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.

Refresh/Reload

then you must be one depressed lackey
IP: 75.89.16.169
Posted on October 13, 2010 at 04:45:29 PM by Devil May Cry



Guess things haven't changed much, if at all. Idiots still come to the border waiting to be accepted into their own demented version of paradise. Oh wait, this one is different. He comes bearing gifts. A dark chuckle dripped from the demon's jaws as he made his way toward the fresh scents of rabbit and pup. Both were dead of course, he could tell by the scent of the blood. So, they were trying to win her favor by bringing her dead youth, now? Getting desperate, are they? His golden lamps sparkled with delight as the jetty bronc stopped to stare at the other mongrel from his dark hidden spot in the forest. It didn't take long for entertainment to come his way in the form of the lad, watching him as he stands erect like a confident soldier and howls like he's a hellhound or some shit. Well, at least he's not coming with stains of blood on his cheeks calling himself a killer and all that jazz. The brute was quite bored with those types. I mean, who's to say who's blood that is and if it's not just from some hunt with a pitiful deer? This one can kill his own kind, but can he kill a full grown version of himself, complete with claws and razor sharp fangs? If thrown into a pit of starving wolves, would any of these pathetic fools survive? Devil liked to think not, or rather, he knew they wouldn't, because deep inside they're all a bunch of childish kittens, purring about their own tormented souls and wanting to be with others of their kind. If they were really tormented, they wouldn't come looking for others, they would try to stay as isolated as possible. That's what he did for years, after all. That's why he took his break of this place and went his own way for, say, a month or so. The hunter couldn't really tell how much time had passed since he'd last stepped foot in Malignant, but it sure as hell felt good to be back. He'd missed the bloodshed, the cawing crows, the delusional fools at the border, and her, of course. He always seemed to miss her beautiful face when he was away.

Not that Devil was head over heels for Queens or anything like that, forbid the thought. He didn't believe in love, just sex for kicks, maybe one friend you can trust with your life (those are definitely few and far between, especially around here), and having fun doing the things you enjoy, mainly killing. Well, there's also rape, but he'd actually been lacking in that area for some time now. Quite a shame, actually, when you think about it. All those delicious innocents just waiting to be bent over and rammed like the little ragdolls they really are. His pink muscle traced the contours of his oral cavity at the thought. Damn, it had been too long. All in all, the titan did hope he would get to see the alpha after he took care of this little morsel. Had to get back in her good graces after his little disappearance, now didn't he? What's better than a little fun on the border, his old trademark. Anyone who came around here later would definitely know he was back. Good, that's just the way he wanted it. His banner arched up over his spine aggressively as the virile took his leave of the hideaway and made his way in plain view toward the other captor. Sticking his nose up at the boy's presents, he circled him once, then twice, making a path so close to the other that their coats actually meshed once or twice. He wanted the sahib to feel his thick breath on his nape and to see nothing past his sunkist gazers, so calm and demented. Would he know in time that there was no hope here? Would he think he actually had a chance? Silly wolf, then you know nothing of the world you want to become a part of.

As he circled back around to face the brujo, his own labias curled back revealing his pearly whites as his auds pricked forward innocently and his hackles raised. Giving the other the once over, he molested him with his gaze, drinking the xavier in like a starving wolf seeing prey for the first time. He let the moment rest, testing the gladiator's patience as they merely stood facing each other, two males sizing each other up, hoping to win this battle of testosterone. Devil was larger than most wolves, with a hardy frame made up of pure muscle, perks from his assassin days. His thick black coat hug snuggly to its skeleton, hampered and missing in some places, letting the scars that dotted his body be easily seen and calculated. He had fought for most of his life, dating back to his early teens. He learned quick enough that he was strong and fast, that he could kill his own kind and survive, and that he liked it. From there he moved on to being a hired assassin, killing target wolves for pack alphas, only so that they could give him what he wanted with their power. While he studied the target and learned their schedule, he had free roam of the pack lands without irritation from other members. He could rape all the females he wanted, maim any members that tried to stop him, so long as he didn't kill a pack member. Of course, Devil was careful. He even raped the alpha's daughter(s) on occassion, just to see the blood boiling behind his lids when he asked why the task was taking so long. In other words, why he was still roaming the pack lands instead of killing the target. For kicks, he even raped a few alpha females, just to feel them crumple in their own self justified power as he rode them like the dogs they were. Oh, now don't get me wrong, he doesn't feel females are inferior or anything like that. It's just certain ones, the ones that irk him. Why, most of the females in Malignant, he would rather just fuck than rape. Not that he wasn't already doing so with some.

Did that measly rabbit kick your ass or are you just messy with your kills?

His fangs revealed more as the czar grinned at the other phantom before him, gold painted spheres watching him with intelligence none would guess is behind his insane exterior.



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