Bare My Fangs

 Fergus wasn’t sure when he’d wandered into the fog bank, but he knew that the trees around him stood as stark, dark bodies shrouded in it. The detail was lost to him, but… he wasn’t much to appreciate beauty, or the lack of, in the landscape. There was little that he cared about, little that he sought after beyond basic needs, and hedonistic desires. The young man was a monster in his own right, being exposed to his birth pack’s vile individuals, who cared little for anything beyond food and sex. Fergus had followed close to his father’s greedy ways but had turned into a beast almost worse than Lachlan himself, wherever the old fuck may be. The child had grown into something violent, with a disposition to take what he wanted without asking, to use whatever means necessary to soothe his wants, desires, and needs.

 Except now. There was one that he had been unable to soothe, unable to fulfill. And it was close to driving him stark raving mad. His sobriety made him angry, put a thorn in his pelt that made him borderline insufferable to anyone he might encounter. A scowl touched his features, and a look of desperation haunted his eyes, hung heavy over features made gaunt by a year of heavy usage of jungle drugs. Haggard as he was though, one could tell he was still a young man, and could he gain some weight perhaps he would even fall into the category of handsome. But it was undeniable that Fergus cared more about substance than appearance.

 Movement caught his attention. A rabbit hopping from a bush, freezing as it saw his form in the fog. Even with the slight shroud, the O’Conaill boy could see the sudden panic that racked the small being, could smell the fear start to prickle from its skin like sweat. His mouth began to water, as his head lowered, and a wild, basic hunger slunk into his gaze to the point of being almost lustful. He growled, snapping his jaws shut loudly. The rabbit darted, pelting off in a direction that it thought would be safe. Fergus lurched after it, cutting it off as it turned towards a bush that appeared in the fog. His jaws snapped shut on its head, catching it mid-stride. His momentum carried him forward still, turning head over heel, tumbling onto his back, rolling a time or two before he gained his bearings again. He’d dropped the rabbit in the process, stunning it. He scrambled back to it, pouncing on it and beginning to tear into it with unwarranted savage hunger and rage. Blood spewed, the poor thing shrieking as it was thrashed around like a pup’s toy within jaws clamped tight around the back of its neck.

 The finality of death echoed through the forest as the rabbit’s cries drew to sudden silence. Panting heavily, Fergus stood there, eyes wild with the scent of blood. His jaws clenched tighter still, more bone crunching between his teeth until finally, the rabbit dropped to the ground with a solid thud, the back of its neck bitten clean off. It was down the boy’s gullet within seconds. He fell upon the rest of the rabbit, tearing into it with ravenous ferocity.

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@Vengance 

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A cry cut through the mist. A familiar one he had heard all too many times before, the shrill cry of a rabbit before death as it wailed its final breath. Such a horrific sound for something so soft, a sound that would fill many youths and loners as it provided an easy meal for a single canid to pick at should they successfully catch the quick little bastards.

The scent of blood filled the mist as the warlord barely had any interest to check out who had plucked the life from the little beast, he was planning on just meandering by without a care to share such little meat with the hunter and leave them to eat it fully themselves - that was until the scent of an outsider followed the scent of blood. Not only was an outsider on their lands, but they were here hunting no less.

The hairs along his back rose at the audacity, and the gumption of such a creature who would cross their borders in order to hunt. Rising from the depths of his core, rumbling through his throat and out across his tongue, a growl erupted at the rage as he prowled forward, quickly on thundering paws as he cut through the mist following the sweet odour of blood.

He wasn't certain if this was worse than when he caught @Morag marking their trees with her scent and claws before she joined. 

“And how do you plan on repaying us for the rabbit you stole from our lands?” With a rumbling tone and saliva spewing from his lips with every word, crimson eyes finally found the new perpetrator. In all honesty, he had the idea of treating this lad the way he did with that rabbit of its... Vengeance wasn't opposed to feasting upon the flesh of his brethren after all. That was, unless he had something better to offer than a momentary satisfaction to offer.

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  Fergus tore at the rabbit, crunching through bone and organ halfway done with scarfing his meal when a voice rang out. A man appeared in the fog, a snarl upon his features. Fergus matched the snarl, maw painted red, drool dripping thickly from teeth and tongue, all stained red with the rabbit’s life.

 ”And how do you plan on repaying us for the rabbit you stole from our lands?”

 ”Mother fucker, I don’t.” The young man spat with unwarranted hatred, as he stepped forward to protect what was left of his meal. His fur bristled, making his scrawny frame appear almost normal in bulk. Rage filled his eyes, toxic seafoam thrown about on the storm that was his emotions. ”Fuck off, it’s mine.” He lowered himself slightly, widening his stance. He would fight for the rabbit, that much was clear in the set of his paws, and the aggressive snarl upon his haggard features.

 His gaze took in the man before him, sizing him up. Perhaps Fergus wanted a fight, wanted something to feel other than the empty pain of withdraw and sobriety. Pain would suffice, as long as the ravenous sensation of his stomach was satiated. He didn’t eat often, and hadn’t eaten much since waking up wherever the fuck he was. The rabbit was filling to his shrunken stomach, filling – somewhat – the empty void that resided within him. He lifted his head slightly, his growling and snarling interrupted by a smug little smile.

 ”Besides…” He said, lifting his leg as he did. A stream of urine shot out of him, splattering the ground with an almost sick scent as his body detoxed even in… the afterlife? Death? Whatever the fuck state of existence he resided within. ”Smells more like my land than yours.” Fergus was an antagonistic little shit and took great joy in watching anger flare in those he encountered. He enjoyed the hurt that his words could create, relished in what his fangs could do. But more than anything… he loved having control over their emotions enough to incite rage within them. They didn’t know it, but in allowing his words and behaviors to bother them to the point of anger, they may as well turn around and lift tail for him to claim them as his bitch.

 He backed up slightly, lowering his head to take another bite of his meal, eating noisily. Perhaps Shae – the fucking slut that she’d been – would have fainted at his lack of manners. Mommy dearest had tried her hardest, or… really hadn’t at all, to make her children something other than little monsters. But, the basis of their pack had left all of them as little more than hedonistic little fuckers, hellbent on less than righteous self-destruction. He’d get whatever joy he could out of this situation.

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@Vengance 

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Another with a fire burning within them found themselves on Nightwalker turf. To challenge the claim of what Vengeance knew was his regardless of how tough they thought they were. He would fight anyone who believed they could just waltz in and hunt their food, piss on their lands and laugh in the face of the leader of the mercenaries within the mist.

Where were the damsels in distress and weaklings that would provide an easy meal? Nevertheless, the feisty ones were always interesting to a certain point. Some were fun, others were down right aggravating. Which one this would be would probably be determined closer to the end of the encounter - even if right this moment, as the man spat out foul language and had the gall to piss where he stood was more aggravating than anything.

Vengeance didn't stand for it very long. Almost instantly he lunged with snapping teeth to solidify his claim in mist filled woods. As the other tried to back up and go back to eating the mangled rabbit, Vengeance was more focussed on the trespasser. To violate him for the transgressions and even more so for adding fuel to the fire by desecrating the land he walked upon.

With every intention to put the man in his place, the attack aimed to grab the man by the neck or scuff with the purpose to shove their head where the puddle of piss steamed along the ground. As if he was improperly trying to teach a puppy that pissing indoors was prohibited. He'd even muse with he thought of pissing on the tall, scrawny man in turn... that would be a thing for another time if all worked out in the Warlord's favour.

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  In theory, Fergus should have had more respect for pack boundaries. But, in all honesty? He had neither scented the pack nor cared enough to try to even pretend to give a fuck. Raised in a pack where it was man-eat-man, survival of the meanest, most cunning, most provocative, or simply… the most unsuspecting. His thoughts drifted briefly to the weaklings that had resided within the pack. They hadn’t lasted long. The strongest had lasted, although their most prolific had left after the first move that the pack had encountered. This pack – assuming that it could even be considered a pack – that the other man spoke of automatically was counted as weak in Fergus’ mind. Nothing but weaklings, since their borders had been so faint that he hadn’t even realized he’d crossed them. The boy suffered weaklings not and found himself enjoying being a bully when he could be.

  A few tense moments passed before the other man lunged, snapping madly. Fergus abandoned the mouthful he had, letting it fall from the slick surface of his tongue with little care as he took another step back to attempt to dodge the man. He felt teeth graze the rough fur along his neck, feeling a tug at the back as he yanked himself free. His own teeth flashed, arcing towards the man’s face with little care of a fair fight. He refused to back up anymore and instead stood his ground. Whether that would result in him being bulldozed or not, some part of him knew – deep down, so deep he was unwilling to address the fact – that the man was larger than he was. Healthier than he was. Probably a better fighter than he was. Fergus was a bully, preying on the weak and downtrodden with sadistic glee. Anything weaker than him was a target.

  But drugs had haggard him, withdraw weakened him, and desire clouded the teachings of both his father and the woman of fire that had beat all sense from him in order to teach him just how to fight – both fair and unfair. Some rational part of the O’Conaill boy knew he was no match for the man before him. But stubbornness, rage, and a general disregard for his own wellbeing overrode the small semblance of rationality that existed within him. ’Fuck it. It will be what it will goddamned be.’

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@Vengance 

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Unlike most, Vengeance didn't grow up in a pack who taught him his way of life. It was all in the name of nature vs nurture... did his loner parents teach him this way or was he simply born as a ticking time bomb? The answer was simple, it was all him. He was violence, he was rage, and there was no teachings his poor parents could have done to sway him otherwise. After they were gone he began the new Rache bloodline and tradition of renaming by leaving behind his birth name and picking something that felt more fitting...

And thus Vengeance was born a new. 

His lifestyle was that of pure indulgence and survival. Fighting to eat, fuck and live another day. There was no pack to call home until he had made one himself in the previous life he and Hydra both shared - and here in the new land he called Adelhelm, he would continue what he had left behind. Unfortunately for this man who had found himself pissing on Nightwalker lands, this was Vengeance's world and Vengeance's rules as opposed to the traditional laws of the lands.

He did not shy away from the snapping teeth toward his face, only tucking it away to save his eyes and flattening his ears to try and save them just a little longer. Offering his cheek to the teeth and rushing in to the attack with the sole purpose to try and daze the opposing male with a swift hit to the nose against the bone and muscle armoured cheek, the Warlord retaliated with his own flurry of ivories with the intention of ripping into the man's neck again or perhaps a shoulder this time.

He'd make him bleed and pay for pissing on the Warlord's lands.

^^

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Vengeance HP (2 rolls): 14 | Fergus HP (2 rolls): 9/20

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 Fergus had never attempted to make himself born anew. He was never one to seek betterment of himself, but rather relished in unholy, self-righteous, beautiful self-destruction. Anything that tore his body apart, the man sought it out with reckless abandon. Even as a youngster, a mere child, he’d destroyed his brain with substances, sought the wriggle in his vision, the floating feeling, the inability to do anything but grin and laugh. Or doze. Or rage. Or sit still. Or be unable to move. Anything that changed him, or accentuated what was already there: a hedonistic, selfish little prick who hated everything and everyone around him unless it directly benefited him, or it was something he could ultimately destroy. His behavior, his actions, his own righteous anger were little more than remnants of a spoilt brat who daddy never quite loved enough it would seem.

 His behavior was tantrum-esque, even at the best of times, if there were even such things for the O’Conaill boy.

 He saw the man move, but not shy away. Perhaps a man after his own heart – or would Fergus be after the other’s own heart? Who knew, truly. The onslaught was vicious, the boy trying to dodge to the side, but just not quick enough. He felt something of a gasp come from him as fang slid across his skin, bunching it before ripping into the flesh along his shoulder. The sensation didn’t anger him, no the boy was already angry. Perpetually so. The sensation, however, did excite him, push him into a blood-spark flurry, his jaws beginning to snap madly at the other, not paying much attention to whether or not they truly landed, or hurt. The only thing the boy aimed to do now was taste iron upon his tongue – he didn’t care anymore if it was the stranger’s or his own in the aftermath wound licking.

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@Vengance 

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The titans clashed. Both nearly as tall as the other but the only other visible difference than they were between the other ignoring their colouration was that one was indeed thiccer than the other. Heavier, and perhaps with an arguably healthier or perhaps greedier appetite. And that appetite also slipped in to this fight. Yes, perhaps Vengeance was after Fergus' heart but not in the romantic way... the blood soaked organ was often rather quite delicious and meaty, chewy but certainly delicious along with all the other entrails tucked away nicely behind that protective layer of flesh.

Neither backed down as blood soaked through both their coats, staining the air in a thick copper smelling perfume. There was a reason why he chose Warlord as his leading title. For he was no classically titled Alpha or King as he cared little for a crown. He lived for the thrill of a fight, to feel it sting his skin and shoot lightning in his veins.

Guttural growls rang through the mist, carried on as it echoed off the thin evergreens. The smell of blood and saliva almost drowned out the smell of piss that initially instigated the fight to begin with, yet still the Warlord focused on the pungent smell of the other man as the fuel to feed his own raging fire. The other snapped blindingly trying to bite his assailant and landing a few furious blows and pierce the Goliath's skin - while Vengeance simply aimed to sink his fangs deeper into the trashing man with the intention of inflicting deeper wounds as opposed to many more shallow ones.

^^

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Vengeance HP: 5 | Fergus HP: -4/20
Final! Combined round 3 and 4 to finish the fight!

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 Their fight was vicious, one reacting in anger at offense, while the other reacted in pure spite. Fergus could feel the energy leaving his body, but he pushed on, aiming to get his blows in before their fight came to an end. He relished in the sensation of his blood coating his pelt, relished in the pain as fang sliced flesh with ease. The metallic twang still drove him to frenzy, but as the moments ticked by, he calmed, and slowly his teachers’ voices rang clear and true in his head. His blow became more well placed, more thoughtful, and purposeful in their actions.

 But the simple fact of the matter was that he was still no true match for a beast much healthier than he. Moments ticked by, and finally, the boy sprung away, backing up with his fangs still barred, saliva dripping crimson as both their blood mixed in his mouth. A snarl still ripped its way through him, but now he focused on dodging until the other stopped.

 In the aftermath, Fergus stood shaking, but still refused to run. If the man wanted to come at him again, then so be it. The O’Conaill man was now focused on the rest of his rabbit, wanting the remainder of his meal out of the simple fucking principle of the matter. He did not, however, go for it at the moment. He would wait, restraint making his muscles tremble in their tautness.

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@Vengance 
Feel free to powerplay a little, if Vengance wants Fergus to bow or wants to scar him a little more. <3

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Even if the other man was thinner and malnourished when posted up against the brutish barbarian, his impressive fire burned brightly against the behemoth as he impressively stood toe to toe regardless of his physical state. Still he wanted the other man to regret his actions previous to this altercation. To learn a lesson or two in the end - and the next part of the lesson was to begin shortly as the fight simmered down with the thinner man stepping back.

Obviously realizing that he was outmatched this day.

But it would not end here. Not with the wordless victory of the Warlord as the other man stepped down, but with Vengeance continuing to step forward and grabbing the man's scruff with every intention to force his head down toward the dirt. Toward the stench of his urine on the ground.

To rub his nose into the "accident" even if it may be taken by an outsider as if the Warlord was making the other man bow forcefully to the victor. Now was Vengeance any better than the other man as he let loose his own yellow stream of justice to coat the grounds they walked upon, paying no mind to the carcass that was supposedly a meal earlier... for if he pissed on that depending how they angled, according to this man's beliefs, the rabbit would belong to the Nightwalkers now.

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 Fergus was not one to often admit his defeat, but for once, he did. He would have admitted it out loud. Not because he feared the man before him – oh, he’d sooner die a thousand times over than fear anyone other than a few gnarled faces his grown up around. No, instead, he recognized that physically, he was outmatched. He should have known that he was nothing compared to a healthy pack-dwelling man. But, stubborn as ever, Fergus had fought – and fucking enjoyed it.

 He wasn’t, however, expecting the other man to continue on him, to grab him and rub his face in his own urine. He squinted his eyes, fighting the urge to gag on the stench of ammonia, and the burn of it as the dirt touched his nose and tongue. He snarled quietly but allowed his defeat – his humiliation – to happen. As he was released, he saw his meal get ruined. An irate pout touched his features, making him appear, for once, his young age.

 ”Man, fuck you,” Fergus mumbled, looking longingly at the unrightfully stolen rabbit that had been so unrightfully stolen back. It glistened with blood; the meat ruined by the other man’s urine as it rained upon it. The boy gave a quiet grunt but made no move to leave, uncertain – truly – as to what the fuck he was supposed to do now.

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@Vengance 

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The fight eventually faded from the thinner man and even more when his meal was ruined and "claimed back" by the victor here. Would Vengeance eat the rabbit now that it was "technically" his? Most likely not. He was not the type to let food go to waste,  but not was he desperate enough to eat anything covered even in his own urine.

Once pleased with the defeated tone and nose-rubbing, distance would be given again as he remained cautious around the other man's presence. Waiting for either round 2 or for him to flee. “Unless you wish to run and hope you can outrun me. You are mine now, one of the Nightwalkers.” He declared boldly. Not much of an invitation but more of a demand.

He liked the fire burning within this one. It would be a shame to watch such a flame run out without being recruited. “This is your only offer. Unless you would rather me piss on you to make it official too.” The mocking grin was only half-humorous as he was just as serious as ever. He wasn't opposed to pissing on another man if it meant adding to his ranks - even if this one couldn't be fully trusted.

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 Fergus, while he would not directly bow to the man when finally let go and allowed to stand, his snarls would come out quieter. He felt a rage boiling within him at the man’s actions, more so that he’d literally had his nose rubbed in his own piss like the insolent little child that he so often acted like. They both, it would seem would remain on their toes in each other’s presence, which the O’Conaill boy took some joy in. After all, he’d put up at least enough of a fight to prove that he had something in his haggard, poisoned figure that was toxic enough to be cautious of. Now, what that was, Fergus didn’t know and wouldn’t pretend as he did – nor would he pretend like he truly cared. At least it was enough to get a response that at least had the man keeping his distance from him.

 ”Unless you wish to run and hope you can outrun me. You are mind now, one of the Nightwalkers.”

Fergus blinked toxic seafoam eyes, and canted his head slightly to the side, squinting. He’d heard the man correctly, there was no doubt about that. The boldness of the man’s declaration hadn’t been something that someone could have easily been able to have had misheard. He’d been claimed, as oddly as it sounded. ’Claimed, or taken prisoner. But then… does it matter?’ The thought drifted quietly through his mind, making his haggard ears twitch slightly.

 ”This is your only offer. Unless you would rather me piss on you to make it official too.”

 ”I’m fuckin’ good. Already ruined my fuckin’ meal with that toxic shit. Don’t want it burnin’ my skin, old man.” Fergus grumbled, still eyeing the man slightly as he gave himself a shake, forcing his hackles to lower. ”Why do you want me? What am I? Your fuckin’ prisoner, or some shit?”

 Did the boy actually care about what predicament he was in? No. Not truly. A pack meant a healer, and a healer meant someone he could – hopefully – manipulate to get something in his system once more. He gave a small grunt at the thought, wanting it the more the possibility hung over his head – his veins ached. A slight shiver touched his frame for a few small moments, as anticipation of the possible rushed over him like a tidal wave.

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@Vengance 

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It was a natural progression of things for him to be asked why the boy was chosen to join. They weren't exactly trustworthy or a willing follower. In fact, this could definitely bite him in the ass later on down the road if he wasn't cautious with his random recruitment methods as of late.

In his mind... if he could gather more members, more members meant they all felt some kind of power among them. That they were a force to be seen and more willing to be a part of the group as opposed to seeing them as some kind of weak, little gang. It was a shot in the dark... but possibly worth it in the long run.
 

“No. Not a prisoner...” The lackadaisical way he spoke almost hinted it could be a possibility in the future if things here turned sour once more. It was never not an option with the Nightwalkers to take in prisoners after all. “I am gathering warriors, your fire fits us well. I wish to use it.” Harness it for his use rather than seeing someone else use it against him.

No one ever said being a Warlord would be easy. Gathering a group of mercenaries and violent individuals had its ups and downs.

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 Fergus blinked slowly, watching the other man with muted curiosity. What was the point of offering to take him in? An ear twitched, as a thought fluttered sluggishly through the boy’s mind. ’What’s he got to offer me?’ His head canted to the side as toxic seafoam eyes still glittered with the frenzied joy of fighting. He could still feel his own blood seeping from his wounds, matting his fur in thick, almost slimy clumps that smelled heavily of the distinct metallic twang that still sparked a particular excitement within him.

 [”No. Not a prisoner… I am gathering warriors, your fire fits us well. I wish to use it.” Fergus blinked, squinting slightly before he offered a small shrug.

 ”Why the fuck not. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been in a pack. Better than being a prisoner,” he paused for a moment, thinking. ”Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.” He could always walk out if the desire struck him. He knew that he was going to be used. The O’Conaill boy was fine with it, just so long as he could continue his search for his high, or anything that brought some sense of satisfaction to him. It’d be something to do in the meantime, and while it was not Legion, and he knew their home did not reside within the jungle Labyrinth, Fergus figured that it would be good enough.

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With a rare moment of patience the Warlord waited for a response. However his patience was often short lived, and thankfully, the dark man before him came up with the only good answer he could have. Even if it was pretty blasé, this was official enough as far as the new family was concerned.
 
“Good.” He coos with a drawl, letting the word linger on his tongue after the new-joiner had accepted the kind offer. “Come, I will show you where you can eat non-piss covered food.” With a tilt of his head, he began to walk off into the inner circles of their territory. On the way he would show Fergus around, introduce themselves and give a general introduction of the pack and what he had found himself into now.

He could introduce himself to the rest of the pack on his own time. Cautious not to turn his back on the new Nightwalker should he run off at the first chance of freedom, Vengeance was certain to walk with him and not leave him behind. In time, maybe he could find the beauty in what they were building here...

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