Hate at First Sight (Tyrant and open)

[Spectre]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i47.tinypic.com/2n0rc6e.png] OoC: This table isn’t very good, I know. My first attempt at this style is not going well. So much can be discussed on the topic of enemies. They are hated, feared, loathed… These are the ones who have greatly wronged, at least in the eyes of the canine whose enemy it is. But the most terrifying and deadly of them all is the one the canine simply is unaware of, the one they are oblivious to. In this case, perhaps the universal enemy is ‘fear’. Fear of the unknown, fear of the deformed, fear of the different. For sly, feisty Illusion, it was fear of the past. She had a biting secret that she was not willing to divulge. In her former life, her younger sibling had murdered a newborn pup by drowning him. Even worse, she was there to witness it all. She had watched the poor pup tumble through the raging, frothy waters, the current flowing at full speed. She saw the jagged rocks protruding from the river bottom, the pup never emerging, the fur that clung to these boulders. It was ghastly and violent. And she was nearly blamed for it. Therefore, she had earned a complete distrust in water. But this was a clear disadvantage for her; one that others could use to their advantage. This was why she was meandering along the stretch of sand that just bordered the Southern Ocean. The gritty sand cut into her paws, while the blazing sun baked her silky fur into a horrendous state. It was no longer immaculate either. Wind had pummeled these bits of grit through her curls of fur. It vastly aggravated her, but what could she do about it? She had to exercise this fear away. It was vital to her survival. Illusion had been trudging along this path for nearly a full hour. Originally, she was treading on neutral lands. Ones that were not claimed by the three, dominating packs. But now, she could only imagine where she was trespassing. As long as it wasn’t Pure Bloods land, though. Now, she was approaching an outcrop of sharp stones jutting out of the gritty surface. Studying these rocks intently, she realized that they greatly resembled pointy fangs. Now where have I heard that term before? she mused. The word ‘fang’ appeared very familiar to her. Oftentimes, the term ‘fang’ is associated with a pack as ruthless as the Pure Bloods. Immediately now, she made the connection and was horrified. She had just trespassed onto Pure Blood lands. Penalties were many; mercy was none. Even more terrifying was the sudden scent of another canine that had just hit her nostrils. It stank of dog. She thought she would faint.

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[Ashlyn]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][bg=black] At times, It may seem like your going to win. If you see someone for the first time, what do you feel. Is it something that you haven't felt ever before? Something, that you don't even understand yet? Or maybe, it's something that you are entirely sure of. Something, that can be known the moment you lay eyes on this person. Something, Extraordinary in every possible way. It was an ordinary day. Blazing sun, long stretched miles of water, a beach full of sand, and a stomach full of meat. Tyrant Anguss drug his paws lazily across the sand and let his tongue roll out in pursuit to 'Beat the Heat'. The wind was gusting against his face and wasn't making his journey any much better. The wind and sun weren't the best of Allies. Constantly contradicting each other, didn't solve much of anything. Was it either Hot, or was it windy? On this day it was both. A combination of a miserable day. Tyrant wouldn't let that beat him though. He would make the best of it, pick up his head and continue on, no buts about it. As his favorite spot came in place, he felt the wind change and start to blow him from the left and away from the sea. He suck in his breath and tried to take another step forward, but something was stopping him. With eyes as wide as pools, he flashed his head toward the shore. A small animal was making it's way across the sand. If her, he confirmed, ghastly scent wouldn't have almost blown him off his paws, Tyrant probably wouldn't have ditected her. Narrowing his eyes, he stalked forward a couple of feet and finally got a good veiw of her. Almost at the same moment he laid his eyes on that fox, a strong feeling nipped him in the stomach. He squinted his eyes and flattened himself to the ground, not removing his eyes yet. The biting wouldn't seem to contract as he continued to stare. Cocking his head slightly, he crawled forward, keeping himself very low. He watched her movements, unaware of the feeling deep within. He observed her motions very carefully and couldn't miss her change of scent when she detected his. From calm, to Fear. He raised his head and widened his eyes. It was then, that he suddenly remembered the strict rule against other packs on Pure Blood's territory, or any for that matter. That horrible confusion had distracted him from the punishments she would receive for passing across this stretch of sand. All the time he padded toward her, an infuriated grimace was plastered across his black and white face. But the feeling never did leave his mind as he came within the last ten yards, and barked out a warning. She was a shrimp! He towered high above her and had to literally look strait down to even look at the top of her head. He snorted and stalked forward untill he stood about five feet away. Letting out a deep, throaty Growl, Tyrant crouched down and faced his new opponent. "What do you think your doing!?" He demanded, letting his sharp, yellowing teeth be shown from behind his black gums. "Last time i checked, i didn't think that runts like you were supposed to be allowed to live!" The insult came out in a Slow and monotonous sort of way. As though it was recorded off of an everyday routine. He had already positioned himself in a place where she couldn't be able to escape. Even if she did, He and his long legs would quickly have the advantage. But something was pulling on him. That same feeling, as he looked into her eyes. Narrowing, his own, Tyrant crouched lower, until he came to her height and let his face fall to a neutral. Neither angry, or anything above. The feeling was still bothering him. What was it! He had never felt this before. Never experienced it. It wasn't anger for sure. He had felt plenty of anger. His enemies had received his own anger many times as well. Was it Hate possibly? His hate was found in many ways, when it came down to it. So this feeling could defiantly be a new form of hate. But something, something way far back was telling him that it was something entirely different. But, i wouldn't count on it.

[Spectre]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i48.tinypic.com/w6y25j.png] OoC: Sorry about the wait. And about this table. I can’t even begin to find adjectives bad enough to describe it. First was the scent of the dog. Then, the whole bulk of it had arrived, casting menacing glances in her direction. The bold fox, however, seemed to have been drained of confidence and now lay quailing by the edge of the waters. This was probably a mistake, owing to their sharp quality. This could create a definite advantage to the dog if he were to attempt to maul her. Even worse, Illusion was experiencing a myriad of emotions – none of them to pleasant to feel. And many of them were completely unidentifiable. She had never felt feelings like these before. It was especially difficult to discern these emotions because many seemed to be intertwined, a jumble of thoughts and ideas. And they all originated from this dog. Just the mere appearance of this powerful creature had stimulated such feelings. Much of her lack of coolness had been caused by these. Now, the dog was approaching. He was a burly, handsome canine with a pelt as dark as a raven’s feather and as light as the thin rays of dawn. He had ice-blue eyes set into a haughty muzzle. His features reflected his cool and authoritative nature. He was the essence of power. As he advanced towards her, she noticed the rippling muscles and the way his expression seemed to challenge the world. Shakily, Illusion worked furiously to regain her usual poise. Now, she rose, shaking the bits of sand from her pelt. Her coat was now splashed with tints of molten gold, an effect from the lowering sun. This dark hue highly contrasted with the rest of her light, tawny body. With languid motions, she wove her way among the jagged rocks. Her lithe frame leaped across a particularly serrated stone. As the day was wearing on, the shadows produced by nearby trees were lengthening. These lofty trees were casting odd shades across her; she was like a mirage flitting amongst the boulders, her reflection dancing over the clear waters. At last, after what appeared to be eternities, she was a mere 5 feet away from the dog. His rough growls bit into her tiny eardrums. He bared his fangs, those ferocious knifes of steel, in a threatening gesture. Another method to bite her. And the snide comment he threw after her bit too. In a low tone, she warned, ”Your kind has been granted the gift of arrogance. Some gift that is. More like a punishment,” she jeered, although her voice faltered at the strange look in his eyes. She cast her gaze to the pebbles that lined the sandy floor. They shone with a hidden light, vibrant with the glowing hues of umber and gold. She chanced a glimpse to gauge his reaction. ”And this arrogance is not the shield you thought it was. Instead, it’s your path to… death,” she spat. She had finally gotten sick of those emotions swirling inside of her. Almost fearfully, she returned her gaze to fully face him. And waited.

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