We're All Mad Here [Titan]

[Deleted]

Summer had come, declaring its brash arrival with a gloriously pleasant heat and unmatched vibrancy of everything it touched – the grass shone a lush green, the woods an earnest brown, and the blood that trailed behind the beast of a wolf was all the more viciously ruby-red when kissed by the sun’s swarming breath. Fenrir had truly blessed the sky today. It was difficult to imagine that only one day prior, the Nyjoro Hills had been tormented by thunder and an unsightly rain, and despite the sparse puddles of murky water that had yet been consumed by the sun’s heat, this sudden change of weather had truly swept away the misery that yesterday had wrought.

The giant wolf weaved purposefully through the varyingly tall grasses, bearing the likeliness of self-satisfaction never before seen upon these rolling hills. His hulking gait and imposing stride somehow managed to possess a visible bounce of contentedness that erased the way in which he normally lumbered around, hindered by his own weight. Not a svelte or lithe wolf in any regard, Goliath was daunting and hardened by muscle, but his form was notably barrel-like and his heavy limbs were built like upright boulders, which allowed little grace to follow his movements. His tail was bushed in conceit, and a fulsome smile would have been worn on his ashen muzzle, had the decapitated moose’s head not been lodged in his jaws – his prize, and the obvious reason for his smugness.

It had taken all night, but he had managed to gnaw at the creature’s neck until the thickened muscles were stripped back to reveal the bones, which were, no matter the creature, brittle and easily fractured. The feat had not been particularly easy, and had he been a sane wolf the venture would have served little purpose, but to Goliath, this broadened head held by the its robust muzzle, severed from the back of the ears to the base of its jaw, held a closeness to him that could not be explained in rational or sensible terms. More importantly than his prowess or strength, it symbolised his bond with Datura, the female whom had obliged his kill and eaten of the moose cow with such fervour and gratitude. Whilst the remainder of the moose’s body would decay or be picked apart, first by the birds and then by the bugs, its head – its crown – would be placed elsewhere to remain untouched and uneaten, festering in its own accolade as a figure of his ownership of the small bitch that he had claimed. It was clear that she begrudged his hold over her, but as her wits were sharper than her tongue, it seemed, she had vowed to stay by his side, no matter the hell he had - or would - put her through.

As he sauntered decisively, the moose’s jugular dangling freely from the sinew and shredded skin, blood spilled from the freshly detached vessels and traced each long step he took. Upon finding a suitable position, somewhere not far from the shade of a tree, Goliath began to dig into the ground, still moistened from yesterday’s dreary weather. His enormous forepaws burrowed deep, his black claws raking the dirt aside with ease – though it was not the season for caching food, the instinct still existed within him, and before long, the depression was its intended size, deep enough to prevent any tampering from scavengers. He dropped the gargantuan head into the pit he had created, using his snout to nuzzle it into position and reinstate the loosened soil on top of it, leaving his maw dirtied and smelling of blood and the earth. His neck flexed at the relief of no longer having to hold the sheer weight of the beast’s head, which managed to aggravate the closing wound covering his chest – an impressive parting gift from the moose’s striking hoof, it had sliced his skin whilst still holding the impression of the hoof’s shape. Thankfully, to the brute’s indulgence, Datura had cleaned his wound well, and all that remained was the beginning of a scab, and little, if any, infection. That bitches tongue must have held some wonderful remedy - one that he intended to sample again.

Standing back from his buried treasure, a low, piercing growl proclaimed his content at his accomplishment; the moose’s head would soon to deteriorate and leave behind the skull, a preserved trophy of his irrefutable power.

WORDS: 726 | Muse: Getting better | TAGGED: Titan

[Titan]

Waves of lazy confidence emanated from the hulking beast as he sauntered across the grasslands. This land was entirely unfamiliar to the Tas’alean, but that minor detail was not apparent in his casual stride. He had been given no reason to be afraid and saw no reason to skulk around like some lesser being fearing for its life. No pack had laid their scent through Tiayr, which meant that as far as Titan was concerned, he owned this land.

As the massive brute reached the crest of a low hill, he detected a curious taste on the breeze – the familiar addicting metallic tang of blood. Immediately Titan’s nostrils flared in order to better sample the delicious scent. Moose, killed not too long ago. Perhaps there would still be something left of the carcass?

Although a formidable giant with seemingly endless reserves of power and strength, Titan was not the best of hunters, as he was rather out of practice. After all, it was far easier to intimidate others into handing over their kills than wasting valuable energy hunting for himself – no wolf would dare stand up to such a fearsome brute, especially not in the wretchedly disheveled state most loners were in.

That was not to say that he was proud of this habit; in fact, the opposite was true. He had always looked down on scavengers whilst in his family’s pack, and subsequently during his time in Vashti, and while he rather enjoyed his current lifestyle of taking whatever food or femmes he liked, he knew in his heart that he did not want to spend the rest of his life as a loner. He wanted to be recognised and respected by all; he wanted others to know his name and admire his power.

To do that, he first needed a pack. The problem was that the great Vashti, which had once seemed to be the answer to all his hopes and dreams, had fallen and no one had impressed him enough since. Titan had searched almost the entire island now for a pack which could earn his respect, but it seemed an impossible task. He would be damned if he was going to bow to one of these inferior Anikira wolves. They were far too weak and little.

Indeed, it had been quite some time since Titan had met another wolf even a fraction of his gargantuan mass; he had seen nothing but midgets after leaving Tas’alea and coming to mainland Anikira, an island disproportionately large in comparison to the frailness of its inhabitants. It seemed unfair that such tiny wolves could be allowed to rule this land while the giant Kenai Peninsula wolves – the truly mighty species – had been confined to the relatively small Tas’alea for all this time. Not any longer though. With the formation of the land bridge, many great possibilities had opened up for wolves like Titan. And if Titan had his way, the wolves of Anikira would soon be cowering in fear of those of the elite blood…

Realising that he had slipped again into his ambitious day-dreaming, the young male shook himself awake to find that he had subconsciously been following the bloody trail and was now within sight of a male who appeared to be digging at the ground. Titan peered forwards with curious interest, and noticed with some surprise that the other male held the head of a sizable moose in his jaws. As he watched, the male placed the severed head in the hole which he had created and proceeded to fill it in with dirt as if caching it – unusual behaviour for a wolf especially at this time of year.

By this time, Titan had covered most of the remaining ground between them. He kept a respectful distance away from the other brute and his strange prize, not feeling confrontational today but not expressing any fear either as he settled his massive frame into a more comfortable stance. No further thought was given to the bizarre behaviour he had just witnessed; instead he was more intrigued with the fact that this male seemed to be travelling by himself – the only other scent on him was that of a female, probably a quick conquest of the night before. If that was the case, he must have made the kill solo; not a mean feat by any wolf’s standards.

“Well… if you took down that moose alone, you have my congratulations, brother.” Although Titan had no aggressive intent, it was still difficult to keep a low growl from his tone, as it had been a long time since he had properly conversed with another male without breaking out into a fight. The Kenai Peninsula brute was unsure why exactly he was bothering to stop to chat when there was nothing he could gain from this meeting anyway, but something intrigued him about this male. “Seems such suicidal bravery is rare these days.”



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[Deleted]

Too preoccupied with burying his prize, Goliath had barely noticed the looming presence that had followed him; the oncoming scent of the stranger should have riled his suspicions, had his snout not been caked with pungent mud, but the unmistakeable silence that fell when he had finished his task was a thunderous forewarning that he was not the only predator in these hills.

His glance slid sideward, and his body turned to face the unknown wolf who had already taken it upon himself to approach without warning or greeting, yet he maintained a respectable distance, for reasons that Goliath was yet to fathom. For the smallest of moments, Goliath saw his darker brother Saosin in the dark-pelted blue eyed wolf standing like some silent apparition, but the recognition quickly fled when he acknowledged that such a return was not plausible, unless his stubborn brother had managed to climb out from the bowels of the afterlife.

His ears straightened watchfully, observing the greyish creature with an entirely barren expression. The deadpan blankness was not caused by boredom, but by hard scrutiny, and after a brief inspection, Goliath had come to two abnormal conclusions. This wolf, gaudily male in his apparent strength, was easily the largest lupine he had ever seen, taller than even himself, and probably his own father - a feat which he had considered impossible, considering how the males in his family had towered over every other wolf they crossed. Such was their breed and birthright. Though his face remained stoic in the face of the monolith standing before him, his inner monologue was certainly impressed. Secondly, and this was perhaps the more confusing of deductions, the beast seemed inoffensive. His teeth were not drawn and his tail was not raised, nor was there a raucous fire in his throat that promised an overt threat. Aggression was probably the only emotion that Goliath understood and embraced, because it was the most primitive and true thing that governed his behaviour – yet, presented with this wolf who seemed more casual than cautionary, and perhaps simply curious simply for the sake of it, Goliath was unsure of how to behave. He responded well to hostility, brandishing his own fiery aggression with natural audacity and uncompromising dominance – but this was new to him.

He decided to behave as amiably as he could with this enormous newcomer, though his very nature burned with the need to bare his teeth and assert his ground. He was content with keeping his teeth sheathed in respect for this wolf’s inherent strength, if the same acknowledgement was made in return – he himself was as sizeable, though shorter in comparison, and where this wolf appeared stream-lined and agile, Goliath was markedly thicker set and hefty. Their remarkable statures made them unique contenders for one another.

His countenance remained devoid of much; his head and tail, which were usually held high and rigid, maintained a loose indifference to the stranger’s gaze, yet his own piercing blue eyes could not be deterred from staring straight back into the stranger’s darker ones. That was a habit that could not be broken so easily. His chin lifted in acknowledgement and acceptance of his presence, before lowering to a more casual stance, announcing his intentions to conduct himself similarly to the nameless brute – he, too, could play nicely, but this appeasement could switch on a dime and Goliath could turn nasty just as fleetingly as he.

When the stranger spoke, his baritone voice was filled with something unfamiliar, and strangely… civil. He hadn’t expected that, despite the lack of antagonism in his behaviour thus far. He expected a searing declaration of his superiority, or a demand that he leave his domain immediately – a request that would not only have been denied, but laughed at. These lands were not claimed, as far as he could scent; even if they were, he would not have been deterred from intruding. Anything his claws could find a grip upon was game for him, be it land, food or femme.

The stranger’s words held praise, but the true approval resided within the way he called him ‘brother.’ A warmness crept upon the unsettling emptiness in Goliath’s face, and the stern line of his lips slackened. It was a word he knew well, which held more meaning to him than the brute would have known. The barely audible growl underpinning his gruff tone made Goliath’s ears perk in recognition, and his mouth opened in a loose, unusual smile. Though it held no purpose, the grin was without malice. His eyes momentarily glanced towards the buried mound at his feet. “Aye, but she repaid the debt in kind,” his voice possessed an almost pleasant lilt, but he glared down at the buried head with such voracious concentration that his expression was anything but. The wound on his chest was fresh, as was the creature’s head – he trusted that the male would understand the implication. Even the greatest of beasts could fall, but not without some reprisal.

“Seems such suicidal bravery is rare these days.”

His tail brushed the earth contentedly and a ludicrous chuckle came from his widened jaws, regarding the comment as a viable compliment rather than a criticism of his recklessness. Any trace of emptiness on his face was well and truly gone, superseded by a dynamic glint of humour. He had no fear for this brute; perhaps if common sense occupied his mind, he would have kept his lips shut, but the opportunity to filter his words never came. “Not rare enough. I would wager that your own father was blessed by the same suicidal madness as mine – surely he mounted a bear, and sired you from her enormity!”

His waggish grin pulled his lips upward, revealing a droll snarl that simpered with indulgence at his observation. This wolf was undoubtedly large, but he still possessed youth; perhaps not to the degree of Goliath, but he was still young enough to retain his powerful form and straightened posture. If he himself could not betray his dominance when it was clearly the intelligent thing to do, then he could at least be facetious, and damper his abrasive edges. “I am Goliath, son of the prophet Belial, and heir of Ferus – though the title rings hollow when my pack has long since been a butchered mess, wouldn’t you agree?” His eyes were half-lidded in the absence of seriousness, and his tone was unusually carefree, as if mocking his own lineage with his rhetorical musing. Titles truly meant little to him - raw, true power was a thing that did not need to be spoken aloud.

“And what may I call you, if not a beast or a titan in your own right?” he gazed towards the darker brute, his hard stare measured but curious. It was clear that this behemoth did not need titles to bolster himself – his greatness was in plain sight.

WORDS: 1149 | Muse: Suuuperb | TAGGED: Titan

[Titan]

Titan watched as the stranger turned to face him, curious to see his reaction to the casual praise. The other male appeared to be studying his potential opponent, while displaying a blank expression which gave away no hint of his inner monologue (apart from the mere absence of intense aggression or any other extreme emotion). The darker grey wolf was not particularly bothered by the scrutiny; he was confident enough in himself to know that the other male would find no specific flaws or weaknesses in his body shape which would be exploitable if it came to a fight.

Although, to tell the truth, the gargantuan Kenai Peninsula was not so sure of his chances against this brute. While he didn’t expect to lose, it would certainly be a much more difficult battle, as the other male was almost as enormous as himself and looked to be well-muscled with a stouter bulkier frame, which gave him the advantage of being hard to overbalance. Although Titan was not able to clearly discern the other’s age, it was clear that both wolves were young and fit, in the prime years of their lives.

That information was of little consequence, however, as Titan was not expecting such an outcome at this stage. He himself had no reason to initiate a violent confrontation – other than perhaps for some battle training – as he was not interested in the little meat he could gain from the moose head which the other beast had buried, and nor were there any femmes in the immediate area for the two brutes to compete for.

Finally the multi-hued male spoke, remarking on the wound he had received from the dying moose. Titan inclined his massive head in acknowledgement. That often was the way of things; great beasts and even great packs could be taken down, but not without some sort of struggle. Of course some went down easier than others, but victory never came without a price – especially when wild animals were concerned. In his opinion, the hunter was lucky to get away without a considerably more serious injury, and had accomplished an extraordinarily difficult task in the process. The feat of killing a fully grown moose on one’s own certainly was impressive; even the massive Titan had never dreamed of attempting such an endeavor.

Perhaps he had in fact been the product of a union like the one the male described – that might explain his poor hunting skills. Titan chuckled at the absurdity of the mental picture, which was in a way strangely flattering. A cross between a wolf and a bear… that would be a powerful creature indeed, assuming the retention of the positive aspects of both species. As his laughter settled into a broad smile, the loner realised that it was the first time he had genuinely expressed such an emotion in a very long time.

Instead of the tense atmosphere one would expect when two rival loners were introduced to one another, it seemed the mood of their conversation had taken on a much lighter note. Certainly it was rare that others made jokes around the enormous brute, being rather too focused on trying to avoid any actions which may provoke the giant beast into initiating a conflict bound to end badly for them. While this meekly submissive behaviour provided some welcome amusement and stroked his already swollen ego, it was refreshing to finally meet someone who was bold and confident.

Neither was this brute defensively aggressive, at the other end of the spectrum to submission. It was natural for wolves to bare their teeth and try to exert their authority when feeling threatened, and Titan was impressed that his presence – which would normally have provoked either a noticeably submissive or hostile reaction – did not seem to worry this stranger at all. Throughout their conversation, cerulean blue eyes had been locked with the icier blue of the other wolf’s, each male asserting his own dominance while at the same time respecting the strength and status of the other.

This had already turned into a highly unusual encounter for Titan, as he was not normally content with being less than top dog. But he felt that this wolf deserved his respect, an honour which he did not hand out lightly. And in fact the wanderer found that he was rather pleased to have come across this giant, who seemed to have more in common with him than most wolves he had met thus far on the continent.

It was clear that they did still have their differences though. The casual off-handed way in which Goliath spoke of the slaughtering of a pack which had presumably been made up of members of his own family was slightly puzzling to Titan, and he was not sure exactly how to respond to the light-hearted cynicism. Fortunately, it appeared that the question had been rhetorical, as the male immediately moved on to asking the Kenai wolf’s name.

“Well, it seems you have some skill in the area of guessing too,” he grinned at the irony of the other’s word choice. “For I do in fact happen to be called Titan.” It seemed that both brutes had been appropriately named, their immense size dwarfing all those around them.

“My own father was not particularly remarkable; he rejected the life of a warrior in favour of a quiet life with his mate. Needless to say, I left them as soon as I was old enough, to join the mighty Vashti pack.” Those were the good old days – his time then had been spent honing his fighting skills with the experienced warriors of the pack, and he had had access to plenty of food and femmes, at any time he wanted. “But alas, that didn’t last long. The majority of the pack was wiped out by a volcano and the terrible earthquakes that followed, and the alpha eventually decided to disband us.” The corner of Titan’s lips twitched up into a momentary snarl at the remembrance of that foolish decision. He was sure the pack could have continued if Darius had been strong enough to lead them through the troubles nature had thrown at them, but as it happened the greatest pack ever known to the wolves of Tas’alea had fallen, sputtering out into nothing but shattered memories.

“Huh. Our species should not be forced to bow to anything, not with the power we have the potential to wield.” The light of ambition had kindled once again in Titan’s eyes, and his features were set into a slightly more serious expression than they had been earlier, though his tone made the statement sound more like a musing suggestion than absolute belief and his posture remained relaxed and casual, the same as it had been throughout his conversation with Goliath.


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[Deleted]

OOC|| So, I said this was going to be a short post. I lied.

BIC|| Goliath’s expectations of this brute were truly overthrown when the darker male reciprocated his banter with a grin and even laughter. God forbid anyone that had a sense of humour as misshapen as his own – the absurdity and surprising lack of tension between them had lifted Goliath’s spirit considerably, and although the distance between them did not close further, his posture eased in the same manner that he would address a friend. It was apparent that neither brute intended to antagonise the other; such humble camaraderie was something he hadn’t experienced since he had last seen his brothers – over a year ago.

He stepped aside the heaped mount of dirt that now covered the moose’s decapitated head, satisfied that the larger male was not interested in his kill, given that the other’s dark blue gaze had barely even glanced down towards it. He would have defended his trophy vehemently had the instance been different – but this dark brute’s size coupled with his more agile build had Goliath reconsidering his direct approach, which usually involved him throwing his enormous weight around as he so pleased.

It was clear that his flippant declaration, and even mockery, of his own pack’s massacre had confounded the brute, who seemed somewhat unsure in the face of such dismissive lunacy. Secretly, Goliath was pleased with the other’s lack of response – had the other male enquired for an explanation, he would not have been given one. The truth of it involved Goliath having to concede that he had been powerless to prevent such a calamity from befalling his family, and though most would consider his frail youth an excuse, he did not. Had the incident occurred at the age he was now, empowered by his sheer size and strength, the outcome would have been monumentally different; the assailants would have met a slow, excruciating end.

As the stranger gave his name, Goliath’s amused smile rivalled the other’s grin – his wording had been appropriately chosen, then. Titan was a vastly adequate name for the immense creature that stood before him.

As the brute began to speak rather openly about his father, Goliath listened whilst his expression remained casually observant. It seemed their parentage differed greatly; his own father had wanted many things – too many things - but a quiet life was not among them. A quiet life was a simple one, and did not pave a path towards greatness. Goliath himself was infested with his father’s unquenchable thirst to claim all that he could, as well as being infected by the same sickness of the mind. There were times when he could barely differentiate between the being that his father was to what he himself had become, and though in his youth it had been his ambition to achieve his father’s omnipotence, he feared that such a craze for power had degenerative consequences to his mind – only now, it was too late to undo. All he could do was embrace his gluttonous nature and find his summit in life.

Goliath’s expression hardened in curiosity – he had never heard of the Vashti pack. It must have existed before his birth, and fallen when he was too young to know of it, but as Titan continued to explain his story, Goliath found himself becoming far less impressed with the pack's apparent decline.

The majority of the pack was wiped out by a volcano and the terrible earthquakes that followed, and the alpha eventually decided to disband us.

His maw curled in distaste at the obvious weakness in their alpha, not even attempting to conceal his disfavour when it was probably more respectful to have done so. How could an alpha willingly choose to destroy what he had created – as though it were a simple decision or fancy? To Goliath, there was no calamity great enough to deem such an option as honourable – if anything, those disasters should have rendered him more defiant to see his pack prosper in the face of nature’s bitter sufferance. Nothing could tear him down – not a strike from the heavens, nor a fire from the earth, and it infuriated him that others could not be so resolute. Goliath's humourous countenance was long gone.

“Most believe that the death of young ones and the passing of the old and wise are the saddest things to ever witness – I disagree,” he began darkly, his tone embittered by Titan’s miserable tale, who obviously seemed to share Goliath’s distaste. “Nothing is more despairing than watching the strong not only give in to weakness, but to become it.”

A tree could grow tall and immense until it grazed the sky and defied all that dragged it down – the wind, the rain, gravity – nothing could bend it or break its stance. It could exist for thousands of years, and see the passing of a thousand other lifetimes. This was a wondrous thing indeed, but when that tree eventually chose to wither, for no great purpose or truth, nothing brought more shame and sadness to the forest. This was the same of many other things – and hearing about the fall of a great pack saddened the brute as it angered him. A leader is never at liberty to choose weakness on behalf of those that follow them.

Our species should not be forced to bow to anything, not with the power we have the potential to wield.

How true that was – although Goliath himself did not believe that it was true of their species as a whole. “All wolves are not born equal – you and I are testament of this,” his voice was brooding, but proud. They both truly defied the limits of their species, which could only mean one thing. “Some are born to lead, and others exist to follow. When harmony between the two is reached… Our power can eclipse anything,” the conviction in his voice was unyielding, but his expression was dynamic and enlivened. No, their species should not be forced to bow to anything… except those select few that were undeniably built to lead. Weakness was needed so that the mighty could thrive – so if the strong could protect the weak, and the weak in turn serve the strong… Goliath could not imagine a greater harmony in the world than that.

WORDS: 1043 | Muse: Fabtastic | TAGGED: Titan

[Titan]

"I have never thought much about it myself, but I certainly do agree that the demise of what once was strong is a great pity. Those in positions of power ought to fight until the end with all their might rather than so easily succumb to weakness." Titan spoke slowly, sure of the truth in what he was saying but slightly more careful now that they were heading into a territory of conversation more unfamiliar to him.

The giant brute normally didn't care much for philosophy, much preferring actions over words. It was far easier and simpler to throw his weight around in battle than to struggle to provoke his mind into some sort of higher thinking. Although the warrior took great pleasure in devising strategies, he rarely spent time thinking about the true reason for what he was doing, being ultimately driven by primal instinct rather than the desire to do what was morally correct. Indeed, Titan was a wolf firmly rooted in the material world and he intended to remain that way as long as that lifestyle continued to serve him well.

Still, that didn't mean he was turned off by such a conversation, and as the other male began to express his opinions on the respective positions of the strong and weak within society, Titan found that it was enlightening to ponder the possibility of being part of something larger than himself. He agreed strongly with Goliath's ideals - possibly helped by the fact that the thought of having a rational excuse for his dominating behaviour was music to the ears of his inner megalomaniac. Titan had craved great power for as long as he could remember, and now Goliath had given him an undeniably sound explanation for why he and others like him deserved to rule.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he wouldn't mind following a leader such as Goliath as long as he was given the respect and power he deserved, and was treated as a comrade and equal - the only difference between them being that Goliath would be the one to guide the main direction they would take, and Titan would act more as an advisor or an enforcer of his law where necessary.

"Aye, again you are right. The strong need to band together in this world to protect and give purpose to the weak, and lead wolf kind as a whole to greatness. Together we could accomplish so much; we could bring strength and unity to our kind, with the weak and the strong working together to form an unstoppable force."

The ambition which had been rekindled within the beast's heart had by now grown to a roaring flame, so strong that he almost felt as though he ought to embark upon this campaign immediately. Now that the idea had implanted itself within his thick skull, Titan couldn't wait for the chance to finally prove his potential by spreading Goliath's great vision for a better world.