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: 38.110.0.7
Posted on February 13, 2018 at 00:51:41 AM by Sebring
Ravaged screams ripped out from beneath curled and chapped lips. The air reeked of desperation and blood, tinged with the bittersweet salt that dripped from their bodies. The sweet release of that pent up agony was rewarded with a slash of claws across her rump and instead she bite down hard into the inner flesh of her lip. A dribbled of blood leaked out and caked atop the oxidized rivers of blood that had formed in the crevices of those paled lips. When this had first started she had cried, whimpered, and screamed to no end and no avail. She had screamed for help, begging pleading with the anguished figures that were drug by her prison each day, but day by day she realized that eventually she would become one of them. The end product of this ceaseless torture was so that eventually she would become one of them, the muted dolls that only spoke when spoken to, danced when told to, raped when the soldiers wanted pleasure, or whatever else was deemed fit for that day. At first the time had passed agonizingly slow, but the more numb her mind had become the less she paid any mind to the passing time. It seemed to become a figment of her imagination, there was hardly anything concrete in this life. At first they had just starved her of contact to the outside world and then eventually her food sources dwindled to a bare minimum, just enough to keep alive. Her stomach had twisted in knots in that first month, so unused to the minimalistic routine they had started her on. She mostly subsisted off of water, very alkaline in taste; most days it was discolored and muddied. Those ambiguous figures that waltzed by her cage were tall lanky creatures, bred from the depths of hell. She had despised them at first, then grew weary, until one day a sweet young babe had scurried up to her cage and shoved cupped liquid towards her. The fear in her eyes told Sebring that whoever this young child was, was risking her neck to give her something. Unease had settled in her stomach, but in ignorance of it Sebring lapped up the clearish liquid. It had tasted sweet on her tongue and she desperately craved more of it, until she felt an odd sensation start to build up through her limbs. Honey orbs looked down and a repulsed scream ripped out of her vocal cords as she watched her own limbs begin to puddle beneath her. Fur, skin, and sinewy muscle melted away revealing those pure white bones she could have only knew from having seen similar structure in her bigger prey. The ashen pelted woman crumpled to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain and in the jagged breaths she took, there was a cackling laughter, bewitching and vile. In place of that young babe stood one of those monstrous creatures, with steel cold orbs glaring down at the hallucinating wolf. There was no melted tissues on the ground, only the twisted and contorted figure of the captured Queen. Sebring though watched as her own body melted away before her own eyes, nerves fired creating truly agonizing, horrifying sensations that ripped through her body. What little content had been in her stomach was retched up onto the ground, covering her maw and paws. In her fear, Sebring began to claw and rip at her own throat and muzzle. The snake eyed woman called the guards to restrain her feverish body and she felt the hard clamp of ivory knives into her skin pulling her limbs away from her body where she was held, spread open. She fought for some time, trying to escape the ripping sensation of her misfiring nerves, until eventually her weary body and exhausted mind started to fade in and out of consciousness. There was no concept of time after this poisoned episode. The punishments began after she somewhat recovered from the trauma and so each time she cried out, a slash of claws would land across her backside or face. And she learned that there would be no reprisal from her agony unless she learned that that unending affliction was the new threshold for her life. That was when the recitations had begun. Each morning, or at least what she assumed to be morning, a kalak would monotonously recite to her the information that she was required to know, like her name, names of wolves who were important to her, their appearance, some history on them, and without a doubt it was her responsibility to find them and bring them back. Past these fragments of information little else remained, it became buried somewhere in the back of her mind, it was no longer a priority to those who controlled her. And therefore it was not a priority for her. Her mind, memory, and life no longer belonged to her. She was a puppet, pinned up by the claws of her torturers and beat to a point where it almost didn’t hurt anymore. She danced, pranced, and bowed at their whim and as long as she was good little dancer she was rewarded with a night not riddled with rape, beatings and senseless torture or ‘fun’ as the guards liked to tease her. And then eventually one day, long after she had given up hope and had let herself fall under their spell, that same kalak who had recited monotony to her came and let her loose from confinement. And yet she had not run, curiously she had cocked her head, a glazed look of apathy having taken over her once lively orbs long ago, turned to the wolf. You have been assigned to rule a pack in Blossom Forest, Caidir Olc. You are to go, take the lead from the young heiress however you must, and carry out your tasks as you well know now. There will be reporters to come gather from you, what information you can gather. Do not fail, for there will be no pain greater than that of failure Sebring. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me would you? A small shake of her head, earned a smirking glimmer of ivories. A bite on her rump sent her racing off into the dying evening light. Days of travel ensued as she was weak to travel, but she gained weight day by day as she hunted her own prey once more, allowing herself proper rest, and there was none to disturb her sleep each night. And once in Blossom Forest she found herself reminiscing of what she remembered to be Caidir Olc. The title had left a vague sinking feeling in her stomach, but that old fear dissipated quickly, remembering the hell that would encompass her if she failed. The border was scentless, but it was clearly inhabited by the claw markings that ripped up the trunks of trees. This was where she had found the grieving child at the border. Laying there was body, untouched but clearly lifeless. The dark lass could not stifle the screaming sobs that racked her bodice as she rocked herself on the border. Sebring mustered up some piece of her former self, calling out gently to the little babe. The silvery Queen had known without a doubt that this was the young heiress that her reciter had mentioned to her, because her description matched to a tee, including the luminous rubies that glowered back at her when she made herself known. There was agony and suffering written her bloody pools, so unsure of herself, so very, very lost and in the opportune moment Sebring knew that this was her chance to take control. Sebring had gotten herself physically close to the child, who had named herself as Diosa, heiress and the technical Queen of Caidir Olc, though she was still too young to take the throne. She rambled on about not letting the Draven, the current equivalent of a Beta, from what Sebring could gather. The elder woman offered her sorrows and offered to help her bury the body of Diosa’s mother. Give her proper graces deserved of a Queen. This had earned her a place in the pack for the moment, she stayed close to the young child and each night she heard those soft whimpers she would go to comfort the young girl, who had yet to face the pack and release the truth of her mother’s whereabouts and demise. This went on for some days until Sebring managed to slip a word of offering to help her rule, for she had experience. Sebring had let slip small hints about her previous life as an Alphess, and this had brought a small light and smile to Diosa’s face. She had said that she would think on it, and within a few days the princess had returned to Sebring’s makeshift den and offered her a deal—Sebring would take control of pack, until Diosa reached proper age and could rule herself. She would still be the heir to the pack and have final say in decisions regarding her pack members and home. Sebring agreed graciously, leaving them with one thing to do: tell the pack. Diosa had taken Sebring to their center gathering point, in the dusk lit hours of the evening. Her petite voice carried out across the lands calling to her pack. Her frame seemed small atop the rock, but Sebring sat back, just behind her. The princess had wanted to release the information herself and try to calm what nerves may arise or quiet any quarreling that might occur. For life was just getting started… "They’re only baby scars," She whispers. |
Replies:
- BIG.BAD.WOLF - By Draven March 16, 2018 at 05:13:39 PM
Post a reply:
<--
-->