Post by Hellfire on May 13, 2012 15:16:12 GMT -5
It's your fucking nightmare...
All was silent as the brute prowled the shadows looking for his next victim. He was ready for blood shed. He thrived on fear, on pain, on making other's nightmares come true. He was a brute without a soul, without a heart. It was rumored that it was cut from his chest when he signed his life away to the devil. A smug smirk crossed his lightly scarred muzzle, and for a few moments he resembled something far worse than Satan himself. His ears seemed to twist into horns as a demonic smirk crossed his features lucifer himself wouldn't think about wearing. His obsidian talons dug grooves into the moist ground ad he stalked forward, wings tucked tightly against his sides, and protecting him from the harsh bite of the wind. It was frigid outside, and dew clung to the foliage that surrounded the bulk of his form. As his columns passed through the moisture the frigid bite of the wind caused searing pain to jolt through him, but he reveled in the pain. Too bad the feeling didn't last for long. He stopped short to observe his surroundings. His gold gaze swept over a spider web that shone brightly despite the fact that the surrounding area was almost completely void of light. As he peered closer he noticed a Black Widow laying in wait for it's prey. He had always been fond of the creatures. They were wonderfully deadly, but oh so pretty to look at. He had always been attracted to the red hour glass painted on it's body. Perhaps it was the lethal symbolism. Anyone who beheld the patch usually turned tail and ran. Hellfire wanted it to inject the lethal venom into his body, but that would probably kill him. The pain would be blissful, but it would be short-lived, so the brute moved on. His gaze then slithered to the shadows themselves, and a sick thought came into his mind. What if he took the Black Widow's ways for a spin? Why not hide in the dark, and spring on some unsuspecting creature?
Gleeful at the turn of events he trotted deftly into the shadows, and turned his body so he could keep an eye out, but he was a wolf that killed for a living. He knew he would have to rely on his sense of hearing, smell, and touch more than his sight. It was dark after all, and while his sight adapted well in this lighting, he could only see shapes. He could not identify what they looked like, and although he didn't fear death he did not like the idea of attacking something much more deadly than him. So, he sat in wait, muscles relaxed and waiting. He closed his eyes so his gold, luminous optics wouldn't give him away. He recognized the soft breeze rustling leaves, and branches. A few small critters scurrying from his presense. The bubbling brook flowing, and steadily turning into rapids. A slight frown crossed his muzzle as time passed by. The brute gritted his ivories, but forced himself to remain still. Within moments he heard something crashing through the bushes, and then stopping to graze on the grass sweetened with dew. Hellfire didn't dare open his eyes, he could hear the blood pumping through it's veins. He could almost feel it's soft breath... If it lingered much longer it would no longer be breathing. Hellfire allowed himself to take a whiff, and was delighted when he smelt doe. Slowly, he shifted into position, letting his hearing guide him. His muscles bunched under his ashen coat, and claws slowly elongated to deliver the death blow. He heard the doe stiffen, and still. That's when he sprang from the shadows like a creature of the night, white ivories flashing, and optics full of brimstone. The doe froze, and stared before letting out acry, and turned to skitter away. It was too late by then. Hellfire was on top of it, wings enveloping it in a dark womb that would soon become it's grave. It fell from the sudden weight, but it continued to struggle. His claws dug into the smooth hide, and he was instantly strengthened at the feel of blood. The warmth in it's self sent him into a crazed frenzy. His ivories snapped, white flashing through the darkness, and then everything was still. As Hellfire pulled back he gazed with pride at his kill.
Blood pooled from her neck, and a gaping hole was seen. In Hellfires jowls was her windpipe, ripped cleanly from her body. Her eyes were wide open, the fear seen clearly still despite their glassy reflection. Hellfire grinned once more, and slowly lowered his head to lap up the blood that spilled from her body. That is, until he dipped his muzzle into the cavity of her throat, and felt a rush of ecstasy rush through him. It was then he straightened, bloodied muzzle turning up into a sadistic grin. Was that an approach of foot steps he heard? He hoped so.
All was silent as the brute prowled the shadows looking for his next victim. He was ready for blood shed. He thrived on fear, on pain, on making other's nightmares come true. He was a brute without a soul, without a heart. It was rumored that it was cut from his chest when he signed his life away to the devil. A smug smirk crossed his lightly scarred muzzle, and for a few moments he resembled something far worse than Satan himself. His ears seemed to twist into horns as a demonic smirk crossed his features lucifer himself wouldn't think about wearing. His obsidian talons dug grooves into the moist ground ad he stalked forward, wings tucked tightly against his sides, and protecting him from the harsh bite of the wind. It was frigid outside, and dew clung to the foliage that surrounded the bulk of his form. As his columns passed through the moisture the frigid bite of the wind caused searing pain to jolt through him, but he reveled in the pain. Too bad the feeling didn't last for long. He stopped short to observe his surroundings. His gold gaze swept over a spider web that shone brightly despite the fact that the surrounding area was almost completely void of light. As he peered closer he noticed a Black Widow laying in wait for it's prey. He had always been fond of the creatures. They were wonderfully deadly, but oh so pretty to look at. He had always been attracted to the red hour glass painted on it's body. Perhaps it was the lethal symbolism. Anyone who beheld the patch usually turned tail and ran. Hellfire wanted it to inject the lethal venom into his body, but that would probably kill him. The pain would be blissful, but it would be short-lived, so the brute moved on. His gaze then slithered to the shadows themselves, and a sick thought came into his mind. What if he took the Black Widow's ways for a spin? Why not hide in the dark, and spring on some unsuspecting creature?
Gleeful at the turn of events he trotted deftly into the shadows, and turned his body so he could keep an eye out, but he was a wolf that killed for a living. He knew he would have to rely on his sense of hearing, smell, and touch more than his sight. It was dark after all, and while his sight adapted well in this lighting, he could only see shapes. He could not identify what they looked like, and although he didn't fear death he did not like the idea of attacking something much more deadly than him. So, he sat in wait, muscles relaxed and waiting. He closed his eyes so his gold, luminous optics wouldn't give him away. He recognized the soft breeze rustling leaves, and branches. A few small critters scurrying from his presense. The bubbling brook flowing, and steadily turning into rapids. A slight frown crossed his muzzle as time passed by. The brute gritted his ivories, but forced himself to remain still. Within moments he heard something crashing through the bushes, and then stopping to graze on the grass sweetened with dew. Hellfire didn't dare open his eyes, he could hear the blood pumping through it's veins. He could almost feel it's soft breath... If it lingered much longer it would no longer be breathing. Hellfire allowed himself to take a whiff, and was delighted when he smelt doe. Slowly, he shifted into position, letting his hearing guide him. His muscles bunched under his ashen coat, and claws slowly elongated to deliver the death blow. He heard the doe stiffen, and still. That's when he sprang from the shadows like a creature of the night, white ivories flashing, and optics full of brimstone. The doe froze, and stared before letting out acry, and turned to skitter away. It was too late by then. Hellfire was on top of it, wings enveloping it in a dark womb that would soon become it's grave. It fell from the sudden weight, but it continued to struggle. His claws dug into the smooth hide, and he was instantly strengthened at the feel of blood. The warmth in it's self sent him into a crazed frenzy. His ivories snapped, white flashing through the darkness, and then everything was still. As Hellfire pulled back he gazed with pride at his kill.
Blood pooled from her neck, and a gaping hole was seen. In Hellfires jowls was her windpipe, ripped cleanly from her body. Her eyes were wide open, the fear seen clearly still despite their glassy reflection. Hellfire grinned once more, and slowly lowered his head to lap up the blood that spilled from her body. That is, until he dipped his muzzle into the cavity of her throat, and felt a rush of ecstasy rush through him. It was then he straightened, bloodied muzzle turning up into a sadistic grin. Was that an approach of foot steps he heard? He hoped so.