Sheppard
Alpha Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
Posts: 13
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Post by Sheppard on Aug 25, 2009 22:58:38 GMT
It had been many decades since the subterranean area had last been used, to be the final resting place of those who had worked in the church. As the years had passed and attendance had dwindled, people had come to the catacombs less and less. What little manpower they had was spent keeping visible areas as clean as possible – a cave like area where the public weren’t allowed to go was hardly high on their list of priorities. And then, quite simple, they had stopped coming altogether. A sort of peaceful quiet had descended on the area after that, a chill calm that in recent hours had changed to something far more menacing. Bones lay scattered around the area, the odd skull or other instantly recognizable piece of bone looming up out of the shadows, pools of dark fighting against the faint flicker of light. A closer inspection of the yellowing objects would have revealed that at least one of the bones was covered in claw marks and that perhaps, just perhaps, they were not as old as the rest of the area. Anyone taking the time to actually view them however were hardly likely to care; or hardly likely to make it out alive in order to tell anyone.
Against one wall was an inlay, marble and ornate. It seemed an odd place for a monument, where nobody was likely to see it, but the only living thing in the catacombs knew that when it came to the human mind, everything was odd. This fascination with the dead, the desire to immortalise and show off the fragile futility of mortal existence; it was disgusting. Once you were dead, you were dead. More importantly, if you could die, and if you knew you were going to die then you had no reason to be alive in the first place. Certainly no reason to show off the fact that you had failed in every respect where it mattered, aside from perishing and ridding the world of one more mortal.
The shaggy haired man was almost as still as death himself, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared up at the ceiling and thus the floor of the old church. Against his back, he could feel the cool of the marble, the most elaborate place clearly the only part suitable for one such as he. Calmly, the male stood, arms by his side, staring and watching something only he could see.
Sheppard waited for his flock. They were coming and the time was finally at hand.
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Ripper
Pack Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
Posts: 16
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Post by Ripper on Aug 26, 2009 12:57:45 GMT
Ripper moved with the assuredness of a lethal predator. He made his way down into his Alpha's domain with speed - he'd been apart from his leader for so long, it seemed. Ripper didn't do well away from Sheppard. His killing had been sloppy, he didn't eat often enough and he was disheveled and dirty. He'd fulfilled his charge, and now he would be back under Sheppard's eye.. and that suited Ripper just fine.
He slipped down into view of his leader and knelt, head bowed in submission. A low growl left his lips and he held the pose until Sheppard said to move.
Ripper would hold that pose til he died if Sheppard deemed it. It didn't matter.
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Hunter
Pack Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
And I won't listen to this heavenly fa?ade.
Posts: 29
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Post by Hunter on Aug 26, 2009 23:50:44 GMT
The time spent away from their Alpha and the others of their small but ferocious, brutal pack had affected the wolf in Hunter more than the man, but then he had always been more animal than anything else. Sheppard had brought that out in him, helped him to embrace the inner beast and truly let it to the surface where it belonged. Hunter had their Alpha to thank for so much of what he was and yet it was only a small part of what made him so unwaveringly loyal to the old male. There were so many contributing factors to that rock-steady allegiance that it would be difficult to pin them all down, and frankly, anyone who questioned his devotion deserved nothing less than a swift and at the same time agonising dismemberment.
It was in wolf form that Hunter entered the abandoned church, prowling his way down on all fours into the catacombs that would become their primary lair. The shadows and thick walls would be a perfect den for them, their few numbers and unrivalled prowess; once again Sheppard had made the best possible decision, proven himself to be the perfect leader that Hunter already knew he was. Proof of such an indisputable fact was not necessary.
Tail briefly swiping from side to side behind him, he entered the catacombs to see the unmistakeable figure of their Alpha. With Striker not far behind him, Hunter padded closer on all fours, remaining lower than their powerful leader in greeting out of utmost respect, coming to a stop alongside Ripper even as he transformed from wolf to man, down low in a crouch.
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Striker
Pack Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
I am stripped of all but pride
Posts: 27
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Post by Striker on Aug 27, 2009 4:15:11 GMT
Striker's paws rasped quietly against the concrete floor -- he was right on Hunter's heels, loping gait making it easy to keep up with the elder wolf. Like his compatriot, the moment Striker made eye contact with his Alpha, he dropped himself as low to the floor as possible, a low whuffle of a sound issuing from his maw.
He owed Sheppard everything. The Alpha had taken him in when no one else would, though it was difficult to remember any kind of life before Sheppard. It had to be for the best, though -- Sheppard was a great, great leader. Striker knew he was better off with his Alpha.
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Kincaid
Beta Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
Forcing our darkest souls to unfold.
Posts: 12
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Post by Kincaid on Aug 28, 2009 21:13:44 GMT
Kincaid had been keeping an eye on the arrivals to the Church from a concealed, shadowed space, not that he felt that any of the other, younger males would be stupid enough to be followed, or that anyone from the filthy city beyond would be stupid enough to follow them, it was more out of habit in new surroundings, wanting to have a lay of the land in his mind so that when the Good Sheppard gave him orders to follow he could follow through with accuracy and speed that his position as the Beta demanded. Only when Hunter and Striker were inside did he move with grace that belied his stature; approaching six and a half feet tall, barrel chested and overtly muscular he didn’t look like he ought to be able to move so swiftly or silently, but that was the beauty of his genus and the benefit of the many centuries under his belt.
Noiselessly he made his way down into the catacombs, standing with the other males though a half a pace closer to the oldest of them as was his right, giving a devout dip of his head to acknowledge their Alpha but saying nothing. Kincaid generally didn’t speak unless prompted to, and even then he barely said a word to the younger wolves unless it was of the utmost necessity. To him, actions always spoke louder.
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Sheppard
Alpha Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
Posts: 13
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Post by Sheppard on Aug 30, 2009 0:24:53 GMT
They had arrived in his presence in roughly the order Sheppard had imagined. First Ripper always eager to be back, and then the two trusted scouts, Hunter and Striker. Kincaid last; his most loyal Kincaid would always arrive last, having watched out for the younger members of their small little family. His pack; his faithful followers. His children of a kind, Sheppard having taken such an interest in their development and in moulding them in just the right way so that they were stronger for it and the very best that the Lycanthrope world had to offer. He was proud of the results kneeling in front of them, ready and waiting to act on his merest whim; the sheer power would have sent a lesser man over the edge long ago.
“Rise,” he informed the kneeing group. Like Kincaid he preferred not to waste his words unnecessarily; the fact that it had been such a simple command was sign enough that he was in a good mood and not inclined to teach any of them yet more pain. Not yet anyway; his mood warring between the pride of this unit he had created and rage that they had been forced to come to this vermin infested city in the first place, that he had been so betrayed by one of their own. When they collected what they had come for, there would be retribution. Given the chance, Sheppard would willingly invite down that fire and brimstone early, if it would somehow help their mission. “Speak then. What do we know of this place, of the inferior residing here and our lost little sheep?”
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Hunter
Pack Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
And I won't listen to this heavenly fa?ade.
Posts: 29
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Post by Hunter on Sept 1, 2009 14:20:38 GMT
The command from Sheppard was obeyed instantly without delay of any kind, Hunter rising with the expected deadly grace of such a major predator, his dark eyes watching their leader attentively. As a group, they were wolves of few words generally, they didn’t need to speak in order to communicate, not when they had other languages to rely on, physical dialects in which they were all so proficient. However, as the scouts of the group, he and Striker were often expected to speak up and go against the pack norm.
“We have seen the two major packs in the city,” Hunter said, taking his place as the oldest of the pair and acting on that by being the voice. “One is in turmoil from within, scattered and confused. They would be an easy target.” Though there was a hint of a cruel smile in his tone, it did not show on his face. “The other pack is considerably larger, significantly more composed and united, but the Alphas have human allies outside of their territory.” A hint of disgust had worked into his voice as he spoke those words; wolves, no matter how pure of blood, only degraded themselves and shamed their race by associating with mere mortals.
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Sheppard
Alpha Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
Posts: 13
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Post by Sheppard on Sept 9, 2009 19:15:16 GMT
In one fluid motion, Sheppard pushed himself away from the wall, limbs flowing together as though he was made of a single thought and action. The Alpha stood at his full height now, body poised and coiled like a spring, every limb ready for action, dark eyes focused on Hunter. “Humans?” Although spoken as if a question, it wasn’t one, the old wolf having no reason to doubt his scout’s words. At every place they discovered new packs; they also discovered new crimes against their race, new reasons why his pack alone could call themselves true and just werewolves, as opposed to the lowly mangy mutts who overran the world.
They would have to be dealt with, swiftly and ruthlessly as was his pack’s way. The only advantage Sheppard could see in the human allies was the weak target and soft spot they presented to any true predator. The other pack however… well, they were another matter. Almost begging to be tested by his loyal followers, to bring Hell to them and to shine light onto the fragile nature of all the wolves within the city. It would serve as a good distraction as well, to allow them to move without hindrance and find what they had come for. “Good work. The smaller pack first.”
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Hunter
Pack Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
And I won't listen to this heavenly fa?ade.
Posts: 29
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Post by Hunter on Sept 10, 2009 22:13:54 GMT
Any wolf in their right mind, regardless of their experience or affiliation, would know instinctively that Sheppard’s physical motion, so fluidic and predatory, rarely meant anything good. Who exactly that negativity, that neat rage, was directed at depended on the cause, and Hunter knew that well, just as every other male in the catacombs did. They had learned just how to read their leader, what he stood for, what he meant with every word and action, but some things were just blatant. It was clear in Sheppard’s immediate reaction that the Alpha was disgusted by the revelation of wolves associating themselves with mere mortals, not that Hunter could blame him. It truly was an outrage, but an imperfection that they would correct. Of that he had no doubt.
With a nod, Hunter confirmed their leader’s sound judgement in dealing with the smaller pack first. “Striker and I caught a scent in a few places, along the streets and close to some buildings. He is definitely in the city, hidden somewhere.” But they would find him. Doyle would not stay concealed for long, there was no way the younger male, with his training incomplete, could hide himself from the rest of the pack for long. It was pure dumb luck that he hadn’t been discovered yet, and nothing more.
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Ripper
Pack Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
Posts: 16
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Post by Ripper on Oct 4, 2009 0:23:11 GMT
Ripper listened, having stood up. His blade was in his hand immediately, the knife dancing in the weak light as he played with it - almost unconsciously. The larger pack had humans. He liked practicing on humans better. They broke and stayed broke. They bled a little - and continued to bleed a little, if you cut them just a little with something very sharp. Ripper always kept his blades very sharp. Cutting a werewolf took more thinking. You had to remember how deep - keep going to the one spot. Ripper didn't like thinking. He prefered leaving that to Sheppard. He hadn't had a training in so long. So long.
The smaller pack would mean blood. Surely Sheppard would let him kill one. Practice on one. His eyes flickered his wolf's color once, and he watched the collected group - waiting. Sheppard would say when. And then Ripper would go.
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Striker
Pack Werewolf
Sheppard's Pack
I am stripped of all but pride
Posts: 27
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Post by Striker on Oct 4, 2009 16:38:00 GMT
Striker kept quiet, his posture that of a soldier standing at attention. His expression was intent -- he would let hunter relay the information they had gathered. Hunter was experienced -- he knew what to say. Besides, Striker knew better than to speak before directly spoken to.
The metal of his ring was smooth and cold against his fingertips, and he idly turned the bit of jewelry around his finger. Sometimes, if he really concentrated, he could recall brown hair, dimples, and a rich, warm laugh. He didn't often concentrate that hard -- whatever those snippets of memory were, they were int he past, and therefore unnecessary.
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