Corrupting Innocents //Nocty;;

[linnaea]

She’d traveled farther than she’d meant to, finding herself in such an eerie location as this. In places the ground was black, in others it was over grown with weeds and moss and ivy, where there were structures they were dangerous and hard to explore - less you wanted to climb over them and risk a collapse of decaying wood. A strange edifice, the most well built of all in the abandoned settlement, was the only thing that seemed to be standing - that and the endless amounts of headstones that plagued the ground beside it.
Even stranger was the feeling of pressure that sat over the earth, how the fog curled around things, slithering and twisting as it danced about the empty village. It was creepy, one might expect to find specters here. During autumn, when the leaves were changing color and so beautiful, when the sun was hidden by thick gray clouds, the dreary shades of dark wrapping about the world. It was one season from winter; the most dangerous time of the year.

Linnaea wasn’t too bothered, she was old enough to be able to take care of herself, even though she still was a technical member of Deor she counted herself as a Kerl. Nine moons now, she was almost fully grown, almost the spitting image of Lucivar - albeit a little taller, and of course with some of the markings from her father. Not just that, but a trait that was neither mother or father were milky brown eyes. The hue was so tinted that they almost didn’t look brown at all. Perhaps more gray and filmy.
Her slender legs carried her over the soft, slightly wet ground. Her white toes turned brown from mud. Her long tail swayed behind her as she moved gracefully through the cemetery, looking at the strangely shaped stones. It was all quite strange. “Why would humans arrange these stones like this?” she asked herself tentatively as she sniffed at one with her black nares. She recoiled and wrinkled her nose in disgust. It smelled of death and rot. “Ug!”
If you’d know her as a pup you’d realize that by now her voice had deepened. Become much more feminine and much less harsh than before. They were smooth as honey and not at all shrill as they used to be.

Moving gracefully along she paused to listen. It was so dead here. There were crows and ravens hopping about, picking at the ruins, searching for something to scavenge. She frowned at them as they cackled and taunted her. She was sure they were being cruel, but being a Varg without The Sight meant that she couldn’t understand their tongue. So she pulled back her black lips, showing her sharp fangs and let out a vicious bark. They cackled as they fluttered off and she watched them fly. If something came up from behind her, she’d be the perfect prey. She wasn’t paying much attention to anything but the ravens at the moment.

[Nocturnia Diiore]

[Those of you who know me know that it's been a while since I've actually posted on this character. Sorry for the bad quality. Really, this sucks hardcore. Oh well, I guess I'm just a little rusty.]

Sizeable paws pressed into the dead earth as a monstrous varg moved with a silence so clever, the very grass dared not shuffle around him. He'd come to this place after following the scent of ancient death, rudely confident that, should he encounter man, his sheer size would protect him. It was growing colder, but there were plenty of places throughout the cluster of dying buildings which helped one to warm themselves - he'd settled with a simple hovel dug into the side of a small hillside, originally made for an artisan who worked (or tried to, anyway) with fire. But having found nothing but birds and the smallest of Lera to feed upon, he was stuck here anyhow, hoping that, eventually, some young (and hopefully lonely) Kerl would grow curious enough to explore the years-gone civilization. At sighting the approach of the little she-wolf, he had slunk 'round the village and began following her, shining black lips curled in sick amusement at her innocence. As she began inspecting the gravestones, he moved in, the very spectre she'd feared of finding.

"They are signs," He finally said after having stood behind her for a good few moments; his deep, throaty voice was an evil copy of his brother's albeit a tad lower. The crows leapt to the skies, raising an irritating racket and harshly breaking the phantom silence that seemed to envelop the graves. "Signs to humans that others, once very much alive, here lay dead." The gargantuan male paused to look over the female before he allowed a low, horrid chuckle to bubble up from his throat, continuing afterwards, "If you hunger, don't get your hopes up - though it smells still of stagnant death here, the bones have been quite picked clean, the very marrow gone." With a quick look at the cheshire grin that followed, one would come to the conclusion that he'd gathered this information not from suspicion, but from experience.

Once upon a time, the beast would have needed no introduction, but as he'd been in hiding so long, his reputation had faltered. After a while, it seemed he'd never existed, though he somehow managed to remain in the minds of many who were now believed to be mad. The Mann was lucky enough to become a legend himself, a betrayed male the size of a small bear, with fur as black as obsidian and arctic blue eyes piercing and cold, a clever muderer who took lost pups under his wing for the very reason of corrupting them. It all sounded like a story to frighten packmembers and pups alike, yet here he stood, more alive and healthy than ever. He was Nocturnia, and through some strange coincidence, his very blood, through the handiwork of his brother, flowed through the veins of the young she-wolf he now towered over.

[linnaea]

//I’ll post in normal size font so that you can read it;;

She gasped and whirled around, the hackles on her back stood tall as she gazed upon the large shapeless figure, it’s eyes startling. She stumbled backwards - bumping into one of the markers, which she just had to make sure wasn’t another gargantuan male figure. After a moment she realized that the creature talking to her was a wolf - a large one, larger than her father but built similarly. Even the voice seemed his familiar tones, but not nearly as warm and comforting. “I-I’m not hungry!” She stammered, it was about the only she could think to say, the death scent here was far beyond the smell of carrion, it had turned to putrid rotting. To bones decomposing and even petrifying to later be excavated in the years that were to come.
She swallowed a forming lump down, almost choking. The face of the giant was terrifying, though he grinned there was nothing pleasant about it. It seemed sadistic and evil. Like something out of a nightmare that one should stay away from. Had her father mentioned anything of this to her? If he had she couldn’t remember. For all the life in her body the memories of what to do when with danger escaped her. But he wasn’t making any threatening motions, simply grinning and offering information. Could that be so terrible? Hesitantly her pale brown eyes gazed at the shape - carefully avoiding his eyes, not just for fear of setting off a temper, but for what secret thoughts she might find in them.

“Um… H-hello Sir.” She managed to say, dipping her muzzle low in respectful bowing, tradition among the hierarchy of wolves. It was a motion of almost apology, now that there was a fellow Varg she wasn’t sure if she’d trespassed on his land, however she was unaware of any boundary lines crossed, or even if someone would want to settle down in a place that stank of Man. “I apologize… if I have intruded.” Linnaea adverted her gaze to the ground, afraid of what his response might be to that comment. Would he attack?

Something inside her - a flare of hope - made her feel that he wouldn’t. Perhaps the premonition was a false one, but what Varg (save the Balkan) would attack one such as her when they’d mistakenly stumbled into their territory - particularly if they were simply passing through? She licked her black nose and peeked up to see if the male’s face would give her an answer, terrifying as he was.

[Nocturnia Diiore]

Nocturnia's grin only pulled wider as she reacted to his eerie words, his cold stare, his very presence. It was enough to excite the fiend's madness, so much that he could have thrown his head back and cackled at the chance of toying with the younger varg, but he held his composure as though he'd been acting so for years - he had. However, the lengthy tail behind him swayed slowly, a hint of his rude enjoyment.

"Not hungry, hm?" He faked surprise, "That must surely be a first, for a young Kerl to come here and find themself so far from starvation as you." The ebon-pelted varg seemed to look down his nose at the ex-Deorian as he spoke, his mind having already grasped that all-too-familiar feeling of complete and utter control over the other. Her actions were slow and respectful, obvious signs of a pack background, and he suddenly found himself acting the part of a Dragga, as he'd done with young wolves so many times in the past who had stood before him.

The bearlike Mann nearly purred in sick satisfaction upon watching the adolescent bowing as though addressing her alpha. He could have had her dead before she'd turned around, but her naïvety amused him; he could not help thinking that perhaps he was well-past overdue for adopting another follower or two. Lowering his head, Nocturnia touched the back of her neck with his nose whilst she continued bowing, nudging her as he took in the scents buried into her pelt. The faint scent of Deor was discovered, and the behemoth's ears flicked back in mild irritation.

"You tresspass only to the birds and the dead here." He stalked a circle around her, studying her intensely. Her marks were highly similar to those of the Deorian Drappa he'd murdered so many months ago, but her rump drew his attention immediately - there, painted over her upper hinds, were snow-white splashes which could only be his brother's doing. It wasn't long until a conclusion was reached on what to do with the fae; she would become his peon and he would send her to Deor with but one mission: Kill the alpha. A low, bizarre laughter escaped his throat once more - the last varg his goody-two-shoes brother, the Dragga of Deor, would expect an attack from was certainly his own daughter. The chance seemed to have come sooner than he'd ever expected and his mind began to twist and turn, plotting recklessly as he anticipated with pleasure a colourful death for his younger sibling. As he returned to her front, he allowed his teeth to bare slightly, threads of slaver beginning to fall from his jaws.

"Tell me, little bitch.. Aren't you lonesome wandering so?"

[linnaea]

Linnaea cleared her throat. What was she to say to that? A Kerl who wasn’t hungry? It stung her a little, but considering that she’d only recently left her pack - which even that wasn’t official, she had to talk to her father before she went off to join Kop for some training and various lessons for living on one’s own - so of course she wasn’t hungry yet. But food, when crossed, was always welcome among the Putnar, never knew when your next meal would be.
“Um… well… I’m um… not exactly a Kerl yet.” She murmured, the yet was added in strongly. It was her intention, a little dream of hers. To become a Kerl, to live on her own, finally to get away of the feeling of alienation that constantly hovered when she attempted to socialize with her own family. It was really only her father that made her stay, she wanted him to be proud. She worried about leaving the pack… Rationality told her that he would understand - that he would know most Varg did leave. “I’m just… uh… exploring a bit. Being in a pack is rather… restrictive?” She wasn’t sure if that was the proper word for it.

As the colossal male pressed his cold nose to her fur she felt a shiver move down her spine. She wasn’t expecting that, but she could tell he was identifying where she’d come from. It was obvious. She vaguely remembered doing that herself to a bug - though she’d been unsuccessful in identifying it’s previous whereabouts and had promptly decided to swallow it. It had been delicious… But that was when she was only a few moons of age. Now she was nearing the mark of her first year. Just one more then she would be considered an adult.

She was relieved to hear that she was not trespassing on Varg territory. What did it matter that birds inhabited the area? They were easily chased away. She straightened herself, returning to what would be considered as a normal stance for the daughter of Alphas. She stood proper and erect, though she held the few signs of submission, lowered tail and slightly lowered head, she still took the stance that she’d learned from her father. Perhaps she would grow to be a fine Drappa - the leader of a pack; and then again, perhaps not. She didn’t fancy that path too much.
“Lonesome… well, I guess it does get a little lonely. But I’m rather used to the feeling. My pack is pretty close knit… but they have a habit of excluding… um… well I guess you would say new members.” She was rigid as her eyes followed the male in a circle around her, but when he stopped before her again she relaxed - not visibly of course. Though it was probably obvious she wasn’t sure if she could trust the brute or not.

[Nocturnia Diiore]

[Scattered and terrible. Sorry Linn.]

"I must say that I fully agree, little varg. Indeed, packlife is restrictive - far more than just restrictive, in fact. It chokes the natual freedom of Putnar and turns the proud into pathetic, sniveling cowards." One could easily come to the conclusion that even this great beast had experienced packlife. Nocturnia was an exile, resorting to the solitary life of a Kerl shortly after murdering his father when his half-coyote sister, Raven, was born. And now she, too, lay dead. He knew immediately the rebellious little pup was lying when she mentioned that she was simply 'exploring' - a wolf does not explore so far from home that, at any given moment, she cannot find her way back. The obsidian Mann smirked to himself at the realisation that though this young pup had her father's markings, her mind was all her uncle's. He adopted a most frightening expression, recently-sharpened teeth exposing themselves in a tight-lipped, mad-fueled smile which contrasted against the darkness of his fur.

A crow dared to fly close to his head and jaws quickly snapped down upon it, the sound of breaking bone filling the graveyard. He swallowed the body with effort and the wings were dropped from his maw, bloodied and mangled. Silence followed, broken only by his drool, for it had begun to litter the ground, thick droplets splashing over the dead grass which surrounded the settlement. Whether pup or adult stood before him, it was easy to conclude that something was wrong, that this wolf was well past unstable.

She began to speak of her young life in her pack and for once he listened, ears perking forward slightly in curiosity. The last thing he'd have expected from his brother was that his own daughter had been.. 'excluded,' as she'd put it. Indeed, Deor was highly close-knit, but he'd always been taught that the Land of the Brave was open to everyone - except himself and Balkar, of course. To any bystander, the sight would most likely be quite amusing: a freakish behemoth, large enough to swallow the Faemme he was focussed on, listening intently to a strangely-marked pup with a rebellious streak. When she finished, he nodded his head; she was as jealous and hungry for attention as he'd been so long ago.

"I am sorry, little Fae." He feigned a sympathetic smile. "To be alone because of exclusion.. It is a terrible thing. They say exclusion drives Varg psychotic." The strange lupine offered another grin, followed by a quick wink; even Nocturnia knew the lengthy extent of his insanity. Suddenly, he straightened, his composure returning. Though he was almost positive that he already knew the answer, his deep voice escaped his throat once more to enquire, "My dear.. If you would be so kind, would you inform me what lovely pair has the pleasure of being your parents?"

[linnaea]

“Being in a pack is like being a coward?” She tilted her head, not sure if she quite understood his words. She supposed it was because all wolves tended to work together and hide behind one another when danger came, working with unfair advantages of having a large group against one. When it was put that way, pack wolves were cowardly. Who could deny such logic?
He was wrong, however, upon thinking that she wasn’t simply exploring. For she had an excellent tracking nose. It might take some finagling to find her way, but she would do so adequately - okay she was a little lost. And she really wasn’t that rebellious, she just liked to wander, and not talk to others in the pack (which might attribute to her alienation, but let’s not mention that to Nocturnia - he seems so happy to find a seed of himself that came from Chalos). Linnaea glanced around. The male was building up a pool of spit in front of him and it indeed was making her nervous.

She jumped at the sound of cracking bones. Her attention had returned just in time to see the cackling crow be engulfed into the behemoth’s jowls, sickening - and yet oddly appetizing - snaps and cracks were heard clearly in the crisp autumn air as it’s wings were severed from it’s body and the poor things form was swallowed. A sad ending to such an annoying creature. It’s wings were covered in the slaver from his mouth, the feathers gleamed when wet. She marveled at the mixture of blood and drool for but a moment when then she gave an uneasy look at the Mann before her. He was so interested in her, it was odd to have someone be so curious about her background. Particularly this stranger.

Had her father ever mentioned to fear the deranged? She couldn’t ever remember such a time.

“I hail from the lands of Deor, heir of Chalos Autumn and the late Lucivar, Sir. Um… why do you wish to know my blood?” It was a curious thing for a perfect stranger to wonder the roots of a pack Varg. Particularly for a Kerl to be attracted with such attentiveness to little Linnaea - who nary found any interest in herself at all.