Post by ParamountKeymaster on Oct 12, 2014 11:43:50 GMT -5
The dark brown wolf man stalked up the mountain, angrily yet lethargically. Blood dripped from his teeth and claws, serving as remnants of many innocent passersby unfortunate enough to cross paths with the beast. So much killing... all in one night... Even with his body and mind in this altered state, Darien knew this was nothing but a waste.
He came to a halt at the mountains peak, sat down on all fours and started licking the blood off his paws. The emotions cycling through him were confusing, to say the least. His inherent bestial aggression was there, the need to roam, the need to hunt, the need to survive, the need to kill... and yet he had no idea what to do with it. Not to say there was a tiny shred of humanity trying to break free; not tonight, not under the effects of the island's curse. What bothered him was that he remembered all too well what usually happened when he became a werewolf: he would spend entire nights chained up in a basement, furiously struggling to break free, forced to suppress his animalistic urges. Now the beast was unleashed, and he had embraced this newfound freedom wholeheartedly. He could do whatever he wanted, free from the bindings of his human body and mind, and free from the trivial emotions and morals that came with them. And yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was squandering what he had been given. All this power, all this rage, a whole new world to explore, an endless sea of prey... all of it for naught.
Darien stared down at his claws, wiped clean of the dark red juice. He growled at them, involuntarily scratched his face and started pacing like a caged lion. He needed to do something. He needed some kind of outlet for his instinctive needs. But he was tired of mindlessly running around for the sake of running around. Tired of effortlessly slaughtering what couldn't fight back. He wanted more. He wanted a challenge. He wanted to earn his freedom. He wanted to feel alive.
His golden eyes trailed upwards, staring into the purple-tainted sky, and immediately he knew what he had to do. He had to defend his territory, and as far as the wolf was concerned, this whole island was his territory. His to roam, his to hunt on, his to do with as he pleased. Surely there was bigger game out there seeking to trespass, seeking to destroy, seeking to steal what little freedom he had. Perhaps there were even other wolves out there, searching to control or be controlled. They would come to him. They would know that he was a force to be reckoned with. They would know that he was on top.
He was going to earn his title of alpha wolf.
With a deep breath, Darien raised his head to the sky and let out a howl that rang across the island. The warning signal was out. The beast was ready to fight.
----------
Down below, Darien's howls were easily heard by someone -if either of them had been in the right mindset- all too familiar.
Evan's head jolted in the direction of the noise, yellow eyes blazing with pent-up rage and slight curiosity. He knew that sound. He might not have remembered who or even what had made it, but he instantly knew that sound.
Ever since that mist had touched down, Evan had felt completely lost. Some strange, otherworldly force had taken control of his mind, driving him to kill, driving him to fight, driving him to forget who he was and simply give in to the deepest, dormant, most primitive urges inside him. He had been wandering the island aimlessly for quite some time. Nothing around him made sense. Everywhere he turned, there was something waiting to kill or be killed. Instinct told him to destroy these forces. They were weak, they were useless, they were different. That which was different didn't belong, and thus, Evan had to eliminate it.
This led to internal conflict. All Evan knew was that he had to destroy anything different, but something deep down told him that he was different. He tried to fight. He tried to defend. He tried to control. But he was weak. He lacked direction. The only things that drove him were his hunger and his bloodlust, but these had gotten him nowhere. When he looked at himself, everything looked wrong. Everything looked different.
He couldn't be different. He had to belong. He had to become stronger. But how?
His answer came in the form of that howl from atop the mountain. Finally, his overcrowded mind registered something familiar. This was his chance to finally figure out what was going on. To become stronger. To get one step closer to his goal of conquering this world.
One of us. Must get help. Must find others. Must become stronger! MUsT fOLloW!
Evan fell onto all fours and started racing up the mountain. This omega may have finally found his pack.
He came to a halt at the mountains peak, sat down on all fours and started licking the blood off his paws. The emotions cycling through him were confusing, to say the least. His inherent bestial aggression was there, the need to roam, the need to hunt, the need to survive, the need to kill... and yet he had no idea what to do with it. Not to say there was a tiny shred of humanity trying to break free; not tonight, not under the effects of the island's curse. What bothered him was that he remembered all too well what usually happened when he became a werewolf: he would spend entire nights chained up in a basement, furiously struggling to break free, forced to suppress his animalistic urges. Now the beast was unleashed, and he had embraced this newfound freedom wholeheartedly. He could do whatever he wanted, free from the bindings of his human body and mind, and free from the trivial emotions and morals that came with them. And yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was squandering what he had been given. All this power, all this rage, a whole new world to explore, an endless sea of prey... all of it for naught.
Darien stared down at his claws, wiped clean of the dark red juice. He growled at them, involuntarily scratched his face and started pacing like a caged lion. He needed to do something. He needed some kind of outlet for his instinctive needs. But he was tired of mindlessly running around for the sake of running around. Tired of effortlessly slaughtering what couldn't fight back. He wanted more. He wanted a challenge. He wanted to earn his freedom. He wanted to feel alive.
His golden eyes trailed upwards, staring into the purple-tainted sky, and immediately he knew what he had to do. He had to defend his territory, and as far as the wolf was concerned, this whole island was his territory. His to roam, his to hunt on, his to do with as he pleased. Surely there was bigger game out there seeking to trespass, seeking to destroy, seeking to steal what little freedom he had. Perhaps there were even other wolves out there, searching to control or be controlled. They would come to him. They would know that he was a force to be reckoned with. They would know that he was on top.
He was going to earn his title of alpha wolf.
With a deep breath, Darien raised his head to the sky and let out a howl that rang across the island. The warning signal was out. The beast was ready to fight.
----------
Down below, Darien's howls were easily heard by someone -if either of them had been in the right mindset- all too familiar.
Evan's head jolted in the direction of the noise, yellow eyes blazing with pent-up rage and slight curiosity. He knew that sound. He might not have remembered who or even what had made it, but he instantly knew that sound.
Ever since that mist had touched down, Evan had felt completely lost. Some strange, otherworldly force had taken control of his mind, driving him to kill, driving him to fight, driving him to forget who he was and simply give in to the deepest, dormant, most primitive urges inside him. He had been wandering the island aimlessly for quite some time. Nothing around him made sense. Everywhere he turned, there was something waiting to kill or be killed. Instinct told him to destroy these forces. They were weak, they were useless, they were different. That which was different didn't belong, and thus, Evan had to eliminate it.
This led to internal conflict. All Evan knew was that he had to destroy anything different, but something deep down told him that he was different. He tried to fight. He tried to defend. He tried to control. But he was weak. He lacked direction. The only things that drove him were his hunger and his bloodlust, but these had gotten him nowhere. When he looked at himself, everything looked wrong. Everything looked different.
He couldn't be different. He had to belong. He had to become stronger. But how?
His answer came in the form of that howl from atop the mountain. Finally, his overcrowded mind registered something familiar. This was his chance to finally figure out what was going on. To become stronger. To get one step closer to his goal of conquering this world.
One of us. Must get help. Must find others. Must become stronger! MUsT fOLloW!
Evan fell onto all fours and started racing up the mountain. This omega may have finally found his pack.
