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: 156.34.206.31
Posted on March 10, 2012 at 03:04:16 AM by Vingi
The shadows encompass the lean boy's charcoal frame as he twists through the darkened trees. The wolf utilized the shade with skill, moving fluidly so the dark wraiths hid him from view and rendered his fit body nearly invisible to the untrained eye. Vingi had only just re-entered Malignant after a brief sally out from the tropical paradise. Being the inquisitive varg he was, Vingi had slipped outside of the borders to watch the fight between Queens and the ignorant fae, Belinda. When the latter had thrown herself on her back in submission, he had felt a smirk pull it's way over his lips. The demonic stag wondered why the foolish she had even bothered to challenge his alpha female if she was unprepared to face the consequences. Wolves had died from fighting alphas... wolves died from fighting, period - if one didn't understand that, why would they even attempt to do battle? The foolishness of some idiots astounded him to no end. Speaking of foolishness, he had a slight probelm at the moment, one that needed to be fixed as soon as possible: Although he currently resided in the lands of Malignant, the fact remained that he had yet to submit to the mighty dragoness - which was a bit of a pity, for he felt somewhere deep in his core that he would not be entirely satisfied as a pack wolf until he had done so. As he explored the stretch of wilderness that made up his residence, Vingi couldn't help the slight wiggle of instinct that urged him to seek out the queen and submit to her. He decided that the next time her scent graced the air, he would go to her for the express purpose of grovelling at her paws. Vingi's facade cracked into a smirk yet again at that thought, though this time his mocking expression was slightly rueful. The gladiator wondered when he had become such a good servant? In all of his wolf-watching, he had seen many pack wolves and many wannabe pack wolves. He'd been amused by a great deal of them, particularly the ones who were always down on the ground in a ridiculous, undignified submission. The thought of himself doing something of that sort wouldn't have held much appeal to the coal-colored lad, but in order to stay in Malignant, it couldn't be avoided. Besides, Queens was likely the most worthy wolf he would ever find to offer his throat to - the fact that she led a group of senile delinquents was just a fun perk to being her soldier. Vingi was bored. He couldn't deny it as he slunk betwixt the trees. Listening to the night sounds only held a small scrap of appeal for the ebonite knight. One could only hear the soft cooings of nocturnal animals for so long before their sweet melodies held no appeal. After a few aimless minutes of sulking, the slim draco oriented his bodice straight ahead. He jogged to the fringes of the territory, and from their proceeded to run the borders like a good little warrior. Instinctively, he figured that keeping intruders out was part of his duty as a pack wolf. He set his nose to the task of discerning scents and his eyes to the task of watching for things that were out of place. His ears did their job naturally, flicking back and forth to detect sounds of passage other than his own. Vingi wasn't taking care to be entirely silent, but he wasn't crashing through the bushes like a warthog, either. He was a graceful creature - one looking at his physique would have no room to doubt that he was a practised. He wasn't a complete sadist or murderer, but he killed when necessary, and his years as a gladiator had polished the natural talent that most wolves had for the art of taking lives. stock by FIGG manbearpigs - a deviantart source. |
Replies:
- claimmmm - By Metronome March 12, 2012 at 01:04:53 AM