Post by Raikin on Apr 23, 2006 10:50:20 GMT -5
Now I will tell you what I’ve done for you…
Crimson-marked face looked up to the starlit sky as the Alpha took in a deep breath of the still night air, the moons semi-crescent shape reflected strongly in deep amber eyes. Pupils darted from side to side as he drank in the breath-catching view, but it was hatred for the beauty that drove him to sneer, not a love of the natural wonder. Brows creased as orbs glared, fire raging inside their shiny lenses. Demons sang and danced in the pools tinged with red, as he lowered his crania, spitting on the snow-laiden floor. Damn this cold. Damn this season. Winter brought nothing. Whilst the freezing low temperatures were much softer on his hard pelt that the glaring rays of summer, it did nothing for the amount of prey or life upon the lands. And as the ruler, it was this he desired. A pack could not run on an empty stomach, and if pups were to be born in the coming spring, they’d better find some food soon. But, much to his disappointment, most of his comrades had recently vanished, to places unknown. Why? He had no idea. But he would personally track down their sorry asses and plunge their good-willed souls into the depths of Hell, if that was what it took to teach them a lesson. For where was revenge if your enemy didn’t feel it? No, betrayed him, and you would be hunted down like a common dog until your corpse rotted on the ground, mere carrion for the birds of morning. A low, menacing chuckle escaped his lips as he thought of them all, down on the ground, begging for his mercy, trying their best to find a glimmer of sympathy in his cold stone heart. They would never find it. He was the Alpha of the Mist pack, and years upon years of selected breeding had driven out the humanity inside him, until he was nothing more than a killing machine, youth and spirit stamped out a young age. But what else did he know? He was born this way, and as sure as Hell would never change, not for anybody. Growling softly, he pawed the ground in mild anger, claws striking the snow with surprising force, deep gashes left in its pure surface. His pack would get back on track. He would make sure of it. Armies worthy of kings, he’d take on anyone who spoke foul of them, and their dominance would be know. That would shove it in the faces of those damned Sunai’s! The hatred for that pack ran deep in his veins, coursing in his blood, and the reason had been lost to time and memory. But one thing was certain – It was a rivalry that would last an eternity, unless the tides changed. And that was pretty unlikely. All life in the valley recently seemed to have grown quiet, and, unknown to any of the wolves, including Raikin; it was merely the calm before the storm. Things were about to start; nature was holding its breath, waiting for a legend to come to pass.
Fifty thousand tears I’ve cried…
Raikin pointed his head to the sky to call his pack members. This was their camp now. He howled to the night sky to bring them to him.
Crimson-marked face looked up to the starlit sky as the Alpha took in a deep breath of the still night air, the moons semi-crescent shape reflected strongly in deep amber eyes. Pupils darted from side to side as he drank in the breath-catching view, but it was hatred for the beauty that drove him to sneer, not a love of the natural wonder. Brows creased as orbs glared, fire raging inside their shiny lenses. Demons sang and danced in the pools tinged with red, as he lowered his crania, spitting on the snow-laiden floor. Damn this cold. Damn this season. Winter brought nothing. Whilst the freezing low temperatures were much softer on his hard pelt that the glaring rays of summer, it did nothing for the amount of prey or life upon the lands. And as the ruler, it was this he desired. A pack could not run on an empty stomach, and if pups were to be born in the coming spring, they’d better find some food soon. But, much to his disappointment, most of his comrades had recently vanished, to places unknown. Why? He had no idea. But he would personally track down their sorry asses and plunge their good-willed souls into the depths of Hell, if that was what it took to teach them a lesson. For where was revenge if your enemy didn’t feel it? No, betrayed him, and you would be hunted down like a common dog until your corpse rotted on the ground, mere carrion for the birds of morning. A low, menacing chuckle escaped his lips as he thought of them all, down on the ground, begging for his mercy, trying their best to find a glimmer of sympathy in his cold stone heart. They would never find it. He was the Alpha of the Mist pack, and years upon years of selected breeding had driven out the humanity inside him, until he was nothing more than a killing machine, youth and spirit stamped out a young age. But what else did he know? He was born this way, and as sure as Hell would never change, not for anybody. Growling softly, he pawed the ground in mild anger, claws striking the snow with surprising force, deep gashes left in its pure surface. His pack would get back on track. He would make sure of it. Armies worthy of kings, he’d take on anyone who spoke foul of them, and their dominance would be know. That would shove it in the faces of those damned Sunai’s! The hatred for that pack ran deep in his veins, coursing in his blood, and the reason had been lost to time and memory. But one thing was certain – It was a rivalry that would last an eternity, unless the tides changed. And that was pretty unlikely. All life in the valley recently seemed to have grown quiet, and, unknown to any of the wolves, including Raikin; it was merely the calm before the storm. Things were about to start; nature was holding its breath, waiting for a legend to come to pass.
Fifty thousand tears I’ve cried…
Raikin pointed his head to the sky to call his pack members. This was their camp now. He howled to the night sky to bring them to him.
