Tresspassing (Brock?/Open)

[Warg]

A few days had gone by. Warg was a sight to see. A sight indeed. Every inch of his face was not without blood. Every step was agony, the twelve spikes, some in the front of his shoulders, the rest across the back of his shoulders just behind his neck, made certain of that. He had been stupid. He had been reckless He had certainly been far too ambitious. He should have known she would show up eventually.

He was hungry to, it was impossible to eat when even the slightest breeze disturbing the position of the 30 something 9 inch quills across his face and head brought a fresh wave of agony. Sira had really done a number on him. He should have killed her when they first met. Instead, he was trying to play nice wolf and just join her pack. Maybe even work his way up. It would of worked, if he hadn't tried to usurp while she was gone. Now he was packless, alone, wounded, and probably would die eventually if he did not get these quills out.

He didn't think she'd intended for him to die. If she had, she would have just sent all of her hundred something quills at him, without the warning she gave. Instead, it was only a few of them, meant to be a lesson. And a mark. Even if he managed through this, anyone who saw all of the scars across his face would know he'd been in a serious pickle, whether they recognized Sira's work or not. Now, he was forced to seek aide. The repricussions of her attack made not only eating impossible, it also slowed him greatly. If he met anything, bear, other wild animals, hell even a naama, he'd be in trouble.

He had left the Eastern territory that same day, within the hour of running away from Sira. He had been hovering in an area that didn't seem to belong to anyone, resting and trying to think about what his options were. He knew he needed help. While his healing would prevent any infections, it was not enough to get the quills out on his own. He would have to swallow his pride and his arrogance, and find someone and convince them to get the quills out, somehow.

So it was with this intention that he was at the southern border. He was relatively knew to the area, and hadn't exactly chatted it up with the locals about the boarders and who ran what. He didn't know anything about who the leaders were, or where he should go now. He had simply picked a direction and ran. He paused briefly, looking around. He had also not had any water for days. His puffy nose with the two quills stabbed through the top was bone dry, he couldn't even lick it. He most defineately had a fever. He could smell the water not too far from him, and it overran any anxiety he might have felt at crossing into another's territory. He could smellt he scent markers.

Gingerly, as if expecting to be harrassed at any moment, the wolf stepped across, and headed for the water. If he was challenged, he wasn't sure how he would react yet. It would likely depend on the reaction of the other. Surely no one would want this massive behemoth demon of a wolf on their lands, wounded or not. Especially not wounded. It was clearly the work of an Uuma and not a 5 foot long porcupine. Whoever had done it would of had good reason, anyone could see that. He had been meant to suffer for it. Would anyone even want to help him at all? He almost wanted to die...

He stopped at the waters edge, then slowly lowered his head to the refreshing coolness and tried not to move his features too much as he drank.

[Shanto]

There's a beast,

All I saw was smoke and fire, I didn't feel a thing, but suddenly I was rising higher; and I felt like I just made he biggest mistake, when I thought about my unborn child. When I thought about my wife. And the answer rang out clear from somewhere up above; No greater gift has man, than to lay down his life for love. And I wonder, would I give my life? Could I make that sacrifice? If it came down to it could I take the bullet? I would, yes I would, for you. Baby, you don't understand. I don't understand it all myself. But there's a brother on my left, and another on my right; and in his pocket, just like mine, he's got a photograph and they're waiting for him back home. It's been weighin' on my mind, I'm not trying to be a hero, I don't wanna die, but right now in this moment you don't think twice.

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And I let it run,

If the hunt hadn't taken all his patience, it was the fact that Logan had show up that had. It was an attack almost, a resurrection from a hard part of his past. He was only a year younger than Moonrunner. Her ageing had stopped, but his hadn't and she had always had her mind set on making sure hers would never change. To him, invincibility was not considered living, but something of another dimension. Cursed to never change, to have your family leave you, to never die and feel the relief of the pressures being lifted away; the feeling of nothing. That was what he dreamed of death to be, another world unlike this one, but much greater and calmer in the end.

This male could hardly notice anything other than his own quick breaths, and as the rest of the pack headed back to camp, he came to the creek to calm himself, and to check the borders while he was at it. Logan was not the only one he had accepted, Lume was now contained in his pack too. He thought highly of the well mannered young male already and could see him being very good for the pack in the future. Soon enough, as he suspected it would happen, he could tell his adoptive daughter, Cheveyo, looked at him with attraction. The she-pup was, in reality, no longer a pup, but a almost grown she-wolf. Her heart had been broken too much in the past, and it would take him a lot to let her go to just a random male. They needed a pack after all.

Feelings of resentment and a passion for a fight seemed to fly through him. He was not the kind of wolf that loved the feeling of blood either; but the pressures were finally beginning to take their toll on the stressed-out alpha male. Family was top priority, but this battle with Moonrunner was something that needed dealings too. She could not just be ignored as Mors had done in the past. The female was a real threat to them now. It might be time to even consult the other packs for their thoughts on the situations. But he couldn't leave the pack, without him there wouldn't be enough protection.

Suddenly, the stresses brought to his mind were cleared away. It was only first a smell, brought upon him by the border. Never was this a Southie. He tested the smell quietly. Clearly injured, male, and an Easterner. What in the hell was an Eastern male doing in their territory. Last he knew, Sira had only a band of females left. It intrigued him and made him question everything he had last heard about the Eastern pack. Silently he stalked the smell; crossing the creek deeper into his territory, and circling the pinpoint of the scent. He was almost upon the wolf when the wind changed out of his favor.

Bloody, mangled, and made of mess. It almost made him want to vomit to see such pain in anything other than prey. The male before him was clearly suffering, made skinny by lack of food due to a swollen face. Long needles stuck out of him, making Brock believe in the work of Sira and reminding him to never make the she wolf angry. But here was a large male, as big as himself, in his territory, injured and drinking his water. What had made Sira so angry, to attack this male, he didn't care to find out. A growl bubbled out of the alpha as he prepared to protect his territory. Hackles raised, his eyes bright with a inner fire, he stared at the male before him. Whatever this sack of shit had gotten himself into, was certainly not going to get himself out of now.

Now it's running.
My way

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[Warg]

(That one part about having lost so much weight, I wrote that post in like 20 minutes. I didn’t think about it that much; he really would not have lost any weight at all. He’s still every bit as thick and able bodied, it was over exaggerated so just dismiss that part. It’s not a big deal to edit)

Having to breathe through his mouth while he ran from the Cabin had dried up his mouth within minutes and it had been at least three days since. He had not had a single drop to drink the entire time. Being a little hungry didn’t bother him half as much as it should have; he had gone much longer without food before. A normal healthy adult wolf could go a month without eating before truly being in danger of starving. He was no different. Being thirsty was an entirely different matter. He could go about a week. The three days, had been hell.

Crimson and golden orbs were closed as his long tongue slowly lapped at the water. He did not want to see his face. He did not want to think about what Sira had done to his once perfect and beautiful face. Hate and anger boiled in him in equal measures. These thoughts had been the forefront of his mind ever since it happened. It didn’t even matter anymore that she had lied. He had submitted to avoid a conflict, because…he really couldn’t think why. He had been so close to going back to his old ways. He could have right then and there in that moment blown up the whole cabin but he didn’t. Why had he been so nice? He had even submitted! The horror of it all ate at him like a festering boil. She had been the first wolf, her and her little pack, to have ever seen him actually lower his head to someone. And she still had the audacity to attack him!? WHY for the life of him had he not spun around and let up a torrent of fire and burn them all from the outside? They would have had nowhere to go. He could have done it, even wounded but he hadn’t. He had just run away like a wounded, battered, beaten, worthless coward.

His heart burned with anger and self-loathing. What was he supposed to do now? Beg someone to help him? Further disgrace himself? Why did he even want to bother getting help, he should just wade out into these waters and let himself drown, because he was far too dense to swim. The thought crossed his mind and it sounded the perfect option. He would rather die than be forced to beg for help. Damn Sira. Damn the bitch for all eternity! His anger manifested itself as heat radiated out from him, even as he drank, the water he drank from began to boil. He did not stop lapping at the water. The heat did not bother him, no, it felt blissful.

Part of him wanted to go back. He would find Sira, he would kill her. He would bring so much pain upon her and hers that she would rue the day she had EVER thought about attacking him! His form quivered with his rage, his hackles stood on end, yet he still drank the water like nothing was wrong. His eyes were squinted shut so tightly that the quills around his eyes were practically meeting tips. He had killed so many wolves already. He had never had any love or loyalty or bonds to any of his pack mates, he hurt them and killed the ones that stood against him or ran from with complete indiscretion. He was truly a demon on this earth. A life of hate and anger, rage and fury, hatred and sadistic pleasure in the pain and suffering of everyone around him. And so much pain and suffering. Evilness to the core and he hated even his own self.

WHY was Sira still alive!? He stopped drinking. His head lifted, and he forced himself to open his eyes. Forced himself to look at his reflection, to see the results of Sira’s own pain and anger. And that was the truth of it. She had trusted him, and he had went against her and tried to steal her wolves from her, but he had done it so wrong. He should have come in there all fired up, demanding their submission or suffer death. Seeing as they had all so quickly stood against him, he would have had to just kill them. Had he learned nothing? He could still remember, those wolves he had come across who refused to submit to him as well. A few of them had the right combination of powers so that when they worked together he was helpless. As soon as they had him, most of his pack and left immediately, finally free from him. They had tortured him for weeks, and then left him there. Did they think he would have died? Why had they not simply killed him at the end? He had never really thought about that. Didn’t he deserve death? A thousand deaths? Why was he even contemplating any of this now?

Something flashed behind his mind’s eye and he suddenly knew the answer. As if he knew the reason for everything. They hadn’t killed him because they quite simply, weren’t him. He had been such a pathetic little mess when they were done with him…had they had a moment of pity? No. It was because death would not have been good enough. They had left him to live, to live with the consequences and burdens of all that he had done. Was that it then? He shook his head, and with a paw, splashed the water to ripple his reflection. He lowered his head and drank some more.

And Sira. Why did she stir him so much at the thought of her? He froze, mid-lap. His head lifted and he stared down again at his dancing reflection. He looked into his own eyes staring back at him, the water making them undulate and wave back at him, as if they were a laughing mockery. She had been the first wolf he had met since his pack left him. He had been in a good mood then. He had been thinking about starting over. Trying again. He wanted a pack, and he was willing to take a different method for the first time in his life. He had run with her, side by side, hunted with her like an equal. He had called her Alphess. He had looked at her with lust too, but he had also looked at her with a bit of respect. And he had gone against her. A new emotion crept through him. Shame.

What the hell was wrong with him!? He snarled, and it hurt, but he didn’t care. His head dropped, shoulders lifting, even though that hurt as well. Every muscle tensed and he just stood there, growling at his reflection as if he were facing his own greatest enemy. And just as quickly as it came, it went, every muscle relaxing until he slumped down onto the grasses, head on his paws, just staring at himself. ’Warg warg warg….what am I to do with you?’ He thought this and finally, just laughed softly at himself. He had to go back. But not for the same reasons. He had to go back to Sira, but he wouldn’t kill her. No. He realized then, why he had run from her. He had been ashamed. Completely and utterly ashamed. He had met her eyes, he had seen all her pain and her anger and felt her betrayal. He didn’t blame her at all for attacking him. He realized then, he could forgive her for anything. Did he actually like her? No….it was more than that…

He grinned then, slowly getting to his feet. His head lowered and he went back to drinking. He would drink so much water until he wasn’t even hungry any more. It was then that he felt on the fringes of his senses, the approach of another wolf. He laughed in his head, the timing was so perfect. He waited for the wolf to come closer. He didn’t bother looking up at him, he just kept right on drinking. As the wolf got closer and noticed him, a small spark ignited in his fur and flames rose from his form. There was no heat to the fire. He was absorbing the heat back into himself. It was a simple trick. His fur was special; it kept the heat from burning himself. The flames were just a display, a show, and they danced upon Warg’s frame, a warning to the other wolf to stay away from him while he drank. He heard the growl and he grinned.

This wolf was in a bad mood already, and seeing another in his territory, angered him all the more. Warg liked the wolf already, he would do perfectly. A plan was forming in his head. He would use this wolf, like he had used so many. He was a manipulative bastard like that. He would let this stranger decide for him. Should he die like he truly deserved, or should he go back to Sira? And if he did go back, what would he do? He would love her. He would be loyal to her. He would try to right all of his wrongs, he would start over truly. He had looked at himself, seen down to his own soul and the corruption and hate, and he had seen the results of it on his face, and he burned it all away, let it melt from him. He almost smiled.

Continuing to ignore the other wolf, he kept drinking, letting the other wolf stew in being ignored. The flames that danced on Warg’s form grew, spreading out and fanning, creeping out along the ground, dancing across the grasses but still there was no heat. The flames danced all the way up towards the other wolf. If he ran, Warg would just move on, find someone else. He grinned, his senses telling him the other was still there. Good. The fires instantly went out. He lifted his head, water dripping off his muzzle and slowly turned around, his head lifting.

He met the eyes of the other wolf, and laughed inside his head. He felt the other wolf’s dominance, the way he stood, the way he was glaring at him completely unamused by his display and Warg knew he had to be the alpha of this area. It was just too perfect. Fate was such a fickle thing sometimes, it toyed with you and made you think you had everything right and going good and then something happened and it was all ripped away, and left you with nothing and then it teased you again with the tantalizing prospect of something new and then ripped it away again. A conniving little bitch was fate. Warg drew himself up to his full height, and seemed to completely not care about the quills in his face, he eyed the other wolf as if he were a bug beneath his paws and the quills were supposed to be there or something.

“Greetings, little Alpha.” Warg grinned then; it was a very evil little grin, and his words, calling the other wolf, which was by no means small, still not as big as himself though, little, just to irritate him all the more. He said the word Alpha without any reverence at all, as if the title carried no weight at all. He would stir the ire of this wolf, and then let him decide what to do with him. What kind of wolf had fate brought him to?

“Thank you for the water, it was very nice.” His head tilted just a little, gesturing. “I have a little proposition for you, my new little friend.” Warg stared into the other wolf’s eyes, a challenge just as blatant and bold and made laughable by the quills in his face, showing some other little wolf had stood over him as they were shot because the quills all pointed upward instead of downward, and their locations suggested they had been shot down, right in front and over him, yet he stood staring at this other wolf who had every right to be angry and on edge, and laughed at him with no shame.

Taking a step towards the other wolf in a threatening manner, Warg continued. “As you can quite plainly see, I have had a little run in with an angry little vixen” He frowned a little. His hind quarters lowered, and Warg sat straight up, his head held proudly. He seemed to lose no height. Every movement was for a purpose, every word was calculated. His eyes on the other wolf conveyed an emotion of complete nonchalance, as If he could be anywhere, talking to someone who was so far beneath him as to be with no worth at all, as if he were talking to a rat or something else equally despised.

“She was angry indeed, oh so very angry. I really pissed her off good.” He seemed to smile at his words. “I have learned my lesson though, and they really need to come out. So!” He grinned here; broadly, the movement lifted each quill affected by the muscles to move them upwards. It was obviously painful yet he did it anyway. His front half lowered, his forelegs stretching out as he lay down. He wasn’t doing it in any submissive fashion; he still glared at the other wolf like he was nothing important. As if he could have been talking about the weather and got tired of standing. He was not the type at all to beg for help. “If you would be so kind as to get them out, I will reward you oh so greatly. For you see, I have a little idea, and I do hope it is simple enough for one such as yourself, to understand.” His grin faded and he eyed the other wolf evenly. “I will serve you, you and yours, for no less than a week as a lowly little naama.” The term for them not only meant the powerless wolves with no gifts, it also served equally well as slave. It also implied that he would not use his powers the entire time, unless permitted to. “I can hunt very well; I would do anything you asked of me. And you wouldn’t even have to free me if it was your choice, you could keep me beneath your paw forever. I would take the position with all seriousness, and would never hurt you or yours. And you could even send me after your enemies and I will destroy each and every one of them, it would be oh so easy, I have done it numerous times.”

He let the implication of his words draw out. “Or…you could just simply kill me you know, because I am in your lands and I don’t give a damn about your alpha rank.” Warg snorted, a cloud of black smoke wafted up from his nostrils. “Oh but you see, that would imply that I let you approach me, and if you did, I could scorch you with fires a thousand times hotter than anything you have ever known and burn your little insignificant body into a pile of dust!” He laughed there, his voice deep, bellowing and monstrous. “So we are at a stale-mate! And why at all would you even bother to help me? I quite plainly deserve death…” His voice dropped an octave. “More than you know…”

He broke his gaze on the other wolf, eyes looking away, his head turning as much as the quills in his shoulders would allow, staring into space as if seeing visions of his past. He turned back, looking up at the wolf now, his head lowering further to touch the grass and he sighed softly. “I have been very bad. And I have been hurt before, so much more than this. This…these quills…they are nothing. Insignificant. They barely register on the scale of pain I have known. And I am tired. I am tired of it all. I would welcome death, I would walk into its arms and embrace it and let it take me and I would go where wolves go who deserve to suffer for all eternity.” He lifted his head, gazing at the other wolf with sadness. “But I really don’t want to die. You see…I am willing to make up for everything I have done. I want to become someone worth respecting. I want to be someone a true lady could love.”

He let the word flow out, softly, with true reverence, real emotion, and so much appeal. He looked at the wolf then, sadness and pain reflecting in his crimson eyes. For once, he truly meant what he said, more than he ever had. If wolves could cry, a small tear would have fallen then. And then the emotion faded, and was replaced by more enthusiasm. “And it’s not like I am really giving you much of an option because you see, if you would rather just walk away then I’ll just stay here. And I might make a mess of things.”

His fires reignited, dancing across his form, before going out again. “And if you don’t think you are capable of killing me on your own, which…you’re not…feel free to call your pack! I will wait, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. Surely between all of you, you’re powers might be enough to get the job done. I don’t know anything about any of you; I don’t even know what you yourself are capable of. I will go on and tell you, Water is my weakness, water and ice. So…if you have any water benders perhaps? Or someone with electricity? Spikes such as these? One to the heart should do the trick! But you’d have to do it before I burned you all!” He laughed again. “No? Ah well.” His smile faded.


“I will permit you to approach me. You would have to either way, to get the quills out, which I really need you to do. I want to go back to the one who did this to me. And I will, I will beg her for her forgiveness, I want to be with her. I want to show her that I have changed. I want to be someone she can rely on. I want to help her pack, they are so small now, and there is a little wolf who’s got a bad leg. I think I know how to fix it. And your pack, I would happily hunt for you any time. I would happily aide you in your troubles. I want to make my life right again. I want to atone for all the wrong I have done. You would have every chance to rip my throat out and be rid of me, if you could do it fast enough!” He barked a laugh. “You could even make it an excruciating experience for me, twisting the quills as you take them out…there’s so many of them. I would not stop you, I would not hurt you, I would take it as the punishment I deserve for mouthing off to you so much. So you see, you have so many different options. What will you do?” He lifted his head, tilting his neck to the side openly exposing his neck to the other wolf, inviting him.

He looked at the other wolf. He would carry his scars for his whole life. He would wave his face about like a banner to show the world that the lady by his side had been the one, the one who could hurt him so good and get away with it and in doing so, in a twisted convoluted way, only one such as he could appreciate, had earned his undying unyielding heart pounding love. He would go to her, and see what she would do. He would not leave her either way, until he had either earned her trust again, or she got fed up with him and kill him herself. Because he would never harm her, he would let her do it. And despite all of his words to this other wolf, he really would not kill him. Did he know that? In his own way, Warg really was begging the other wolf for his aide. He knew he deserved to die, and he would not harm this wolf at all. He was proving to him that he meant his words, that he was willing to face the consequences of his actions for once. He was putting himself at the feet and mercy of the one before him, appointing him judge, jury, and executioner, all at once, and doing so in such a remarkable and intelligent manner, that Warg was surprised at his own wit. He had always been the eloquent smooth talker. His plan was set in motion; it all relied on what kind of wolf Fate had brought him to. He let the randomness of the whole thing be what would decide his future. He had given a general idea of his crimes, shown his attitude, pushed the other wolf anger so that he could then lay out his end of it, his unspoken plea. The good, the bad, the reward, the risk, it was all there.

(obviously you have my permission to kill him, or do whatever.)

[Shanto]

There's a beast,

All I saw was smoke and fire, I didn't feel a thing, but suddenly I was rising higher; and I felt like I just made he biggest mistake, when I thought about my unborn child. When I thought about my wife. And the answer rang out clear from somewhere up above; No greater gift has man, than to lay down his life for love. And I wonder, would I give my life? Could I make that sacrifice? If it came down to it could I take the bullet? I would, yes I would, for you. Baby, you don't understand. I don't understand it all myself. But there's a brother on my left, and another on my right; and in his pocket, just like mine, he's got a photograph and they're waiting for him back home. It's been weighin' on my mind, I'm not trying to be a hero, I don't wanna die, but right now in this moment you don't think twice.

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And I let it run,

A blank stare was given to the male. He seemed to think he was oh-so smart and powerful because he was tresspassing in the middle of Southern territory. It was very stupid, really. Brock was angered to see him here, hear his cocky voice, see his crafty smile. It reminded him ever-more greatly of the way Mors used to act, and as Brock had been learning, Mors was not always the most nobel wolf he had once seen him as. The deceased alpha had not led in the manner Ayria or his packmates would see as dignified. More or less, closer to the opposite. But of all wolves Brock had seen truth in, it was the old male. Honesty was the only thing the brown male would ever want to take from his mentor. The rest seemed to be just a bunch of bullshit.

The truth hurt, he knew it did, but it was all he wanted to hear. The snott before him did not care about that, and seemed to see himself as a higher power. More power, yes he had some, but he was also impaired by the quills piercing his fur and the lack of caution a normal wolf should always keep with themselves. Overconfidence was the downfall of many of the most powerful creatures. Judgement, that had failed before it and had sent them to a emaressing end. Brock had a feeling this would be this male's demise. It seemed almost completly inevitable. The alpha almost pittied the male and his ways. He had screwed him over too many times it looked as if.

What had he done to make Sira so angry? The question still rang through his mind. The pack could not afford to loose their Eastern allies, but this male could prove to be a powerful one if he didn't screw them over in the end. His blank stared, stayed stead with the stranger, quiet and confident in his own abilities. The giant wings folded half way, streached along with the alpha. The streaching felt good as he listened to the male babble on. Did he care about the stranger's shit? Not persay, but slightly enough to still be listening lightly. Folding them back in, they shielded most of his body and made him seem larger from his shoulders to his tail. Sitting, he prepared to speak, ignoring the jar of 'little alpha'. Little, he was not, but his pups still were. Would risking them really be worth running this male away? Not to him.

The alpha set a stern look on his face; a mixture of annoyance and a steady calm that slowly had taken his anger away. No bullshit would be taken from this male. Nor any other at this time, "A sob story is not going to cut it." In fact he was really appauled by any story of that sorts. "But I will help you, if you really wish me too. The only two things I want to know, is what is your name? ...and how do I know, I can trust anything that comes out of your mouth?" They were honest questions, and probably two very important ones to the times. War was silent between the North and South, but it could arrive at an time. Who could ever tell what would go through Moonrunner's head.

But more allies were coming together, more memebers were arriving and the pups were growing quickly. Logan was new to the pack, but had a vast knowlage of what they were up against. Ayria had kept the group from falling apart, and perfected her powers in times. Cheveyo had grown into a very beautiful, but delicate female, who was tougher than an ox. Eyolf had learn humility, and was still learning who he could be in general. Illyrian had kept herself together, and was making break throughs with keep herself undercontrol in needed times of silence. Corra, well she was still a mystery, her life was changing too fast. The pups were breaking through with their skills and a new memeber had just joined. The younger male was a wolf he needed to get to know. Eyes did not break their steely gaze. The alpha ment to find out everything he could about the stranger barely across the creek from him.

Now it's running.
My way

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