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: 71.219.225.100
Posted on October 16, 2011 at 09:40:19 PM by Ragnörak
Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one in this world... It's like an apocalypse that hasn't actually quite happened... at least not yet. If the world were to end today, I'm sure that I'd be one of the only vargs on this hellish plane of soil that wouldn't give a damn. Why? The answer is actually quite simple. Life sucks... to me, it's a pain just to clean my ashy pelt. I'd rather just sit there. Do nothing, and watch the seasons pass me by: spring turn into summer, summer trip into fall, and fall lead into winter, and winter jump into spring and so forth. Guess that's why I started wandering in the first place after that occured. If no one came to see me, I would just turn back around and walk away. What a boring day... Turning to face the horizon opposite of which direction she'd made her way from, the dark ashen femme twisted her pillars, altering her course of direction. She was sure that where she was headed was death on four paws... But wasn’t that what she was used to? Pelt sliding upwards and overlapping itself due to the wind, the rather small vixetta (reaching only around 31/2 feet in height and barely four feet in length from radar to the edge of her plummage) tackled the challenge of just getting to the borders of the unfamiliar territory- and as she moved, the small dip of white on the bottom of her back left hind paw flashed every time she picked it up. The valkyrie was a non-stop machine, and even if she pushed her limits on stamina and strength, her facial features rarely changed. An almost bored expression crossed her delicate palette, her close to ivory hued optics never betrayed what was going on in that head of hers, and her frame had no visible strain of burden. The dark, crippled mass of trees grew closer with every step. The stench of blood dripped from the very trees, and not even the flowers bloomed. Carefully, the miss stopped many feet from the border line. She wasn’t stupid- she wouldn’t dare to cross that unseen marker even if her pathetic life depended on it. Frostbite could have draped itself over her like a cloak and she still wouldn’t move forward. There she waited, minutes before she took yet another miniscule step forward, her iron-tinted talons testing to see what kind of atmosphere this area held- though she did not care for it as much as to put it into her like box. The fae disliked many things, hated much more, and liked but a few dainty little objects that struck a cord in the organ that was barely beating beneath all that skin in her chest. Not letting emotions override her features left Ragnörak with many things to do for pass-time events. What kind of taste lingered on the wind for her to lap up left the young mistress with the faintest idea that tiny annoying fluffballs in this land was indeed a possibility. From the perfume she was picking up, and its strength on the gales, the ash hued femme could tell that the regal here that she would be expected to worship like a god, or in this case, goddess, would be a Queen. The faintest twitch of a smirk came to her ebon lips, but subtly faded away within the next few seconds. Stress and blood made quite a mixture, and it raised Rag's expectations when she had taken her first whiff of the territories unique musk. Around her ashen frame the forest was trembling like a mighty organ on the verge of bursting. The trees were as tall as Fenris himself, their branches reaching out like the hands of fallen soldiers, asking for some solace in this lonely world. The place would seem creepy to any other Varg, and it had indeed scared many away like pitiful pups. Stopping for her final time, the stormy ess planted her boney pillars to the point that it looked like she was hanging onto the world for fear she might fall off and catapult into the galaxies and nebulas far away. Deciding not to shoot her voice out to the world that she was approaching, Ragnörak stayed standing, silently, and waited until her own perfume filtrated the terrace. With misty gray eyes, she kept her apex forward and audettes intent. She'd never taken the phrase, "Off with your head" lightly-Ragnörak didn’t believe in luck. Sheer willpower got her far enough.  |
Replies:
- i'm a mutha fkin' m o n s t e r - By Queens October 17, 2011 at 06:47:22 AM
&&dance in their ashes;; - By Ragnarök October 17, 2011 at 09:33:07 PM
beautifuld i s a s t e r - By Queens October 18, 2011 at 04:01:59 AM
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