RP: Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf?
Date: 25 January 2003 - Sunset and beyond
Character(s): Fenrir Greyback
Location: Outside of Annwn
Status: Private
Summary: Fenrir hunts on the full moon... and has something unusual happen to him.
Warnings: Violence
Completion: Complete
Fenrir stood in the field, his eyes closed and his hands hanging loosely by his side. He was several miles from the outskirts of Annwn and tonight was the full moon. He looked at the setting sun and felt the odd prickle across his skin that told him it was nearly time. He quickly and efficiently stripped out of his robes and stood there naked, facing the sun. He watched, squnting into the light as it slowly disappeared under the horizon. As the moon rose, he felt the change begin and he began to laugh.
His body shifted and changed, his bones reshaping, turning him into the wolf. As he changed, his wild laughter slowly became the howl of the wolf. When it was all done, he crouched there on his haunches and howled again, this time triumphantly, raising his muzzle to the moon. He then rose to his feet and gave himself a shake.
As had happened the last few full moons, Fenrir could feel that he was in control. He was the wolf. He wasn’t lost in his own mind, leaving the beast to run free.
He howled with delight and took off at a run, reveling in his strength and speed. This was what he was meant to be. Not a mere human, weak and vulnerable. A wolf, strong and agile, master of all he surveyed.
As he loped along, he caught a scent and the wolf reared up in his mind, threatening to take over. He struggled with it for a moment, promising it they would hunt. The wolf fought for control and Fenrir fought back. He didn’t want to lose this, didn’t want to become a passenger. He wanted to be the one who hunted and made the kill.
For a moment all went still, then the wolf howled with triumph and despair in his mind and Fenrir felt a searing pain in his head. He fell to the ground and whimpered, thrashing around as it felt as though his head was being ripped apart. He ripped at his skull with his claws, blood flowing as he tore at himself.
After far too long, the pain finally subsided and Fenrir lay on the ground, panting and whimpering. As his breathing slowly returned to normal, he realised something was different. It took a moment to figure out what it was and when he did, he scrambled to his feet. The wolf was gone... or rather it was part of him. He could feel it. He was the wolf... the wolf was him. He didn’t know how it happened but it had. Perhaps Alpha had had something to do with it...
He howled at the moon then took off at a run after the scent that had started this. It was human and it was young, just what he was after. But tonight... oh, tonight he wasn’t going to turn anyone. Tonight he was going to hunt... and kill... and feed.
It didn’t take him long to catch up to the source of the scent, a young teenage boy who stank of cheap whiskey. Fenrir growled low in his chest as he circled around the boy. He could tell when the boy had heard him because he whipped around and started searching for the source. Fenrir was tempted to play with the boy but he wanted to celebrate his new-found freedom.
He leapt out at the boy, covering the ground between them rapidly. He knew when the boy had seen him because fear and terror suddenly bloomed in the air, closely followed by the ammoniac scent of urine. The boy tried to run but Fenrir reached him before he could do anything.
He drove the boy into the ground, hearing bone snap underneath his weight and the scent of blood suddenly rose. The boy screamed and Fenrir howled his delight. He paused for a moment then lunged forward, his teeth closing around the boy’s throat. He reveled at the boy’s feeble struggles then he snapped his jaws closed, the iron taste of blood flooding across his tongue. He yanked his head back sharply, ripping the boy’s throat out. The boy jerked twice underneath him then went still.
Fenrir swallowed the mouthful he’d ripped out of the boy’s throat then licked the gaping wound. He paused for a moment to feed from the corpse then when he’d had his fill, he walked away from the body and shook himself, blood spraying from his jaws. He then broke into a loping run, seeking out another scent. There was still so much of the night to go and so many more to hunt.
Character(s): Fenrir Greyback
Location: Outside of Annwn
Status: Private
Summary: Fenrir hunts on the full moon... and has something unusual happen to him.
Warnings: Violence
Completion: Complete
Fenrir stood in the field, his eyes closed and his hands hanging loosely by his side. He was several miles from the outskirts of Annwn and tonight was the full moon. He looked at the setting sun and felt the odd prickle across his skin that told him it was nearly time. He quickly and efficiently stripped out of his robes and stood there naked, facing the sun. He watched, squnting into the light as it slowly disappeared under the horizon. As the moon rose, he felt the change begin and he began to laugh.
His body shifted and changed, his bones reshaping, turning him into the wolf. As he changed, his wild laughter slowly became the howl of the wolf. When it was all done, he crouched there on his haunches and howled again, this time triumphantly, raising his muzzle to the moon. He then rose to his feet and gave himself a shake.
As had happened the last few full moons, Fenrir could feel that he was in control. He was the wolf. He wasn’t lost in his own mind, leaving the beast to run free.
He howled with delight and took off at a run, reveling in his strength and speed. This was what he was meant to be. Not a mere human, weak and vulnerable. A wolf, strong and agile, master of all he surveyed.
As he loped along, he caught a scent and the wolf reared up in his mind, threatening to take over. He struggled with it for a moment, promising it they would hunt. The wolf fought for control and Fenrir fought back. He didn’t want to lose this, didn’t want to become a passenger. He wanted to be the one who hunted and made the kill.
For a moment all went still, then the wolf howled with triumph and despair in his mind and Fenrir felt a searing pain in his head. He fell to the ground and whimpered, thrashing around as it felt as though his head was being ripped apart. He ripped at his skull with his claws, blood flowing as he tore at himself.
After far too long, the pain finally subsided and Fenrir lay on the ground, panting and whimpering. As his breathing slowly returned to normal, he realised something was different. It took a moment to figure out what it was and when he did, he scrambled to his feet. The wolf was gone... or rather it was part of him. He could feel it. He was the wolf... the wolf was him. He didn’t know how it happened but it had. Perhaps Alpha had had something to do with it...
He howled at the moon then took off at a run after the scent that had started this. It was human and it was young, just what he was after. But tonight... oh, tonight he wasn’t going to turn anyone. Tonight he was going to hunt... and kill... and feed.
It didn’t take him long to catch up to the source of the scent, a young teenage boy who stank of cheap whiskey. Fenrir growled low in his chest as he circled around the boy. He could tell when the boy had heard him because he whipped around and started searching for the source. Fenrir was tempted to play with the boy but he wanted to celebrate his new-found freedom.
He leapt out at the boy, covering the ground between them rapidly. He knew when the boy had seen him because fear and terror suddenly bloomed in the air, closely followed by the ammoniac scent of urine. The boy tried to run but Fenrir reached him before he could do anything.
He drove the boy into the ground, hearing bone snap underneath his weight and the scent of blood suddenly rose. The boy screamed and Fenrir howled his delight. He paused for a moment then lunged forward, his teeth closing around the boy’s throat. He reveled at the boy’s feeble struggles then he snapped his jaws closed, the iron taste of blood flooding across his tongue. He yanked his head back sharply, ripping the boy’s throat out. The boy jerked twice underneath him then went still.
Fenrir swallowed the mouthful he’d ripped out of the boy’s throat then licked the gaping wound. He paused for a moment to feed from the corpse then when he’d had his fill, he walked away from the body and shook himself, blood spraying from his jaws. He then broke into a loping run, seeking out another scent. There was still so much of the night to go and so many more to hunt.