Post by Deleted on Apr 9, 2015 1:03:20 GMT -5
This land was silent – a carcass left to the whim of nature. The alpha's thunderous howl was the only sound upon it, warding off the innocents that wanted no part of his ascension to a Conqueror. Goliath had known that something was faltering in Descai upon his previous visit, and if the lack of markers upon the borders hadn’t publicised the pack’s decline in fortification, then the black-and-gold alpha’s blatant and obnoxious patter surely sealed Goliath’s first and last impression. And what a dismal impression it had been.
The day was vivid in his mind, perhaps half a year ago, at most – he had ventured through the colder waters that separated Ina’mos from Acerbus to deliver news to Descai of the perilous black bitch that had brutalised his own sister. A threat to Kairos was surely a threat to all surrounding packs, and in an attempt to placate, even mend, their packs’ seclusion, he had ventured into the heart of Descai to address their alpha directly, to warn them. His reception with Ryker had not been amiable, but pitiful – what appeared to be an admirable brute at a glance was fast to become a boastful and narcissistic fool. A prideful child gallivanting in the body of a warrior, bound and shackled by his own hubris to such a gluttonous extent that he had taken Goliath’s warning, and instead perverted it into an opportunity to gloat of his own self importance. The alpha of Descai had called the members of his own pack, his own family, common mongrels - and the conceited insult still rang with bitterness in Goliath’s mind. Ryker didn’t care an ounce for those that followed him, for the young and old under his care, nor the hunters or healers. He cared only for his own vanity, which clearly hung by a taut thread if his self-worth was so easy to bruise. The intricacies of their conversation had been scoured from his mind; all but his own parting words stayed true.
“May I offer advice – wisdom from one alpha to another. Continue this self aggrandising and you will soon find yourself abandoned by the very mongrels that give you your rank. One by one they will leave you – and you will be a very lonely alpha indeed.”
Goliath could have laughed at the irony, had his breath not been held in bated anticipation for what was to come. His impression of Ryker and his pack could not have been more accurate, even if the gods themselves had taken the very words from his lips and reformed the pack’s future to suit. Under the reign of an overweening fool, Descai had been in a sinister state of drowning - choking at the very edge for survival, falling below the shallows and then clawing their way back, only to repeat the cyclical madness with each passing of the moon… until, finally, slipping beneath the surface of Anikira for good.
Even today, a glorious day for Kairos, not a single scent marker remained to ward off outsiders. Goliath and Datura had strode past the imperceptible borders as though invited in by the very terrain that lay relatively abandoned. In his last visit, the air was rich with varying scents of Descai, individuals who claimed this land as their home; but now, barely one or two scents remained, and they were feeble at best, clinging only to the edges and individual hairs of his nasals. Curiously, Zirena’s scent was entirely gone – the traitorous bitch had either absconded or died, clearly in a state of anxiety about completing her half of the truce made to him. He had encountered Zirena in the south of Anikira, not long after his unfortunate encounter with Ryker. Unfortunate only for Descai, however, because upon his return he had planned to reap chaos and lay bedlam upon his dwindling pack – but Zirena, in all of her altruism and foolish heroism, offered her virginity to him in the promise that he and Kairos would leave Descai in peace, never to intrude again. Goliath had kept his half of the bargain – and in return, Zirena had vanished, reneging on the simplest of deeds. An undeniably traitorous act, but now, Goliath would have his retribution for the treaty that she had broken.
Acerbus would be his, expanding Kairos’ already notorious reign and granting more territory for their future generations. His would claim this land in the honour of his children, who deserved all that he could give them, in return for the strength and glory that they would reap in his name. To leave Acerbus in a state of decrepit shame would be a disgrace to the land, and to the name of Descai that had once flourished as Anikira’s largest pack – but as that crown was no longer theirs, so too did they forfeit the rights over their throne in Acerbus.
Goliath approached the edge of the Drarynough Lake, the dark behemoth of his shadow passing across the mist that obscured the dreary surface, blotting out the light from its bottomless depths. A pale, ghostly vapour, more ethereal than ominous, chilled the air around them – inviting, rather than unsettling. Datura’s warmth was imperceptible, but it was there – a silent appraisal. He turned away from the dismal water, his measured stare finding the ochreous light of her eyes, and in the darkness of his half-smile was a veiled glimpse of deference. A rarity among the beast’s many faces. His muzzle lowered to invite her closer, an exhalation almost too stifling for their proximity invading the air between them. His breath was hot, his nostrils steaming in the coldness of the air, as his formidable body prepared itself for whatever threat would stand against his conquest. Adrenaline was avidly thrumming in his veins, his muscles burning and tightening at the heat of his anticipation. Claws flexed in the awakening of his arousal, at the proposition of his success; the taste of triumph was almost upon his lips. Had Datura not given birth so recently, and to a litter that was almost unquestionably deified by the heavens, he would have claimed her then and there, at the apex of his victory. His virility, in this moment, was unbound.
His purpose had never been clearer. He would claim this land for her, for her children, and for the countless more that she would bless him with. If she was prepared to be the vessel that immortalised his bloodline, then he would honour her by shedding equal blood, be it his own or that of the infinite fools to stand at the centre of his warpath.
This land was quiet – but victory was yet to be reached. Others in his pack would soon be making their way into every crevice of Acerbus, shooing the stragglers that still clung onto the bleak hope that Descai’s cadaver would lift from its grave and resurrect. Goliath’s confidence in his followers was steadfast and unbreakable, but he would make no assumptions of their victory until he watched Ryker’s beaten and bloodied tail tuck in fear, fleeing to never be seen again - and if not Ryker, then another would stand in his place. Wars were not won with fear and justice alone – they were won with madness as the sole armament, and blood as the sole outcome.
The day was vivid in his mind, perhaps half a year ago, at most – he had ventured through the colder waters that separated Ina’mos from Acerbus to deliver news to Descai of the perilous black bitch that had brutalised his own sister. A threat to Kairos was surely a threat to all surrounding packs, and in an attempt to placate, even mend, their packs’ seclusion, he had ventured into the heart of Descai to address their alpha directly, to warn them. His reception with Ryker had not been amiable, but pitiful – what appeared to be an admirable brute at a glance was fast to become a boastful and narcissistic fool. A prideful child gallivanting in the body of a warrior, bound and shackled by his own hubris to such a gluttonous extent that he had taken Goliath’s warning, and instead perverted it into an opportunity to gloat of his own self importance. The alpha of Descai had called the members of his own pack, his own family, common mongrels - and the conceited insult still rang with bitterness in Goliath’s mind. Ryker didn’t care an ounce for those that followed him, for the young and old under his care, nor the hunters or healers. He cared only for his own vanity, which clearly hung by a taut thread if his self-worth was so easy to bruise. The intricacies of their conversation had been scoured from his mind; all but his own parting words stayed true.
“May I offer advice – wisdom from one alpha to another. Continue this self aggrandising and you will soon find yourself abandoned by the very mongrels that give you your rank. One by one they will leave you – and you will be a very lonely alpha indeed.”
Goliath could have laughed at the irony, had his breath not been held in bated anticipation for what was to come. His impression of Ryker and his pack could not have been more accurate, even if the gods themselves had taken the very words from his lips and reformed the pack’s future to suit. Under the reign of an overweening fool, Descai had been in a sinister state of drowning - choking at the very edge for survival, falling below the shallows and then clawing their way back, only to repeat the cyclical madness with each passing of the moon… until, finally, slipping beneath the surface of Anikira for good.
Even today, a glorious day for Kairos, not a single scent marker remained to ward off outsiders. Goliath and Datura had strode past the imperceptible borders as though invited in by the very terrain that lay relatively abandoned. In his last visit, the air was rich with varying scents of Descai, individuals who claimed this land as their home; but now, barely one or two scents remained, and they were feeble at best, clinging only to the edges and individual hairs of his nasals. Curiously, Zirena’s scent was entirely gone – the traitorous bitch had either absconded or died, clearly in a state of anxiety about completing her half of the truce made to him. He had encountered Zirena in the south of Anikira, not long after his unfortunate encounter with Ryker. Unfortunate only for Descai, however, because upon his return he had planned to reap chaos and lay bedlam upon his dwindling pack – but Zirena, in all of her altruism and foolish heroism, offered her virginity to him in the promise that he and Kairos would leave Descai in peace, never to intrude again. Goliath had kept his half of the bargain – and in return, Zirena had vanished, reneging on the simplest of deeds. An undeniably traitorous act, but now, Goliath would have his retribution for the treaty that she had broken.
Acerbus would be his, expanding Kairos’ already notorious reign and granting more territory for their future generations. His would claim this land in the honour of his children, who deserved all that he could give them, in return for the strength and glory that they would reap in his name. To leave Acerbus in a state of decrepit shame would be a disgrace to the land, and to the name of Descai that had once flourished as Anikira’s largest pack – but as that crown was no longer theirs, so too did they forfeit the rights over their throne in Acerbus.
Goliath approached the edge of the Drarynough Lake, the dark behemoth of his shadow passing across the mist that obscured the dreary surface, blotting out the light from its bottomless depths. A pale, ghostly vapour, more ethereal than ominous, chilled the air around them – inviting, rather than unsettling. Datura’s warmth was imperceptible, but it was there – a silent appraisal. He turned away from the dismal water, his measured stare finding the ochreous light of her eyes, and in the darkness of his half-smile was a veiled glimpse of deference. A rarity among the beast’s many faces. His muzzle lowered to invite her closer, an exhalation almost too stifling for their proximity invading the air between them. His breath was hot, his nostrils steaming in the coldness of the air, as his formidable body prepared itself for whatever threat would stand against his conquest. Adrenaline was avidly thrumming in his veins, his muscles burning and tightening at the heat of his anticipation. Claws flexed in the awakening of his arousal, at the proposition of his success; the taste of triumph was almost upon his lips. Had Datura not given birth so recently, and to a litter that was almost unquestionably deified by the heavens, he would have claimed her then and there, at the apex of his victory. His virility, in this moment, was unbound.
His purpose had never been clearer. He would claim this land for her, for her children, and for the countless more that she would bless him with. If she was prepared to be the vessel that immortalised his bloodline, then he would honour her by shedding equal blood, be it his own or that of the infinite fools to stand at the centre of his warpath.
This land was quiet – but victory was yet to be reached. Others in his pack would soon be making their way into every crevice of Acerbus, shooing the stragglers that still clung onto the bleak hope that Descai’s cadaver would lift from its grave and resurrect. Goliath’s confidence in his followers was steadfast and unbreakable, but he would make no assumptions of their victory until he watched Ryker’s beaten and bloodied tail tuck in fear, fleeing to never be seen again - and if not Ryker, then another would stand in his place. Wars were not won with fear and justice alone – they were won with madness as the sole armament, and blood as the sole outcome.
