[ Post a Response | Wind Gale Pack ]
Posted by Anarchy on January 23, 2008, 12:47 pm, in reply to "±Sinister±"
149.135.106.55
Not today.
Anarchy has a name,
You fool –
It’s
DEATH.
Death was a wonderful thing. The way a wolf would scream when dying, how he seemed so reluctant to go. How when they were being pulled down to the depths of hell, they would scrabble around and howl with pain as they were laughed at by an onlooker. Death. Death, to Anarchy, was a wonderful thing. To Anarchy, screams of agony and howls of pain were like music. Music... music is a wonderful thing. Just like death.
Anarchy's brain was filled with loud thumping noises. Like battle drums, forcing him to march on. On and on and on and on. Never may he stop, unless the enemy is to overtake him. Skinning him alive, plucking out his eyeballs. Satan's minions would come up from the center of the earth, shivering from the freezing cold of the eighty-nine degree temperature compared to their firey pits of unleashed anger. They would set fire to the surrounding area, caging the brute in a prison of flames. He would growl and defend himself, and then the demons would cackle shrilly and point at him. Then they would lunge at him, stripping off his flesh and plucking out his eyes, all the while laughing at his screams. They would tortue him until he screamed so loud his ears bled, and he would keel over and finally perish in the flames, being laughing at noisily by the demons.
A low growl rumbled in Anarchy's throat as he wandered in his mind yet again. The wolf now found himself in a tight spot, many cruel and reliable counters coming to mind. As the alpha above him had dived down, there was something within his glare that really twisted the onyx and red brute, he knew of the kind who were likely to snap upon losing; so be that, he would just have to finish the wolf if he won, either that or elimenate him from the lands, and upon sight give the order to kill. Sweet success, try not to overwhelm yourself.
Now, watching the dive, Anarchy pushed himself forwards aware that the attack was more then it seemed, his occuli following the bodice as it was then to disappear. Teleport, of course this was to be used next. The brute readied himself, skull lowered to protect his throat and stomach, pearls flashing as a quick tool of trade. His paws girth was wide, holding him steady upon the ground. Red gaze was now wide and bloodshot, like an angry beast saliva lined the sides of his jaws, dripping down to mix with blood and create a pool infront of his paws.
A sudden movement. Throwing himself slightly forwards the brute would feel canine's sink into his shoulder, due to his last moment movement it missed his neck by mere inches. Satisfied, the brute's head instantly flicked around, jaws agape as the pain in his shoulder roared, more flesh ripped but it was worth it. Pearls slashed into the scarred skin, more blood now erupted as he pushed down. The alpha was shaking his skull, foolish brute. A snarl rolled across the brute's maw, causing his grip to harden, a sudden warmth buzzing in his throat. If a fire blessing was all he had, then it was good enough. Pushing the flames through his locked jaws, Anarchy allowed the flames to push into the neck wound, most likely slowing the brute before him down all the more.
Screw waiting, the onyx and red brute was sick of this playing around, he came for a physical battle and now expected one, his grip refusing to let go. Of course, the alpha could be foolish and use Teleport or the such once more, but that would be to hard, his energy would surely drain then, leaving him as a target, standing and awaiting punishment. He wouldn't be able to use his flying abilityas easily either, so it worked out fine for Anarchy. What a foolish choice lowering himself into the demon's clutches. As the boy had howled, he is going to get his way.
As the flames now slowed the taste of burnt flesh and pelt filled his maw, almost certain the brute had gained a great amount of damage from that attack. The pain where the alpha was clutching onto roared, but due to the fact he had just missed his neck and all other vital areas, he should heal fine. Occuli narrowed as his jaws remained in a tight grip, like a bear trap latched on, refusing to let go. Saliva once more circled the blood around his maw and nose expanded, puffing out smoke and hot air. The blessing wouldn't take much of an effect for he had used it once, even if it wasn't trained overly he could still use most of his energy to continue fighting.
Blood rain at a steady pace from his back, plastering his pelt down to a musculent bodice, with each movement a new muscle was to ripple, causing anyother beast to shudder at his chaotic sight. Pink muscle that once lolled from within his maw now pressed deeply upon the wound that was within his maw, belonging to the alpha. By pressing his tongue down that, too, would cause an extra pain. There wasn't much room to move without ripping needed tissue, or even a vain. What would the brute do now, on the verge of tiredness from blessings and his neck caught between a demons grip. Of course, there was always the choice of submittance, but who knew what Anarchy would do. He wasn't all demon as others saw, but right now his mind was set on winning. The brute is a sore loser himself. This was all just a challenge of strength, one in his mind he saw as easy.
Put your arms down,
Lower your voice,
There is no choice
This world is mayhem,
Your screams are
Ordinary.
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