Hellraiser

Sicarus de Ericeto · 03-22-2010, 07:39 AM

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Word Count: 416 EWWW YOU STINK ;D

In Character

How could something like this happen? Sicarus had failed Haku; what had he done to spark the man's hatred? The tan-furred wolf had attempted to be a good servant to the dark Rosen; if only the man would give him a reason. If only he would reveal to the Italian wolf what had displeased him so, Sicarus might be alright with this. He had been trained to accept his punishment in the event of a failure; sometimes it was sufficient to simply self-harm, sometimes destruction was in order. He had failed his mentor and the monastery, but they were improper, incorrect—they did not understand. Sicarus had only been trying to make things better. The world did not need the whores and scum he had exterminated from the earth. Was Haku indicating with this act that he was no better?

The sound of flame was dim in the man's ears; the laughter only barely penetrated the foggy haze of pain and defeat overtaking the tawny-furred werewolf. He had failed, he had done wrong, and in death he was not even permitted to know why. The tawny wolf yelped as he was flipped over with a rough kick, thrashing weakly against the other man as he was picked up, dragged by the arm, and carried over the borders. His glazed eyes only barely saw the dancing flames as they were spreading; dimly in the distance, the sound of a coyote alarm rousing the night caught his attention. If the fire did not burn him, if Haku did not kill him... the coyotes would make damn certain to finish him off, that was for certain. He was aware of being lifted from the ground, blood still leaking from the large wounds torn in his body; he landed with a thump.

“Rrraghhh!” the wolf cried out weakly, the metal jaws of the trap snapping half-shut around his unfortunate hip, crushing the bones of it. Of course the trap could not shut completely with so much flesh in its jaws, but it did its work well; Sicarus would never walk a step again, even if he managed to escape the looming death facing him from three sides. Without warning, the wolf lost consciousness, whether it was from bloodloss or pain—his vision faded and he went completely limp, his breath barely causing his chest to rise. The only indication that he still lived was the blood still steadily streaming from his wounds, far too much to be a corpse yet.

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