So it Begins...The Rise of the Forest

[Fenris Fenrir]

Once again did the red sun rise above the village of Hogsmeade. Once more did it's inhabitants bustle about with the daily affairs of life and forgetting about the troubles of the world. Once more had the villagers rebuilt what was once destroyed in a towering inferno; now only to have a inferno of renewed vigor revisit it's docile streets. And once more did a lone man stand on a hill about a quarter mile away from the town. On this hill, only the remains of wild flowers remained from the man's last visit and it seemed that they would never grow again. What a pity.

Suddenly, the wind picked up and the Sun was momentarily hidden by clouds; the perfect cover for what was about to take place. It was all for the better that the cloud cover had increased, for it would mean that no owl or broom rider would be able to see the mayhem that was about to commence; they would only hear the agonizing screams of men and the shrieks of women and children as they were torn limb from limb by a new power. This power had been dormant for some time now, but with the return of Chailyn; the Forest was now a force to be reckoned with. If there was legends of old that told of a mighty pack that once dwelt with the Forbidden Forest's depths and made war against their kin of the Tunnels; then those legends were about to be relived.

Fenris Fenrir, lycan of the Forest and a lord of the Hunt, watched with little remorse as he picked out potential victims from the crowd while awaiting for two more of his like to arrive before he began. There was the baker; he looked like a man that lived off what he made, for his bulk though most likely all fat, was calling out in Fenrir's mind as the appetizer. Then there was the butcher; now there was a fine specimen of a man with a good height and well-built muscles to boot; this man would be the Entree. And lastly, after looking around for sometime; Fenris Fenrir found his dessert. The Candlestick maker; as skinny as a rail, but such humans tended to be filled with flavor and that was what Fenris was after.

Then again..those three would not be enough to satisfy Fenris' cravings for blood, flesh and gore; he would have to have more, more and more to only begin to whet his appetite. The fire in his black eyes started to burn all the brighter, he started to feel himself give way to the bloodthirsty madness that was about to commence when the slaughter of Hogsmeade began for a second time; yet he had enough control left to wait. But only for a little longer, for the longer he waited; the longer he lusted; and the longer he lusted; the less control over himself he would have.

And now the red sun began to slowly peer out from behind the clouds; seemingly reluctant to watch what was about to unfold.

[Fáylinn]

The sun shone in an orangey red, it was a beautiful sight, and it would turn out to only be more beautiful once the scene had the smell of blood, and the red decoration that would lie about once the deed was done. The lycaness felt a great deal of excitement, it had been a long while since she had maimed a victim, she was truly delighted to be engaged in such a menacing activity. A pure sinister smile overcame that calm face, a look that only a true maniac could muster. It suited her well for what was about to come.

Faylinn was a good 5’6” some considered her short, and others found her tall, she knew according to Forest Lycan standards she was a shrimp, but it only deceived people of her power. Along with good height came a good, well-built figure, she sported a white tank top meeting with the tip of dark jeans and a leather belt, a diamond star holding it together. Her pants were tucked into wide black boots, and she trudged towards the tall man that she had met briefly.

She fingered her hat, pulling it down slightly to adjust the position of the rising sun, now standing beside the tall lycan known as Fenris Fenrir. She stood for a moment, trying to pick out a victim who looked tasty enough to satisfy her torture and blood lust. She decided she’d just attack a bunch of humans, and see which best suited her appetite.

“Fenris,” she now said, with a nod of her head, “pleasure again,” her hands hooked on her jean pockets, observing the scene through hungry eyes. This brutal murder was going to be a huge success, she shivered slightly at all the blood that would be staining Hogsmeade – her shiver wasn’t one of disgust, but excitement traveling through her body.

The lycaness peered in all directions, no sign of the other, blonde man.

[Tacitus]

“Chaos in the midst of chaos isn't funny, but chaos in the midst of order is”

The words were uttered from near, a smile could be heard twitching at the lips of the speaker as the words poured forth. Stepping forward, Tacitus took his place by Fenris and Faylinn on the hill, looking down at the seemingly peaceful place. “Nice to see you two again, Fenris, Faylinn, and especially on such circumstances,”

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his long black duster, Tacitus rose his eyebrow ever so slightly, “You think they’ll scream real loud for us?” He ask, his voice quivering with excitement. The prospect at causing mayhem always excited him, even before he became a lycan. Everyone had always said what a sick little child he had been. Who knew they were all actually right?

Running a hand through his spiky blonde hair, Tacitus turned his blue gaze to look at the other two, whilst pulling his Zippo from his pocket with his other hand, “When can we start?” He asked anxiously, nearly bouncing from foot to foot. It had been so long since he had made someone scream in pain. Since he had tasted tears that had fallen from someone’s eyes while desperately pleading for their life. Today was going to be fun.

[Fenris Fenrir]

With the arrival of his two comrades; Fenris couldn't help up maniacally smile as the tension increased as the wait lengthened. It seemed that the crescendo was at it's height; the gun was raised in the air and the hankerchief in the fair lady's hand was about to be dropped. Fenris felt the blood inside of him reaching a boiling point; a point where it seemed to burn him from inside out, and the only way to release this energy was through slaughter; but by letting this destructive energy build up within him was the key for his problems; he would have such a reserve of energy that only a warrior of great renown could even halt his advance.

And there were no great warriors of old in Hogsmeade; only bumpkins that used their fists when they sought to resolve their problems.

Fenris Fenrir turned his gaze from the sleepy town to the excited companions at his side and he said in a voice that seemed to be lsoing all control, "Well Tacitus and Faylinn; I am not going to hold you back at all. Just remember; leave some humans alive so we can have more hunts like this in the future and remember to bring back something as token of our success that shall happen this day. With further ado, let the games commence."

With that said and done, Fenris let loose a roar and charged down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him towards the first row of buildings. His raven-black hair and black overcoat flew from behind him as his mad rush to the villagers picked up more speed in his race down the hill. Within moments, Fenris was just 100 feet outside of the village and the first victim that he saw in his path was a child of 12 years. The girl didn't wear the robes of the school, but it didn't matter; she was prey and prey would be feasted on.

From the girl's perspective, it looked like a large man was running at her from down the hill; probably late for some gathering or meeting. But then when Fenris began to morph right in front of her eyes, the girl let out a terrified scream as she turned to run be she didn't get far fast enough. The colossus of a wolf, the abomination that Fenrir turned into, had closed the gap and was upon her in an instant. His canines sunk into the girl's neck with such force that the head fell from it's shoulders; spilling blood and onto onlookers that gasped in outrage. And the head began to roll through the bystanders, but as the body of the girl started to collapse, Fenrir's opened his maw and bit deeper into the lifeless corpse; spilling 36 feet worth of small intestine as his teeth sunk into her stomach.

The pool of blood that formed around Fenris was immense, and after having his fill of flesh from the girl's stomach, Fenris Fenrir turned his blood-stained head in search for where the girl's head and rolled off to. It haf stopped right in front of a infant; left alone by it's mother at the wrong time. With a primitive smile on his muzzle, the silver-grey lycan stalked toward the child, vile intent written on his features. And as the child stared up in utmost horror, Fenris said only one thing.

'Bye bye Baby.'

[Fáylinn]

She smiled at the enthusiasm of the males beside her, she tried to contain herself, but she was indeed excited to do a mass murder. “I hope they do scream real loud,” Faylinn said, smirking in a way that was quit maniacal. The lycaness was slightly taken aback from they way he talked; as if he were the boss and her and Tacitus were mere followers. But it must run in Forest Lycan blood, for Faylinn would give them all her taste of control. A token of our success? She thought in her mind, slightly questioning, and what might that be? A body? It didn’t matter, they soon would all be marked with her star, everyone would know she had been there. She looked momentarily down to the star tattoo upon her wrist; she couldn’t wait until she engraved it to everyone of her victims arms.

“Good luck,” she said to them, laughing slightly, as if they would need any luck to rip apart humans. Faylinn strutted more calmly down the hill, a bit of a faster pace than normal, but she wasn’t going to go right up and pin someone. She walked over to a tall, at least 6’2” man, an innocent smile playing across her lips. “Mister…” she said, putting on a fake, lost sounding, southern accent. “I seem to have lost my necklace; do ya think you could help me find it? It’s somewhere on the ground, oh, my momma will be so upset…” She looked so helpless as her pleading sapphire eyes met with his.

“Oh, yes, of course,” said the man, he squatted down to search the ground around him, “now, what exactly does it look like, darling?” he said, like he was talking to a child, even though it was clear she was 17 or older. But, he was much older than she, thus giving him that parental instinct. “It’s a bronzy color, sir, it might be hard to find, why don’t you take a closer look?” She asked, at the end her voice turning cold, a wicked look written over those once innocent features. She changed into her lycan form, her fur slick and in a soft caramel color. Her sapphire eyes gleamed dangerously, the now large wolf charging into the particularly helpful male. Faylinn must have broken some bones, for he crashed down wheezing, clutching at his side, a look of horror in those dark eyes.

She went up on hind legs; large paws crashing dangerously hard down upon his chest, the smell of blood now driving her senses wild. The lycaness couldn’t contain herself as her powerful jaws sank into the tender flesh of his neck. Instantly he was gone, satisfaction written over those wolfish features. Blood dripped from her muzzle, her tongue licking it up, tearing flesh from his neck once more.

Faylinn changed back into her human form, with some will power remembering a spell to keep her clothes on. She knelt beside the mangled man, ripping a bronze chain from her neck. “Well, well, sir, I do say that you should look more carefully…” she used that southern accent again, smiling bitter-sweetly. The Forest Lycan picked up his left arm, pulling down his sleeve. Her nails were claw-like, and she dug her index finger nail deep into his skin. In seconds she had made a gorgeous star, outlined in blood. “Beautiful,” she whispered, putting a hand to her chest, looking up at the sky; daylight was emerging fast.

“Who’s next?” She wondered aloud, sapphire eyes scanning every possible victim with a deadly intention. “You,” she said, finding a teenage girl – probably her age – wearing a tie. Oh yes, this would be fun.

[Tacitus]

The blonde male merely rose an eyebrow as his two Clan members raced off to wreak havoc upon the area. Deciding on a different tactic, Tacitus calming reached into his pocket, pulled out a packet of cigarettes, placed one in his mouth, lit it, and put the packet back. Drawing the fumes deep into his lungs, a smile curled on his lips. Watching the other two sending everyone into a frenzy was almost fulfilling in itself. Almost.

Still puffing away on his cigarette, Tacitus slipped into the shadows, his small lithe build moved with such grace it was uncanny. His movements were all so fluid, appearing as though they were just an illusion. He slipped undetected down to the small village, deciding to take the mortals by surprise.

“Oh god! Look what they’re doing!” He suddenly cried out, sounding as if he was in hysterics, “Call for help! Quick!” People were running around frantically, trying to escape what was sure to be mayhem. As people ran past him, Tacitus shook his head in shame, “Look at that… People are being killed… And no one will even try to help them…”

People bumped into him as they scurried away, and he was met head-on with a boy who looked only to be around 17. Raising an eyebrow as the boy went crashing to the ground, he held out a hand, “You should watch where you’re running… It’s dangerous around here right now…” He said in a smooth voice, the words slipping from his tongue easily.

The boy excepted his hand, hauling himself to his feet, “Thank you… Thank you so much,” Tacitus placed a hand on the boys head, “It was no trouble, really,” He said, before grasping fiercely onto the boys head, his fingers slowly starting to sink into his head. With a quick flick of his wrist, Tacitus snapped his neck.

Letting him fall to the ground, the lethal blonde let a satisfied grin slide onto his face, “Ah, nothing like the first kill of the night…” He said to no one, whilst letting the smoke from his mouth rise into the hair. Blood was already pungent in the air, how wonderful.

Suddenly launching his arm to the side, he pulled a woman toward himself, his hand sunken deeply into her chest. “Sorry, love…” He muttered, before hauling her heart from her chest. Grinning, he dropped the heart, and began to lick his hand clean.

Wrapping a hand around the top of his arm, Tacitus squeezed tightly, his whole body going tense. Clenching his jaw, there was a sickening squelching sound, and he held up the hand that had been hanging loosely. Instead of a hand, there was now large claws. Spinning around, he lashed out, his claws sinking across the flesh of several people in a shorter amount of time than the blink of an eye. And in an instant, they fell to the ground, lifeless. With a wolfish grin, Tacitus rose an eyebrow, “Oh, joy”

Ooc: I stole the whole “hand-turning-into-a-claw” thing from a book called Stolen by Kelley Armstrong…