Queer( Sinful)

[Ember]

Whisper

I pulled my paw out of the sticky muddy mess. Eww, this is so yucky. My black paws were turning brown in this mess and my grey-white pelt looked awfully dirty. I frowned. I wasn't the type to be vain about my appearance, but I did have a limit.

The trees hung over me, making the dim sunlight even more dim. It was cloudy out, the clouds heavy with snow. At least it was before I entered the swamp.

What had possesed me to make this trip into the swamp? I couldn't figure it out. But I was determined to reach the end of it and go on. Hopefully, to a new home. I was tired of this endless wandering.

I needed a....mission. Yes, that was it. I wanted something to do. I wanted to track. Yes, that's it. I needed to find someone and then track them, testing my limits. But, who would even come to this swamp?

So as for now, my goal was to get out of this muddy wet place and hopefully meet someone who could give me a mission.

My sliver-blue eyes looked arround. Wait, was that some flurry white? Oh, yes. It's snowing. Yes! I loved snow. For one thing, it helped me blend in and track. And for another, I loved it's soft wettness. Ahh, snow.

[Sinful †]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/dembottom.jpg] There were things I don't remember Dressed up alligator How the hell'd we get here? The trees were thick overhead, heavy branches reaching out to lightly play across those from their neighbours. The thick foliage was an effective block, allowing only the smallest rays of light to penetrate, and even then it was only in rare spots where the trees were young, their branches not as developed as their fellows. This caused dark shadows to dance sinisterly across the verdant terrain. The warmer waters steamed in the cold, crisp winter air and the edges of the algae infested waters was icing. Long stems of grass which stuck in copious amounts from the murky liquid was laced with frost, almost frozen in the pristine shade of green, barely wilted though obviously not living as it would in the summer. Between the shifting darkness, and the miasma that hovered above the suctioning mud and bacteria laden water, it was not the most pleasant of places. There was no disdain or signs of discomfort upon his face as massive paws pressed silently into the ice-coated surface of the green mud that he found himself moving through. It clung to his fur, causing it to spike at the most peculiar angles up his brawny limbs. If anything the mud-slicked fur added more definition to the thick muscles that lay thickly upon his large body. The brute moved slowly, surely, almost stalking through the muddy terrain. Impassive gaze danced swiftly before him, not giving up even the slightest movements as a trick of the wind. To dismiss even the slightest of movements could mean death in strange lands. So as he moved, the stinking muck now up to his mighty chest, he cataloged even the smallest of things, processing them and discarding them just as quickly as nothing to be threatened by. The black beast moved easily through the shadows, embraced by the darkness, he felt quite at easy. It was one of the few settings that he could truly blend in, and he did it well. Demarz essentially became one large shadow, dancing skillfully between the patches of darkness as though a mere flicker himself. It just went to show how perfect of a predator a wolf could be should he embrace the gifts nature provided the apex predators. From the sheltering darkness the trees provided the muddied male froze. Nostrils twitched rapidly as he drew shallow breaths into his lungs, testing the air quickly. The moist air exiting his lungs plumed briefly in front of his face, reacting with the cold. Without the slightest of hints that would show he had found another canine on the land he slipped forward quickly. It was a matter of advantage to find the female, if the scent was anything to go by, before he was found first. Demarz waded slowly through chest deep water, careful not to create waves that would give away his position away or cause noise. With the tiniest, and briefest twitch of his lips, which one could pass off as a smirk, the male locked his deep blue gaze upon the female who seemed to be treading disdainfully through the muck. This caused him a derisive glare at the unknowing female. Why wander foolishly through a swamp of all places, in the winter season, and not expect to get filthy. The brute stood beneath a tree that provided the most shelter, knowing that the heavy flakes that drifted lazily from the sky would give him away should they begin to decorate him white. For now the male was content to stay and observe. Demarz had no reason to approach the female yet, and gathering information could never be dismissed as pointless. So the large wolf held his positions meters from the female, chest deep in chilled water, and still as a statue. Word Count: 622

[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/redwatersmiddle.jpg] A thin film of ice and frost gilded the swamp, encasing grass and trees alike and glistening sharply beneath what thin beams of light stole through the trees. Clouds of mist roiled over the fetid black waters, tendrils snaking over the surface like smoke, then coiling upwards to vanish among the ice laden boughs, spreading a thick, transparent shroud through the trees. Shadows capered between dappled patterns of light cast on the swamp floor, cast into motion by the frigid breeze snaking over the tops of the trees and whispering forbodingly through the swamp. A slush of filth churned beneath Dagonet’s paws, a good foot deep mixture of viscous algae and years of rotting plant and, in all liklihood, animal matter. Beneath the harsh, biting scent of frost, the scarred warrior could smell the suspended decay of the swamp; a fait, deep, earthy stench that permeated the surroundings and clung to his muddy coat. Wet spikes of fur formed beneath his throat, along his chest, underbelly and tail, then began to freeze into rigid protrusions in the unforgivinng winter cold. Dagonet paid no mind to the ice frosting his body; his thick undercoat shielded him sufficiently from the cold. He may as well have been taking a fall stroll through the glade, as comfortable and at ease as he was in the muck and filth. Admirable conditions, compared to some of the brutal circumstances he had suffered in his past. Beneath his paws the sludge thinned and grew deeper as it faded into a stagnant pool of water, but Dagonet plunged onward, seemingly unhindered by the growing depth. Water rose nearly to his chest, inching up his long legs; the cold began to seep through his fur and gnaw at his legs, a trivial winter irritation. He ignored the mild discomfort, preferring to occupy his thoughts with the surroundings. Dagonet was still learning his way through the boggy terrain, but he was perfectly at ease there; enough so that he didn’t bother himself with stealth. Few wolves on Traum posed any signifigant threat to him; and most of those individuals rallied behind the same banner as himself. Dagonet was a rare sort, one who had that weird light about them; as though he just knew he wasn’t going to get a scratch here. Just by looking at him one could tell that the warrior had seen and survived more shit than most would ever dream of; and Traum’s looming war would be know different. Just another notch on his pelt. Dagonet became aware of another’s presence shortly before he drew within sight of them; he could hear them sloshing gingerly through the mud, and it wasn’t long before he could see a female through the trees. He snorted softly when he saw her picking through the mud as though she was attempting to cross through a cesspool. It was amusing, the lengths that some females would go to in order to keep their coats clean, at least in his opinion. At first he intended to simply slip past her; but then he became aware of another presence. Slowly, Dagonet’s gaze flickered in the direction he sensed the other was coming from. A vaguely familiar scent lingered among the deeper smells native to the swamp; one that coaxed him into further investigation. Quietly, he forged through the underbrush, coming within sight of a hulking, black make. “I thought that was your god awful stench you son of a bitch,” Dagonet chuckled, halting where he had emerged into view just behind and to the side of the wolf, the tips of his fangs bared in an expression trapped somewhere between a smirk and a sardonic grin.

[Ember]

There was danger in the air, I could smell it. But, of what kind? It was hard to figure out, until I caught the scent of wolves.

There were two of them, both males. They smelled healthy, and they were right behind me. Startled, I turned swiftly arround, my sliver-blue eyes flashing from left to right as I surveyed the scene.

I could see one wolf, but not the other. I knew there was at least two, but where was the other one? The one that could see was smoking grey, and appeared to be looking at something. Following it's gaze, I finally noticed a shadow of darkness hidden beneath the tree's shadow that was wolf shaped. Aha.

The grey one spoke, his voiced quieted by the dense plant life and mud, but I could still here it. “I thought that was your god awful stench you son of a bitch,” He chuckled, a smirk/grin on his face, I couldn't tell.

I tensed, even through the remark was directed towards the black shadow. Even through I wanted to flee, I was seized by a sudden curiosity. I wanted to know what these wolves were and why thier mission, if there was one, was here. I started to walk slowly back towards where I first was in the swamp.

[Sinful †]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/dembottom.jpg] Hold on to what you need We've got a knack for fucked up history Hold on to what you need We've got a knack for messed up history The chill of the air did nothing to the titan, nor did the putrid water in which he stood so still, so silently. Only the scars which littered his body prickled with the tell-tale signs of irritation. But it was nothing to Demarz. Like swiping away a bothersome fly. Being able to easily focus his mind elsewhere was a gift then came in handy when the pain was more intense then pin-pricks upon the marks where fur was no longer welcome. The numerous scars were obvious with the fur along his chest being laid slick against steaming skin. Slight hints of white were beginning to form where his wet fur was losing the battle with the winter chill and yet he still care not. The beast still did not stir. Tendrils of mist seemed to coil up the chest of the stationary wolf, wreathing his frame almost ethereally. The picture he painted right now, were the female to look, would probably have been quite the imposing one. A massive hell-hound, chest deep in the fetid waters of the swamp, watching her so studiously, so sinisterly. However she was spared such an occurrence when his attention, though not gaze, focused elsewhere. Ears twitched, constantly rotating upon his unmoving skull, seeming for all the world like little satellites seeking a signal. And the tell-tale sloshing of water and mud denoted the approach another wolf. Muscles, all the more visible beneath his soaked and freezing fur, tensed slightly though it was hardly perceptible aside from the sudden ripples which fled from his battle ready form. Muscles moved, twisting and tightening, hardening as stiff as molten iron suddenly cooled. Demarz listened carefully as the other beast progressed before stopping and changing course. Towards him. A mental smirk was briefly allowed as he listened intently, his face never once changing expression, not even a twitch. Eyes were still on the female, though, still carefully cataloguing every move she made though it was obvious she was the least threatening thing in the swamp land at this point in time. He watched as she seemed also to notice the movement from the other canine, who he was assuming to be male considering his bold approach of a titan such as Demarz. Interest was taken as she looked in the direction of the other canine, before continuing to seek something out that was not yet available to her. Ah and there is was. She had followed the path of the other wolf and finally found the brute ensconced in the shadows, observing her. This sudden exposure did not bother him in the least, as he was still focused more on the immediate threat of the other wolf. Demarz observed silently as she turned, back tracking but for what purpose he was not yet sure. Readying himself for a swift turn to meet the brazen, approaching canine was easy. However if there was one thing he wanted it was to wait for the perfect moment. As he was preparing himself he inhaled deeply, hoping to catch a scent to tell him more about this approaching creature. And that is when all previous composure went out the window. He would know that stench anywhere. The mighty titan was saved the trouble of first greetings when he heard the tones he hadn't expected to be assaulted with in these lands of all places. I thought that was your god awful stench you son of a bitch. A grin crossed his features as his large skull whipped to the side to place his unnerving gaze upon Dagonet. "Well I'll be damned. What in the hell are you doing here, you filthy cur?" His tone, though gravelly was amiable enough as he gave his comrade the customary once over, eyes stuttering only briefly upon the newest addition to his many scars. Features as been returned to the customary I-don't-give-a-fuck look that he sported as he stood beside Dagonet, who looked just as sodden as he. Aside from the insignia added to his chest he seemed no different from when they had last laid eyes upon one another. Demarz wished he could say the same. The newest addition to his scars, still pink, lay plain across his throat. The brute had by no means forgotten about the female. Ears swiveled slightly, listening for her movement while he studied his peripherals occasionally. She was no threat, however, and only a daft wolf would instigate to massive males who obviously knew one another fondly. Or whatever you would call the bond between the two. No, if anything she was doing to them as he had done to her. Investigating and watching and that suited him just fine. Word Count: 777

[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/redwatersmiddle.jpg] Muscle rippled beneath the behemoth’s mud slicked coat as his weight shifted fluidly forward and began to progress once more through the deep water, coming in closer to the familiar ebony male. The thin layer of ice forming on the surface of the fetid waters began to break as he forged into it, shattering into fragile sheets that piled against his chest for several brief moments before they were carried away on the wave pushed aside by his bulk. The wake of his passage rippled over the formerly placid ebony surface of the water, flowing continuously outward and disturbing the frosted pussy willows thrusting upwards from the oozing muck surrounding the deep pool. His ears twisted towards the hollow sound as they rustled, rattling faintly together like thin, brittle bones. Dagonet was forced to navigate his way around the mangroves in order to draw nearer to his old friend; close as they already were, the gap between them was filled with obstacles both visible and hidden by the turgid waters. Throughout the entirety of the swamp their massive, blackened roots punctuated the surroundings, heaving out of the rank waters like the mud clogged bones of ancient monsters surfaced after eons spent beneath the shifting swamp. Demarz stood in the center of the murky pool, waiting stolidly among the thick wisps of fog rising around his body, a demonic visage in a surreal cloak of mist. The titanic male appeared to be just as intimidating as ever; perhaps even more so with the newest additions to his already vast collection of battle scars. The ghastly wounds, as filthy as they were after his stroll through the dismal stroll, stood out in stark contrast to the pitch black coat covering his muscular frame. Whatever creature had inflicted the injuries must have been one hell of a brawler; it would take considerably more than just a bit of skill and a run of dumb luck to deal a blow of such magnitude to a male as powerfully brutal a fighter as Demarz. Well I’ll be damned. What in the hell are you doing here you filthy cur? Dagonet’s ears flickered forward as the other male spoke. It seemed that the wound had damaged his old comrade beyond merely scarring his flesh; it had changed his voice, made it deeper, rougher. Now the hellacious brute sounded just as wicked as he appeared. The warrior chuckled softly as he drew closer, a soft, growling sound that was barely audible even to the sensitive ears of a wolf; he wondered just how inhumanly the beast responsible for inflicting the lesions had died. Chances that it had survived the encounter were damn near zero, if Dagonet knew Demarz even half as well as he thought he did. If there was one thing the other wolf would never do, it was tuck his tail and flee from a fight to save his own life; he was too stubborn and proud for all that. Dagonet doubted that the vengeful male would have let someone escape with their life after he had suffered them to deal such an injury, either. Finally, the multi-hued soldier drew within a comfortable distance and settled in the water, watching the ripples spread out around his form, “I live here,” he answered, allowing his gaze to flicker pointedly towards the mangled pink flesh marring Demarz’s neck and throat, “You’re even uglier than I remember,” he commented, a smirk deepening the curves of his mouth as he turned his line of sight back towards the other’s piercing blue eyes. It was rare that Dagonet took any sort of interest in this sort of thing; but a scar as significant as that had a story behind it. For a fleeting moment the scarred warrior was tempted to ask Demarz if the white bitch he had been romancing with in their last meeting had been responsible for the damage; but she was one of the rare sorts that the titan might well have taken offense over. Dagonet didn’t particularly want to provoke a brawl with his old friend, not their in the misery of the swamp where the wounds they inflicted on one another would fester with disease and frostbite. The female that Dagonet had noticed just prior to recognizing his old friend was still there. She seemed to have followed him, rather than fleeing the area like any sensible female would have done with a wolf like Demarz watching her from the shadows and a massive soldier of The Order of the Black Stag converging into her path. Her curiosity had obviously gotten the better of her, for Dagonet could hear the female moving closer to her. His ear twisted back towards the sound, but like Demarz he did not perceive her to be even the slightest bit threatening and so did not spare her much attention; and he likely wouldn’t unless she chose to approach them.

[Ember]

They were ignoring me, completely ignoring me, aside from a twitch of thier ears and the glances out of the corners of thier eyes. Good, I didn't want thier attention.

I splashed through the mud and water, slowly making my way towards them. If I was lucky, they would ignore and I could listen to thier conversation, find out more about this island. If I was lucky, which I'm usaully not.

As I slowly made my way across to them, I shivered as snowflakes fell onto my pelt. The water plus the cold really wasn't helping me warm up any. not for the first time, I was regreting my visit to the swamp.

As soon as I was in hearing distance, I tried to find a solid place to sit down and watch the two males. I must have looked like an idoit, walking around them, seemily without any direction.

There, a something not watery. A small dry place. I made my way over to it, my ears pricked in case they said something. Once my paws touched it, I sighed. Finally.

I turned toward them and sat down, my eyes watching thier every move and my ears up and listening intently. i hoped they would say something about the packs here, for I was really wanted to know more about them. I wanted a mission, as I've said before.