• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fantasy ‷̶ 、𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐆 𝐆𝐎𝐃

CW : DEATH, MURDERS, BRIEF BODY HORROR New
d7f590baa3d91258f7f31a0a2b3c7044624e605d.pnj


PROLOGUE

Desperate flies surround the abandoned head in a luring haunt that the Leader is lost deep within through the harsh gold light. This new day have given him the horrors that are becoming common as time passes by with more blood and corpses present before him and his dying Pack. The curled screams in endless agony and choked howls for a final goodbye from their loved ones, he can sense everything— but, mostly, he feels every ounce of affliction that they had to face with the infinite stars above as the petrified audience. It's a miracle that the head wasn't destroyed with the other remains of their absent body, though, it seems there was a rush of carelessness to the kill. His lips curl into a revolted snarl, sharp teeth bearing vexation.

It sickens him from seeing the Huntsman had gained their victory once more.

He attempts to break the cold daze, simply for the sake of the deceased's loneliest time that is rotting further without the paid respect. "Rest among the stars, dear Warrior," he says quietly, his hand reaching to the terrified eyes of the lost, "You have done more than enough for the Wild Bright. Thank you." Their eyelids are gently closed over the faint dull, as given the proper rest that they can finally have after a cruel night. He's thankful the Pack can have something to bury with just this once in a while. It's rare where they can get anything of a being to provide a formal place for a tender rest deep in Mother Nature's embrace. He believes it is intentional for the Huntsman to not give them any scraps behind their kills to mourn after.
RP ICONS.png
The Leader takes a step back and coldly gazes upon his Healer.

"This must end."

It is a statement born with a violent desire for war. A grand battle between Man and Lycanthropes that no myths and folklores can tell upon the world without requiring horror to run across the pages and voices. He stares back at the decayed head and imagines one of an unfortunate Huntsman. "Winter is coming and we're losing more to the Huntsman than its own cold grasp. We have to do something about this soon or the rest of us will die in the end." He shouldn't have to stand guarded yet uninvolved while many more of his Lycankins perish beneath Humanity's dirty feet. Paranoia may be lingering, though, he can not resist the terrible feeling his heart hold close that even the stars that they worship are dying as well.

There may be no home for the Lycanthropes after life either.
 
Last edited:

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top