Post by Strike on Sept 23, 2012 17:01:41 GMT -5
((Anyone and everyone is welcome to post in this! Just a reminder, you all know my group posting request. Posting order is as you enter unless you get permission from the people before you to post before them. It just makes it soooo much easier. Unless you don’t post for a couple days. Then we can move forward))
It had been several days since his encounter with the strange woman who offered only mysteries and questions. As he showed her the path to the ruins of a hellish place, Strike had determined he too would go there. But he had required time. It was a big step to go to the place he had evaded this entire time. For so long he feared and hated it, knowing it only held painful answers and memories. Memories he was slowly regaining. When in her presence he had past visions of the strange woman. Later, other images flooded him, full of faces and buildings of worth. There was a large enclosure full of creatures that smelled so much like him, a man of dark skin and a balanced power of grounding, a woman of raven hair the he knew to be an abomination of nature yet deserving of the mother’s many gifts to her, a man of strange origin and demand of dominance. There was also another woman of dark hair and a soft smile that hid ambition and strength. Finally, the face he knew to be the most important out of them all, the same face of the boy in the image the strange woman shoved at him. Strike knew the boy to be kin. His. It was the only solid memory he held. An infant in his arms that belonged all to him. Yet the strange woman’s face was in the background and he knew she had been there.
It had been an effort to reach closer to the horrid place. Many creatures swarmed nearby. At first, he couldn’t understand why. But as he neared, it finally came to sense. The place was not nearly as dead as he had thought. It teamed with life and the voices beyond the walls were loud and clear. Even scents wafted over and he knew the population must be plentiful. Bodies moved along the top of the wall as well as on the ground, circling the perimeter in a protective manner. Curiosity was unfolding within him, layer by layer peeling back new questions. Bare feet padded along the rubble meant to be a walkway to the entrance. Several of the bodies stopped along the main doorway while holding objects. They were covered in material that masked their scents and appearance.
“Halt, traveler. Please remain still and someone will greet you.” One called out to him before mumbling inaudibly to his companion at his side. Strike remained still for a moment before pressing forward, their words holding no meaning to him.
“I said halt. If you do not comply we will be forced to take action. Please be patient.” Again the words were meaningless and he moved on.
The man spoke into a radio. “Unidentified male, mid-thirties, foreign in appearance is unresponsive to direction and warning. Initiating warning fire.” A gun rang out once toward the sky. Instantly Strike held his knife in hand and hunched, ready for assault. His beast reared to life, recognizing the threat. It was too late to turn back, the advantage would become theirs Baring fangs, he growled lowly in warning as the men and women yelled back and forth, aiming their weapons at him.
“Male is responsive and hostile. Nonhuman! I repeat, nonhuman! Male is a threat. Code red, remove threat.” The man’s tone changed to urgency as Strike threw his bone knife into the leg of a guard. Quickly the guard was on the ground and shielding figures moved in to recover their fallen comrade. Everyone came to life in those seconds and guns echoed the air.
Strike moved briskly, hunching low to the ground. A bullet slid along his shoulder, grazing the skin. It wasn’t worth calling a wound. His heart beat rapidly, recognizing the immediate danger he had placed himself in. It had been a terrible idea to come. Regret overtook him but was pushed back until he could get out alive. Guards approached then, melee weapons in hand. It was too much. Werewolves erupted from many of the skins surrounding him, beasts with fangs and claws. These he knew how to handle. Growling loudly once more, he allowed his own change to overtake him. It came swiftly and so easily within seconds his became a beast of his own. Free of his caged form. Standing tall he reached his height of ten feet, releasing an enraged roar calling for blood. Claws extended outward, marking those closest and spraying warm blood, knocking them back. One he missed and jumped on. The pair tousled only briefly before a loud crunch and Strike broke the creature’s leg. Pain bit harshly into his stomach and arm as he hovered over the fallen beast. Bullets had punctured his hide. It was then he flung back his head and howled in pain.
Voiced were frantic all around him, but he was blind to their motions and deaf to the words. Instead he continued to lash out at those around him, ignoring the pain of the bullets and fresh claw and teeth marks all over him. Strike knew he had done his fair share of damage. Blood was thick in the air and it overpowered his own scent.
It had been several days since his encounter with the strange woman who offered only mysteries and questions. As he showed her the path to the ruins of a hellish place, Strike had determined he too would go there. But he had required time. It was a big step to go to the place he had evaded this entire time. For so long he feared and hated it, knowing it only held painful answers and memories. Memories he was slowly regaining. When in her presence he had past visions of the strange woman. Later, other images flooded him, full of faces and buildings of worth. There was a large enclosure full of creatures that smelled so much like him, a man of dark skin and a balanced power of grounding, a woman of raven hair the he knew to be an abomination of nature yet deserving of the mother’s many gifts to her, a man of strange origin and demand of dominance. There was also another woman of dark hair and a soft smile that hid ambition and strength. Finally, the face he knew to be the most important out of them all, the same face of the boy in the image the strange woman shoved at him. Strike knew the boy to be kin. His. It was the only solid memory he held. An infant in his arms that belonged all to him. Yet the strange woman’s face was in the background and he knew she had been there.
It had been an effort to reach closer to the horrid place. Many creatures swarmed nearby. At first, he couldn’t understand why. But as he neared, it finally came to sense. The place was not nearly as dead as he had thought. It teamed with life and the voices beyond the walls were loud and clear. Even scents wafted over and he knew the population must be plentiful. Bodies moved along the top of the wall as well as on the ground, circling the perimeter in a protective manner. Curiosity was unfolding within him, layer by layer peeling back new questions. Bare feet padded along the rubble meant to be a walkway to the entrance. Several of the bodies stopped along the main doorway while holding objects. They were covered in material that masked their scents and appearance.
“Halt, traveler. Please remain still and someone will greet you.” One called out to him before mumbling inaudibly to his companion at his side. Strike remained still for a moment before pressing forward, their words holding no meaning to him.
“I said halt. If you do not comply we will be forced to take action. Please be patient.” Again the words were meaningless and he moved on.
The man spoke into a radio. “Unidentified male, mid-thirties, foreign in appearance is unresponsive to direction and warning. Initiating warning fire.” A gun rang out once toward the sky. Instantly Strike held his knife in hand and hunched, ready for assault. His beast reared to life, recognizing the threat. It was too late to turn back, the advantage would become theirs Baring fangs, he growled lowly in warning as the men and women yelled back and forth, aiming their weapons at him.
“Male is responsive and hostile. Nonhuman! I repeat, nonhuman! Male is a threat. Code red, remove threat.” The man’s tone changed to urgency as Strike threw his bone knife into the leg of a guard. Quickly the guard was on the ground and shielding figures moved in to recover their fallen comrade. Everyone came to life in those seconds and guns echoed the air.
Strike moved briskly, hunching low to the ground. A bullet slid along his shoulder, grazing the skin. It wasn’t worth calling a wound. His heart beat rapidly, recognizing the immediate danger he had placed himself in. It had been a terrible idea to come. Regret overtook him but was pushed back until he could get out alive. Guards approached then, melee weapons in hand. It was too much. Werewolves erupted from many of the skins surrounding him, beasts with fangs and claws. These he knew how to handle. Growling loudly once more, he allowed his own change to overtake him. It came swiftly and so easily within seconds his became a beast of his own. Free of his caged form. Standing tall he reached his height of ten feet, releasing an enraged roar calling for blood. Claws extended outward, marking those closest and spraying warm blood, knocking them back. One he missed and jumped on. The pair tousled only briefly before a loud crunch and Strike broke the creature’s leg. Pain bit harshly into his stomach and arm as he hovered over the fallen beast. Bullets had punctured his hide. It was then he flung back his head and howled in pain.
Voiced were frantic all around him, but he was blind to their motions and deaf to the words. Instead he continued to lash out at those around him, ignoring the pain of the bullets and fresh claw and teeth marks all over him. Strike knew he had done his fair share of damage. Blood was thick in the air and it overpowered his own scent.