They say we are what we are
But we don't have to be.
I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way.
I'll be the watcher (watcher) of the eternal flame.
I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams.



He is rewarded near instantly for his efforts, fur and flesh lacerating upon his fangs to bring forth a wash of blood that bathes his teeth and tongue in this sensory, decadent delight. The screams of pain spat forth from his victim’s lips only seem to further inspire his violent assault upon her, head twisted and shaken in an effort to further exacerbate her wounded form and force as much of that heated flesh and liquid blood into his jaws as he remains capable of. It is a truly unfortunate thing to allow him to draw first blood, his mind near obliterated into a frenzy of volatile destruction as that first taste seems to unleash a rage near berserker from within his obsidian form. Claws dig and skid within the mud that has formed between them, the rain soaking the churned earth until it grows thick and sticky and yet he hardly feels such a thing, remains near oblivious to the rain that lashes at his eyes and fur. He sees nothing, feels nothing but the heat of flesh within his teeth and the victorious cries of the demons within his mind that urge only more and more from their darkened master in these moments. He craves her blood, her flesh, has become near unstoppable in his determination to achieve it as he seeks to bury those fangs only deeper and deeper still. Perhaps this is why he is so feared, so whispered off within the darkness, his gaze lacking all but maddened hunger. He cares for nothing else, seems near oblivious to even the creature he devours in these moments- mind fixated wholly upon consuming the flesh he has managed to grasp.

For a moment he seems to choke, a horrific gurgling sound seeming to vibrate within the depths of his throat, the creature unwilling to relinquish his hold upon his victim as each muscle braces and strains with the effort to hold her in place while his throat constricts, begging him to swallow and savour that taste. The nightmarish male seems unable to decide whether to hold or release her in an effort to swallow whatever flesh, fur or blood he has been rewarded with in this moment. He feels her twist, feels her still living flesh move beneath his jaws, her forepaws having lifted somehow, perhaps he had pulled her upward in this moment of madness and the vile shaking of his ebony head. His mind does not know- it does not care, his teeth aiming to sink only more deeply in his desperation to prevent her escape as she twists again and her fangs scrape at his face, cutting at this light covering of skin and fur and yet his madness prevails- he will not release, will not unlock his jaw unless forced through violent intent- his ability for self-preservation a truly lacking thing. Until one fang cuts closer to his eye- barely missing the orb itself and forcing his head to jerk wildly from her, instinct alone demanding he prevent her taking his eye as fangs reluctantly relinquish their hold. He is forced backward, head flung violently from side to side as he does, seeking desperately to free himself of whatever hold she had sought upon his muzzle or cheek and to remove this vile irritation from his face, leaving his muzzle scraped and grazed, an opened cut bleeding freely just beneath his left eye as droplets of blood are flung like scarlet rain in his frantic shaking as he frees himself from her.

Her efforts, it would seem- have achieved little more than grazes and shallow cuts, seeking only to enrage him further. His scrapes and grazes sting and burn upon his face, agitating him only more, one paw lifting to strike at his own muzzle in the moments in which the two wolves part- a primitive, basal attempt to remove this discomfort her fangs have left as they leak small droplets or trickles of red upon that thick and blackened fur, washed away by the falling rain in near the same moment. She circles him as he stands now, his stance dominant still, heckles lifted like dark knives against the blackened canopy of the sky and fading storm, tail arched still high across his spine and yet her circling is seemingly ignored. His stomach seems to heave, once, twice, throat constricting before jaws part to spill a wealth of bloodied saliva upon the earth- the results of his refusal to release her chest as his body had struggled to digest and swallow whatever he had torn free, small matts of fur and flesh spilled within that bloodied mess to the earth beneath him, leaking from his jaws- his body refusing this offering. The contents of his stomach it would seem- unable to settle . Yet his tongue merely sweeps across his lips, chewing, swallowing whatever else of her may have been lodged within his gums as those eyes of vile green remain fixated upon her as he does, meeting her own one-eyed gaze as he swallows her very being right before her.

There is reason he is undefeated, reason he is the Demon King- for none possesses his fury. He simply overwhelms his victims and he is far from done in his assault upon her still taunting form.

Muscles tighten and coil within him once more, another roar spat free of his bloodied lips as he charges again, bloodied teeth exposed as the fleshy curtain of his lip peels back, seeming to possess no true target, no true aim- merely seeking whatever part of her wretched white form he can seize within his jaws as she circles, the wounds to her chest surely slowing and hampering her as she does. She reeks of weakness, of injury, his determination to obliterate this creature else force her to bow before him driving like daggers to plunge within a mind that cannot relent. Jaws lunge now for the left side of her neck, seeking to pierce into the weakened area where neck and shoulder meet- foolishly exposed as she circles- aiming to bury his fangs within this vulnerable part of herself and tear her apart piece by living piece.

……………………

Attacks: 2/3

Half Dodge: 1/1
Full Dodge: 0/1
Full Hit: 0/1


cause we could be immortals!