Seeking An Ally, [p] Chelsea and/or Jared

[King]

[OOC: I wanted to kind of give this guy a test drive, if you will, and get a feel for him, so this topic may or may/not get deleted; I just needed to try him out.]

The skies were dark with gray and black clouds, giving a sheer cast of shadow to the land below. Rain fell from them harshly like judgement from above. The air was stifling and humid, almost feeling like the mist was choking you with its own wet, hot hands. The landscape itself was rather barren; nothing had grown here for many years. The current vegetation consisted of a few blackened and dead trees, the branches of which looked like spindly arms reaching out for help that would never come. Flashes of lightening lit up the unusually dark afternoon sky. The appearance of the temple itself rather matched this bleak scene, with its worn gray stones and chipped steeple.

Inside of the temple was almost identical to the outside. A long worn red carpet extended from the door to the altar, which was in front a statue of the temple's Goddess. The walls inside were of the same aged gray stone blocks, except a few red banners and tapestries decorated it here. There were two rows of pughs on both sides and two large stone pots beside the altar for burning things. The high-ceiling held nothing imparticular; there weren't even any windows to be seen. But this was because of the Goddess. This temple was for the Lady of all things dark and oppressive; this was the Temple of Night.

A lone figure sat in the front left pugh on the edge by the aisle. From behind, one could only see the black of his jacket and of his hair; on closer inspection, one could see that he was slightly bent over, his pale and frail-looking hand covering his face in what looked like prayer. His messy black locks were long enough to almost cover his whole hand. A moment passed and he looked up, eyes gazing at the statue from behind a curtain of hair.

In moments, he was out of his seat, stomping over to the altar and spitting at the foot of the statue. Almost congruently, he was growling at it, his fists in balls at his side and his voice coming out raspy and harsh, "Damn you, you worthless wench! You've never been a help to me, never! I should've known better than to come to you." He spat again at the image and then wiped his mouth, "I lovingly await the day that the Fates send you to me, my dear." Suddenly, the King heard a noise behind him and spun; had someone joined him or had mother dearest actually decided to honor him with her presence? His lifeless eyes scanned the room from behind their curtain of hair. He could sense the presence of another, but would they show themselves or would he have to scare them out?

[Erebos]

The doors to the temple opened and large, grey wolf, dripping wet from the storm out side walked slowly down the red carpet. Walking, he never looked up, ashamed that he even came to the Temple of Night.

Never stopping, he changed from a large wolf to a tall man, with red skin and black hair. The man never looked up from the ground, staring at the worn red carpet.

As he neared the alter, he fell to his knees while he hands shook violently at his side and his eyes became wide. The man spoke in a shaky, spooked voice.

"I pray to you, Goddess of Night, Lady of All Dark and Oppressive. I pray as Erebos Enki. Lady, I pray for you help. I search for peace within myself. The werewolf I hold is dangerous to all I would help." Tears crept from the grey eyes as Erebos spoke, "The pains of my crimes overtake me as I search for redemption. I attack those who have done nothing out of my own rage. Human or Wolf, I can not hold my self. My leash is too weak. Please, Goddess, I pray and beg for you help."

Erebos looked up at the statue, and saw beside it a man. The anger in his eyes behind the curtain of hair forced Erebos to fall backwards and attempt to move away, until Erebos thought.

"Were you sent by the Goddess of Night? Can you help me?" Erebos asked terrified.

Erebos could do nothing more than sit there, watching the man. He couldn't stand up, nor could he move away, just able to watch.

[King]

Claps of thunder boomed outside as the cold, hard rain fell to the earth. The dried, cracked dirt soaked it up thankfully; yet still, nothing would grow in that ground. Nothing ever would because it was too full of evil to hold life. The earth around the temple could indeed be called alive. Many who dared to come to the Lady of the Night's dais were sucked up by the dirt and sand before they even stepped foot inside, just because she felt like doing it. One could say that she kept an eye on the place. After all, something interesting could happen; something like what was going on that very moment.

Her son stood there, skeptical as he watched a soaked gray wolf burst through the thick wooden doors. As if on cue, lightning lit up the background outside as the wolf trudged its way inside, never looking up once. A thought crossed his mind of painting mommy dearest's temple with this beast's blood, but that thought soon died away with surprise, something the King had not felt in a long time.

Halfway to the altar, the miserable-looking creature morphed into a rather tall, red-skinned man. His hair was long and shaggy, not unlike the Dark Lord's own. As he watched, the man walked up to the altar, right beside him, and fell to his knees, hands shaking at his sides. His voice was almost as shaky as he made a plea to the Dark Lady. Her son smirked at that; it was highly unlikely she was even listening. Her pitiful worshippers never knew that, though. After listening for a moment, he decided he would take matters into his own hands. And that was when the other man turned to him, taken aback by his unhuman appearance.

At the wolf-man's question, the King couldn't help but smirk. This would be all too easy. He needed a little more help from the outside (because dead people can only do so much) and saw this as the perfect opportunity. After all, a wild raging werewolf was better than some puny human anyday. Not to mention, it might be a nice way to get back at his mother.

Smiling devilishly, revealing his glistening white fangs, he looked down at the boy in a menacing way, speaking in nothing but a harsh and raspy whisper, "Oh yes, I can help you, in so many more ways than you've ever dreamed of." Reaching out, he held out one cold, pale hand to help the young man up, "But if you want my assistance, first you must shed that veil of fear you're wearing and trust me."

Walking around the young man, he sized him up and then stopped to stand in front of him again, "You look strong and wise, so I'm sure you can guess that I won't help you for nothing. You must give to receive..." With that, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a long, shiny dagger. "Have you ever heard of a blood pact?" He asked in a quiet, curious voice as one long pale finger stroked the blade, "I'll cut my palm and you'll cut yours. Then we shake hands, letting our blood mix." His dead eyes returned to the boy from behind his shaggy locks, "If you, or I, break the pact, our blood will boil and the deal-breaker will die." After that, his thin frame shook with soft laughter.

Approaching the other man in an almost predatorial way, he grabbed his right hand and held the dagger near to it, "So do we have a deal?" Although he hated to, if the boy refused, there was no option but for him to die. He just couldn't have others knowing he was that desperate for help.

[Erebos]

Erebos’s prayer had been answered by the almost dead man in front of him.

As he was pulled up by the dead hand of the man speaking to him, Erebos felt brave, knowing that the dead hands and hating eyes were there to help him. He listened to the words of the man, barely audible over the rain and missing words under the claps of thunder.

A blood pact was sacred, Erebos knew, but he had never heard of the deal breaker dying. This, however, didn’t bother him. He would do anything to tame this beast that had been set loose inside of him. If he died, it would be welcomed. He had not been able to be killed or kill himself. His only regret would be not finishing his search for a vampire.

Erebos smiled an arrogant smile as he looked at the blade in the man’s pale hand. “I am willing to make the blood pact,” Erebos said as lightning crashed outside every window.

More then eager to be able to control his rage and anger, he griped the blade that the dead hand was holding to his. Pulling upwards on the blade, Erebos slit his palm and let the blood pour to the floor, crimson pooling at his feet.

“Name your price and I will give it to you, as long as you help me contain myself,” Erebos commanded.

The other man’s smile, white fangs and all, had not even affected Erebos’s want for his help. Soon, he thought, I will not have this growing pain and hatred.

[King]

The storm outside, for once, was quite the opposite of the dark man inside the temple. Generally his mood was like that of the storm: rough, strong, and destructive. At this point in time, he was rather elated, almost excited. The arrogant smile of the fool in front of him made him light up with wicked joy. Oh, the things he could do with this man on his side. Things were starting to look up for the Lord of the Otherworld.

At the confirmation of the deal, the half-god practically hissed, "Excellent decision!" Sincerity was obvious in the anthro-wolf's voice but the King still wanted to be sure of things. Not to mention, scaring him would be enjoyable. Even the Dark Lord was a bit taken aback at first by the appearance of what he was about to summon. With the dagger in his right hand, he lifted his left hand up, palm first, ghostly apparitions beginning to take form behind him. "Witnesses are always necessary for these types of things." Once they were no longer blurs and had fully appeared, the fantomes looked like what most considered the King to actually look like. They were floating, transparent skeletons cloaked in black robes, all with scythes in their bony hands. Their hoods were pulled up, making only their skulls and hands visible. Two of them flanked the Master of Death.

His voice no more than a haunting whisper, the Lord of the Dead spoke, "Servitude. That is all I ask of you. Put your allegiance with me, and I shall take the very best of care of you. The amount of time is immaterial. You will leave me when I say you do. Understood?" A flicker of one of the werewolf's thoughts crossed His Majesty's mind, and he added with pleasure, "That vampire you've been after...His number is up as we speak. If you join me, your first job will be to hunt the creature down and kill it." If he didn't have the boy in his grasp before, he was sure he would now.

The Dead Lord watched as the other man cut his palm. Nodding, he took the dagger from him, cutting his own palm. He watched the blood pool in his palm a moment before bringing it to his mouth and licking it. The crimson liquid still seeping, he reached out a hand to the wolf-man, waiting for the handshake that would change both their lives, for better or worse.

[Erebos]

Erebos stood and watched as demons appeared from behind the man. His hands starting to tremble, Erebos listened to the man talk. His offers were too good to be true. Except servitude. If he had to do this man's bidding then how could he find Celeste? A compromise had to be made. Other than that, the man's offer couldn't be anymore perfect. Though the demons distracted Erebos, he could hear the offer perfectly. His eyes darted from demon to man. Sweat began to run down his face as his fear grew. Then the man made an offer Erebos couldn’t ignore. An offer to make Erebos hunt Celeste.

Erebos’s skin boiled as his blood rushed. He stared at the ground shaking violently. He couldn’t focus because his vision blurred. The anger he was so desperate to control had completely consumed him for the first time. His thoughts weren’t his anymore. He hated it. He hated this feeling. He hated being furiously angry. Yet, he welcomed it. He wanted to unleash it. For the first time, he wanted to use this anger. Snarling like the wolf inside of him, Erebos bared his teeth at the man. His eyes had widened to twice their normal size as a voice, angry and fearless, roared, “No one… will… Ever…” Erebos caught his breath and, in a whisper compared to his roar, he finished, “No one will ever dare attempt to harm a hair on Celeste’s head.”

Erebos felt like he never had before. Everything went away. Everything, except this rage. His blood, still racing, froze. He was still covered in sweat, and he still shook, but he was cold. Knowing exactly what he was doing, Erebos swung at the man, leaving his claw-like fingernails towards the man’s face, digging in a pulling.

With a howl, Erebos transitioned into a snarling wolf with all of his teeth bared, ready to fight.

[King]

The next few seconds happened so quickly that the Dead Lord even marveled at being able to keep up with it. Outside, the storm raged even harder than before, a clap of thunder shaking the very ground they stood on. And then the King realized he had made a grave mistake. As much as he liked to think he was, he was not perfect; his mind-reading skills even less so. Hunting down the vampire was all he could see in the wolf's mind; not that he loved her and not that she was female. Seeing the anthro-wolf lunge to attack, he reacted quickly with a deadly plan for the foolish mortal boy.

After the wolf's claws tore off most of his cheek, he fell to his knees. Except now, his appearance was that of a young woman. Her long hair draped over her shoulders, the white dress she wore was now spattered with blood. Her thin white hands covered her crying eyes as she sobbed in a heartbreaking way. It was the vampire girl from the wolf's mind. Whether or not he believed the King's shapeshifting abilities, the Dead King knew that his antics had gotten him close enough to launch his own attack.

Putting down her blood-covered hands, the girl spoke in a tortured whisper, her face hidden by her curtain of brown hair, "You think you're angry? Wait until you taste my wrath..." With that, he shifted back to himself, his cheek almost all gone and bleeding, grabbing the incredibly large wolf by his throat, raising him off the ground until his wolf-like feet no longer touched. Hearing the creature gasp for air made him laugh as he turned his head to the side, dead eyes now exposed and emptily staring at his victim. In a harsh whisper, he posed the question, "You dare to mess with death himself? Fool, I'll make you suffer the likes of nothing you've ever felt before!" Squeezing one good last time, he dropped the man, a loud thump announcing that he had hit the floor.

Standing tall over him, the King continued to stare, now using the stronger powers of his mind to literally make the wolf's blood boil. "You'll curse the day you crossed me, boy. I swear it; and now your precious vampire will suffer all the more because of it. You can count on that!" Deciding that was enough, he looked away from the wolf on the floor, releasing him from the anguish of the King's spell.

All this time, his face was still an open wound from the wolf's attack. As he looked down upon the thing lying on the floor, his face began to heal, and he asked quietly, "What say you now, boy?"

[Erebos]

Gasping for air, Erebos tried to bark, howl, and bite, but nothing came out of his jaws. He saw the man as his vision darkened. What could he do? His paws couldn't reach out to the man. He tried and tried, but his muscles became heavy. His vision became blurred as he became cold. His blood wasn't able to circulate, his body didn't have oxygen. He could feel his anger fade. He was tired, dizzy, and wanted to sleep. His eyes closed, and everything was gone.