show me your teeth

Sicarus de Ericeto · 01-10-2010, 08:42 PM

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Word Count: 812

In Character

War. The word rattled the pale-gold wolf's very bones, shaking him to the core. Sicarus had never engaged in war before. Though he'd studied the long and bloody tales of the Crusades, he knew that actually participating in war, actually fighting for something his leader believed in, was an entirely different thing. Sicarus was not a soldier; his training had granted him defensive skills and the ability to fight, but Sicarus's use of these skills were limited to one-on-one combat, encounters where he had the definite element of surprise—the Italian wolf was a creeper, sliding through the shadow of the city, disguising himself in dank alleyways and creeping through the foul underbelly of the city. There were prostitutes, whores aplenty for him to find and slash at their throats, tearing their lives from their bodies. They weren't worthy of even the air they breathed.

It was thanks to this that Sicarus was well-versed in violence, even if he was uncertain of war and battle. He was used to spilling blood, and that in and of itself would prove useful in time. The first kill was often the hardest, but for Sicarus, it was the easiest, the one he'd taken the most pleasure in—the tawny-furred once-monk had reveled in that first death, enjoying every tiny drop of blood flowing from the traveler's throat. The man had offended Sicarus's beliefs in some way; the pale-furred Italian did not even remember what the man had said to cause such a rage to flow through his body. Before he knew it, his brothers were screaming and pulling him off of the man. Their efforts were too late, too little, and the lifeless body of that first kill had fallen to the floor, his intestines spilling into the afternoon's sunlight.

Perhaps Brother Jodacus had made a mistake in releasing him; Sicarus did not bother to think of the dark-furred man very often anymore. Sic had put the monastery and his past behind him; he did not bother to think of such things anymore. There was a new leader to follow and a new enemy to fight—Inferni. He did not know anything about them or even his present pack; the pale-furred wolf had to serve Haku's will, and to best serve his leader, he had to learn everything there was to know about Inferni. After procuring directions from one of his (male) packmates, the tawny-furred wolf had set off for Inferni, unsure of what a coyote even was—he'd never seen one before in his life. The sun was beginning to set, and Sicarus figured now was as good a time as any to investigate the pack's neighbors and enemies.

The tawny-furred man took no notice of the sky above and the oncoming twilight as he stole toward the Inferni border, leaving from the coastal part of Dahlia de Mai to make his way quickly toward the foreign soil. There was calm confidence in Sicarus, though it stemmed from ignorance more than anything—he had never engaged in war before, and he did not know just how vicious a threatened clan could protect its borders. Still, the strange scents of these creatures began to waft into his nose as he drew closer toward their border, his hood drawn up against his face. He was brand new to Dahlia de Mai, but the meeting had insured he smelled just like the rest of the pack, as did the few days he'd spent in their midst. The werewolf smelled the border clearly, and though some deep-seeded wolf's instinct called for him to remain on his own side, the wolf trod across it, his behavior changing the moment he was within the coyote's territory. He drew closer to the ground, crouched almost totally over himself, lifting his feet and spreading his toes to make as little noise as possible.

A very fresh scent caught his nose and caused it to wrinkle, for it was distinctly female. The wolf decided this female smelled rather weak—there was something almost subservient in her scent, mingled clearly with the scent of another female. Perfect prey—Sicarus of Dahlia de Mai would strike here and now in Haku's name, and he would do it swiftly and silently. Creeping along the woman's scent trail, Sic did not take long to track down the pale coyote, his dark cloak shrouding him and blending him in with the shadows—he would help his leader's cause, he would bring down at least one member of this damnable clan tonight. A rare smile of pure excitement crossed Sicarus's face; this was almost like a game to the tawny wolf. He could see her several feet in front of him now, and with one final crouch and spring, he was flying through the air toward the smaller canine's side, aiming to hit her shoulder and drag her down.

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