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.

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BATTLE IS THE MOST MAGNIFICENT COMPETITION
IP: 74.199.21.5
Posted on December 19, 2017 at 06:42:21 PM by ROGAN

Scentless . . . to help them escape detection. Rogan narrowed his eyes in confusion and suspicion, the auburn hackles of his neck stiffening as he sat there considering the crazy queen. Her bizarre words perplexed him endlessly. Everything had a scent—even water. Even snow. Even the very air, for it carried the information of the land in its winds. Rogan could almost taste the fetid stench of rotting wood and congealing vegetation that hovered over the forest floor; he smelled the exciting tapestry of prey-signatures written under leaves and between twigs; he breathed in, and stories of rivers and pits of muddy black water and soft moss and even late blossoms wove before his sensitive muzzle. But the vampire empress . . . held no perfume in her midnight pelt. A nothingness. It wasn’t even as if she had masked her own musk with an overlay of other scents—she simply had no physical flavor to speak of. Sure, Rogan knew what sort of plants she’d brushed by on her way to see him. He even detected the faintest whiff of blood hanging on her breath. But where was she in all that mess? Was this some sort of secret she had discovered? Was it something Rogan might someday learn as well?

“That’s mighty impressive, Vampire Queen.” He thumped his tail against he ground, a modest and quick show of applause for her cleverness. The heiress, Diosa, similarly intrigued the lad. She also met his chemical senses as a total blank, wearing the perfume of the woods she lived in and nothing else. He gave the princess another small round of “applause” before perking his ears at the obsidian woman’s next words, his heart giving a hopeful leap in his broad chest. Him? A “son” of the royal family? Rogan hadn’t even shown the Alphess his abilities yet, and she already suggested he might be worthy of joining the inner circle! Jade eyes shone with barely contained pride, his spine straightening so that he might puff his breastbone out in an expression of valor. Perhaps “vampire” merely meant one of the elite? If so, Rogan was more than ready to prove he stood worthy of the title—right now. “Yes, of course. Nothing would please me more than to run by your side as a vampire, here to protect the pack—”

Diosa cut his short with soft, sweet words. When he whipped his gaze to settle on her, he noted that her canines jutted unnaturally long past her jowls . . . had they been like that before?

“Poison . . . ?” Were they going to make him drink poison? Inwardly, Rogan paled. His ears flicked backward without his permission, verdant green eyes dropping to his large paws in thought. A test—that’s all this really was. Some packs required a sacrifice, be that a gift of prey or a demonstration of strength or a promise sealed in blood. His own family had required outsiders to pay a steep price for the privilege of living in their territory. Surely what Diosa spoke of was merely a trial given to all potential recruits as a method of weeding out the weak. And now that he’d come this far, Rogan refused to turn tail and run. Twin emeralds speared into the heiress’s pools of ruby. “I accept. Give me this poison, and allow me to show you exactly what sort of soldier I am.”


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