Melt Away, Sunrise of Mine.

[Graf]

(OOC) As I can imagine, I'm gonna get mauled and some stuff for intruding here. However, I'd like the random violence to wait, at least until the designated party stumbles across this. You know who you are. In other words, Invite only, at least for the first few posts. Thank you.

(BIC) Short indigo tresses fluttered upon a young man's face, still matted down heavily from the 'midnight dip' he partook of just a short while ago. Striding evenly through the forest at the pace of a night-time stroller, Graf reflected a satisfied grin as he looked down upon his body. With the exception of the now faint scrape across his cheek from the cannon-like bullet that seered his skin, the impish dastard had come away from that overall imposingly threatening situation without any real injuries. One would label him a fool to enter here so soon after, regarding the twisted rep this place carried with a smile.

Not one to demean the territorial instincts of these creatures, but the lingering confidence in his smile expressed little fear in any outward attack. Afterall, he had no desire to hurt any of these creatures. Yet. Especially since the young man, clothed like a sopping Head Boy, saught an audiance with a particular creature of this forest. One that he imagined were actually interested in the words Graf wished to convey. He only hoped that the scent of the object Graf had obtained had guided him to the correct territory.

[Fenris Fenrir]

From the depths of the darkened Forest, one being caught the scent of a new presense in it's domain. Yet the scent of the smell brought a snarl upon the creatures lips as it placed; drawing deep into the confines of it's memories to register who the scent was connected to. That fool of a boy that stood up to him; the one that dared to challenge the beast that was within the creature. Swiftly raising to it's feet, the creature started to run, rather rampage, through the Forest as it headed for the scent. It was driving him mad how the boy had truly done nothing to Fenrir and yet it was perfect timing that allowed the boy to tell him to leave while Fenrir was already weakened. He hated that sense of vunerability and wanted to purge it from his veins, but first his veins would be purified with the blood of his foe.

Small saplings smashed and splintered as Fenrir raced closer and closer to his target; the unsuspecting prey that had entered into the wood. Surely the boy must have known that coming into the home of Fenrir meant death. What was that fool trying to accomplish? What would he gain if he succeeded in the whatever goal festered in that already rotting brain of a human? Well; he would have to think about the present; because the future is something that no one has to worry about when their Death meets them head on.

With a roar, the silver-grey blur of a lycan burst out from the brush and tackled the human to the floor. But once he pinned him there and looked down into the face of his victims, Fenris noticed that the eyes didn't match the boy that stood against him. Those eyes had burned with righteous rage; the eyes that he gazed into now where those of vile distortions and despicable deeds. So what was he to do with this one finish him off and cast the human's body for the crows to feed on or would he hear this human beg? It had been a long time since the lycan had heard any one beg for their lives in front of him.

Well Human; speak.

[Graf]

A flash of black light enveloped the middle of the young man's yellow irises; the impact was quite adaquate in making him black out briefly as he hit the forest floor. His fluttering eyelids revealed a most disheartening sight, the view of a murderous beast. His smile returned, albeit winded by the lycan whom pinned him down by the chest. He was a tad surprised, seeing as the aprehensive creature did not take hold of a scent on Graf's person, one that should have stood outright almost immediately.

With some small measure of difficulty, Graf lifted himself up, letting his brainwaves creep almost involuntarily into the lycan's head, just to make sure he heard.

Whom is this that addresses me? Could it be the master of the wolf, the pretentious God of the Hunt Fenris Fenrir? Or should this be addressed to the mischievious assassin, Loki? Graf's pupils narrowed to daggers as his thoughts raced at an even, articulate pace. His sneer widened as his face stopped short, a trusting mere inches away from the muzzle of this beast.

If you should call me anything, then look at me as the beast whom ceaselessly chases the sun maiden, the one whom shall devour her, derailing her chariot and widowing her child at the sunset of her life. Call me, Skoll.

At that last word, Graf's arm snapped outward, propelling an object from inside his sleeve. In that same motion he retracted his arms, bringing a calculated slash centimeters from Fenris's ear. The blood of that redhead was cleaned from it, but her scent obviously still perveyed from the metal. Fenris wished him to speak? This was all he needed. His arm stopped bent, allowing the surprised lycan full view to examine the throwing knife.

Or am I perhaps mistaken? Has destiny saught it fit that another wolf bite her throat? Graf hoped that his cryptic play on words drove its point home to the scholarly lycan; the two of them were both a pair of monsters. And a pair that held a seething hatred for a certain aloof blonde. Truth be told, Graf held no particular interest in the boy's pupil, unless it meant harming her to bring more misery to the Head Boy.

But that was another place and person entirely. If the lycan did not buy into what he had to say next, Graf may very well not leave this spot. But then again, the lycan was not exactly in the safest of positions like he may have believed. Graf would not be such easy prey.

[Fenris Fenrir]

This human...this mortal seemed too cocky in himself for no look of fear passed over his eyes; Fenrir couldn't see or smell any such thing and that worried him momentarily. If a being that had no fear of what could befall upon them came to the Forest; either they had a death wish or they had a purpose of great need or potential. This man did not have the scent of Death upon him, so he must want something with the Forest; with Fenris Fenrir. Yet why him of all creatures? Yes, Fenris was abnormally large for a lycan and could take many hits before succumbing to pain but there were far more powerful creatures in this world than he; so this human wanted him for a specific reason.

How interesting.

The Human's monologue did catch Fenris in the unawares though; he didn't expect such a human to try and flatter him. Yet more became clear as the human continued with his little speech. So; this one called himself Skoll, the black wolf that chases the Sun maiden every day. Yet how was this Sun maiden of his, for no one would call themselves by such a name unless they perfectly fit into the story. Skoll left him with so many blanks; so many gaps that needed to be filled and yet Fenris knew what such answers would either be withheld or told to him in time. With if he considered the cryptic offer that was presented to him.

Yet all hopes of winning the services of Fenris Fenrir could have been lost within a moment when Skoll drew a knife from the folds of his clothing and Fenris bared his teeth in a gesture of warning, but stopped when the human held it in front of Fenris' eyes. That knife....it was the same one that he had thrown at a girl in a delightful game of darts; one that was left unresolved with the interference of other students. The human wanted his services to kill this girl? Is that what he wanted so dearly or was something else hidden from him?

Slowly backing off of the human, Fenris looked Skoll in the eyes and harshly manipulated his brain waves so that he could be heard. Yes; you have come across Fenris Fenrir, the Shepherd of the Forest and sole aggressor against all mankind. And I am not the trickster that you speak of; otherwise I would not be a wolf in the first place.

Yet flattery will get you nowhere Skoll, and what is even more you dare say that I would let some other wolf slay which is rightfully mine! After what she did to me; the embarrassment that came with that girl is unforgivable. You are pushing your luck, Skoll, so get to the point. You have made it clear that you need me for something, that you have sought me out for a reason, yet you never have specified why.

Speak, wolf that chases the Maiden, what is it that you want of Fenris Fenrir?

[Graf]

The pressure was thankfully removed from his ribcage as the giant wolf removed his weight and sat a short distance away. Graf could not help but release a small giggle, knowing that the situation was bound to play out as he had hoped. Afterall, these two could easily have come to the exchange of drawing each other's blood. But that predential carrot held in front of the lycan's nose, just over this spiralling rabbit hole, seemed to great a temptation for this ambitious creature to pass up.

Supporting himself on his palms, Graf gazed upon the now flustered yet inquisitive Fenris. Offering a smile, his outward thoughts continued.

It will be my pleasure, Mr. Sheppard of the Woods. The truth is.....

I hold no quarrel with the maiden, much as mythology would have it. My purpose in this world was never to merely make a meal out of She whom lights the sky. The maiden who's hair burns with a deep orange fire.....you've already taken to her yourself, am I wrong? Pausing for a moment, the glint in Graf's eyes became ever more dangerous with each passing word. They shined with an erie gold hue, masculating the words that were next to come.

My desires lie in the destruction of another beauty. One untouchable by any mere mortal being. And that, my dear Wolf God, is where our common hates bridge together. Upon finishing that sentence, the dark young man rose to his feet, opening his arms in an inviting gesture.

Our hates tie together to a single young man, one who's clothes are identical to these, one who's natural beauty only hopes to hold comparison to my own. Our destinies lie in the murder of Kezaa Krushiev, and all that he holds dear!! toying once more with the timing and rising inflection of his words, his arm swung out, drawing out his sword from seemingly out of thin air. He of course was not close enough to bring any alarm to the lycan, but it seemed that his sword, a vampire weapon in origin, could not strain to remain hidden any further at the mention of spilling that blonde man's blood. Several carrion birds also disppersed behind Graf, abandoning the thought of feasting on this villian.

[Fenris Fenrir]

Kezaa Krushiev...

So it was from him that many of these troubles and one of his deepest hatreds had sprung. That man was rated on the same level of hatred that Fenris placed Xavier and the nameless, black lycan. Beyond anything; he would love to see the ends of those two and what would make vengence all the sweet was that if he was the one that silenced their songs of Life.

Well, this Kezaa Krushiev had now joined that circle of foes that needed to be destroyed whenever the opportunity arose; and Skoll offered that they both take on Krushiev and cast him down. Well; Fenrir could not resist such an offer; the chance to kill two of those that did him injury was too great a lull for the blood-thirsty lycan to refuse.

With a new light dancing in his eyes, Fenris imagined clamping down on the throats of Krushiev and that vile red-head. Tasting their fresh; having it burn his throat with it's flavor and having it cooled down with the sweet feel of blood as all was consumed by the lycan. Such temptations could not be resisted; this was something that he had to do; he needed to taste the flesh of Krushiev; he wanted to bask in the pain that he, Fenris Fenrir, would wreck upon Kezaa. He desired to break Kezaa Krushiev in his jaws and let his vast maw consume him.

Raising from his sitting position, Fenris took to all fours and rose his head to the Sky and let out a howl that shook the trees and startled any of the wildlife that heard his wrathful call. This was his sign of acceptence; he would take down Krushiev with Skoll; together they would defeat him. But as the howl of Fenrir began to die down, it came blasting back with such volume that is caused Fenris to shudder when letting out his warcry, so lo; the Sun had started to rise. A new day was now upon them; a glorious day with changes anew and aplenty.

Fenrir and Skoll, born from Norse myths; would raise for the Great Hunt; the Hunt of Krushiev. Together; nothing would be able to hinder them and any that tried would be either destroyed or consumed. Yet the lungs of Fenris Fenrir tired after a time and slowly the howl died out among the trees of the Forest; still echoing slightly in it's death throes. Letting his blazing gaze fall on Skoll once more, Fenris' chest heaved in and out yet there was no sign of strain on the lycan. Instead there was a look of utmost pleasure and undescribable passion of the Hunt written on his muzzle.

'Let the Hunt begin!'

[Graf]

Graf was admittedly impressed. Deeply laden in the frown that wrinkled the wolf's muzzle was a delierious fury that could not be soothed by any celestial force, save for the velvet touch of victimized blood splattering his fine coat. For the first time, Graf actually found himself moved. Moved by a resent and hatred that paralleled his own.

Even though Graf himself was born for the purpose to hate. And kill. The direct antithesis of Kezaa's unbreakable sense of justice. And the downside of Kezaa's unquenchable love for his darling Jesika. This was why the taste of that woman's flesh lingered freshly on his tongue. Why her clean scent would not stop sticking to him.

Why Graf absolutely hated that woman.

"Come, then." was what he finally breathed aloud. Bursting forth in a heated sprint, the human was surprisingly able to keep a pace like that of an animal. He had no time to tarry, afterall.

Hogsmeade awaited them.

[Fenris Fenrir]

Well; there was no time to lose. Now was the hour of the Human's damnation; now was their time to feel the brunt of war-like wrath. Far too long had they gone without such suffering; it would be best to reacquint them to it before it came on full blast. The tide of sorrow was coming; the dawn of angst grew near. All would cower in fear once the combined might of Skoll and Fenrir was unleashed. But now Fenris had to focus on getting to their target. He didn't know where Skoll had in mind to attack and lay waste to, but he did know that nothing would hinder him. Flame; rock; air; water; earth; none of these things would slow him down. Not he; Fenris Fenrir!

And so the behemoth of a lycan took off after Skoll; his silver-grey pelt rippling with the rate at which Fenrir moved at. The crisp feel of wind against his face put new vigor into the chest of Fenris and he increased his pace to match that of Skoll's. For a human; he could keep his pace very well, but no one that Fenris had ever met could outrace Fenris unless he let them do so. Soon Fenris ran alongside his partner in what would soon become genocide and let out a long and braying howl as they raced off into the unknown.

The Hunt was on.