Post by Fenris Fenrir on Dec 25, 2005 0:11:25 GMT
ooc: Okay; here is how this thread shall work. It will be open to all and any, but after a certain someone posts (you know who you are); all are welcome.
ic: The Lord of the Hunt had returned to the realm that he frequented a great deal more than many did. He was tasked to eliminate and discourage any attempts to go deep into the Graveyard and with his word given; he would remain the watcher of the Graveyard until otherwise. Settling down in his usual patch of crumpled and brown grass, the wolf lay in it's neither comforting nor comfortable womb and soon sleep dwelt on his eyes and he was whisked into a realm of infinite possibilities.
In his dreams, he dreamt that someday all his hopes would be realized; everything that he had been promised for his services would be made to pass. He dreamt of a forest; a forest that was the same when Richard Rutherford first came into this magical world; this world that proved to be his labyrinth. The Forest was in the full attire of Fall; it's molting majesty enough to put any being at peace. And in the midst of his Forest, the Forest Pack prospered and expanded it's reign to all corners of the Forest. They co-existed with it's other denizens and there was peace. And he, an aged lycan, was surrounded by all the young of the pack and was in the midst of telling a tale; a tale of how he once was one of the most feared lycans in his time; despite his grizzled looks that came with age.
Peace of body and peace of mind; the few things in life that Fenrir wanted for himself, yet they never were in his reach. To obtain peace; he had to make war. To have peace of mind, he had to slaughter until he could do so no more and only when he bathed in the fluids of his foes could he relax to some extent of the word. The countless battles in his mind that were fought; the wounds that would never heal no matter how much time passed.
But then his dream suddenly changed; he was there in the Graveyard; growling at students that surrounded him and roared out in agony as countless spells struck his massive body. Yet the man he was bound to; he was there. He who had the ability to help Fenrir, after all that the lycan had done in his name, just watched with a look of grim content as Fenrir was overwhelmed by endless spells and countless hexes. Realizing that his honor that he had given to this man was so lightly tossed aside, Fenrir howled and charged into the mass of students; only to have his eyes widen with pain as something pierced into his gut.
No longer did students assault Fenrir, but the demons that he had fought took their place. Issac's cane sword had stabbed him in the stomach; the lycan's intestines reeling in tantalizing agony. Lothani charged at him from the right and the black leopard sunk her teeth into his neck as she thrust him to the ground. And all the while; one voice echoed in his mind.
Betrayed.....betrayed....betrayed and left to die.....betrayal of the worst magnitude.
ic: The Lord of the Hunt had returned to the realm that he frequented a great deal more than many did. He was tasked to eliminate and discourage any attempts to go deep into the Graveyard and with his word given; he would remain the watcher of the Graveyard until otherwise. Settling down in his usual patch of crumpled and brown grass, the wolf lay in it's neither comforting nor comfortable womb and soon sleep dwelt on his eyes and he was whisked into a realm of infinite possibilities.
In his dreams, he dreamt that someday all his hopes would be realized; everything that he had been promised for his services would be made to pass. He dreamt of a forest; a forest that was the same when Richard Rutherford first came into this magical world; this world that proved to be his labyrinth. The Forest was in the full attire of Fall; it's molting majesty enough to put any being at peace. And in the midst of his Forest, the Forest Pack prospered and expanded it's reign to all corners of the Forest. They co-existed with it's other denizens and there was peace. And he, an aged lycan, was surrounded by all the young of the pack and was in the midst of telling a tale; a tale of how he once was one of the most feared lycans in his time; despite his grizzled looks that came with age.
Peace of body and peace of mind; the few things in life that Fenrir wanted for himself, yet they never were in his reach. To obtain peace; he had to make war. To have peace of mind, he had to slaughter until he could do so no more and only when he bathed in the fluids of his foes could he relax to some extent of the word. The countless battles in his mind that were fought; the wounds that would never heal no matter how much time passed.
But then his dream suddenly changed; he was there in the Graveyard; growling at students that surrounded him and roared out in agony as countless spells struck his massive body. Yet the man he was bound to; he was there. He who had the ability to help Fenrir, after all that the lycan had done in his name, just watched with a look of grim content as Fenrir was overwhelmed by endless spells and countless hexes. Realizing that his honor that he had given to this man was so lightly tossed aside, Fenrir howled and charged into the mass of students; only to have his eyes widen with pain as something pierced into his gut.
No longer did students assault Fenrir, but the demons that he had fought took their place. Issac's cane sword had stabbed him in the stomach; the lycan's intestines reeling in tantalizing agony. Lothani charged at him from the right and the black leopard sunk her teeth into his neck as she thrust him to the ground. And all the while; one voice echoed in his mind.
Betrayed.....betrayed....betrayed and left to die.....betrayal of the worst magnitude.
... 