He is the void.

There'd been a pack here, recently. The scent if wolf was stale on the territory outskirts, yet distinct. He curled his lip in distaste as the aroma flooded his nares, yet it did nothing to deter him.

The spider prowled forward, and began his ascent to higher ground. He hungered for the taste of ram's blood, and so began his hunt.

When at last he located and felled his prize, Venamis tore into its flesh to begin the feast.


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He smelt it on the wind. Blood, fresh blood -- a fresh kill mixed in with the scent of wolf. Bjorn's forest-green gaze glinted with hunger and chaos as he lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he sought the direction. The Viking surged forward on thick paws, carrying himself in an almost jaunty trot with his head ducked low between his shoulder blades. 

His tongue slithered over his saliva touched lips as he saw them, coloured in shadows and feasting on a ram. Bjorn's teeth glinted as he grinned, lips peeling back as he decided on his menu. It was unlikely that the other wolf would give the ram up so easily, so he would need to fight him and win to get his spoils and his life. It had been a while since he had engaged another wolf, the last one he had engaged he'd bitten out their eyes and left them for nature, because it was more fun that way.

"Mine," the nordic man snapped as he drew near, lashing his tail from side to side. He cared little for words, knowing English little anyway. ^^

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Never before had Venamis been challenged over food. His height and bulk often served as deterrent enough, though the beast who saw fit to invade his space rivalled his size. Having already consumed a fair portion of his kill, the white of Venamis' furs were slick with crimson and blood glinted on his fangs as he bore them in response to the stranger's bold claim.

From his throat, a guttural growl. He voiced no words, yet stepped protectively over his prize. Eerily pale eyes sought those of his opponent, daring him to try and rob him of what was rightly his


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He didn't flinch as the other turned to face him, teeth gleaming with saliva and blood. His stomach rumbled and his own lips twisted into a chaotic grin, the man doing as most wolves with a back bone would: defend their kill. Bjorn didn't care for semantics or politics, not right now, not in this new land where he had no Clan to be responsible for. He was younger now, more able and less inclined to give a fuck.

Yellow met green and Bjorn lurched forward, ears tucked and jaws wide open as he lunged for the protective wolf though at last minute would attempt to feign a move of stepping to the side. If the man would go to attack where Bjorn had made it look like he was aiming for before the sudden switch, the Viking would have an advantage. ^^

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He stared right back, and sneered at him. The audacity! Venamis, already riled, felt the rugged guard hairs of his nape spike, and the sensation trailed its way along the length of his spine.

He was prepared to counter when the rogue bolted his way, or so he thought. Venamis lurched forward too, fangs clacking as they aimed to deliver a fierce bite to whatever part of his challenger's body he could reach, but the brute veered away to the side.

Venamis, perhaps foolishly, moved to pursue with fangs once more at the ready. He aimed to grab for a flank, and deliver a sharp enough warning that might deter him from further attack.


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Bjorn had his sights set on the ram and the wolf, so nothing would deter him from his desires. Not even the clacking of his opponents teeth as he caught air though the viking would twist his frame to curl sideways as the man sought Bjorn's flank. As if mirroring him, the green-eyed man would snap his jaws towards the man's lower leg, just as his teeth latched onto Bjorn's flesh.

He snarled with adrenaline as he hoped that if he managed to grab the man's hind leg in his mouth, he would be able to shake his head side to side with as much violence as he could muster. ^^

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Finding purchase on the brute's flank, Venamis held firm. Growls muffed by fur and flesh, he gave a fierce tug to sharpen the pain, but not without consequence. His opponent swung his way again, as expected, but it was not his torso that he moved to attack.

A hind limb was yanked from under him, and Venamis' hold did not tighten. Hindquarters giving way as the breath was sucked from his lungs, he scrabbled with his forelegs in an effort to remain upright, but he failed. He felt fangs pierce his skin, and the pain was unbearable. His yowling snarl communicated both rage and hurt, and he tried to tear himself free of his attacker's grasp with a strong yank.

The leg would be shredded down to the bone and tendons severed, but he didn't care - he needed to get loose and roll away, and get the hell out of reach.


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Bjorn was uncaring to the pain that radiated from his flank as for the moment, it was part of what was driving him. Later he was certain he would feel the sting of torn flesh but in this moment he was living for it and winning, it seemed, as he had latched onto the dark man's leg and successfully dragged him down.

On his tongue he could feel the flesh rip and rip, tongue lapping against what he was certain might be bone. He'd take that bone, he decided, for he always took something of his kills. The other man was down, unable to balance himself against Bjorn's onslaught. It was almost immediately that the Viking released the scrabbling man's leg and whilst he was distracted in trying to get himself away, Bjorn would lurch to stand over him like a cage and waste no time in angling his teeth for the delicate flesh of the mans throat.

Bjorn would latch on with all rampant frenzy he could, aiming to suffocate the man if he didn't evade him by squeezing down on his throat. ^^

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Release, at last, and Venamis drew his wounded leg in close to his body as he prepared to drag himself up and away - but he was not fast enough. His opponent looked over him, strong limbs blocking his escape, and the spider snapped in the direction of the lower foreleg closest to his snout. If he made any contact, it soon didn't matter, for teeth closed in on his throat.

To die over a ram had not been something he'd considered, for he'd been entirely confident in his ability to win. But then and there, broken and bleeding and breathless, Venamis stared right back into the verdant eye of Death personified - and prayed to Sithis to have welcome him.

He didn't want to perish, but he would not go without a fight. He kicked and squirmed beneath a vice grip, maneuvering himself in such a manner that he reached to claw at his opponent's tender undersides, eyes wild with both hatred and terror until the life was gone from them.


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