenge her uncle – or at least herself in his place – would finally have on the wretched little runts.

As Shunké began to slow on the approach to the expanse of water that was named after their ‘beloved’ Drappa Cwen, Zukozu padded up behind her and stopped by her Drappa’s side, lowering her muzzle in respect before turning it towards her, a broad and disturbing grin writhing its way up her maw. After Shunké made the move on addressing Ziev, Zukozu chuckled in an insane fashion before fluttering her wildfire eyes. “Perfect indeed. This pond will be crimson by morn, and it shan’t be our blood that mingles with its waters,” she growled coldly, glancing now across its calm exterior.

(yes I was listening to 'Sexy Back' >.< )[/glow]

[Channon]

Amber, or Channon as Zuzoku had dubbed her, had followed obediently by the motherly-figure's side. It had been many moons since Zuzoku had adopted her as a daughter, and her point of view on life had been darkened since then. It was shortly before they met up with Sarnes that Channon had decided to follow in Zuzoku's paws. The lightly colored Arctic-bred wolf was still a mere adolescent and didn't know all of the Sarnes pack very well; let alone a majority of the Balkars. There was a vague memory of a 'hide and seek' game of sorts within the Balkar territory that had nearly gotten her killed, but that was in the past. Now, as Sarnes went forth toward the Ge-Rad pack, the youngster followed near Zuzoku's side, listening to every word that had been spoken. She had been informed of why this attack was going on, and though she was still confused, she followed the pack loyally.

As Zuzoku walked toward the Alpha, Channon followed but stood a little ways away. She knew it may not be in her place to intrude, so she stood behind Zuzoku. Her auditoriums were perked on top of her cranium as her amber-tinted visionaries peered calmly at those around her. She surely had to be the youngest one here. Channon had nothing to say unless she was addressed, for she had no say in this matter.

[Serg]

Clawed paws crushed the soft grass beneath them, and a black shadow moved between the mingled forces. Muscular bulk adorned with new scars since he had last been in these lands, and now he had returned to something that was almost perfect. War.

The mere thought of the word caused fresh waves of adrenaline to pulse through his veins. A pinky tongue emerged from a coal-black maw and licked his muzzle eagerly. Soon, he would taste blood.

True enough Serg had been absent from these lands for a long time, but he had had a purpose, and now that it had been completed, he had returned. Of course, now things had changed, a lot had happened since he had been gone - he had missed out on a lot, but at least he had returned in time for this. This was something he had been craving. Madness, bloodshed and relentless carnage. Licking his blackened lips in glee, his sooted tail twitched in an almost impatient fashion. Amber eyes burnt with a fury, scanning the lands surrounding them all. No sign of any of GeRad's runts as yet. Not that it mattered, because by sun-set, it would reek of their blood and their losses.

'No mercy.' Serg muttered to himself under his breath with a grim smile as he neared Shunké, a cheeky move some might say, as he came to a halt by her, but Serg was way too proud to stand in the back. Though he had been gone, he still felt he had a right to be here, and he refused to take any form of back seat. If GeRad was going to fall, he wanted a good view of the victory, to taste the blood and be close enough to taste the reek of their fear. His grim smile faded, it would begin soon enough.

[Emberlily]

-Ember Lily-
Just a good girl, doing a dirty little deed

Emerald-gold specs drove through the shadows as a snow-white vixen slithered forth from the crevices of the treeline. The craeft serpent took it upon herself to spy a little further and to get a better glimpse of this so called "Cwen's pond" or so the name was told to her by her Anwelda. So this little pot of water was dedicated to the wench? Ember sneered with a whip of her tail before giving one last glimpse of the glittering blueunder the limited amount of starlight, before padding back towards the group of wolves as they all began to emerge from the shadows.

The skies were dark, clouds of precipitation shielding the glowing moon away from the land. As if the talk of war itself had shaken the goddess from her roost and she responded with a turn of her back, sending all of the geradian plains and beyond into a veil of shadow.

Her eyes then fell onto the beat up looking form of Zukozu, a feminin version of the former First and if not for the rag dolled appearence she displayed from the ambush, she would have managed to wear quite the charming appearence. Then eyes fell onto a smaller youth, but adolscen none the less that stood by the femme's side. So this was the little tag-a-long Zukozu had spoken about. Ember examined her, snake-like optics blinking. She was still young but she looked well enough to at least fight. Pink tongue ran over her lips now as she lifted her muzzle to take in the view around her, So far it was Sarnes who had arrived first, but tell-tale signs spoke that the balkar were not ar off. But would there be more guests o come?

The snake turned to look towards her drappa as she took position at her right hand side. Excitement tingled the pads of the wench as the clearing began to grow more crowded, and even more so with the arrival of Serg. Ember took a step back acknowledging respect though it came with a smirk and a stray flicker of a tassel. Soon the sky would be painted with a brilliance of gold and red, though in Ember's sweet little mind that was not all that was going to be tinted red.

[Dane]

What if this whole crusade's a charade?
And behind it all there's a price to be paid?
For the blood which we dine

Falling in step behind his Drappa, he knew the time had come., The defining moment where his loyalty and judgment would truly be put to the test. A part of him aimed to convince that he should not throw his life away in a fight that made little sense to him personally. He knew nothing of GeRad nor the Varg within its borders, he was skeptical as to whether or not the one called Zukozu could be trusted, and his nerves were on end working so closely with The Balkar. They were the pack that seemed to have destroyed everything sacred, and while they had not directly affected him, he had made an unspoken oath with his friend Dakota that they would never go anywhere near them or their ranks. But still... there was a voice within him, a portion of his conscious that felt differently. It held no remorse for the actions he had taken to get here, nor the things he would do alongside his dark brethren. What is left to lose when nothing you hold is sacred anymore? was its argument, and after much thought and debate on the matter, he found that he had to agree.

Before long they were clear of their own territory; his paw steps left fresh and clear indents in the soft mud as it squished between his digits. A trail from one land to another, straight lines formed by the soldiers trudging off to war. All of the Varg he saw along the way seemed happy, as if inwardly rejoicing for such a gift to bestowed on them. The gift of war. He had never been forced to fight, though it was a conscious decision on his part to tag along. He didn't have much of a choice, and he definitely had to prove his loyalty to his new family, didn't he?

His superior came to a halt yards before him. It seemed they had finally reached the dividing border. licking his lips, he could almost taste the blood as the wicked Fae spoke. Would it be spilled rightfully? He was beginning to find that he no longer cared. What was left of his conscience was soon to be melted away with the comings of battle. Padding forward to stand next to Shunke, he kept his place near the back as not to impede on the authority of the one named Serg who had just recently returned to Sarnes, but he felt the need to be close to his 'mother', especially once the Night Hunters began to arrive.

Looking around the land cautiously, he drunk in the peaceful appearance. This was someone's home, and how nice it looked compared to his own. His mismatched eyes landed upon the serene sight of Cwen's Pond. Its waters reflected the sky, though it wouldn't be long before its glassy surface would be marred with ripples and splashes, with the action of war, and with the spilling of GeRad blood. It will be exciting... he thought to himself as the adrenaline began to flow. It would be his way of starting over.

[Captain Z]

//Shayla has permission to post. Shunke if you could modify your post that you havnt met me just yet. \\

The wind was still bitter, tearing gently through the dark forests, forcing the willows into painful motion, sparking the aggravating moans and whines. From the passing winter, the moribund limbs still kept its tears of venomous emerald into the land of shadows. The the spectral mists plagued the forests still, until the tree line faded into the haven like lands beyond the river. Its shallow body moved like a phantom, leaving no trace and bearing no view into its cold heart. Such a cold heart beared the body of an obsidian mark, one too malicious and ruthless to be kept in such a dreamy like paradise across this river. It beared the soul-less saphiric gaze that marked the deadly conscious of a predator, one who belonged only in the dreams of the restless. It was the phantom's own tooth and claw, of which it masked so you would never fear, while it silences your screams, escorting you to your place of rest.

Across the river the fields lay in dark perspective. The clouds being the armament against the golden crescent moon rising in the sky. The scents were concentrated, as the adrenaline burned within him, his mind knowing his arrival to the front. The shores and beaches into the field were defenseless, and through the field nothing stirred. Here it was where they were to meet. At the bottom of the night, the valley's most fierce would spill into the imperfect world of Ge-Rad. Where wolves lived life in pursuit of happiness as a whole.

Leaning forward, the nihtgenge let the cool spring water run down the back of his throat, and into his burning body. Acting as mental restraint the fresh water let the adrenaline freeze in his swollen veins. The cold saphiric gaze drifted with the ripples of the water, his bodice hoving above the slow waters themselves. His onyx knives sank into the softened earth, awaiting for his collar to be released. He was promised a prize, as well as the dragga's body himself, if he'd lead an invasion into Ge-Rad on behalf of Sarnes. The stakes were sweet, as well as having another territory beneath his title. He had nothing to lose, other than a whole lot of adrenaline tonight. Word of the wind said there wouldn't be much resistance. Only his few best were here tonight, and the best that Sarnes had to offer behind his ranks. No mercy. No one escapes. And no one hears about it.

It was best if they were dealt with one by one. No one breaks away to alert others. No one screams in agony to awake the rest. One by one. Silently. The First smirked, his ivory grin splitting the onyx maw, the fine nihtgenge staring at his reflection in the water. But he was only to be awaken from his drifting mind. Lifting his gaze quickly he caught the sudden explosion of water ripples, and the light hued hind leg of a young cub, before its small agile form bolted into the tall shady grass of the plains. The First smiled sweetly, yet he was quick to realize the problem of being caught here. It was to his advantage that he was in a prime era where he completely understood his muscular potential and most quick and effective way to do it. He was an agile, small frame but well built Balkar, and none would be fooled by it.

His onyx form tore through the river, and up the shore after the cub, her scent and sound clear in the crystalline silence of the night. The light hued faemme hadn't gained much terra on him, although anywhere but here was a bad thing. "Shucks missy, I don't bite."The flawless execution of his full form in motion had caught him up to the faemme with relative ease, thanks to the short, undeveloped legs of youth. His onyx knives extracted, sinking deep into the earth, waiting to meet the soft tender flesh of the young fae."Sweetie, lets dance."

//Carnage and Carch have yet to post, they can post with the rest of the assembly, leave me and Shayla alone, so we can add some suspense to this thing later.Thanks\\

[Shayla]

It was with a heavy heart that Shayla returned to her father's territory, after running out after hearing about Cwen's death, the grey-pelted faemme was only just returning. She had grown up a lot whilst she had been journeying in other lands, only to return to find her mother had been taken away from her in her absence. The knowledge had left Shayla bitter and twisted. Guilt knawed at the youth in her gut, because she could not remember the last thing she had said to her mother.

But in some ways Cwen lived on in her daughter, for Shayla was almost a replica of the deceased Drappa. Light grey pelt darkened to the darkest of darks along her back, and her eyes glimmered now with the flinty grey of Cwen's. The only marks she bore that showed her to be her father's daugher, was her long and bushy tail, and the unusual fleck of amber in her right eye.

Shayla had made a habit of running off when she couldn't deal with things, but now she had got her head around Cwen's death a little more - but by no means got over it - she was returning home.

As she slipped over the borders she allowed a sense of security to wash over her. When she had been travelling, she had always been on edge and never truly relaxed. But now, being back in GeRad territory just reminded her of the security she had once felt as a pup, and it soothed her a little. But before she made her way back to the dens, she wanted to make one stop first - the pond. Apparently it had been dedicated to her mother, and she wanted to see it for herself. A little thing, so full of sentiment and nostalgia, it was a lovely, sweet thought. Shayla only hoped that the pond was something good enough to be worthy of her mother's memory.

Splashing through the river at a casual pace, Shayla tried not to think too much, but thoughts and dis-jointed memories insisted on springing back into her mind, distracting her from where she was going.

Then, a deep-throated cold voice spoke and broke through her thoughts- the sound slithered through the air and sent a cold trickle down her spine and the grey-pelted faemme froze, and then spun around, lips curled and hackles instantly on end. Grey eyes wide and amber spark flashing in alarm and instant distaste. Now that she noticed this beast, she could recognise him instantly for what he was - a Balkar. He reeked of that foul all-male pack. Disgusted with the image of him, and disappointed with herself for not noticing him there before, Shayla snarled at him. She had never had the pleasure of meeting the new First of the Balkar, so she had no way of recognising him for who he was, but being a Balkar and a trespasser was enough for her.

She had not long come into adulthood, and the arrogance and bull-headedness of youth were still running strong in her veins. She flicked her bushy tail, his second comment only increasing her snarling.

"Dance on your own turf, Balkar, for you have no business here in my father's territory." Then it hit her, what she had just said. Grey eyes widened in alarm at her own stupidity. What was the use of her parents drilling into her that the Balkar hated them, and that she might be a prime target for them being their daughter, if she only had to say two little words to ruin it all? She might aswell have shouted it out. Why, oh why, hadn't she simply said 'GeRad territory'? Why did she have to say 'my father'? She snorted. Well, she had said it now. She would have to deal with the consequences.

Then her mind began to race, what if there were more of them? Or was this one stupid enough to come on his own? If there were more, she should raise the alarm, but if she lifted her head to howl, that would mean she was basically surrendering her throat to this monster - something she was not about to do. No, she was on her own for this one. A wry smile almost worked it's way at the edges of her maw. She had always wanted to show the Balkar what she was made of. Admittedly she would have wanted to be older and more experienced... but when the opportunity throws itself in your lap...

But this Balkar did not look like a new recruit. No, he was much older than she, and definately more experienced. And now that he knew who she was, (if the stupid mutt had pieced the puzzle together) what would he do about it? But if this Balkar thought that she would be an easy target, he would have another thing coming. White teeth flashing in warning, Shayla growled. No, she would not go down without a fight.

A mental image of Cwen flashed into her mind, inflaming Shayla with confidence. These were her mother's lands and Shayla would not let the filth of the Balkar marr them. She would fight, with tooth and claw, and every last ounce of strength left in her. She was her mother's daughter after all. And whilst she may not have the experience and the training this Balkar-filth would have, she did have the heart and the determination - if that counted for anything at all.

"If I were you, Filth, I would leave before things get messy. GeRad does not tolerate unwelcome guests such as yourself." She growled, her eyes never leaving the obsidian brute for a second.

[Captain Z]

With a malicious smile, Ziev slowed himself to tauntingly easy steps, as the faemme's form turned to face his own. Arrogant she was, bearing full tooth and claw toward the night hunter, her sweet eyes of youth giving a promising look of fighter flight, her facade displaying a clear desire for fight, yet her words as well as her patterned silence casted a quivering fear. Her scent became nothing but a bird in the flock of ge-rad scents. She was one of them, which meant she wasn't to survive. Yet it was a tragic error to mention what she did. These were her father's lands. She was the daughter of Draeg. " Daddy's baby girl." The night hunter smirked, his venomous arrogance came to play as his impatience set aside. Nah she wasnt just one you were to kill and drag into the water dedicated to Cwen. Maybe he'd keep it interesting. Draeg already lost his mate. And word of the wind spoke of the distance between the distance between him and Firefly. His family was falling apart. And that was where he'd drive the dagger until he himself has no will to live.

His hackles rose and fell with each step toward the faemme, his veins swollen with the venomous hatred of the Dragga. His onyx claws dragging in the softened earth, gliding as if intention to sharpen. His ivory cranium flashed back at those of the fae, splitting his onyx maw. His saphiric gaze enshrining into her soul, her words of a promising fight spoke as if to speak with hope of rescue from her pack. No, now he was to close, to her flesh, there was no hope in rescue any longer. He smirked, his form within a dangerous range of the fae, he nearly felt her breath of fear meeting the fur of his chest. Lifting his forepaw, he moved it slowly, placing it in the uncomfortable atmosphere just under her neck, but a little higher, wanting to expose the fur of her neck to as much air as possible. He swayed it from left to right, wanting the smooth sensation of the back of the knife to run across her flesh, inflicting fear yet not injury."Won't do much help for you to call for help, sweetie."

His silence was held after that, and his bodice locked in place, yet anxious to turn and rip the sweet bloodlust into the atmosphere. He wanted the uncomfortable feeling to sink, wanted the fear for life burn with rage within her soul. He wanted the bittersweet fight of hope, the last reaction before her fate fell into place. The words he had heard before sank into his mind. Words and wishes of wolfbane, the commands of satan plaguing his mind. I do not move, I take my time, very gently, my claws press against her throat, I do not tremble, I feel her fear, I feel her heart sink, and when her tears fall from her eyes, I pull the trigger with the mercy of the Lucifer... With burning saphires and boiling blood, he twisted his forepaw and rapidly chambered his foreleg, however his twisted mercyless state was broken by the roaring cry of thunder, as the jagged blue light lite the entire night sky as if it were day for a split second. The roar caught the nihtgenge off guard, as he chambered is forepaw with an offset motion, most probably missing the jugular vein, although still giving a promising feeling of flesh slightly lower down the neck. The balkar recoiled his claws, and chambered his body into place while his saphiric gaze and onyx nostrils awaited in hope to see the sweet sight and scent of blood

[Shayla]

Daddy's little girl' came the words spoken by that foul voice, and Shayla snarled at him, flicking her long bushy tail in irritance. So he had worked it out then, her vain hopes of him being too damn stupid to realise were dashed in an instant. And judging by the smirk on his face, his dark mind was already scheming and plotting and decided just exactly what he wanted to do with her. Or at least, try to do with her. Because Shayla was dead set on making whatever plan he had difficult to accomplish.

A mental image of her father flashed into her mind, how she had last seen him, weary and almost withered. Losing Cwen had hit him hard, but he had smiled when she had been there, Shayla’s snarl increased in intensity. She could not allow herself to perish, for his sake. It was the foul God that these wretches worshipped that took her mother’s life, and she would not be one of their victims.

He was so close right now. Shayla’s stubbornness had allowed him this close to her – his reek was almost overwhelming. Quashing her fear to the very depths of her mind, Shayla allowed her confidence to take over. She would not fail her parents.

And then the claws came, wavering close to her throat. Almost like a game of chicken, but Shayla would not budge. He so wanted her to be the submissive, fearful little victim. His thrills scooped out of the air as soon as another varg broke down and cowered and trembled in fear, waiting for his non-existant mercy. Grey eyes flashed, she was no submissive sikla. Daughter of the Alphas, she was never born to be a sikla.

“I’m not your sweetie.” She growled, and flicked her tail. “And are you sure you don’t want to get your other friends here to join the party? We could have some fun.” She hissed.

Grey eyes with that tiny fleck of amber flame bored into the icy sapphire orbs of the Balkar. With his claws itching to tear at her throat, she needed to act quickly to dodge this trained killer’s attack. Waiting, and time seemed to stretch out forever between that moment, and the moment when the thunder broke out and his claws sprang. Shayla didn’t even remember moving, whether she had or not was a blur, but what she did remember was staggering back, a gash in her neck that seeped her crimson life. Retreating now, Shayla gasped for air. Leaving a spattered trail of blood in her wake. Pain, that’s all there was now, and the faemme was in danger of going into shock and being overwhelmed by it.

No. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t. Was she Cwen’s daughter? Or was she the daughter of a pathetic sikla? Lip’s curled back into a growl. Her windpipe was intact, and she wasn’t losing enough blood for her jugular to have been torn either. The Balkar had had the first blow, but she would get the second. Gathering herself into a spring, she launched herself at him, jaws wide and claws splayed. ‘Let us marr that sickly sweet face of yours, Balkar scum.’ She thought to herself.

[Carcharoth]

The skies rumbled deeply as though they were nothing but an empty stomach, crying out desperately for its hunger to be quenched. And tonight, its prayers would be answered. An offering of blood and flesh would be spilt across the land for it to devour. Tor herself would no doubt turn her Goddess nose up at the meaningless battle that was soon to commence; yet Wolfbane on the other hand would have his fill and be satiated.
A pelt that matched the nights ebony skies emerged from the forest on the other side of the river which separated the Balkan lands from the rest of the world. Enormous paws and thick, muscular legs splashed stridently through the icy waters without care of being silent and discreet. The simple appearance of this varg was enough to make varg and lera alike flee. He was a trained Lacan of the Balkar, and who once bore the proud title of Lead Lacan. Yet however now he reined the lands as the well-known Second. His bulk was monstrous, so grotesque in the way his skin hung loosely around his flanks and belly, drooping so low that with ever step he took it swayed back and forth in a sickening manner.
A colossal head was held high on his thick, muscular neck. Only one ear stood tall aloft his cranium, the left ear was non-existent and only a tuft of fur remained to declare that its presence had in fact once been there. Running down from this tuft was a long, silvery scar that cut straight through his left eye. This orb was in fact sightless, resembling the appearance of the great moon Goddess Tor who watched down on the gathering he was approaching tonight. The other however was fully in use and glimmered a sickening hue of emerald green.

Carcharoth, the dubbing of this immense monster, now began to pick up the pace, heading straight for the Ge-Rad territory, following the scents of the Sarnes rather rotten aroma and that of his First in command.
It did not take him long to seek out the large expanse of water where the group of beasts had taken up position. He slowed himself and peered out at the waters, his single aud standing on end as he caught the faint sounds of splashing waters. In the distance he saw the silhouettes of two varg; one on one. Scenting the cool night air he distinguished the scent of his First, Ziev. Temptation to jump in and aid the First was unbearable, yet he held himself back and continued forth towards Shunké and the rest of the group. He would leave Ziev to finish his business, yet the brute sincerely hoped he was to taste the blood of an innocent varg soon enough.

On approach to the gathering, Carcharoth grinned broadly and chuckled coldly. The adrenaline was already beginning to course through his wicked veins with anticipation. He could hardly wait. Nodding in greeting to Shunké, he growled darkly to her. “Ma’am,” the word was as polite as he could muster without insulting the filthy pack’s Drappa. Yet swiftly his good eye fell upon the powerful form of Serg and it lit up with poisonous venom. Barging through the rest of the varg, he made his way towards the former First and on reaching Serg’s side he nodded his greeting and growled darkly, his grin now turning far more sinister. “And it’s good to see one return, especially on such a joyous occasion.”

(awful I know, but until Ge-Rad start arriving after Carnage posts, I might as well make some conversation!)

[Carnage]

I think that you might have to take another taste
A little bit of hell this time

The sky was barely distinguishable beyond the twisted trees of the dark lands. It wasn't until the lumbering beast had passed over the Balkan border that he could even see the sky properly. Midnight blue, it loomed over the forest and left the Lera blind to the terrors that lurked in the dark. The only source of light came from the moon goddess who sat above, surveying the land with her all-seeing orb of white. To him, however, it looked not like a moon, but a blind eye- the one of his superior, Carcharoth. Full and pale, and always staring.

The beast beneath the moon was like The Second in more ways than one. First and foremost they were both Lacans, brothers amongst The Balkar. He had, in fact, replaced Carcharoth as Lead Lacan while the ebon brute had been promoted to Second. But perhaps the most obvious comparison to be made came from their similar body structures. Carcharoth was the only beast he knew of to rival him in size. Looking more like a large bear than any Varg known to walk the earth, his gargantuan size and ungodly strength were the traits that qualified him as a Lacan, and a general, at that. A pelt of charcoal and flame stretched over his well-muscled body and a long coat only added to his large appearance. The defined muscles were hidden beneath his fur but the true nature of his mass could not be denied; he was a monster.

Wearing his trademark grin upon his twisted orange maw, he followed suit and fell in line behind the aforementioned Second, his large, orange paws leaving no indent on the packed ground, they instead disturbed the dead and fallen leaves that had been trampled upon so many times before that they no longer crunched, only whispered as they brushed against eachother. He was a Lacan and cared not for stealth. Let them hear his approach! In the end, he'd catch them and make toothpicks of their bones anyway, so it all worked out nicely. Slowing his pace, he took a moment to look around before loping off to mingle with his 'companions'.

To a beast more suited to gnarled trees and constant shadow, the territory would be a wretched place to live. It was not in his tastes. Before them was Cwen's Pond, quite the hot topic for the night. From what he had heard it was dedicated to the later Drappa of GeRad, said to have been taken by Wolfbane himself. What a load of s***... he thought angrily to himself as his glowing orbs searched like blazing fires for something interesting they could burn. Near the pond were the silhouettes of two Varg, one of which he took to be as Ziev since he wasn't to be seen anywhere else. He gave a short snort and wondered for a minute what his Alpha was discussing and with whom. Padding over to stand beside Carcharoth, he took note of the Sarnes Varg from before as well as an ebon Mann he could only guess was the runaway First everyone had been making such a fuss about when he joined the Night Hunters. To his other side he recognized Shunke, the Drappa of the pathetic stain on society known as Sarnes. The Mangy Queen of the Swamp, she was. He cared naught for the reasons she gave for them being there, or her asking them to tag along as body guards. The only thing he cared about was that they were there now, and soon blood would spill and the fun would begin. Justification for murder was a petty conception he could do without. He would have no trouble trashing this place and the fools who called it home.

[Captain Z]

The lustful scent of blood ripped through the air, as the ferocious deep tone of the thunder made the valley lands tremble. Allowing the sweet scent to rise through his nostrils, it took a moment for the icy sapphires to regain focus after the vicious electrical shock so near to the pair. His gaze was choked by bright instances of the lightning his mind replayed, while his auds heard nothing but the piercing bells of unstable deafness. Being in lack of senses for a few seconds, it was the sweet lust of blood he held on to, regaining the feel in his muscles as his heart raced to keep the fighter flight sensation within his conscious, knowing well that his claws did succeed in ripping open the flesh. And with success, was the further drive of his ruthless balkar mind, that he was hurting Draeg where it hurt him the most.

Bringing his icy sapphiric gaze back to the faemme, he noticed that although the crimson streamed down her sweet light hued neckline, it was not deep enough to pierce the main artery or the windpipes, leaving his free stab at Ge-Rad survivable, although leaving such a wound open would cause shock, and in this frigid season, it would be fatal if she never met the means of any attention. The piercing bells began to drone out, as his auds opened up to the distant roars of thunder, however, the smaller faemme was able to spit out her own fury during his split seconds of inability, lashing out with her ivory cranium straight toward his facade. The balkar was only able to catch the attack in the corner of his eye, reacting his best by pushing off with his front forelegs, shifting his weight to the hinds, rearing in an attempt to absorb the attack by moving his vital parts out of danger. Though the suprising quick fae was able to catch his own shoulder and neckline as he rose off, carving shallowly through his coat and exposing his own crimson to the frigid exterior.

The sting and pain was there for sure, as the onyx nihtgenge landed his forepaws back on the soft earth. He smirked, wincing through the thought that such a fae managed to carve through his flawless coat, but the overbearing balkar knew what he wanted, and the pain was bearable for the pain he'd return. "There's your party starter. Ain't this romantic enough little miss? Just me and you in whats left of the moonlight..." His claws ripped into the softened earth, bearing his cold gaze straight into the soul behind her amber auds. With a rapid release, his hind legs shot his light frame forward, his head submissive until his forepaws absorbed his closing form, before pushing his ivory teeth toward the underside of her facade with extreme power with aim to completely dismantle her neckline. If he could carve into her neck he'd be sure to cut her circulation and breathing right out, but the cuts on his shoulder line made transitions unsmooth and slow, though still potentially dangerous. Chambering his claws quickly he shot his forearms forward quickly, wanting to carve down her forelegs to take away any wish for a escape break.

//sorry didnt finish this one. dont care, you can post Shay\\

[Shayla]

The foul wretch moved! Fury built itself up inside her at her missed target, she had missed his face, but managed to cause a little damage anyway, enjoying the feel of tearing flesh. As she landed, she turned back around instantly, she couldn't afford to turn her back on this one for a second. Her breath gasped in her, she was painfully aware of her wound, blood was trickling down, drenching and staining her pretty grey pelt, and it trickled down her legs and onto the ground below her.

"You only wish, that you were that attractive." She gasped. "But I have a better idea..." However, before she could lunge again, he beat her to it teeth and jaws flew towards her again, and the tiring youth flung herself to the side, but much too slow, Shayla just about managed to shallow a sharp yelp as her shoulder was shredded by the vicious Balkar, his claws catching the back of one of her legs. Grey eyes widened and pupils contracted in pain, and Shayla staggered away from him again, not putting too much weight on her left leg that now had blood oozing from the gash that had just been inflicted. Her heart hammered. He was going for her legs now, and if he succeeded, which he probably would, then she wouldn't be able to run as fast, and GeRad needed to be warned about this invasion. Grey eyes glared at the black beast. She sure wasn't going to forget his face, and the next time they met, Shayla promised herself, it would be him retreating, or drowning in a pool of his own blood.

Gathering up her strength, she merely cast one last scowl at his foul form before turning to run, heading straight for the dens. Leaving a scattered trail of blood behind her. Adrenaline pulsed in her veins, giving her a short burst of speed, but her bloodloss slowed her down, making her tire much quicker than she normally would have done. 'Come on Shay, you have to do it, just, make it to the dens, and move your arse, before he makes mincemeat of it! Determination burnt in her eyes and she managed to keep a relatively respectable pace for her condition. Her only fear was that she would be cut down before she reached her goal...

ooc - yeah... this would have been better if i'd've thrown up in the post box, im sure. whatever, it gets the ball rolling.