Anatomy of a Nightmare

[Grell]

What I wouldn't give for a good meal and safe place to sleep, Grell thought with a shiver and looked up. Overhead, the moon glowed bright in a black sky, stealing the light from pinprick stars. Not like they're very impressive, anyway. When he was much younger - still a whelp curled by his mother's belly - he had listened to his parents describe the stars. They had sounded almost unimaginable in their beauty, but Grell somehow managed to fix an idea in his head about how they looked. What a disappointment it was when he finally emerged from the den and saw nothing but a bunch of tiny dots of light - almost indistinguishable from the blackness. Grell couldn't remember what he said when he first saw them, but he recalled quit vividly how angrily his mother's icy glare had made him mute for the rest of the night. Even now, he sometimes had nightmares of her two yellow eyes chasing him in the dark among the stars, trying to bite his muzzle closed.

Grell shivered again, although it wasn't really that cold out, and he snuggled closer to his little log among the weeds. He felt so exposed out here in the meadow, so vulnerable. But he felt even less safe moving about in the open to get to the safety of the trees. Better he wait until the sun god finally rose from his lengthy slumber and turned the world into a more comfortable balance of light and dark. Gah! Why did you have to leave me alone so quickly - that eager to get rid of me, are you? He thought accusingly at the long gone Fenris, who he imagined only twitched an ear in his sleep to get rid of Grell's complaint. If he thought about it, that seemed to be the only thing he had done lately - complain, that is - but in his defense, this land was much too new for him to think of anything else to share with his god. What, did his all-mighty want to hear about how poor Grell had disturbed a lazy stink beetle today, and got himself a good dousing? No. Fenris had probably laughed himself silly already about that little incident, and Grell had no reason to expand upon the topic. To anyone. It was bad enough that all-seeing Fenris had witnessed that little episode.

Grell wrinkled his nose. He could still smell that little bug - even after he had rolled in the remains of that tiny bird. Blech! He shifted his weight and tried not to think about the smell as he rested his chin heavily on his paws. But the only other thoughts that came to him were the unwanted fears of the young. Was Wolfbane or one of his demons out there, right now, watching him in the darkness? Or was it a human warrior, with a soft step and crafty bow? Even the thought of a human sneaking up on him made him nervous.

A shadow moved in the trees.

Grell squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to picture how the meadow had looked this morning. That's right. Warm sunlight on his fur. A mild breeze, with the tangy scent of water. The wind whispering softly in the trees, like the lull of tiny wings. He peeked one eye opened. Nothing stirred. Perhaps it was just his over-active imagination that had made the shadow move. Yeah, nothing but my imagination, he thought shakily, though even the voice in his head squeaked with fright. It wasn't very comforting when even his thoughts began to sound as tense and frightened as a wee bunny. Grell snorted and tried to calm his beating heart with what he thought a brave warrior would think. Yeah... whatever was out there wouldn't suffer long before meeting its end at my teeth, and It was probably some stupid lera, frightened by my powerful smell. But even with these words, he still couldn't shake the petrifying fear that something out there was watching him - and it was attracted to his beetlejuice and dead-bird smell.

\\Genocide - Grell's ready to be eaten//

[Genocide]

The darkness was such a welcoming relief from a certain angry god's firey stare upon the world, a bloody bloomed maw grinning wickidly in the darkness as he entertained the thought of Fenris perhaps choking upon something as he slept, his light and warmth withering and dying like some sort of insignificant little bug of some undiscernible nature. A dark brown wet nose sented the inky dark air around the bulking frame of the night beast, deep blue eyes glittering with malicious intent as what smelt like carrion hit his nostrils and rammed into his brain with such exquisite foce.

Humming softly the lumbering slaughterhouse wolf pressed on, lingering around the tree line silently for a moment or two until the smell of that interestion carrion floated once again into his senses and slowly he moved into the meadow. LArge paws pressing heavily into the soft soil of the meadow while long stems of grass whispered around his heavy large framed body, black auditories flicking forward until a sneer curled his maw as the smell of a young wolf breathed into his nose under the smell of beetle juice and dead bird. Snorting a little he slinked up nearby, eying the youth as it look like he was trying to calm himself and, as though hearing Grell's overly cocky mental thoughts the large beast couldn't help but role his eyes when the whelp never even noticed he was there. So why remain secret? That was no fun, grinning evily Genocide silently slid up behind the unsuspecting pup barking softly and gruffly "You smell like week old carrion."

[Grell]

Grell yipped and rolled belly-up. He immediately grimaced when he saw the big red demon, and wondered if his death would be quick and relatively painless or slow and full of agony. Knowing how the stories went, demons always seemed to kill in the most excruciating way possible - excruciating for Grell, that is. No doubt this demon would find Grell's torture to be very enjoyable. He wanted to weep, but sheer dumb fright kept him mute and still. But as he lay there cringing, he suddenly had a revelation; he knew what a hero would do in this situation. A hero would leap from his bed and, with a booming battle cry, charge at his attacker's throat and cause as much damage to the ugly offender as possible before a bolt of lightning or some such divine power from Wolfbane struck him dead. For his part, Grell was quite happy prolonging his inevitable demise for as long as possible, and he scrunched closer together to form an even smaller target. Do gods miss? He doubted it, but at least he could save himself from being flayed down his belly or bitten in the throat by the servant of evil he saw in front of him.

He rolled back over and crawled meekly backward, away from this nightmare manifestation. Maybe if this demon thought he were dumb, he could leave this meadow unharmed. Puh, like demons have any moral obligation that stops him from eating me; dumb or not. What then could possibly save his hide, besides some unlikely miracle? Perhaps if Grell showed himself useful... yes, he had heard stories of how demons kept some pawns around for immediate or later use. If it meant he could escape another night unscathed, Grell wasn't too terribly concerned about whatever oath he might have to make to his terrible foe - and maybe when the demon had its back turned, Grell could escape. Perhaps he might even conjure enough strength with Fenris on his side, to strike some unlikely but deadly blow that would kill the awful lupine creature. Looking the red and black monster up and down, Grell knew that a fair fight was out of the question - but if he could only manage a quick bite when the demon had turned away... Can demons die?

He coughed. "Uh... yeah. I found a dead bird two hills over there," he gestured weakly to his right. If he was lucky, the demon would stalk off toward the bird and leave him alone. Yeah, and maybe Fenris himself will come down here and give this demon a good beating - oh! And while he's at it, he'll bestow me with powers unmatched by any mortal wolf. The sarcasm was hard to miss. He kept his belly close to the ground and his ears folded against his head, but he wondered if that was a smart move. More likely to get attacked that way. At least if he stood up, he would have a chance at running away if the demon made a threatening move. That is, if his wobbly legs could hold him for more than two steps. Grell almost snorted when he thought of dodging the first attack, only to fall prey to his own weakness not a yard away from the demon. Knowing his luck, that was the most likely scenario. Still, Grell lifted himself to a hunched sit, and smiled crookedly at the stranger. Maybe that little bit would buy him enough time to figure out how to bribe this strange wolf.

[Genocide]

For the longest time those burning royal blue eyes glared down at Grell without another word leaving the brute's permanantly bloody maw while black lips curled into a slight scowl. This one was already cowering before him and that was just no fun, no fun at all. Ears flicking forward at the distant call of a raven and the returning call of a grackle the slaughterhouse wolf slowly began to circle around the younger wolf as though Grell was nothing more then a hunk of meat to be devoured under the eye of Tor, the thought made Genocide's gut buzz with silent glee but then he thought about it longer and thought that would be too easy. But as the darkness creeped in further, digging it's deadly claws into the area around both him and Grell the large wolf scowled deeper as though reading Grell's mind and plucking his insignifigant thoughts from the grey mesh that was his pea brain. Snorting softly he turned his dark brown nose up in slight disgust "Bird? Peh... I prefer Herla or Varg." he muttered softly in annoyance, slowly beginning to circle around the younger wolf and scanning him silently.


Honestly he didn't really care much for the meat of males, much too tough and bitter for his liking... however the taste of femme and pup was divine, he now understood why some wolves said wolfbane sometimes would demand the blood of pups, exquisite. Humming softly Genocide flicked his bushy tail slowly from side to side, contemplating what little min games he would play with this one, and just how to slowly pick apart Grell's sanity and judgement one little piece at a time, such fun was to be had this night... and he didn't like to rush his fun at all "Why out in the open runt.... you're quite.... exposed." a smirk curled the black lips as the word was hissed out, eyes glittering in silent but obvious delight.

[Grell]

Oh, dung, Grell thought. Perhaps he really hadn't bought himself any time at all. If anything, the big red demon seemed more intent on feasting on Grell than hearing what he had to say. Of course, if he really had a chance to save his scrawny hide with a few witty words, he seriously doubted he would have the mind to say anything redeeming about himself. But maybe you could say something to get it over with sooner, dummy. His thoughts were a bit sour, but who wouldn't sound that way when their life or limbs were in jeopardy? Especially when contemplating a quick suicide versus an agonizing, sacrificial end.

"Heh, so I am," Grell said and looked sideways at the unnerving openness of the meadow as if he had just noticed. He would have stood up and mumbled something about "making his way back into the forest, and thanks for reminding him that it wasn't safe out in the meadow," but somehow Grell didn't think he would get away that easily. And the big red wolf's pacing was making him too anxious to do anything particularly brave; or stupid, he thought. After all, bravery was nothing but a lack of fear, and fear was usually what kept things alive. Fear and luck. Grell had almost no luck, but enough fear to last him a month - maybe longer. He shivered and looked back up at the towering creature who blocked his way to safety. What he wouldn't give to be back in the forest, maybe even as far as the waterfall, and curled up in a little niche of leaves. An involuntary whimper shriveled in his throat, barely audible, but Grell cringed anyway.

Fenris, you and I have some talking to do when I get up there.

"Yes, well. I don't think I'd make much of a meal." He replied after a moment of eerie silence. That moment of quiet had been enough to make his stomach curdle and his hackles stand on end. His ears swiveled, tracking the soft footfalls of his enemy. More like executioner... "But my sister," he continued almost cheerfully, bringing a vivid image of Tsara into his head. "She's almost an entire meal, herself. A bit on the fatty side, actually, but much more filling than me. She should be somewhere over... over there, I think." His muzzle jutted out to the stream and toward the moon. It was unlikely that the behemoth would fall for that, but Grell would be damned if he didn't at least try to save his pathetic skin. He could almost hear Fenris' laughing breath, and wondered what he would say to the sun god after he died.

[Genocide]

Slowly the beast slowed his pace around the little runt and dropped to his rump, his expression steadily becoming as deadpanned as a dead wombat's face on the side of the road. Slowly he stared at Grell as though he were looking at something that would have a lower value then the slime of a snail that crawled the dirt below his paws "Obviously, You must believe me to be very stupid." he said in a dangerously soft voice before lifting his backfoot and scratching harshly at his neck, sending up a flurry of bloody and black hairs.

Settling his itch he hoisted his large bulk back upon the firey red paws that supported his weight and glared at the little snot nosed runt with glittering royal blue eyes that seemed to narrow in the darkness, his furt and hackles bristling slightly while his ears slowly pinned against his skull.... but to get angry now would ruin all the fun. Shaking his head Genocide forced down his anger, there would be time to rip out this miserable thing's throat soon enough, but better to stretch this out. Chuckling softly he once again began his circling, staring the pup down as he moved through the darkness, vanishing into the shadows only to appear somewhere else around Grell "Do you always stupidly bargin with your life like that?" he hissed teasingly, the whispers of death floating off his tongue like and infecting poison that slowly slithered it's way into the runt's ears, infecting his mind slowly like and inescapable shadow.

[Roanoke]

Even white eyes glistened in the opaque moon light. Even the English demon's ebon coat gave off a soft glow in the paleness of the moon. Tor, you look lovely tonight. Why could you not shine down earlier to have eased my path. The thought slide over his mind like Novocaine, numbing it from the elements. Heavy paws sank into the cold soil of the meadow, it's thick gasses silencing his movements. Other useless thoughts churned through his over worked mind. None of this mattered to Roa, he was busy concentration on the many of the scents that flooded his powerful nostrils. Pine here, some squirrel there, but the smell that rose above the rest was that of another wolf. The musk clung to his nose, telling Roanoke everything he could have possibly ever needed. The first thought that entered into his cranium was to not even bother with the mann. Roa did not recognize the scent but then again the English demon was new to this land and didn't know a single varg. Why bother though, it would only end up hurting Roanoke in the end. Changing his mind he decided to follow the poignant scents to their origin. The winds rotated but the old world demon kept the scent, following it until his milky white eyes spotted the mann and the cub.

please excuse the length

[Grell]

"Well, I haven't had to bargain with my life before," Grell squeaked before he could stop himself. He was hunched over, facing the sanguine wolf who had finally stopped pacing - only to resume it a moment later, and trying to look as non-threatening as possible. Not that it mattered much. This wicked wolf of slaughter looked like he wouldn't so much as blink before pulling his insides out, or Grell's for that matter. Wonder if it would be hard to convince him to do that before he eats me... a dare maybe? Of course, it was rather a vain thought. He was pretty sure that it would take some time to convince the blood-colored demon to focus so intently on something or someone other than Grell for any more than a second or two. Then again, a second may be all I need. Grell swallowed and flattened his ears, but he couldn't think of anything that would distract his crazy tormentor. Besides, looking the demon up and down, Grell doubted he would make it very far before those long legs and powerful ropes of muscle would break his neck with a leap from behind. Still, at least it will be quick.

Would it be best to get it over with now?

He took a shuddering breath even as he felt his terror beginning to fade. He didn't know what was going to happen, but the demon hadn't killed him yet, and that was a good sign. Instead, he felt himself growing angry. There wasn't much of a point for the devil to string along his death like this, and Grell considered himself fairly smart - he'd figure out some way to escape... hopefully. Even though the demon insisted he wasn't dumb, Grell was starting to bank on the monster being more brawn than brains. Now, if Grell could just wrap his own head around some plan to escape. No, not a plan. Plans always went wrong and he'd just find himself trying to escape from some idiot position he had put himself in. What Grell really needed was an opportunity and an idea. Too bad he was fresh out of both of those. Perhaps if he could keep the bedeviled wolf from attacking long enough to think of something. "No," Grell whispered.

"You're right. You're not as dumb as you look... but, what do you want with me? What can I do to convince you to let me go?" Ah, now it was down to simple bargaining - straightforward and to the point. Not that Grell wasn't still looking for an opportunity to escape, but the longer they talked, the longer it would be before he was eaten, presumably. Grell didn't actually know what would happen to his corpse once the other wolf killed him, and he didn't really think he wanted to know.

Yet even as he scrambled to come up with some way to save his scrawny hide, a potential savior was slipping unseen through the grass. Certainly, in his much perplexed state of mind, Grell wouldn't have seen the black wolf at all unless he stood up and jogged right over, demanding to know what was going on.

\\ becoming as deadpanned as a dead wombat's face on the side of the road. -- gah! you don't know how much your style amuses me (its a good thing, believe me) xD oh, and hi Roa! you know, I was gonna PM you about how lovely your banner looks :) by the way, welcome to our thread!//

[Roanoke]

Unnoticed Roa continued to pad in silence forward, his tail held high, to keep it's sheer bushiness from touching the tips of the dried grasses. A tempest he was, the loner that had spent too many night alone but with out a single care in the world, except to eat, sleep and scratch annoying fleas. But behind that care free life style, a disastrous storm brewed, growing dangerously close to the edges of his control. Behind those calm white eyes the ability to devastate lay hidden but they stirred with vengeance when they were released. The English demon shook his head as his long fur clad legs pulled him forward with out a second thought.

Tor's shimmering light glistened on his shaggy black as an oil slick fur. His slate hued muzzle pointing to wards the sky, being guided but the musky scent. His white eyes lit up with surprise when he padded directly behind the pup. Never in all of his travels had Roanoke come across a red hued wolf. Quickly he caught his surprise and pulled it back under rein. His tail was still placed high, it's bushy end curving off to the side. He decided to keep his maw shut to figure out what Roa had stumbled upon.

[Genocide]

Boys and Girls of every age
Wouldn't You like to see something strange
Come with Us and You will see
This, our town of Halloween

Silent and slightly angry royal blues stared at the pup silently as though his gaze slowly worked it's way into Grell's skull and ripped his thoughts from the little mind that worked inside the skull, as though knowing that the runt thought he was more muscle then brain. But his attention flickered for a second, staring at the newcomer in the darkness and taking in his slightly haggard appearance, but his gaze turned back toward Grell before the runt could even process his chance to run and even if he had taken such a chance, he wasn't one to let his fun end so quickly.

Slowly he paused his steps and sat back down on his rump, ears flicking forward in the dim light while his pupils dilated slightly, bats flying overhead suddenly, screeching and clicking in their strange noises. The flying beasts from hell suddenly flew downward, screeching and circling the slaughterhouse beast who barely moved in response to them, that is until one dove for his face. Growling angrily, the blood doused maw opened to reveal the dark and large cavern that lay within, rowed with savage fangs that glistened with saliva and old blood, with a snarl he clamped his deadly fangs down upon the flying rodent that dared come near him, the sound of bones breaking and splintering echoed throughout the silent night, jutting out of the furry body at odd angles while rich red blood spurted and spilt over everything, staining the black chest of the beast and turning the dark dirt a sick shade.

Satisfied with this little amount of carnage the creature spat the flying beast out, licking the blood from his lips at he stared at the broken body for a few seconds but then flickered his gaze back to Grell, speaking calmly and almost eloquently "Not much little one, it's not open I get to... converse with others." the mad glint of insanity flickered back into his eyes as a smirk curved his now bloody maw, he would stretch this out as long as he could.[/font]

[Roanoke]

Cool ivory eyes glanced at the cub but for a moment, then they returned to the mann who's coat was bathed with a bloody stain. Roa listened to the other demon short, and witty comments, carefully eying the feathers that held the same hue as his own oil slick of a coat, his milky white eyes still held their in-differenced expression. Thoughts buzzed through his cranium, analyzing those clever words that passed through the red mann, searching for something that his conciseness could not identify. Noticing that he had let his thoughts take his over critical mind straight into the clouds, Roanoke called them back with haste and tried to guess what was to happen next. Inhaling softly through his nose, the ebony man filled his large lungs.
The night whispered to him, the sounds breaking down in his thickly furred ears. His colorless eyes picking up familiar shadows of lera that he had seen back in his birth country. Looking back up at the two wolves before he opened his maw, as to speak but he did not. Roa had now clue on how to talk to these wolves completely unaccustomed to their customs. Then poisonous thoughts rippled threw his mind. What does it matter? These vargs are creatures that you will most likely never see again. So why the manners, you are in England no more, let loose, you will not be prosecuted here. Realizing he would never have piece of mind, Roanoke, let go of his calm and cool intellects and loosened his rein on his emotions. Corners of his maw up-turned to form a sinister smile that hid over-sized fangs, speech then dripped out of his jaws like a sinister poison. Well, well, what sort of predicament have I stumbled upon. Roanoke's voice hid little traces of of the raging war that was being taken place in his soul, and in a small, remote corner of his mind Roa could not even understand the changes that were taking place in his apperience.

[Grell]

Converse? Was that was this was all about? Conversing? Grell hunched his shoulders even more and blew his cheeks out, looking forlornly down at his big paws. This didn't feel much like the conversing he was used to. This felt more like a sort of mind-torture. While he was constantly worrying about saving his scrawny hide, he was also trying not to soil himself while the big hulking demon had his fun with twisted words and menacing gestures. Even though his fear had diminished significantly, there was still that nagging worry that he would be eaten in due time, which really did little to encourage his cowardly bit of confidence. A hero, he thought sullenly, would make a final stand. Probably a fatal one, but a hero can't be blamed for that when he's in a situation like this. A final stand. One worthy of praise or song. The hero would probably scream some angry curse, some righteous declaration, some promise of retribution from beyond the grave, and his memorable words would stand forever in legend before he made one last heroic lunge at the demon's throat. Certainly, the hero would meet his mark, and a bloody battle would ensue which would inevitably kill both the hero and the demon. After all, that's why it's called a final stand. Grell, being the furthest thing from a hero, probably would be swatted like a fly before he even came close to biting down on anything remotely important.

Then, before he could succumb to his absolute and horrible fate, a second chilling voice rang out from the gloom somewhere behind him. Grell's ears flattened even more, if it were possible, and he cringed. Two demons in one night? If Grell didn't know any better, he would think this was a sign that Fenris obviously didn't like him in the least, but as it was, Grell had already come to that conclusion several days before tonight. It did rather give him the idea, however, that Fenris had had a bad day. And who better to take it out on than a scrawny young wolf who hadn't been that particularly nice in his thoughts and prayers lately in regards to the almighty Dragga? He would have stuck his tongue out if he wasn't afraid he'd accidentally bite it off; and besides, his teeth were already clenched tight to keep them from rattling.

"Pre-predicament?" Squeaked Grell, half turning around to see the second monster, and more than half afraid to do so. "No, we were... just conversing." The second wolf was easier on the eyes - with thick black fur and rich, creamy eyes. Even so, there was the same frightening glint in those eyes as there were in the first bloody colored demon, and Grell knew that this black wolf had all the same tendencies toward bloodshed, and violence, and all the other nasty, wicked things that, naturally, all psychotics were prone to. "Conversing, in fact, about how he is quite the devil," and he poked his ears toward the red wolf. "Maybe better than Wolfbane. Or I thought so, since Wolfbane can't be bothered to pick on runts like me... actually, we hadn't established whether he actually thought he was better than Wolfbane, but we had talked some about how he was much better at his business than any other in all the land. Maybe even better than you, yes?" Although he cringed from the coming beating, Grell fancied him quite the brains for thinking about turning these two on each other if he could.