Malignant Felicity is a paradisaical abode to the faithful remains of a mighty pack. Once ruled by the magnificent wolf Genocide, now the wolves of this pack follow the laws of the Alpha Lance, son of Sorna, Beta and Genocide's best friend...
The sounds of crashing water fill your auds as you enter this tropical paradise. The tall trunks tower above you. The treetop canopy's seem to shade the beautiful land from the sun's rays. What a paradise this place seems. This place dubbed Malignant Felicity. As you draw closer to the boarders a stench slowly devours the air around you. The stench of death.
"Beware..." scream the birds from above you. "She kills for games. She kills for fun." Something deep inside tells you to listen. Your body tells you not to go no further. Do you listen or do you dare move into the pack borders. This could be a life or death decision...
Follow the Queen, or become a corpse that lines her border. The choice lies with you.
IP: 63.116.236.162
Posted on January 25, 2010 at 02:45:33 PM by Tropas
Solid light grey paws treaded over the leaf-covered ground slick from the tropical rains so common to this region. The young pup's breath labored in his chest as it struggled to force past his ragged bone-dry throat. He stopped his relentless pace to bow his small, pointed muzzle towards the puddle on the ground before him. Parting his maw his tongue slid forth to lap the acidic water greedily. The small puddle diminished quickly down the throat of the grey wolf pup. When his shrunken stomach could hold no more he lifted his head. Refreshed, he forced his grey paws to move onward leaving behind a trail of fresh blood from his tattered and sore pads. The ever fresh scent of death came upon him suddenly, liking a shadow trying to trap its prey. He stopped immediately aware that the reek of wolves before him must be the Malignant Felicity Pack's border. His dark amber orb glinted anew from his grey coated face as they scanned the border. He had finally reached a place where he could perhaps rest for a spell, and train of course. It had taken the first few years of his life to stage the "natural disaster" of his parents’ death, and the short lived freedom was short lived. But, he knew that by joining a pack with such a fierce and demonic reputation he would find what he was looking for. His assessment of the border done, his grey muzzle lifted into the sky exposing the soft throat beneath. Small, but powerful, jaw parted to let loose a haunting song filled with the memories he had acquired over his short life and of course his petition for membership and a need to be trained in the art. His song ended abruptly, a short hiccup that came with such a young age, his lungs not yet big enough to hold the necessary air. Lithely twisting his travel worn form he flipped neatly onto his back his most vulnerable place exposed as he waited to see who would greet him. His amber orbs darkened with the setting sun and he watched the glinting eyes of the crows that perched on the branches around him wearily. He knew what they were waiting for but he would not give them the satisfaction of dying. They would never taste his flesh until he was ready. He smiled at them cockily, ivory fangs glinting in the fresh moonlight. Nothing good ever comes from being small, But it sure makes for a different kind of living. Tropas/Grey/Male/Pup/Loveless/Packless |
Replies:
- nothing good ever comes from me - By Devil May Cry January 25, 2010 at 08:09:58 PM
From a first glance you can tell that - By Tropas January 26, 2010 at 02:52:40 AM
well at least you noticed - By Devil May Cry January 26, 2010 at 06:50:26 AM