Howl to the Moon, Monster [Someith vs WW day 3]

[Kire]

Someith Krearns
i'm too tired to be bored
i'm too bored to be tired

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

He had left them behind, all of them - Cody, Dustyn, the girl from Ten, Hannah's dead body, Saxton. All he could feel was freedom. Now he could do whatever he want and no one would whine at him. He could slash and slice and kill without bothering about how the others thought. He was here to kill, and he should not be held back from it. Grinning, he climbed his way down the cliff side to land lightly on the beach. Ah the beach, he had always enjoyed the restless water. His ship, one of his largest thefts, had always been an entertainment for him. The reaction that he had gotten as people saw his vessel was always one of terror. They knew him, they feared him, and he loved it.

Now he hoped those same people were still watching him with fear, because he was going to be back soon to terrorize them again, and this time they wouldn't be able to harm him. Victors are sacred, no one would be allowed to stop him. The grin he wore grew devilish. That would be the life for him, one where he really could do anything he wanted. He would have all of the play toys with no sign of bed time. Let them all step on his lego world, he would build it brick by brick and not care what he left in his wake. He would make the world his.

Unnatural shapes were laid out before him. Taking a moment to glance at them, he noticed that they were letters. Someone had written a note here, and he had a feeling that it was for him. Scowling - the same feeling told him who it was that could have possibly left this note - he read over the oddly shaped letters made out of driftwood.

Your booty's on a different island, captain.

Somehow this annoying girl had even managed a sarcastic inflection to emanate from the last word. Had he not been peeved by her childishness, he might have admired the art of her message. Now sneering instead of grinning, he turned away from the note.

Clearly he would have to make his way to somewhere else in order to catch up with her - and he wanted to catch up with her so he could teach her what it meant to mess with him. Scanning the horizon, his eyes lighted on a distant cottage set out in the sea. Columns of what looked to be rock lead out that way. He would follow her - for surely that was where she had gone.

A howl interrupted his thoughts and he turned. Standing a ways down the beach from him was a hunched form. The thing - it wasn't human, or at least not fully - had patchy fur and eyes that, while intelligent, held no sign of understanding. Another howl came from the creature before it approached him. No, you're not eating me.

Yanking his pole hammer from his pack, he moved forward and raised the weapon.

"Howl to the Moon for me, creature."

[Attacks Werewolf | Pole Hammer]
XPJgfrngspear
Block -- 0.0 damage

[Accuracy - Day 3]
spear
Stabbed in Calf -- 8.5 damage

Your Move

[googlefont="Alex Brush:400"]spear�spear

[✨ zozo.]

little wolfe


...finds herself born into a world green and blue and white.

it's not normal. it's not right. it shouldn't be like this. it should be

grey and dark and cold and-

red.

she thinks she remembers this place when it was black and blue and red, red, red.

grey eyes sweep across her surroundings and she hears screaming beneath the silence.

the girl

the girl isn't here

they killed her.

they mauled her to pieces and he did nothing to stop it.

(is she the girl?)

there's a need in her to kill kill kill kill-

it's foreign - but somehow comforting, like she is returning to a place from a memory.

little wolfe hears a snap and she sees the coward for all he is:

red red red red red red redredredredredredred.

there is something bad beneath his skin

(he left. he left her behind. and he's not sorry.)

red and black blood pouring through his body

he is death, but she fears him.

(they killed the girl. they ripped her to pieces.)

he snarls and she pounces and the world turns from green and blue and white to red

pain is the trigger. this boy the bullet.

little wolfe returns to fight one last time.

little wolfe attacks someith, teeth/knife

W_O6g6Qgknife

shallow cut on back of head 4.5

knife

[Kire]

Someith Krearns
and the silence is so deafening
it's like picking at a sore

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

The beast moved quicker than he had originally gauged, blocking his first swing with a movement. However, he adjusted his technique and aimed at the thing's legs. His eyes wide and wild, he plunged the point of his weapon into the meat of the creature's calf. That would slow it down, and it would also now be in pain. He was going to have fun with this. As the wolf-human snarled and panted at him he watched it. Female, most likely, from what humanoid shape she had left.

They could play, he slashing and stabbing as she cried in distress. He loved that part, the way they always showed their terror in the sounds they made. Seeing what squeals and screams he could draw from his victim was a thrill for him. When she clawed at the back of his head, her paws flailing, he only grinned at her. Her antics amused him, seeming almost like an unintentional hug. The cut in his scalp barely hurt, or perhaps he was just highly focused on his prey.

Who's the most terrible?

"No, sweetheart, I'm the better monster."

Oh he would enjoy this one.

[Attacks Werewolf | Pole Hammer]
zjeMMaQrspear
Deep Gash on Left Thigh -- 8.0 damage

Your Move

[googlefont="Alex Brush:400"]spear

[✨ zozo.]

little wolfe


...feels it again in her limbs


stabbing, ripping, tearing, bleeding


she screams at the boy (stop it, stop it, please)

begging for salvation.

and then comes the avalanche, buried in blistering white.

she is dying. she can feel the life in her seeping out from her insides like moonlight in the dark.

but she is made for fighting and killing

it drums in her head

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill him.

this has happened before. this is history on repeat.

she knows how this ends but fights on anyway.

little wolfe attacks someith, teeth/knife

jWwvQaYbknife

shallow cut on left shoulder 3.5

knife

[Kire]

Someith Krearns
i'm too mental to go crazy
i'm too drunk to be pure

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

He can see her desperation now and that makes his grin turn sharp. On his face and his arm is a gleaming crescent that flashes in the light. The resistance of her flesh as he drives the edge of the hammer into the skin of her thigh and down into the muscle exhilarates him. Closer, they're getting closer to the point in this dance where he will make the defining move. Dominating the motion, controlling the pace and steps, he guides her blows so they do not strike him as he strikes her. Claws dig into his shoulder but he ignores them, shrugging them off without care. She can try to hug him, but he is not the affectionate kind.

She can not offer him a night's company, but she can offer him a day's entertainment.

"Do I scare you, Wolfe?"

He hoped so.

[Attacks Werewolf | Pole Hammer]
AczfHFqRspear
Miss -- 0.0 damage
lol spoke too soon Someith

Your Move

[googlefont="Alex Brush:400"]spear

[✨ zozo.]

little wolfe

"do i scare you, wolfe?"

death stares her right in the face and she-

whimpers

hesitates

growls

howls.

she is not afraid of this boy cloaked in darkness.

she was afraid of a lot of things, once upon a time.

what made fear grip it's skeletal hands around her throat - she does not know.

it's there. it's there on the tip on her conscience but all she can focus on

is to kill

kill

kill him.

(to finish what she once failed to do.)

little wolfe attacks someith, teeth/knife

H0sobLQzknife

deep gash on chest 9.5

knife

[Kire]

Someith Krearns
and my mind is playing tricks on me
and i can't sleep tonight

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

He sneered jubilantly at her. The blood on his weapon excited him, making him step lightly in their dance. Confident - perhaps overly so - he made a feint at her throat. He felt her panic like a physical force, watched as her paws slashed wildly at the air. Not bothering to give her attempts at wounding him much attention, he stepped in close to threaten her with his hook.

Claws dug into the flesh of his chest, slicing his skin and drawing his own blood. Angered, and slightly taken aback that she had struck him, he whipped up his pole hammer. Glaring fiercely at her, he got ready to swat her back.

"Bad dog."

[Attacks Werewolf | Pole Hammer]
4|TeL_BQspear
Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage

Your Move

[googlefont="Alex Brush:400"]spear

[✨ zozo.]

little wolfe

she's reached her limit.

every single part of her screams for death

she's hungry

biting

scratching

tearing him apart.

the world is no longer filled with colour

it's red red red red red-

it's bad.

and so is she.

she knows she shouldn't be doing this but she wants to

needs to

has to.

it's the way she was constructed

born to kill.

and she's dying to kill.

little wolfe attacks someith, teeth/knife

1|riJmILknife

3.5

knife

[Kire]

Someith Krearns
'cause i'm so tired
i can't take it anymore

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

He stabbed down, driving his weapon into her undamaged leg. The weapon didn't lodge into her flesh, but the long red score marking her calf was beautiful all the same. She was almost done, he could sense. Of the two of them, there was no human here. Instead, two wolves clashed. Her howls pierced up to the sky but his yips of joy countered the noise she made. Wild as a beast, he ignored the stinging that laced his body. Blood ran from his chest and oozed more slowly from the back of his head and his shoulder, but the majority of the red substance on the ground had come from his victim. Funny how she had originally thought that he would be the torn one on the ground. He had taught her differently.

The time to put the dog down drew closer, but he savored the feeling of content and contempt that flooded him as he watched her struggle. Her teeth sank into his upper right arm, digging into the flesh. She couldn't get a good grip on him, though, and he pulled away. A chunk of fabric and some skin was missing, yet the pain was nearly unnoticeable. He stepped close, raising his arms to place his hand and his hook on either sides of her face. Staring into her eyes, he stood for a moment, simply grinning at her. Lowering his arms, he moved back and raised his pole hammer.

"Time to put the dog down, she's sick."

He thrust the weapon towards her heart, but stopped inches from her chest.

"Ah but I enjoy your misery."

He watched her, eyes narrowed in calculation. She would most likely slash at him out of a last ditch effort to kill him. There was a determination to live within everything, and he could understand that. At the same time, he wanted nothing more than to break that will. Only when she was crying for him to kill her would he finally let her go. That time was soon, but not yet.

There was still more fun to be had.

[Attacks Werewolf | Pole Hammer]
9_xy4NTIspear
Miss -- 0.0 damage

Your Move

[googlefont="Alex Brush:400"]spear

[✨ zozo.]

little wolfe

she should be tired

aching

dying.

but she's not

not yet.

her arms are filled of wildfire

spitting, crackling, furious

filled with rage and desire.

electricity unfolds across her matted limbs

teeth baring

grey eyes wide open

she has to kill him

she has to

she has

she

she is dying.

little wolfe attacks someith, teeth/knife

CASKIrg7knife

sc on forehead 4.5

knife

[Kire]

Someith Krearns
with all the liars
like a prisoner of war

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

He is both pleasantly surprised and slightly annoyed when she embraced a new strength to go at him again. Just as he had thought that maybe she had no play left in her she swiped at his face and her nails scored across his forehead. Blood began to ooze down his face. With all of the blood between them one would have trouble telling where one ended and the other began. His red life mixed with hers and together they discovered the chasm of death.

This was not the first time he had looked over its edge, but once again he was not the one about to take the plunge. Somehow, he felt that this creature had been here before as well. The situation felt like a moment of Deja Vu, like a circle had just been completed and they stood back where they had once been. Intrigued, he looked over his opponent. He couldn't place how but he felt like the eyes that looked back at him might have once held some other significance. Not much, and certainly not enough, so he let that slip away.

Standing proud above the emptiness of vanquished life, he smiled almost genuinely at the wolf-girl. He reached up with his hook and tipped his hat at her. "M'lady." Grinning, his eyes narrowed and he delicately carved a final line into the flesh of her leg. Flipping his pole sword parallel to the ground, held in his hand and cupped in his hook, he shoved her off of death's precipice.

With that done, he slipped his pole hammer back into his pack and turned his head up to the sky. Taking a deep breath, he let out a howl of his own. From somewhere behind him, Crocaibell let out loud hiss, adding her declaration of celebration and warning to his.

I need no one.

I am a monster.

And monsters travel alone.

His flashing grin was a terrifying scar across his bloody face.

[Attacks Werewolf | Pole Hammer]
ol7DZDzdspear
Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage

Your Move

[googlefont="Alex Brush:400"]spear

[Kire]

Someith Krearns
with all the liars
like a prisoner of war

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

She lays there before him, bloodied and battered. Almost human, and yet nowhere close. He smiles at her, satiated with the mess that he had made of the creature before him. For now, he is content. Tomorrow would be another story, but that wave would only break once the tide went out. For now, he stood listening to the rumble of the water over rocks and gazed at the heap of flesh at his feet.

He flicked a hand at Crocaibell, telling her to do her usual search. She wandered off, stick clutched in her jaws, her relatively short legs making her seem to waddle slightly. Raising his hand to his head, he touched the wound on his forehead. The blood had already stopped oozing from it, the wound having begun to scab over. Gingerly, he inspected the cut on the back of his head and then the one on his shoulder. They were all fine, for the most part. His chest, though, still bled. The bleeding was sluggish, but he still had the needle and thread Annora had handed him two days ago. Removing it from his pack, he stitched the gash closed with a brisk efficiency.

By the time he had finished, Crocaibell was back. She didn't have anything for him this time - he supposed that nothing was a better alternative to those stinging plants - but she did let out an inquisitive hiss when a pinging noise reached them. Looking up, he smirked at the parachute that floated down to him. Crocaibell circled the spot where it would land, curious and eager. This was quite a large container, and the thump it made at touchdown was significant. Curious - and flattered - he opened the case.

A helmet greeted him, glimmering and winged. Gilded in nickel and brass, the detailing on the headgear was stunning. Along with the helmet were a set of matching boots and shin guards. Underneath the armor sat a packet of three tablets and a medkit. He immediately strapped the armor on, tossing his hunting boots into his pack before donning the plated footwear. Kitted up, he popped the medkit open and used some of the bandages to wrap around his head. With his major wound stitched up and his head wounds bandages, he would do well enough for the night.

The tablets turned out to be iodine and so he used them to purify his water. Drinking slowly, he carefully went through his water supply. That was a number of things taken care of, only the problem of food remained.

His eyes drifted to the corpse of the creature. Her body was splayed awkwardly, rounding the shape of her flank. There was plenty of flesh there. Gleefully, he set down beside her and used his hook to cut into her flesh. She had wanted to eat him in the beginning, only fitting that he eat her instead.

Using the blanket he carried to wrap up the meat, he stored his new prizes in his backpack. One of the rolls of duct tape wouldn't fit. No matter, he could find a way to use it. His cap also had nowhere to go, but there was little use for the thing now that he had a helmet. Turning to the waves, he hooked the hat and drew back his arm. Stepping right up to the edge of the surf, he hurled the Glengarry as hard as he could. The cap launched into the air and got caught by the swirling wind coming off of the water. It rose up, tumbling and turning along the air as it moved further out to sea. Eventually there was nothing left to see but a tiny black dot, swirling with the breeze. That only left the duct tape.

An idea came to him as he turned around to look at the scene behind him. His mouth once more formed a gruesome grin as he snatched up the duct tape. With a bit of invention and not a few slices of his hook, he used up the entire roll of duct tape. He smirked to himself as he looked over his handiwork, priding himself on the job well executed.

Disdainfully, he washed himself of the blood that crusted his entire body. While he very much enjoyed blood, he also did like to be clean. The irony that he was the one who usually caused the mess was ignored.

Once more, he looked at his creation.

This is art.

Dowsing Rod
7|0An8j41-3
result

Your Move

[googlefont="Alex Brush:400"]1-3