[P] M - Dance with the devil came today
#1

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: graphic violence and potential bloodshed..


She was thrilled to be making her way back home after everything that had transpired during the Lancaster Stockshow. She was a promised woman now, a surprising feat that she wasn't even sure she understood. She had popped the question, as odd as it had sounded on her tongue, and her desire to spend her life with Aelin had not been disregarded as she had been fearful of at first. The woods between their and here had taken her several days to pass through and she had done all that mostly on foot.

Her wares, aside from a few things she had needed to travel on her own, had been sent back with Aelin and the rest along with Applewood since she had wanted to make a few stops before she returned. Aelin's gift, a dagger made of bone that Abilene had spent several weeks on, was mostly finished. It hadn't originally been intended for this particular kind of gift but life had taught her that she had to go for the things that meant something, even if it meant jumping the bow, so to speak.

Around her, bird chatter and that of the occasional other animal seemed nearly deafening. Amid that scuttling noise had come the occasional toss of a bubbling brook's waters against the shore, a fresh scent that accompanied it triggering the thirst that seemed prevalent at the backdrop of her senses. Her red hair had been pulled back into a braid that settled near the center of her back. She had her daggers to either side of her and at her back, her spear rested at an angle, its blade covered by a thin veil of cloth and leather so that she could grab it in an instant if she needed to.

Light crested the ridge behind her, shedding a sliver of its heat against the back of her neck as she trekked her way over a large hill and gradually came to a stop behind it. She knelt close to the ground and eyed the hoof print that grazed the soft earth at its peak. A herd must have been nearby. She was hungry.
#2

Wrath was dying to hurt someone. It was the first time he'd left the Thistle Kingdom since joining Salsola, and it had taken every last bit of willpower not to attack a fellow packmate by this point.

Wrath lived for only one thing: to induce fear, pain, or worse in all those he met. Although he had a premeditated murder in the works, it was not yet due to happen, so he was still vibrating with his own pestilential need and was looking for trouble. He would call it... practice.

It was another bright day; the air was a bit thicker than he would have liked, but stalking this woman was not without its rewards, particularly as she bent forward and knelt to examine the tracks. He growled with satisfaction.

By the time she began studying the trail, he was already moving at top speed. The only indication of his movement was the subtle thud of his paws tearing up the ground with every lurching stride. By the time the sound reached her ears, he was already upon her. Diving at her. An enormous wolf, legs thrown straight--fore and aft--claws extended, mouth apart, a destructive desire lighting his eyes.

As he descended from behind, he intended to pin her onto her front in the dirt before attempting to sink his teeth into her left Latissimus dorsi. 

Assuming that the first part of the attack went well, he'd begin disarming her. The gruff sound of his heavy breathing became noticeable, each exhale laced with an angered growl. His teeth clicked, snapped, grated together as he shuffled around on top of her, aiming to press one sizeable rear paw down onto the back of her neck while he dipped his massive head and went about tearing at her weapon belt with his scythe-like teeth.

The rage had been building for so long, it felt exhilarating to just let loose on someone again. No rules here, no stopping him! He had a new toy, and like a cat, he could keep clawing and biting until the next breath of the little mouse failed to be drawn.

"Now thish could be fun!" He said on a rolling wave of hideous laughter, with his mouth full of her belt.

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WC: 374
OOC: Please let me know if anything needs altering.
[Image: body-2.png]


Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
#3
Her ears twitched at the sound of paws smashing into the earth and for a moment, she found herself confused at what the sound might have been. Her back was turned to the noise and for some reason, the intertangle of trees, vines, and moss had made the sound echo from each location, making it hard for her to discern where it was coming from. She had settled in a place up wind where her scent was carried toward the noise, albeit unknown to her, and the scent of the potential attacker was left blank within her senses. Fear was not an emotion that Abilene felt on a regular basis. She had started reaching for her spear when she felt the air and wind change, too late to really do anything about what happened next.

Paws, heavy and sharp with their claws, dug into her back and she was sent reeling forward before she had a chance to catch herself with her arms and hands. Her face hit the ground first, a blur of stars etched into her vision alongside the taste of dirt and mulched, decayed leaves that left her gagged for breath. Her voice had become a yelp of surprise, followed by the gurgle that came next, a near wailing noise filled of her desperate need to escape.

Stunned by the fact that she was being attacked, she didn't have time to really do anything to fight back, at least not at first, and before she had known it, her aggressor had pinned her to the forest floor. As sharp teeth penetrated flesh, she felt the hot, sharp sting of blood dribbling down her back, soaking into fur and along her side and arms. She fought and struggled to push herself back off the ground, the pain enough to leave her gasping for breath. "I don't know who you are," she gasped, "but if you let me go now, we won't hunt you down." Her offer was assuming the creature wasn't some sort of monster or wild cat. She only smelled canine, though.

The sharp claws of his paws pressed into the back of her neck and she shifted and tugged at the ground to try and maneuver her way to freedom, heavy, frustrated grunts clogging her mouth and harsh sobbing, despite her better judgement, watering in her eyes. The sharp thud of pain that had come from him being on top of her made it hard to breathe but she did well enough, despite the taste of dirt on her tongue. "Let me go!" she voiced as her belt ripped, freeing her daggers from her body. Her spear felt splintered, broken, but it still clung to her even if if just partially, its blade digging through the leather to poke and prod at her. His voice was sickening, his laughter even more so. Like he was caught in the midst of a joke only he understood.
#4

He managed to satisfy two of her categories; he was both a canine and a monster. What other creature, with a thirst for terror and an addiction to power, would inflict such suffering on another without motive? No moral animal, no empathic type. 

He felt her surprise and fear rise from within as tension and little cries of futility. She didn't have a clue. She was becoming a toy, a plaything, a source of entertainment fallen to his whim, bullied into submission by his formidable size and strength.

"Oh excshellent!" He hissed at her threat. "You're not just going to exshpire in a little ball of tears and defeated whimpers? Good! Give me shomething to remember! Even if it's jusht a bit of mouth; or a silly little threat!"

He pressed harder on the back of her neck with his paw: "Stay fucking shtill!"

As he spoke, saliva sprayed over her back and tail. He snapped his neck to one side, and flung the belt well out of reach. 

He moved to bite her spear next, but his teeth clamped down only on an already broken shaft, and the shards of damaged wood sliced his dry and exposed gums on the mangled half of his face.

He forgot about the spear, lifted his hind paw, and released her neck. He aimed to sink his teeth into her right forearm and drag her over onto her back using the leverage of her right arm. Whether he pulled it from its socket would depend on how compliant she was.

He loomed over her, face to face; his teeth, coated with glistening scarlet gore, were exposed as a line of pearlescent and lethal scimitars. His voice rumbled in a wet and thick gurgling sound; blood bubbled from his tonsils and tongue.

"Now, which is it? Fasht or shlow? Do you want to savor your lasht moments in pain? Or do you want it to stop now? To all be over! As much as I would enjoy receiving your hunting party, that would require leaving you alive. I shee no reashon to keep you alive. Do you?"

The brute was lost in his frenzy. For the last few months he'd been forced to bite his tongue as he began to work his way upwards in the pack. For months, he had been unable to inflict his destruction within Salsola. He'd been spoken to like an idiot, not like the almighty entity he believed himself to be, but as a mere packmate, an equal. The rage ignited his confidence. He had no weapons, but he was going to kill her anyway. 

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WC:400+
[Image: body-2.png]


Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
#5
"Okay, okay! Just... stop, don't hurt me!" she begged. She hated that in the moment, she sounded so weak. There had always been a fire to her voice, to her actions. She had known when he'd barreled into her, when he'd spoken for the first time, that he was a canine. He didn't want her belongings. She had nothing that was of value aside from her weapons. Somehow, the necklace Aelin had given her had been undamaged. She had felt the hard stone as it dug into the flesh of her collarbone when his paw dug at the back of her neck and pinned her to the ground.

The fear and raging desire to live throughout this frightening ordeal she had found herself within had cleared her mind more than she thought it would have. She didn't have time to think clearly but the one imposing thought she had came from the crunch of splintering wood when it caught between the other canine's teeth. He was heavier than she had the ability to push herself off the ground with. His paw against her neck hadn't done her any favors.

With crimson flecked against the painful spots where his nails had dug into the back of her neck through her mane, she could smell her own blood which had rooted out the scent of freshwater that came with the potential onslaught of an eventual rainfall. She had gone still, inching that left arm of hers slowly behind her back before the painful grasp of teeth bit into her forearm. With tears that stung against her eyes and a relieved cry as her neck was freed, fingers had curled around the sharper part of her spear's head before finding that binding rope that that had tied it to her spear's shaft.

She willed what came next into existence and hoped that it was enough. When he pulled her over, the momentum of his harsh tug which sank fangs into her other arm's forearm became the pinnacle of her counterattack. Her fingers had curled around that rough part of the shaft of her spear, still holding onto the spear head beneath its blade, and she used all the strength in her left arm with his pull to rear back and smash it at the other canine's face just as his hot breath greeted her sense of smell. Spittle and blood, that's all she could smell, but if that attack proved itself viable, she forced herself to her feet, kicked all the while, before charging toward the woods with that spear head and the partial staff still in her grip.

Thunder cracked above head, the threatened downpour letting loose its first few drops that splashed eagerly on the trodden, leafy path she had chosen to make her escape with. He wanted to kill her and she'd given him all the reason, not that he'd had any before.
#6

It was this feeling of ultimate power that Wrath lived for. Using his physical might, holding another animal down while he decided their fate. It was a strange sensation, almost but not entirely related to sex. It was more than just that kind of dominance. It was an addictive ultimate degree of control—it made him feel deific!

Wrath decided that he enjoyed her struggles, her whimpers. Predictable but sweet, delectable sounds, and they made him want to drag this out as long as possible. This, however, unbeknownst to Wrath, would soon become his undoing.

He smelt blood, and like the emotionless shark he was, it focused his attention back on her, and it played havoc with his will that drove him to just sit and toy with her and enjoy the soft sounds of protest until she just ran out of energy and faded out.

"Oh, dear. I'm afraid I have to hurt you; I musht hurt you!" 

He laughed before pulling her over, and that's when it happened. For the first time in a long time, Wrath was caught off guard, a victim of his own ruthlessness. 

The cruel way he pulled her onto her back gave her attack an almightly momentum on the blind side of his face. The broken shaft smacked him so hard that he didn't feel it or see it. Instead, he just found himself stumbling diagonally backwards, wondering why his brain seemed to be suddenly disconnected from his feet. By the time he regained his balance, her foot had slammed directly into his nose, and he actually fell this time. As big as he was, one concussive blow from a spear handle, followed by a shot at such a sensitive organ, was enough to fell the almost indestructible brute. He landed on his side and left a Wrath-sized crater in the ground.

His terrifying fortitude would become apparent at that point when he practically bounced to his feet. He set off at a flat out sprint behind her, his claws kicking up scoop-fulls of dirt that scattered the ground in his wake.

"I'll fucking kill you!He shouted and snarled the words through sprays of spit, gore and blood-red anger. 

A lightning bolt split the sky, and the patter of bulbous raindrops rattled in the canopy. Wrath pursued her, full of adrenaline, in his mind he was running through all of the horrible ways he would repay her for this embarrassment. The difference in speed would be noticeable, and in his Secui form, he'd soon be 'on her tail.'

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WC: 400+
[Image: body-2.png]


Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
#7
His statement, though slurred, seemed to have stricken some chord within her. It solidified what she already knew, that she had no other choice but to fight back against the stronger halfling who had taken her by surprise. There had been no other alternative, no denial that she was in danger from the beginning. No one would attack someone the way she had been if they did not mean them some sort of integral harm. When she had finally lashed out with all of her weight behind her arm, her canine assailant became a victim himself of the cruelty behind the fractured wood of her broken spear shaft.

There was no scent of his blood to trigger any sort of reaction from her except for the need to flee. Her foot had caught his nose when he'd reeled back, giving him cause to do so even further with a sharp, almost ear piercing whine that she wasn't even sure he had noticed.

That's when she had run. With the rain at her back and thunder and lightning in the air, the world had suddenly become more dangerous than ever. She had felt, and heard, the thud of footprints behind her, so loud that it seemed to drown out the pitter patter of rain on the forest floor, catching half-rotten leaves from the years before and the vegetation of the world around her now. Perhaps that's why she hadn't noticed the sharp incline of the hill before her, the sudden drop, near vertical.

She had turned to look in his direction and her had found nothing on the ground to keep her connection to the earth. She plummeted, at first only a few feet, missing the heavy branch of a tree that would have knocked her unconscious. Instead, she landed sharply on the ground and in mud, sodden earth, and debris that led along the jagged coast of a brook that seemed to move rather quickly in the direction away from the wrathful canine who was following her.

With the wind having suddenly been knocked from her lungs in the fall, she gasped for breath for what felt like several moments before her wind had finally caught back up with her. Muddy, desperate to escape since she had a feeling that he had not given up, she had scrambled to her feet as quickly as possible. The first half of her legs had been enough to keep her in the brook's direction without clamoring forward and against the brook's current. She followed it, limping at an unsteady pace.

Her hand curled around the broken shaft of her spear, still armed with the blade as well. She had at least saved it in the midst of her escape. Her right arm hurt where he'd bitten her, the pain in her neck a steady throb. She had felt the bruises forming beneath her fur, the soreness that wouldn't quite fade.
#8

He snapped his teeth, just missing her ankle moments before she dropped out of sight. She fell away so suddenly that Wrath barely had any time to react. He steered hard left, and his hind legs slipped off the vertical drop. He scrambled with his forelegs and, with a firm kick to the thick branch below, he was able to pull himself back onto the ledge the woman had just dropped off. He growled, spinning back around and looking down.

She was still alive! Still moving! He'd been outmanoeuvred and outrun, and his panting breaths came thick and furious.

"I was jusht going to kill you! Now it will be far worse!"

He found a slightly worn pass running parallel to the brook, which then seemed to descend as if temped towards a large pile of boulders from a landslip. He could do it. He ran along the top of the plateau, and as the gradient lowered, he glanced over the edge. She was moving in the direction of the boulders ahead, and he jumped for them.

He leapt off the cliff edge and landed heavily. His claws, now extended, gouged lines out of the rock as he slid further than he'd accounted for. The rock gave way to another drop, and he landed on the floor in a heap. Now behind her, he could see her limping along in the distance, but she had a good headstart. He gave chase once more. The long grass and soft ground were challenging to navigate, but he moved more quickly than she did. Occasionally she eased around a corner, and he lost sight of her.

He did not pursue quietly. His large frame smashed through small bushes and even slender tree trunks, breaking everything in his way to get to her. He was enraged; his own arrogance had gotten the better of him.

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WC: 300+

[Image: body-2.png]


Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...


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