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Post by Fawn on Aug 21, 2013 15:49:09 GMT -5
⇒Medicine Cat of LightningClan⇐
What can be learned from your suffering?
What mystery can be solved, what great riddle finally answered for the small cost of your life?
It was difficult, even for the Medicine Cat to discern if these burning questions were for the infected feline or for the well-trained apprentice currently engaging it in conflict. A part of Rookfrost, and indeed no small part, wished for the worst to befall the tuxedo tom, and not because of his bloodlines so much as it was due to his potential. Watching the prey and predator locked in a deadly sort of charade, a parody of a dance, so smooth were the youth's moves and so jagged and rough were the victims, Rookfrost kept his distance. Despite how horrific the infected party might appear to be, despite how Nightpaw seemed to be a few heartbeats faster, the creature's disease made it unpredictable.
It did not think in terms of battle moves. It did not interpret 'openings'. It was the relentless soldier, a devourer of reason who needed only the presence of flesh and blood to strike up that urge to kill, to maim, to rip and tear. It could just as easily engage in a different opponent while previously being locked in a struggle, no real discernment for any of the cats present; they were all falling into the category of foe before the feverish raging eyes of the sick feline.
Not for his own personal safety did Rookfrost hover along the razor-thin edges of the actual fight; it enabled him a better view of their prey and the predators, of the creature's movements and the way it finally dislodged the rabbit from it's mouth – making a horrid retching sound, jaw popping noisily, painfully. Like a hyena circling the fresh kill of a lioness, unwilling to go any further until the predators had done their jobs, Rookfrost slunk around the fight, allowing his jet black coat to do it's job against a backdrop of night, careful not to catch it's attention and thus become a target.
It wasn't as though he could not handle being made the creature's new object of blind, uncontrollable hatred; he had taken so many lives and from cats who had far more consciousness and morality then this creature did, without so much as a flick of the ear or a quiver of his soul. Rookfrost was simply more enthralled with the concept of watching it retaliate against Nightpaw and Whiteshade rather than take it down on his own; this battle would without a shred of doubt end in the death of this creature, outnumbered as it was, and he wished to observe it in all it's pestilential magnificence while there was still breath in it's body.
Though he was normally not one for prolonging the suffering of others – that insatiable hunger for knowledge overrode what shred of decency Rookfrost actually lived by; if Whiteshade can immobilize it rather than kill it, I will have my live specimen.
There was danger in that option, however. For the first time in a while, Rookfrost's ever clear, icy judgment was clouded, the choice between eliminating the obvious threat to feline-kind and keeping said monster somewhere to live out the rest of it's pitiful, diseased lifespan (which he surmised could only be days longer) so that he may conduct his research on a living test subject.
A single deep breath, and Rookfrost had reached a decision, the synapses in his brain firing, infernal mechanisms of a dark and devouring mind coming to a conclusion; catching one of the ruby red eyes of the hunter who hunted all, Rookfrost gave a single curt nod.
Kill it.
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Aug 22, 2013 0:44:38 GMT -5
Whiteshade my secret side i keep hid under lock and key- - - recise strides carried him closer and closer to the beast as the noose slowly tightened around the ignorant creature's neck. Though not without his own abilities, honed and tested many times, his apprentice was merely the distraction, the diversion intended to claim the creature's attention while the real predator circled in the background, biding his time as he studied his opponent. It was not out of fear or anxiety that the alabaster devil hesitated, but merely a mentor's interest in the tactics his apprentice would employ to keep the feline's attention on himself while still avoiding those snapping jaws. Another test, perhaps, though the consequences of failure were far more severe than any he had ever faced. He watched but did not interfere as the tuxedo tom turned the otherwise insignificant piece of prey into a weapon, flinging it into salivating jaws and distracting the creature before proceeding to attack it with an agility born of long moons under the sun.
Crimson eyes did not miss the glance sent in his direction, nor the way his apprentice seemed to be inviting him into the fray - as if he needed an invitation. With lips quirked upward in a slight grin, he slunk forward from where he had paused, slowly closing in on the unsuspecting creature. Unsheathed claws clicked slightly on the exposed rock, and he paused for only another second before he leapt at the creature's back, movements as silent as they were fluid. He could practically feel the surprise travel through the creature below him, amused at the way his prey's body froze in response to an unexpected stimulus. In the moments before it began to try and shake him off, claws dug into frail shoulders, hooking into flesh in the absence of fur. His jaws closed around the neck, teeth reflexively biting into the soft flesh as the creature worked to throw him off.
Bracing himself against the ground with his hind paws, the senior warrior wrenched the creature in a different direction, gaining the upper hand as he forced his opponent to lose his balance. The instant those already unsteady feet lost their footing, he released his hold on the other feline, simultaneously shoving the creature away while backing up himself. His lips curled upward in a sneer as he straightened up, crimson gaze locked on the opposition. With the confidence of one who already knew the outcome of this fight, he drew his paws together, appearing for all the world a proper feline, unflinching even as the beast rushed him. Easily, he stepped aside, lashing out as he did so. His sneer morphed into a grin as claws made contact with the flesh, adding new wounds to those already littering its body courtesy of the white devil and his apprentice. The creature rushed at him again, and again, he repeated the motion, simply toying with his prey before he killed it. At the very least, the medicine cat, who skulked along the edges of the darkness, careful to not attract his specimen's attention, would enjoy the opportunity to study the creature before it moved no more.
He was not without his own disgust, however, at the lack of intelligence the beast displayed. So intent on attacking him it was that it did not even seem to realize the was he simply stood there, letting it tire itself out and merely inflicting more damage. Killer though he was, the LightningClan tom had thus far refrained from any death blows apart from clamping down on the creature's neck, for he had both the time and ability to draw out this battle, extend the time until he felt as though the pitiful thing had suffered enough. Then, and only then, would he kill it.
"You are quite violent, aren't you," He mused aloud, speaking calmly to his opponent as though the other cat were not attempting to tear him apart. Over the years, he had found that speaking during a battle often distracted his opponents and caused them to make mistakes, which in turn gave him opportunities of which he would not only notice but also use to his advantage. "It is fairly rude, I must say, but I suppose some of us cannot control our impulses. Understandable, of course, for when the anger becomes too overwhelming…" His voice trailed off as he avoided a paw, darting around to add to the growing collection of claw marks along the creature's body.
In a way, it was only fitting that that moment coincided with a glance up at a pair of cold gray eyes. The owner nodded. Crimson eyes flicked back to his opponent and he spoke casually, "It has been fun, but that's my cue." And suddenly the tables were turned, and he rushed the salivating beast, ears flat against his head. Instead of leaping at it directly, he launched himself over the beast, landing behind him, and before it had time to completely react, he had swiped its hind legs out from beneath him. The creature crashed to the ground with a solid sound that he would not have expected from a creature so weak and frail. In a flash, he was on it, one paw pressing down on the neck just below the chin, preventing it from biting him, and the other poised delicately above the vulnerable skin of the creature's gut. That thrill, the one that came only when he held the life of another in his paws, coursed through him, and the grin on his face was genuine.
It was with this latter paw that he made the first move, digging his claws into flesh and ripping free in a practiced motion. He repeated the action, eyes moving to stare at the bright crimson against his alabaster paw, illuminated by the moonlight. The contrast, that beautiful image of red atop white - he loved it. With his paw keeping the creature's head relatively still and his other paw slowly carving up the creature's gut. Howls of pain split the air, but he barely hesitated, moving unsheathed claws with the precision and accuracy of a surgeon. A brief glance back at the features of the feline beneath his paws, and he curved the claws once on his other paw. A violent swipe to to the side followed by a gurgle as blood rushed through the new opening in the feline's throat and he stepped back, crimson eyes locked on his masterpiece. "Beautiful."- - -
i feel it deep within it’s just beneath the skin i must confess that i feel like a monster
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