Baby, baby, tell me more of your lies

for @Vengeance mostly!

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The weary traveler had been wandering around for what felt like a lifetime when it had only been two moons. He'd counted, truly, while he sought for a way off the unending island. He followed the sun whenever he could, and navigated using the stars whenever it went away. He wasn't great at either, and thus ended up lost somewhere along the shore he'd washed up on. He'd cursed the heaven's and all that watched over him and went on a little hunting spree to cool off. Oftentimes he wasn't even hungry, he just wanted to kill something. All that he didn't eat, he'd left at what he assumed were borders, never once sticking around for an encounter.

Today was no different. He carried with him the leg of a fawn as he approached the dark, foggy woodlands. Something felt familiar, as if he'd been here before - or perhaps someone he knew. Had Abaddon gone here? He hadn't seen the white ghost in a while - the two had barely said goodbye last time they'd seen each other. He guessed brotherly love was seeing each other as little as possible to avoid the urge to kill each other. He was fine with that; he never had much attachment to anyone, and he supposed his brother was no exception.

He dropped off the meal near the border of the pack and was just about to turn away in search of his next activity for the day.

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With @Eldra dead and gone, they were down one body... though he couldn't say he would miss her much. The woman was truly shaping up to be something to behold later on, so it was a shame that she would perish before showing what she was capable of once trained to be a proper soldier instead of off her hinges. 

Oh well.

Such things were for their types after all. Death was always knocking on the doors of Mercenaries, those who treads the trail of blood and gore, of war and greed. Their lives were often short - but glorious when done right and never forgotten as their stories would live on as bedtime horrors to keep puppies from wandering too far from their dens as the Bogeyman would surely take them away into the misty woods.

This time, the one who he would greet at his borders was one he should know as familiar - if he had met this one in his past life. The smell of blood brought him to greet the already fleeting figure of the dark young-man and let out a deep woof to catch his attention. “Why do you leave a meal at my borders?” Frankly he always loved a free meal even if this also meant the young man hunted something close by which irked the Warlord... 

Was it poisoned? He took a quick sniff at it all the while keeping bright rubies on the shadowy figure.

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The first thing that hit him, even before the demanding woof that was barked at him, was the awful stench of a man who desperately needed a bath. Honestly, Almight couldn't understand why some bore such an unappealing odor when it took but little effort to keep one's coat clean. He was no prude, but even the giant could appreciate a soak in the river after a bloody battle or a night of passionate fornication.

With slow and heavy movements did Almight turn his gaze and then his body towards the packwolf that had approached him before he could make his exit. The man bore a grisly coat of earthy browns and blacks. This dude wasn't 'hardened by battle', he was practically born from it. Even the look he gave the bringer of gifts was filled with suspicion and, as Almight took it, a sense of malice. The storm cloud scoffed. “I had no use for it anymore.” As the sentence left his lips, something hit him. Earthy coat, ruby eyes, the most awful smell you'd ever had the displeasure of smelling...

“You're Vengeance.” He stated, his tone shifting upwards near the end to try to make it sound more like a question. He hoped he was wrong. Though he matched his brother's description and the general vibe one would expect from a cursed and wretched man who'd leave his two sons alone in the world, Almight sure hoped he was wrong if only so he didn't have to face what he'd come from.

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"I had no use for it anymore", the words struck him like a war drum. Throbbing in his ears in a burning sensation of what felt oh so familiar... rage. A growl rumbled from his lips as they quivered with a threat teetering on the brim of exploding.“So you thought we were needing of your "generous donation"?” It was insulting.

They weren't in need of food donations like some weak little pack unable to care for themselves. Even if their numbers may be lacking, what they weren't was hungry.
 
“Yes.” The deep rumblings lifted just enough, long enough to let the word slither free from his blackened, iron stained lips. “And who are you?” Curiosity naturally kept him talking just a little while longer before straight up attacking out of sheer anger for the blatant disrespect he felt for the "donation" being left on their doorstep.

Was his name already being whispered by the commoners beyond their borders? Their reach already spreading like the disease they were before marching out to claim the Temperate as their own? He took a step forward, eyes forever trained on the boy just as the hungry predator he was...

Who was this boy?

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Almight peered at the other, muscles tensing as Vengeance grew angry with him. The display reeked of insecurity - that someone might think him and his pack weak was probably a nightmare for someone as vain and stubborn as his supposed father. He would've laughed if he'd wanted to die that day, but there was too much left unspoken between them. For a moment he considered leaving the man in his worries and conspiracies, forever wondering who the stormcloud boy at his borders had been, but he knew it to be in vain. Vengeance wouldn't bother mulling over his identity, not for long anyway. He was too self-centered for that, he thought.

“Needing? No - perhaps thankful.” He responded coolly. He separated his paws from each other, entering a wider stance with a single step. “Thankful that, after my whole life wondering who you were, hating who I thought you were, I'd not rip your throat out here and now for abandoning me.” As he went on, there was genuine anger in his tone. The last words were nearly spat at the other's feet. Though his expression had grown dark and hateful, it shifted into something akin to peaceful not shortly after.

“How nice it is to finally meet you, father.”

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Certainly it wasn't insecurity that was pushing the Warlord further. A free meal was a free meal indeed, but this couldn't become something of a regular occurrence. This boy wasn't to be left to leave peacefully should he spread the word that the Nightwalkers were welcoming some simple donations. Especially if it was the leftovers of some lowly "generous" loner that hunted near their lands.

Thankful, his maw snapped hungrily, preparing to lunge forward and see if he could take this young man down and add his own flesh and blood to the charity he had left on their borders. The boy continued despite the half-lunge, threatening to begin a battle here and now as the Warlord's hackles rose to a prick along his spine, listening as the younger man spoke about how he was his "son".

It didn't matter. 

Did he really think that because they were maybe, possibly, related by blood that it gave him any kind of special privileges? The faux lunge didn't last long, as the boy's final words were uttered the beastly man kicked off the misty grounds with a guttural, mocking laugh between the snapping yellowing fangs. Of course he found all this humorous. 

If the boy truly was his son, he would learn soon enough that Vengeance was not the fatherly type of any sorts. Perhaps this would be his first lesson as a "family". Packs didn't generally appreciate the insult of charity being left for them as shared leftovers from someone else.

And that maybe - if he wasn't good enough to defend himself, that Vengeance was not opposed to devouring his own flesh and blood when proven too weak to be of any good to him.

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Had he expected his supposed father to lunge first? at all? To be honest, Almight wasn't sure what he'd expected. He just wanted to get rid of his scraps and be on his way. Perhaps, for once in his life, he should've just shut the fuck up. Unluckily for him, he wasn't the type to hold his tongue, even in the face of a monster. A lesson learned, however painfully.

Almight had gotten into his fair share of fights, in his past life and this one as he wandered these new lands, but never against someone he deemed actually skilled enough to kill him. He was ruthless and bloodthirsty, but not stupid. Usually it was him starting some kind of argument, or a girl refusing his advances - not some war demon lunging at him because he'd left a gift for dear-old-dad. Still, he grinned as he took the first blow, keeping himself standing with the strength and size of his body that rivaled that of his attacker. Some of Vengeance's teeth did clamp down on his thick fur, sometimes even striking skin, but Almight wasn't going down that easily.

He tried to grab at the other's nape, pushing with his own strength and size against the other. He wasn't looking forward to the taste of rot in his mouth should he succeed, but he imagined that if he couldn't hold his own in this fight, he surely would perish.

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At least the boy was done talking. Now that he was busy trying to survive this new encounter of his with his "maybe father". Was this the kind of reunion he was hoping for after all this time? Did he even suspect such a thing to happen? Or did he think that his dear 'ol man would be the type to want to tear up and try to know his "son"?

Whatever he thought previously would have surely been squashed now as fangs collided. Teeth grazing into his flesh but not quite deep enough to grab onto the dark stormy coloured boy. Teeth snapping shut just past his body as they collided with the boy's own teeth finding their mark in the disgusting matted coat of the king of gore within the mist here. 

Even with his nape being held onto, he would not be pinned down so easily by some yearling. With a quick buck of his head he tried to slam against the boy's jaws with all his might, even if it meant it would cut through his own skin, surely it would leave him just a little more rattled and open for assault if he was successful to uppercut him with the back of his head. 

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He hadn't been counting on an encounter at all to be honest. He'd been fine with never having to meet the bearer of the seed that spawned him and his brother. Hell, he'd been fine with not having to meet any of his family ever again. He wasn't attached to them, and they clearly didn't care about him. He'd had found solace in the arms of numerous lovers, bitched around for the rest of his life until he'd died of too many orgasms or something. At least, that had been the plan.

The old man tasted just about as bad as he smelled, but the boy didn't let go even as he tried his best to break free. As the other bucked his chin, the force of the collision was enough to tear him off the other's nape - bits of matted fur and flesh coming along that he spat out as soon as he could. It dizzied him for a moment, but a quick shake and the lowering of his head to remain steady in case of another lunge prepared him for the continuation of this brawl.

Like a bull did he charge at the other titan, head-first to attempt bringing him off-balance long enough to floor him - or perhaps the two would head-butt and both would end up with a concussion. It was a risk he was willing to take.

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The nerves along his nape had all been dead, long gone and barely felt even since his re-awakening here in Adelhelm. The fights that had proceeded since his arrival in these new lands had only solidified his skin further. Killing the nerves and letting him re-build that calloused armour in certain often-targeted-places. 

While the younger man was in a short daze, Vengeance took the opportunity to try and grab him by the neck. Again, aiming for a quick victory as opposed to drawing it out as a show of abilities - no, this was to win and show just what kind of man this lad was talking to. How he should have chosen his words far more carefully than to spit them out as if expecting no retaliation to follow. As if punishment was not possible.

He was the king of violence.

The master of retribution.

He was fucking Vengeance, Warlord of the Nightwalkers

And some shit like this one thinking he was beyond the Warlord's wrath by simply leaving leftovers at his doorstep would soon learn that this was not the place to fuck around in. 

Instead of a throat, he was met with a head. Teeth sinking into the skull of the younger man and taking that as "good enough" to bite into and leave a pretty, red mark for him to remember his old man by later on. With the skull protecting most parts other than maybe the ears if he was lucky to grab onto them - Vengeance bit and furiously chewed at anything he could get while the boy's head was thrust toward his open maw.

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It didn't go to plan - instead of being able to charge, his head was met with the open maw of Vengeance, eagerly chomping whatever he could get between his teeth. Luckily his ears had been pressed tightly against his skull on either side in anger - he'd hate to have an asymmetrical face after all this. Blood from where he'd been bitten streamed down his forehead, over his eyebrows and into his left eye. The crimson turned the whites and silvers of his eyes a bright red. The only thing keeping the wound relatively shallow was his thick fur and the quickness of his retreat.

He knew that the beast wouldn't hesitate to lunge again even if he backed off; this wasn't so the boy would respect him, but a mad show of violence with no rhyme or reason. He scurried to the side, trying now a charge from the side. The sloppy way he moved due to the adrenaline in his body left him vulnerable to a tackle, but he didn't know that.

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His teeth slid as they seemed impossible to grab onto anything in particular to rip off and keep as a rotting trophy within his den. Furiously he bit at everything he could, snapping until the boy made distance between them as quickly as his youthful legs could.

Naturally Vengeance was not going to let him go that easily - no, already he was approaching quickly, thundering paws hitting the ground mercilessly as he hungrily swallowed the ground between them to close the distance. His "Son" chose to do to the same, to rush in with the desire to collide with the titan using his own large body as well.

What happens when an immovable object meets with an immoveable force? 

Calamity. 

With one man using his weight the other would as well naturally with the desire to overpower the other. A man who loved throwing his weight around, Vengeance leaned in to the collision. Thrashing with the desire to come out on top and bite, claw, shove his way to victory.

With the way the boy fought, he was almost willing to give him a chance to join the ranks of the Nightwalkers...

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As expected, the two colossal figures collided. Paws clawed at each other as both men tried to get the upper hand. Teeth plucked each other bare, like chickens. To his surprise, Almight held up the weight of the other for longer than he had expected to be able to, even being able to push back for a while. He found it in him to growl and grab at the other's fur, never getting to skin as he tried to protect his own.

The two were evenly matched in brawn, but when it came to actual tactics and complete madness, Vengeance would win. His muscles grew tired and the blood in his eyes stung much like his wounds. A burning sensation climbed from his toes to his shoulders. He trembled, catching the weight for a final time before finally failing. He folded, crumpling to the ground - but the fight wasn't out of him yet. He still thrashed underneath the other's weight, kicking, biting, scraping at whatever he could. It wasn't so much desperation as it was a show of resilience and spirit, the fact he didn't want to give up. All the while, he stared daggers at his father with his bloodied eyes.

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Eventually it all came a conclusion as the darker, stormborn boy fell with exhaustion. Thrashing with the desire to keep himself from being devoured by the mist that shrouded the two titans that shed blood upon its hollow ground. The scent of blood was becoming rather signature of the mist. Wherever it reached out, the smell and taste of iron would follow suit. A calling card of the Nightwalkers and where they roamed.

The show of residence, spirit, fire and the lust for blood was evident. Even Vengeance would not approach while the younger lad angrily tossed around with the desire to protect himself against the looming death that prowled just around with heavy feet thudding against the ground.  
 
“If you are my son, you will know of the opportunity I offer —” He paused in mid drawl. Nailing in the suspicion that perhaps the boy was lying, but also... the fire that burned within could very easily be enough show that there might be truth to his claim. Only Vengeance could create such a bright flame - a hunger for blood and refusal to lay down and accept defeat. 
 
“Join me, join my Nightwalkers. We can use your spirit.” It was obvious by the look in his eye as the Warlord's head lowered to hover just below his shoulders, glaring with a bright, violence in his own optics. Join me, or perish; he said silently.

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He hadn't expected to live beyond that point. At least, not in the way he wanted to. He wasn't evil like his father, or good like his lover of a lifetime long past. He wasn't about to be a part of the system, especially not under Vengeance's rule, but his words and eyes revealed he didn't have much of a choice to make. He had to become what he'd always hated; not an outlaw fighting for himself, but a piece of a bigger picture. If it helped him live a day longer, he'd take whatever scraps he could get. He wasn't a picky man, but definitely an honorable one.

He gargled a chuckle. “You're not offering me much of a choice.” His smirk faded. “Very well then. I'll be one of your Nightwalkers - your best. After all, I really am your son.” The last part he nearly jested, as if it was already a running joke in their loving family. He'd already stopped his thrashing, but now he kept particularly still as he awaited either death or a chance to get up.

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No, he really wasn't giving much of a choice at all. Join me or be one of them - prey. Regardless of his "honour", every man had their price. Often the threat of death was enough to get their decision on his side. To bring them into his reign and one with the shadows he wished to control from the mist.

Once the offer was accepted, the man relaxed. They were one now after all - and he would treat him as such. Still on edge as they were all murderers after all, but a familiar one at least instead of some stranger wandering in. And so the behemoth still stood tall, strong, but the threat of death had subsided as muscles uncoiled just enough to give him a more fluid appearance.
 
“You still have much to prove —” A pause as the leviathan shrugged his shoulders casually, too casual for someone who had just been wanting to sink his teeth into the flesh of the boy just moments ago. Oh how the winds shifted wildly with this one. Even in this new life he was as volatile as the last. 
 
“Come, I will show you the common grounds. From there you are on your own.” As a Nightwalker, Vengeance would not loom over their shoulders and guide them like some mother hen. Blackwood was their home base, where safety was more or less promised at least from the outside world. If this boy was truly his son, then surely he would show that he was much more than just aimless brute.“What do you call yourself, boy?”

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The fallen man never took his eyes off Vengeance, even as the tension and threat of death subsided. He couldn't drop his guard around him, not so easily. Surely this was understandable; once threatened with death, one did not simply relax around the demon that had given the threat. He wondered then what the Nightwalkers even were, what their ultimate goal was. These lands were easily survivable, he was living proof of that, so it couldn't just be a pack out of necessity. This scared him even more, seeing as the other possible reasons could be much more sinister.

These concerns were easily brushed aside; it mattered little at this point what he thought of it all. He was a cog now, and he better act like it. Perhaps doing enough favors for these Nightwalkers would grant him some kind of immunity from their violence. Who knew, perhaps he'd even enjoy doing their chores.

The young man rose slowly, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. He ached a bit, but at least he could stand and walk. He pressed the back of his paw against the wound on his head, inspecting if it was still bleeding. Lucky for him, there weren't many blood vessels in that area and the blood had clotted rather easily. With enough time, it would heal normally and be covered with fur if he was fortunate enough.

He nodded at the next statement. He wanted to answer with "roguishly handsome and hilariously funny" but Vengeance didn't seem like someone who'd appreciate a joke at a time like this. Not that Almight was feeling like joking at all. “Almight. Almight Rache.”

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