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Post by Carcharoth on Oct 28, 2006 11:00:25 GMT -5
The wind and rain beat down on the dead lands with such a mighty force that several of the larger, rotten trees had reached their final resting place back where they had once sprouted from. One such carcass lay in the blistery path of an enormous beast, who’s single aud aloft his mighty head flexed forward and then back again – scanning his surroundings for any sounds of an intruder. The heaving creature, if he could have even been labelled such a thing, was nothing but a simply colossal sized varg. He, the name being Carcharoth, had been blessed with the power of size and strength. Yet the image of beauty he was not. The gift of sight and sound had been cut short for the mann, as he now bore only a single ear and one good eye – the other constantly staring blindly ahead, masked by a pearly white coat. The Second’s lip twitched and grew broad into a distinctive sneer. Recently he had been promoted to a new level in his pack; the Balkar. Second in command to their insane First he was, and the title he held with pride. And not too far off from where he stood, the monster could scent another of his pack. Carnage, the Lead Lacan – Carcharoth’s former role in the pack – was close by. A deep growl of approval passed the Second’s lips and he nodded, if only to himself. Turning his attention back onto his blocked path, Carcharoth proceeded to walk around the fallen tree and continue forth on his route back towards the Meeting Place. With the weather growing increasingly wet with the winter season, his temper had grown far bitter than usual – and so he was seeking out some shelter by the First’s well known throne (or the large rock that from Tamra’s days the First would take his place upon).
((sorry it’s a very crappy and awfully done post, but it’s something at least to get the ball rolling again.))
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Post by Carnage on Oct 29, 2006 20:34:47 GMT -5
((Short, yes. I apologize. Not feeling quite up to par, but I wanted to get a post up.))
The uniform melancholic nature of the Balkan lands was amplified by the rush of rain that surged from the heavens in one torrent after another, drenching the newly fallen leaves and turning the packed earth to a slick mud in places where the streaming water never seemed to stop. Imprinted in the mud in a straight path lay the footprints of a Varg. A Mann, to be more precise, of immense proportions. Carrying the appearance of a grizzly moreso than a wolf, he walked with his shoulder blades high in the air and his head carried low, as if he were constantly stalking something with that deranged grin that was always present on his broad muzzle. He had nought the swiftness of an emissary, though he made up for his with his brute strength and the sheer size of his frame. The only Varg that had even come close [and perhaps even surpassed his size] was the newly appointed Second of the Balkar: Carcharoth. A burly ebon-pelted Mann whom he was currently following to the meeting place, perhaps to discuss the Balkar's current situation as a pack.
The rain caused his ebon and flame hued pelt to cling to his mammoth form, accentuating all of his well-formed muscles as he walked in long strides around fallen branches and the like. Pointed auds pricked forward to catch a low growl drifting through the rain in his direction. It came from The Second, and his amber orbs darted over towards the shadowy bulk creeping through the trees and he nodded his acknowledgment to the brute. Though a Balkar he was, he was no veteran to the pack as Carcharoth was, and he hadn't truly ever visited the meeting place. Hopefully the meeting, like the pack, would be unconventional. Having been recently promoted to Lead Lacan, he still retained his title as First Guard, he wore both titles with pride. Just as he had expected after joining the packs, he was quickly climbing through the ranks and making his way towards the top. He had no interest in being The First, but the position he currently held was enough power to satisfy him. For the moment, at least. There was no doubt that other members of the pack would soon be joining the frenzy.
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Post by Assassin on Nov 12, 2006 17:49:00 GMT -5
Raining it just had to be raining didn’t it? Just to make the day the clouds gathered together and said, “ Let’s just pour down on these damn bloody wolves,” and like the damn s***’s they were they did just that. Shaking his head slowly Assassin slowly and reluctantly followed after Carnage his head down and his tail slightly tucked. But this wasn’t exactly out of respect for his new bosses, no it was basically because he didn’t want to get every single part of him wet. See Assassin wasn’t exactly the type to like the rain...at all. Yeah why was that well because…well he basically just didn’t like it. He didn’t have some traumatizing experience with water he just didn’t like it.Simple as that. So if Assassin didn’t like it, it obviously had to go at least that was what he thought. But then again the poor varg thought the world revolved around him.
Looking up Assassin amber eye’s focused on the orange and black figure ahead. Assassin for one could never figure out why he had joined such a dying pack, but really they had seemed more of his type when he had joined up. But now they were still his type but being in a pack was like being tied down he had to follow orders and do thing’s a certain way. But whatever he wasn’t complaining, yet. As the two in front slowly came to a halt Assassin followed after them basically just following their lead. He knew what position they were in yet he didn’t actually know their names. Which was kind of sad seeing as one of them was second in command of the whole pack. He didn’t know what he was doing really so following Carnage’s lead Assassin dipped his own head in respect and greeting to the both of them. Now it seemed the three was missing just one more guy. The First of the Balkar himself Ziev now where was he? Well wherever he was Assassin for one could care less. Why because he was a lazy bum that actually needed to be whipped into doing something. If you just told him he would do it but when he felt like it.
Reclining to his hunches Assassin looked around. He hadn’t actually had a chance to explore the balkar lands, which was also why he had followed Carnage. He seemed to know his way around here better then him and plus if he didn’t show who knew what kind of trouble he’ll be in. But then again Assassin wasn’t no pup he didn’t need to listen but then again they pack was evil, the pack was feared and even though there was only four member’s by the look’s of thing’s they could whip his ass any day of the week. So you would think the boy had enough common sense to listen when they talked, and well he knew to do that but he wasn’t about to change his ways because they were bigger. He may not have liked the idea of being killed but he didn’t exactly fear it. Hell if he died whatever no more hot girls. Wasn’t the end of the world.
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Post by Captain Z on Nov 17, 2006 12:58:58 GMT -5
//as promised boys\\
The wilted willows began their moaning and whining as the frigid snap of winter slithered through the dark and damp balkar. Along with winter's bite came the horrid echoes of rhythmic rainfall. The water turned the frozen terrain into a rigid mess of mud. The water sifted through the dirt, carving and tearing large cravasses of itself. Its waters were dark, as it danced in the mud with the newcomers from the sky, who wished to join their party.
Crack. Large onyx claws sank deep into the mud, pressing the withered ivory down with it. The black pelt submerged slightly, its rusted scarlet blend no longer visible. A sensation of pleasant odor lifted into the atmosphere, amplified with the lushious scent of death into the rain. The large male lifted his paw from the ivory, which now rested serenaded by a pool of crimson, that drifted into a channel of endless rainwater. Crack. The black paws sunk into the mud again, the crimson spewing into the array of mud. The ivory ribcage of the prey was severed bit by bit, and its glossy hue was freed from the pink flesh by his jagged array of teeth.
The prey was more than a simple catch. The poor bastard trapped itself in the clearing, which was surrounded by a medley of thick brush. It drove through the thorns, which in turn drove through its own flesh. It screamed in agony. It was too young to have developed a threshold for pain. A clean prick left a single tear of crimson, canalling through his main, and its miniscule and weak odor awoke the cold blue eyes of the First.
He left the meal unfinished, no longer desiring more. The battered carcass was thrown against the shattered willows. He was not an effiecient hunter. He rarily settled for leftovers, at hunted the second his craving sounded to his conscious. The only exception was bones. He'd clean his teeth several times again by balancing an arc of the ribcage between is ivory jaw, which became later scattered all throughout the terrain to taunt them little runts who cross the border.
His pack was rather different when it came to the change of seasons. He knew packs like List and Koran became lathargic during the depressions of winter, barely crawling from their dens every month. Yet, his boys didnt put themselves away for the winter. No, this was when the borders of the balkar expanded to the bases of the carpathian grid, to the frozen river to the west. It was when the luck of meeting the feared of the dark badlands, extending right onto your doorstep. Service with a smile? Of course thats not always a good thing.
The lust of blood became numb to the back of his conscious, although he knew that the boys scented it, and would soon tear through the blooded mess like beastly scavengers. And when they arrived, would be the moment that the chains of the balkar are severed, and the monsters would be free to tear through the unguarded borders of the outlying packs.
//wow that sucked. but i thought i'd give this thread a theme. IC i will convice your characters to start posting in other packlands, which is always fun. we need to get out reputation back. Harassing other packs for fun will atleast get out names in the book. yes?\\
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Post by Carcharoth on Nov 19, 2006 17:40:39 GMT -5
The beast sensed the approach of not only Carnage, but another member of the pack. Assassin. He had never formally met this other Balkan varg, though no doubt they would soon become acquainted on the arrival within the Meeting Place. A sickening grin grew broad on his thick muzzle as the brute continued forth on his trail, the swamp like earth squishing uncomfortably between his toes and making his hulking body shiver, hackles rising as his skin tickled with it. The taunting scent of the bitter sweet liquid filtered through the moist air so quickly that almost as soon as the carcass of the stray lera had been torn Carcharoth was hit by it. His ebony jaws began to salivate and it oozed sickeningly from the corners of his lips. A faint red film covered his sights as the bloodlust began to rise within him, thick legs urging him forward at a faster pace to reach the source of the meat.
It had felt like days, weeks even since the beast had had a satisfactory meal…and though what was left was only mere scraps, so long as he was the first to devour them he’d be happy. And upon entering the large clearing – surrounding the large ‘throne’ like boulder that sat the First – Carcharoth strode towards the crimson strained tree on which the decapitated lera had been tossed, his loose skin which hung around his underside swaying in a grotesque fashion. But the Second took little notice – after all he had simply grown used to it over the years and it was no longer a handicap. Throwing down his colossal head, the beast sunk his ivory fangs into the already cold flesh, shaking it vigorously in his jaws and tearing a hunk of flesh from the pallid bone. As the rest of the meat fell to the ground with a ‘splosh’, splattering mud up the bear-like varg’s legs, Carch turned his head round towards the center of the clearing. The meat still held firmly in his powerful jaws brought great excitement to the beast, and crimson tainted saliva began to dribble from his maw. In sights was the First, clearly the killer of this lera. Nodding his head in respect to the sly and cunning Dragga, Carcharoth shook the bloodlust from his sights and tore himself away from the shredded corpse. He chewed restlessly on his cold meat and savored the flavour before swallowing the chunk whole. On approach to the First he nodded once again, his thick tail lowering – if only slightly – to show that he was not the dominant one within this clearing…but still above the rest. “Good to see you again Ziev. It has been a while,” he growled darkly, a wry grin plastering his blood stained muzzle.
((Ok, pants post. Buuuut it's something to keep the ball rolling! Oh and I'm liking the idea muchly Cap'N Z ^^ ))
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Post by Carnage on Nov 19, 2006 23:25:18 GMT -5
((Un petit postie from your LL. Sorry it's not the best))
Through the rain he could smell it, the toxic scent of blood alerting his senses and sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. His vision tainted a transparent shade of red, he sighter Carcharoth, still ahead of him, tearing into an already lifeless form. No doubt The First had gotten to the animal long before his soldiers had arrived at the clearing, though it mattered not to the lumbering ebon and flame pelted brute. Perhaps it was the rain pouring down, soaking his hide to the bone, or the fact that he had not beheld the sight of his mate, Kacia, in the longest of times, or maybe it was as simple as the blood lust awakening his animal instincts that told him to feed. From any angle, hunger was burning within the beast's core, telling him to take the meat and now, not matter how cold or soggy or how long it had been left in the downpour. His superior had already fed from it, which was really all that mattered, meaning it was fair game to him, then lastly, to any that followed.
After Carch had finished, Carnage quickened his pace and headed straight for the carcass. Not much was left by the time he got there, but the red was too much for even him to resist. Iron jaws splintered the bone as his lifted the frail from and thrashed it about, cold flesh sliding off in thick strips as he threw it down as if the thing disgusted him, and tore off a large chunk for himself, stretching it until it ripped clean off the bone. The juices flowed down his throat as he swallowed what remained of his little meal, satisfying [for the moment at least] the hungerbeast that festered within him.
Licking what remaining gore he could from his orange muzzle, his trademark grin soon returned to his maw, revealing his glistening fangs that were now tinged with red. His First was situated upon a large boulder, and he offered him a bow of respect, his tail held low in dominance to The First and to Carcharoth, but still high enough to show his dominance over the naive Assassin whom he had never actually met with formally. He was Lead Lacan now, and though it best that he get to know his warriors. Making a mental note to himself, he stared up at The First's magnificent ebon form, waiting for the orders to pour forth from his maw.
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Post by Captain Z on Nov 22, 2006 20:03:19 GMT -5
The channels of water became plagued with the scarlet clouds, clouding the cravasses with its opaque texture and bittersweet lustful scent. The rain continued its pace, making the channels dance, the limbs rattle, and the clearing shimmer. The darkness of the balkar lands became something taunting to those who didnt know the lands better. The everlasting mist hovered thick, while the view of distance became screened by sheets of pouring rain. The darkness fell into a near pitch black, as the moon could barely defeat the heavy storm clouds.
The night hunter listened tentatively, the rhythms of the rain drowning into subconsciousness, as he could feel the presence of several scavengers. The darkness masked their movement, while the First rested on his haunches, atop the large platform. His form rested low as his lips curled. His ivory beared into the darkness, eager to meet the follower of the blooded mess to his right. Rhythmic clicking sounded, slow and patient. The onyx forms of his two top guns showed, The single green optic of his second showed, as the earless lacan neatly bowed, before submitting to his inner savage voice by claiming what was left of the blooded herla. The large oddly hued lead warrior was next, his coat of midnight and toxic amber gleaming under a sheet of rain. He too submitted to his own self-control, and tore through the carcass.
"Look at this," the cold voice fell with the frosty cloud of his breath atop the leader's post. His voice was only aimed to himself, yet his thoughts were aloud, and clear enough to be audible to the two others. "As night hunters, my two top boys are willing to sink their teeth into anything they can get. " The onyx male smirked slightly, as his voice fell from the perch, drenched with disgust. 'Are you both satisfied by the satirical but true title of Scavengers in this forest?' The First rose from his hauches and receeded off of the platform. His claws sank deep into the mud, as his quick fours met the ground level. " You lot are labelled filthy scavengers by a punch of pack varg who do nothing but hide in shelter for 4 months of the year. And here you are, feeding off of what's left from my dinner?"
His cold blue glare sank into the optics of both wolves, and although his words were clearly filled with disgust, he was not angry. He was not the hot headed former First. And he even refused to be associated with the him. He brought his onyx form just below his perch, between the boneyard like stretch infront of the perch, and two others, that possed several assorted ribcages and skulls of various herla. "It's winter, all of the packs have locked themselves up for the summer." The First clenched his claws into the mud, as the scarlet hued channels flowed through the fur at his paws. ' So you filthy scavengers are banned from hunting at home, you pathetic cowards. ' the first snarled. " No, i'm not taking you on a little escapade through the valley for food. You'll do it yourselfs, or you'll starve to death. I'm sending you lot off, your being given an assignment.'
" I've learned that Koran has begun to settle for the winter. They're a young pack, who are in admist of a leader change. Both of you, your going to hunt Koran dry. Make the kill, claim your prize, and spoil whats left. I want them to starve to death before spring. Your not pathetic scavengers. Your not worthless cowards. Your on top of the Balkar, And its about god damn time you start acting like it. '
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Post by Carnage on Nov 25, 2006 0:58:03 GMT -5
((I'm just keeping the ball rollin' like bossman said!))
The First seemed none too pleased with the way he and The Second had reacted. Well excuse me, Carnage thought defiantly. If food wasn't so damned scarce in our part of the forest, we wouldn't have to scavenge off your rancid leftovers. Surprisingly, he was not disgusted with the deed. Had he known that Balkan lands would be void of prey, he might've thought twice about joining the pack. He could always leave, then again... it would mean giving up his lovely position of power that he had recently attained. Was it worth it, then? No, of course not. Scowling up at The First, his distaste was obvious, but he fell back on his haunches none the less and listened to what his general had to say.
He felt a low growl build up in the back of his throat as his superior continued to mock and belittle his soldiers. Were the rest of them just going to sit back and take it? If that was the case, he was n the wrong place. He had no tolerance for being made a joke of or criticized for the only thing that really mattered in the end: survival. Let him banish them from hunting at home! There wasn't a damned thing crawling around to be had anyway. However bitter he had been feeling towards The First, however marred his expression by anger, it was now dulled as his pointed ears pricked forward with interest. So they were going to be given an assignment? It sounded promising and would perhaps make up for that cold slab of meat Ziev had left them thrown against a tree.
On the other side of the forest lurked a pack at the base of the great mountains and in the middle of a large valley. The Koran Valley. Carrying out their happy little existence, untainted by the shadow of The Balkar's wrath. That would be changing soon, according to Ziev's words. He knew more than he let on, perhaps Carnage should not have jumped to conclusions so soon. If they wanted to eat, they would have to pillage this precious pack, depleting their prey until they had nothing left for themselves. It would kill them slowly, or force them into another packland. Perhaps they would get aid, perhaps they would not. Carnage didn't care as long as he got to eat and hurt someone in the process. Besides, it would make up for the measly meals he had been forced to tolerate in the dead lands. Why hadn't he thought of this earlier? His foul-tempered grimace was replaced now with a smug grin that revealed each of his ivory razors. Yes, they would regain their reputation, starting with this little assignment, and after that, who knew? He gave a short snarl of agreement to The First, but did not yet leave incase there were more orders to be given.
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Post by Carcharoth on Nov 25, 2006 14:21:13 GMT -5
On approach to the First, Carcharoth took note on the nod given and nodded in return. Yet swivelling his broad head round so that his good eye could catch the fiery and black image of Carnage entering the clearing and taking his share of the carcass, the ebony beast grinned. At least he was not alone in the desperate bloodlust that was to be shared amongst the First of the Putnar. No, they were all suffering from the hard winter months. Especially those the size of himself and the new Lead Lacan. The brute’s single aud flexed back towards the First, and quick to follow was his muzzle. The emerald hue glimmered in the dim, misty light whilst his useless pearl shimmered even brighter. Madness seemed to emit from it as the First tore into his pack’s pride and dignity, stripping it away with such ease that it made their blood boil…seemingly more so Carnage than anyone else. A deep frown furrowed Carchartoth’s brow and his lips twitched with the desire to maim and shut his superior up. Though the Second, at least not at this moment in time, would not show the First such disrespect, however much he wished. Ziev had never spoken so ill of the Balkar ranks before, and therefore it only made sense to Carcharoth that there was motive behind such talk.
Sure enough, the witty words came to a stop, ending with the word assignment. Perking his aud and quirking a brow, the beast looked on at the First and waited patiently for said task to be explained. And as each word fell from the ebony male’s lips, the wicked grin on the Second’s muzzle continued to grow broader. It was indeed a plan full of spite and malice, yet not what Carcharoth himself had hoped. Koran was a fine target to hit, for the logic was understandable. Though why Ziev had chosen to hit this pack in particular and not one of the weaker packs, h was unsure…possibly a feud he had had with a particular member of the pack. Carcharoth would never know. Yet another pack was praying on his mind. Nodding to the First, Carcharoth approached the smaller male and nudged him slightly so that the pair turned their muzzles away from the gathering – so that their words were not heard by the others. “Sir, I was wanting to enquire whether or not Ge-Rad was on the list of packs you would like to hit. I met Draeg several moons ago before he had even become the Dragga of the pack. But now I hear on the winds that his precious Cwen is dead. I’m sure he’d enjoy a little visit from the Second of his most favourite pack,” he spoke, malicious grin now flashing immoral ivory teeth. If Ziev rejected his request then Carcharoth would obey his previous orders. Yet…maybe make a slight detour on the way none the less…
((Again it's a bit crappy. But hey, whatever...it's a post all the same.))
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