When Two Warriors Clash [open]

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/ff5u88.jpg] Wicked was on a path of self destruction and he knew it. First he'd let himself wake up next to possibly the least attractive female he'd ever seen and then he'd let himself become possessive over Mars. He didn't want to call it the "L" word. Truth be told the mutt was more scared of that word then a sinner was scared of hell. Damn, the dog needed to find himself an actual friend that wasn't a female and that wouldn't end up resulting in after hour activities. And that meant the male needed to find some testosterone to latch onto. Just the thought of befriending another male made a low growl slip through his jaws. Even if it was just habit, the dog had never been kind to his own sex and now that he really needed someone of the same sex he was almost ready to give up on women for what they had done to him. But of course everyone knew that would never happen. Wicked without a female was like sandwiches without bread. The male finally ripped himself away from his thoughts, glancing around at his surroundings. In his rant the male had hardly noticed his feet were moving so it came as a slight shock to the dog when he found himself standing in the middle of a dead field with only a few living trees farther ahead of him. Wicked huffed slightly, giving up on the idea of doing anything but starving himself to death. He knew he was already at least halfway there. Or at least he hoped: the last time he had eaten anything was with Icecold and that was definitely not something he really enjoyed looking back on. His legs gave out underneath him and he sunk to the earth as if gravity had stuck to his coat until the weight was too much to bare. "Screw my life." the male snorted, rubbing his face in the dead grass. If only he knew how to hunt. The male knew he would be out there killing the biggest buck he could find just because he couldn't control his body anymore. The dog's blue eyes slowly shut as the male was dragged into his thoughts once more, cutting off the rest of the world from his self-hate speech. ooc This thread is open for anyone and everyone

[Pink !]

[atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,1,true][atrb=cellpadding,1,true][bg=0c0a0b] 'Seventeen. Sixteen. Fifteen.' Sylar counted slowly in his head, watching the old doe stagger forward in the meadow he had situated himself in. She was thirteen paces away now. 'Eleven. Ten. Nine. Eight.' The siberian husky swiped his tongue over his jaws and tensed up his back haunches. He had to wait until she was just close enough. It looked as if she had been through hell, as if someone had attacked and failed to capture her a few hours earlier. Sylar knew he had to do something to put her out of her misery and to ease his aching stomach. Hunger pangs were a bitch. 'Four. Three. Two.' The husky mutt recited before preparing himself to lunge. She spotted, he held his breath. She started forward again and so Sylar reared back and pushed himself forward. In a matter of moments he managed to lock his jaws around the doe's neck and send her down to earth. He crushed her neck between his powerful sets of teeth and waited for her to stop struggling. When she finally did, he looked upon his work with satisfaction and shook out his coat. Blood had splattered down his neck and chest, and so he took some time to groom himself before eyeing the carcass. Sylar was not an animal. He had to be clean for his dinner. The mutt tore open the flesh of the doe. It was not soft and satisfying like a young doe's, but it would do until he could polish his hunting skills better. It wasn't until he had eaten for awhile when he noticed another husky had stumbled into his meadows. It wasn't really his area, but while he was there he was definitely not comfortable with another being there as well. The malamute mix tilted his head as he observed the male. There was no point in kicking someone when they were down. At least not yet. Sylar was not in one of his cruel moods. His stomach was full, so why bother? So instead he did something very unlike himself and walked forward. His paws hit the grass lightly as he attempted to keep his identity concealed until the very last second. He slowed to a halt around ten feet from the brute. They were very alike in size, though Sylar was black and his new companion was red in color. The male was rather impressed with the other. There was a moment of silence before he spoke warmly. Let the games begin. "You look like hell, friend." Sylar said with a frown. "Need something to eat?" How funny. He looked so pathetic compared to Sylar at the moment. Whatever had happened to him, Sylar was very interested. "Sylar talks."

[/size]
[/font][/color]

[/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/ff5u88.jpg] "You look like hell, friend." Out of the deep, dark crevices of Wicked's subconscious came a light: a single, dim light. He watched it until the temptation was too much and he came up for air, his eyes flying open as reality hit him. God damn fate for giving exactly want he desired, but didn't particularly want. It was a male who was very similar to Wicked himself. In fact, they could probably be brothers if the male wasn't as fluffed or slightly bigger than him. "And how do you know I'm not some animal who deserves to be put down? I wouldn't consider myself a friend, friend." the male spoke, pushing himself to his feet and shaking the grass from his fiery pelt. He got an odd feeling from the male, but at the same time he like the feeling that he may be playing with fire. It was an odd sensation, but it still brought a sly smile to the male's face. "Need something to eat?" the male spoke again, this time offering a friendly meal. Well now this was a dilemma. Was he going to eat or was he going to starve himself? "I would, but I'm afraid my savagery would offend you. I'm not exactly a hunter so I take it where I can." he spoke, peeking past the male into the area where he assumed the male had come from. His nose twitched softly, surveying the wind and, though he could smell the faint rust of blood on his companion, he couldn't find the carcass due to the lack of wind. His eyes returned to the new male's as he gave up his search, his tail lazily curling back over his body. Maybe he should just accept the offer. After all he didn't even want a companion: he had come out here to starve himself alone and in peace, not to find another male. Friends were useless. Other than maybe a possible food source, the only thing they brought you were problems and drama and the need for you to love them. "Alright. I'll take some I guess. You can call me Wicked." ooc Ermahgerd. <3 Sylar! :D I was secretly hoping you'd jump in with him.

[Pink !]

[atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,1,true][atrb=cellpadding,1,true][bg=0c0a0b] "And how do you know I'm not some animal who deserves to be put down? I wouldn't consider myself a friend, friend." Sylar smirked, the very corners of his mouth upturning. He was reminded of his older brother. He would be reminded of himself, but he was not as bitter as the purebred before him. Or the assumed purebred. He looked too much like a Siberian not to be, though he could've been mixed with another husky like Sylar himself. Maybe that was why the malamute mix had become partial to the dog so quickly, or at least interested. They had the same heritage. Though that was where most of the similarities stopped, for the beast before him was far less sophisticated than himself. He offered no comfort to what the brute had to say, other than a slightly toss of his head. He was indeed a pitiful animal that did indeed look like it needed to be put down, but one could say that Sylar was feeling merciful. And bored. When the brute spoke again, Sylar once again offered no response at first. Savagery? Interesting. He highly doubted he could be offended by the male before him, but he just raised his invisible eyebrows and responded. "If I was afraid of savagery, I do not suppose I would have approached you." There was a sense of amusement in his voice as he settled himself on his haunches. He would wait until the brute introduced himself to make a move. After all, it was only polite to know each other on a personal level if they were going to be eating from the same carcass. Sylar, though, was not sure whether or not he would eat at all again. It seemed the polite thing to do to make his new 'companion' feel less awkward, but he had no desire to fill himself anymore. "Alright. I'll take some I guess. You can call me Wicked." "Glad to hear it." The malamute mutt said smoothly, abruptly standing up. "Sylar." He grunted with a curt nod before turning and walking at an easy pace toward the meal. Sylar did not want to overwork Wicked, for it seemed that the male had not eaten in awhile. He was hungry, and even though his mind would be dying to speed up and run for the food, his body would be groaning in protest. Sylar could wait as long as he needed. When the two approached, the black husky sat off to the side and allowed the red one to have space. He did not doubt the savagery that would ensue. A hungry dog ate like a maniac with no regard for anyone else around him, and Sylar knew it. If it disgusted him he would not have even thought about easing the belly of a complete stranger. But today he was generous, today he had plans. "If you're as hungry as I suspect you are, I would pace myself if I were you. No need to vomit all over the place." "Sylar talks."

[/size]
[/font][/color]

[/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/ff5u88.jpg] There was something off about this dog. Maybe it seemed like he was acting strange, like he didn't usually act this way, or maybe it was just that this dog seemed to be so likable. Wicked never seen another dog that seemed like everyone he met would instantly love him and, obviously, Wick was not the type people loved. In fact, every other canine he came into contact with - besides females, of course - seemed to either be the type that would absolutely hate the husky or they plain and simple didn't like him and weren't afraid to show it. Yes, the husky had a thing for stepping on other's toes, especially the female he had met as Icecold, and he didn't hide the entertainment he took away from doing so. But this dog, this big, muscular brute seemed like if he met a dog who'd driven himself mad looking for the bone he'd misplaced Sylar would still manage to get on the dog's good side. The male felt a pinch of jealousy in the pit of his stomach but, before it could progress into something more, the canine snapped himself back to the dog's words and shook off the thoughts that had previously invaded his head, "-savagery, I do not suppose I would have approached you." The male felt his face contort in an expression expressed his confusion. What had he said? Sighing, the dog chose not to answer this and, instead, paid attention to the way he had spoken the words. "I do not suppose I would have approached you." Ah, so the dog did want something. He hadn't seemed like the type for idle conversation and now the brute knew why. The dog perked his ears, his claws testing the ground beneath his pads uneasily. The dog wanted something, and yet he was offering something to Wick. "Wait," he barked as the dog began to trot off. Though his legs had hesitated, Wicked eventually followed in pursuit toward the rusted smell of blood he always loved. Due to the lack of food in his stomach Wicked wasn't able to keep pace with his well fed counterpart, but the dog easily fell into stride a few paw steps behind him. "I don't do favors, so be honest with me. Is there a price attached to the meat?" the male spoke as they approached. He felt his mouth begin to water at the site of the buck on the ground, blood lazily dripping from the puncture wounds in his neck. It made sense that the brawny mutt would go for the throat instead of, say his neck. Wicked may not have known much about hunting, but he was aware that if you were to get into the wrong position you would end up with an antler in your gut and, if he was being honest, Sylar didn't seem like a small enough target to be able to miss a blow like that. And if someone were to be the unfortunate fool that took a hit like that there would be almost no chance of survival without humans. Though the male received no answer from his previous question, he did get something he took as an answer, "If you're as hungry as I suspect you are, I would pace myself if I were you. No need to vomit all over the place." If you could really count that as an answer. The male searched Sylar's face, but only found a carefully constructed mask that faced the outside world. The male snorted to himself softly, shrugging it off. He clearly took that as a "yes" but he wasn't sure he minded. Even if he was asked to do something, there was a little to no chance of him actually doing the male a favor. The male drew in closer to the kill, stalking it like the natural predatory creature he had been born to be. Circling the animal, Wicked chose to crouch down near his belly and began to eat hastily: completely ignoring the beast behind him as he consumed the much needed meat.