Sink or swim.

<H4>Out of Character</H4>Who: <a href=http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=373#XII>Okkie</a>, <a href=http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=1556>Puanym</a>, Thoren, <a href=http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=926>Kjetta</a>, and <a href=http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=1542>Xestri</a>.
What: A Shadowlack hazing disguised as an initiation.
Where: Deep in the forest that’s near to the Janardan Academy, next to a rather long pond.
When: Late evening, Mia, Day 50, Year 81378 (4).
Rated: Restricted, for violence and language.
<H4>In Character</H4>Her teachers at the Academy had been suspicious. Firstly, she’d shown up to class, her left arm wrapped in ice that never melted, a gory wound visible beneath the opaque sheafs of ice. Several of her professors had requested she stay after class, and Okkie had heard the same questions, time and time again — “What happened to your arm? Do you need to see a doctor? Are you receiving treatment for your wound?” They had all pretended to be concerned, but she was absolutely sure it was a farce, because no matter how grievous her injury seemed to get (it had begun to blister and bleed sporadically), not one of them ever offered to help her seek medical help. No... as the infection finally corrupted her immune system and she started to fall asleep in class and have to use the restroom more and more often, none of them ever offered to truly care. They just watched her from a distance, watched her suffer, until she finally vanished, the seat in each of her classes empty for a whole two weeks.

Even now, as she huddled on a rock near to the bonfire, she wondered whether they’d been more concerned or relieved when she’d finally just disappeared. Not that it mattered, not that her vanishing act had been permanent. Two weeks passed, and nobody saw hide nor hair of the infamous Stormwing. Then, exactly fourteen days later, she’d popped right back into the regime. But if anyone had suspected this was going to be an assurance of some sort, they were all wrong... very, very wrong. For Okkie returned, healthy as ever... but the arm that had been crusted with blood and contagions only weeks before was now completely... missing.

The flames of the bonfire crackled in rhythm with Okkie’s snickering, and she leaned away from the conflagration, her body now thoroughly warmed. That day had been the greatest — the stares, the disbelief, the bewildered professors sputtering in blatant confusion. They had all been taken aback; nobody had mentioned to them that a student had undergone such a grave operation. How were they to react? Was she to be treated with special consideration? Did anyone have any clue what had happened in the first place? For a good three or four days, the banded female single-handedly had the Janardan staff in a proverbial uproar. But then, because even chaos got boring after a while, she’d simply lied to a teacher, saying she’d cut herself playing water polo at some foreign school, had contracted tetanus, and had required amputation. The word had quickly spread, and then everyone, teachers and students alike, had quickly gotten to feeling sorry for her, and a few renegades had even sent hate mail to the school she’d accused.

“There is no greater art, than that of the con man. Or, in this case, con woman. I toast you, self.”

The youthful Stormwing, despite the fact that she had recently lost a left arm, was in great spirits as she huddled before the roaring fire. There was no reason to be sad, after all — she knew that there was a great chance she’d have her arm reattached someday, good as new (and she’d cause another school-wide ruckus). Besides, being one-armed wasn’t half-bad, especially in this cold; there was a lot less surface area to be exposed to the chilly evening wind! Not that the young pendragon was poorly equipped for the weather... sure, she was only wearing a white tee (the left sleeve flaccid and unused) and jeans, but she had a large flannel blanket wrapped around herself. This not only kept her toasty warm, but it would also be an excellent way to surprise her ‘guests’ once they arrived — she was pretty sure a one-armed pendragon leaping out of fire-shadows would be fairly creepy.

Speaking of them, where were her Shadowlack ‘guests’? The fire had been crackling for nearly an hour and a half now, and the sky was bruised with darkness. Silvery smoke curled up towards the sky, and Okkie knew her victims would be searching the plum sky for the faded wisps of miasma. She just hoped they weren’t going to be late — she’d told them to be there by nightfall, or there would be dire consequences.

And, one arm or not, she was fully prepared to deliver on that promise.

 

<span style='color:gray'>
From within the ebon shadows of the deep, dank forest, where silence had once reigned, the snap of a single twig can be heard by accutest of hearing, over the crackling of the fire. This singal of another presence had been dangerously close to the pond, indicating that another is very nearby. How long had this stranger been there, unseen? Silent and hidden within the darkness.

Pendragon female, in four-legged form for her own safety, lay low to the ground, a good few metres away from the pond - out of view. Icey white coat of fur contrasts the blackened shadows greatly, though being so flat to the ground, the feline still goes unseen. Thin stripes are smeared across her pelt, greatly resembling icicles, two shades of pale blue. Slender tail twitches wildly behind her, fluffy jet-black tip hidden in the shadows completely.

Ears pricked forward, hearing the soft but well defined crackling of the nearby flames. Her sense of hearing led her forward, the petite Pendragon slinking out into the light created by the tall embers, her full form soon in view. She soon sensed the presence of another, and lifted her figure from it's low, crouching and sneaking position. Soon she was sitting silently - not far from Okkie. Head lifted to 'look' at her, the feline-natured Pendragon's eyes put on display. Unlike a missing arm, this female also had a slight weakness. Her eyes were pupil-less, and a frightfully intimidating shade of the palest and purest azure. She was blind.

Head dipped slightly to the one that she could sense ahead, gathering that she was the creator of this great fire, and the one whom had chosen her to guest at the meeting known as 'Shadowlack.'

"Greetings."</span>

 

The sun was sinking low, casting the world beneath it in hues of ebon and deep azure, the faintest bit of orange glimmering on the horizon. Even in the twilight, a faint shimmering of silver was visible, drifting lazily up between the trees, beckoning him forward. He risked being late, but had prepared by leaving nearly two hours earlier than was required for him to reach the meeting on time.

He'd fallen 'asleep' on his way, much like a narcoleptic. Only, this was no true sleep, for his body gained no rest or respite in that unconcious state. Puanym had yet to figure out what was causing his episodes, but had learned to cope. Now, he trundled leisurely through the forest, debating on the wisdom of being late.

Twelve had said not to, to be there exactly as night fell. Twelve had promised great pain to those who did not heed this requirement. Twelve had also nearly knocked his head cleanly from his shoulders earlier that day. Puanym supposed that it wasn't really her fault; he'd gone into one of his trances, and had either 'ignored' her when she first tried to grab his attention, or had been 'staring' at her. Either way, Okkie had used her remaining arm to wallop him upside his head quite hard, effectively knocking him from his state.

Now, normally, that didn't bother him. What had irked him was the fact that she'd then given him a swift kick to the ribs, and called him several unsavory names. Of course, it was shortly thereafter that she'd told him to meet her tonight. While he wouldn't strike her back (yet), it did cross his mind to tempt fate and perhaps make her angry again.

However, when he finally reached the clearing where a large fire burned, Puanym didn't hesitate to enter. He was in his usual state of dress; large, black leather pants, a chain for a belt, and many piercings. It was quite cold, so he'd simply thickened his fur to block out the chill, and folded his wings across his shoulders. They were draped there now, looking much like a cape.

Twelve was there, yes, though quite obscured by the shadows. Puanym paid little mind to any others present; a blank expression greeted Okkie, and he didn't bother to sit down. This was to be Shadowlack, something of which he'd heard little to nothing about. He was very curious.

"Twelve has said to come, and so Puanym came. What is this, this Shadowlack?" he queried softly.

 

ooc: sorry for the wait guys.... I was taking part in a drama compertition *meeps* Am back now...

IC:

<font color=darkred>
Kjetta had had a hard day at the Acadamy today. Three Ramathian classes (two basic and one advanced), a fighting skills class for the Intermediates, and Elemental Sorcery classes on top for a beginners class. He had just come out of the shower in his room when he noticed the smoke, obviously from a camp fire, from the area towards the school pond. A look of confusion crossed his face and he quickly rubbed himself dry and put on a large trenchcoat to keep him warm for it was like ice outside. Kjetta then combed his flame coloured long hair and went outside to discover who was out of their dorm tonight.

He followed the smell and the sounds of burning wood and he found himself deep within the trees surrounding the school. There he saw a young female pendragon, wrapped up in a big blanket and looking quite cold. But what stunned him was her beauty. She was a looker. His eyes of deepest brown nearly popped out of his sockets and he unconciously licked his lips. It was then he saw and heard the arrival of two more young pendragons, a male and another female. Kjetta dimmed his tail flame right down, but it glowed a yellow-orange as he continued to watch the first female. Kjetta realised that he wouldn't be able to burst out on them. Plus he wanted to see why they were here and discover who they all were. He crouched down onto the leafy and mossy floor and managed to conceal himself but still able to see them. He just hoped he didn't loose his balance and fall on a twig...</font>​

 

"Don't be late." the foxy 'dragon has crooned to him not all that long ago. He didn't think she was interested in that way. He was used to conning people: he could see through it. But it gave his ego quite the boost to know she made an effort to intice him to come.

Not that much persuasion was needed!

She was attractive enough to call bees away from the sweetest flower, even though she was now a one arm'd gimp. The school felt miserable for her. So did he. Maybe he'd get the chance to.. comfort her later..

Grinning to himself, the brilliant yellow dragon strides through the grass, heading towards the forest. He was of average size and build for one at the age of 1900, well muscled and quite attractive himself - well defined features, sharp, intelligent mismatched eyes (left was red, right was blue), proportionate ears, and a thick mop of vibrant sky blue hair atop his head, trailing down his spine.

Swinging his long tail behind him, the blood red flame on the tip lights the way he came, his mismatched vision looking forward. The smell of bonfire smoke met his nostrils long before his eyes could pierce the foliage. So he followed his nose.

It seemed he was the fifth one to arrive, counting XII. It was well after dark. He grinned at the thought of her punishing him for his late arrival.

"Greetings, darling dove," he announces jovially, with a hint of arrogant self-assurance, and walks into the light of the camp, his http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?act=Glossarybi</a>-colored eyes sweeping the faces of the visitors, before resting upon 'Kie, to whom he was speaking in the first place. "I do hope your anger isn't too terrible, I arrived as quickly as I could." with one paw, the quadroped pendragon takes a bow, lowering eyes and face, before standing upright again.

Well. Forget what you learned in school, kiddies. Thoren Jumakh was here to show you how it was supposed to be done.


\\ OOC: *grins* I'm gonna enjoy killin' this-a-one off.. XD

 

<H4>Out of Character</H4>Mm… I was waiting for DJ to post, but it doesn’t seem like she’s going to, so I’ll just go ahead. I’m really inspired right now, so this might be a little overly verbose. Oh, and a little bit Rated R, near the end, but we already knew it was going to be like that, eh? :P
<H4>In Character</H4> The final streaks of miasmatic light faded from the ethereal watercolor of the sky, and now it was brushed with purplish-pitch paint. The woodlands around the crackling bonfire were bruised with darkness, and there was no discerning the ghastly forms circling around the lip of orange light. Everything was hidden, even though the blaze was quite immense, and the only apparition that could be made out amongst the dancing and leaping shadows was Okkie. Rebelling against the dusk, she hovered close enough to the inferno to be detectable, her form engulfed in ashen smoke. However, though the illumination of the fire played across her face, giving radiance to her creases and angles, part of her was still swallowed by shadow; as she sat there, stiffly waiting, she looked like a grotesque harlequin, quite baleful and malicious in intent. There was no way to interpret the malevolent smile that crawled slowly over her cinnamon maw, but it coupled with the grisly darkness to make one uncanny sight.

A sight which soon became the focal point of two unseeing eyes. A twig snapped in the direction of the pond, which was only a few meters away, and Okkie’s smile disappeared, to be replaced with a menacing, hollow expression. Though she had been rigid before, her bodice tightened up even more, as she waited to see the initiator of the mild disturbance… Before long, a quadruped female crawled into the ring of light, polar in coloration. She was extremely lissome, her gene pool tilted towards the feline side. As the one-armed pendragon watched this slightly familiar entity creep into the boundaries, her muscles slowly loosened. This was Xestri, one of the ‘invited’. She was harmless, as far as Okkie was concerned, and when the scythed femme offered salutations, the youthful Twelve shrugged (though she knew Xestri couldn’t see), and purled: “Yes, greetings to you, as well, Xestri.”

As the sightless newcomer made herself comfortable near the fire, Okkie watched her, and began to look around for the others. Had they each come individually, or did they find safety in numbers? She almost laughed callously at the thought of being feared — she wasn’t that intimidating! Or was she? Once more, a vividly intense expression crossed her face, one of thoughtful consternation. Perhaps the Evil One’s mark had left a web of shadows over her, giving her that ‘touch’ that seemed to disconcert others. Well… that was all right with her. Tonight, she would need the factor of coercion, but also one of conniving hospitality. She needed to be commanding but friendly… she needed both to challenge them, and drink with them. There had to be an intricate balance in their interactions; Okkie would have to find it.

But, first, they all needed to arrive. Slipping off her countenance was that air of contemplation, as the young pendragon turned her two-toned eyes towards the forest. Just as her oculars focused, a figure emerged, cloaked in black, barely discernable amongst the wicked shadows and shades. As the bipedal moved closer to the elucidation of the bonfire, Okkie recognized him — Puanym. A schoolmate, just like Xestri, only she knew this male a little better than she knew the blind female. She’d had several classes with him, and, intrigued by his dark garb and his eerie temperament, she’d chosen to invite him to participate in Shadowlack. Of course, they both knew that the incitement hadn’t been an airy, gracious one, such as one would extend for a birthday party in the summer. Nay, ever short-tempered and liable to snap, Okkie had been short with Puanym, knocking him around a bit to get her point across. Apparently, it had worked, as the male was here, standing just a few feet away, both vision and timbre indistinct. A query, not a greeting, came from his sallow lips, and Twelve turned to stare stonily at him, calculating her answer. “You are not yet privileged to know. If you prove yourself, you will learn the truth.”

A look of amused contempt flashed in her eyes, and then the banded one peered into the forest again. She sensed another out there, just outside her range of vision, but even after a few pregnant moments, no one advanced. Okkie’s hackles stirred, and she had to stifle a ululating growl which trembled in her belly. She wanted to investigate, find those eyes which she felt boring into her skin, and perhaps peel them out. But that was something Kakosenas would do, not her… and alas, she was distracted by the next arrival, someone whom she found a little more captivating than her other guests…

Thoren Jumakh. As he sauntered into view, his coquettish nature shining through bright eyes and a kitschy smile, Okkie finally stood, the flannel blanket weaving softly about her trim figure. She towered above him, her being in an anthropomorphic shift and his being in a quadruped one, but there was no sense of threat between them. Twelve smiled at his arrival, grinned even. For some reason, she was attracted to this male… but not in an ordinary sense. She lusted for two things — his body, and his demise. She wanted to mate him and then slay him, was aroused by the idea of intimacy followed by bloodshed. However, she was a conservative female, and dared not give into her desires. Thus, as she peered indulgently upon the male only two years her senior, she settled with a blown kiss, somewhat sinister in spirit, and then a coy retort to his words: “Salutations right back to you, dear. I’m not too cross. In fact, I’m happy to see you… Too bad you’re not in your bipedal shift, or you would get a treat.”

The female simpered, trailing off as the gave him a cuttingly flirtatious look. Twelve then turned from him, and gazed at the other two. Three out of four. Seventy-five percent. And the sun had set, the moons had risen. The deadline had come and gone, and a face was missing. Ah, all is well. If that one decides to show up, though, there might be a little more death tonight than I’d originally intended… There was that satanic smile again, lighting up her shadowy features, then melting away just as swiftly as she became quiet and still, standing in the bursting and shifting light of the bonfire.

“Well, I’d originally invited four of you,” she finally spoke up, suddenly moving, tossing her blanket off to expose her alluring figure, clad in only simple street clothes. She padded towards a dim niche between some shrubs, reaching her remaining arm down to pick something up — a container with four glass bottles. “But it looks like one has chosen not to show their face. Unworthy. Oh, well… I only have four bottles, so this will work better anyway. Each of you,” and she pointed at Xestri, Puanym, then Thoren. “Come drink with me?”

But it wasn’t a question. Okkie tucked the carton under her arm, then pulled one of the bottles out. With her prehensile thumb, she popped the lid, and almost immediately, a saccharine scent washed over the group, too tantalizing to resist. Once they smelled it, they wouldn’t be able to deny a draft. That was the magic, and the curse, of it. They would have to drink it, but none of them would be aware of its secrets… its very, very deadly secrets.

 

<span style='color:gray'>
Silently listening to every crackle of the fire, every movement of the night, and every arrival of a newcomer, Xestri sits upon slender ivorn haunches. Delicate tassle swings back and forth, flicking tip catching the ground now and then, creating the smallest tornadoes of swirling dust. Delicate hearing picked up many sets of pendragon paw steps, the majority in a bipedial form. Now now, surely 'tis rude to be the odd one out? Though she had noticed that the latest comer into the forest was also in anthropomorphic shift, small feline chose to leave him to be the minority.

Emotionless, pure azure optics closed, the petite polar feline preparing herself to morph. Years ago, she had taught herself to morph from a quad-like form to a bipedial form, just incase she ever needed to. For emergencies, perhaps? When you're blind, you can never be too careful.. Slowly, she drew back further onto her haunches, then rose onto her hind legs to stand. Eyes were still closed, as the lock of hair that rested atop her head grew, twisting and turning to fall down her much more human back. Long locks soon melted into a deep shade of blue-turquoise, and rested just above her waist. Forepaws now adorned slender fingers, though her feet still resembled the paws of her previous hind legs. Tail looked the same, protruding low, from the bottom of her spine, thick, black flame-like brush still dancing at it's tip. As the process developed, swirls of ebon material seemed to form and fly from her waist, soon taking the shape of a pair of loose trousers, that hung dangerously low from trim and slender hips. The same material substence flew around her chest, soon forming in a bra-like fashion around her bust. Clothes adorned, the transformation was now complete.

The only part of her body that was still hidden, were the six, delicate slits. Three on either side of her neck, just below her head. The source of her love for water. Xestri's gills.

Now, a two-legged version of the blind feline stood before the tall flames of the fire. Eyes opened slowly, her line of 'vision' directed straight into the heart of the embers. Indeed her pelt was a contrast to the bright and inticing scarlets, ambers and yellow's of the dancing flames, but they appeared to work well together. The intricate light given off by the fire lit up her delicate smoky figure. It seemed the lighting was in her favour, creating a light ora of delicate attaction.

Xestri's trail of thought was interrupted at Okkie's words, and most of all by her question. She had indeed not been expecting an offerance of a drink - then of course, she had no idea what Shadowlack was about. At first she had thought that it would be some form of cult, or an organisation for or against the graders. But surely, 'twas not just a group of 'drinking buddies'?

It was then that the smell hit her. It had followed the popping sound of a lid, Okkie must've opened one of the drinks that she had been speaking of. Due to her lack of eyesight, Xestri's other sences were hightened due to slow evolution, so the tantalizing scent of the liquid was much stronger to her. It was mouth-watering, inticing, and somewhat exciting. If just's it's mere scent was so attractive and addicting, imagine what heaven the liquid would taste like..

So what is Shadowlack was infact a gathering for those that wish to drink? Who's to care if it wasn't an exciting government conspiracy, or a devious religious cult. Who would be idiotic enough to complain, if they had such inticing beverages at their disposal. Quietly the feline speaks once more, after a quick lick of the lips with salmon tongue.

"I'd be honoured to join you for a drink, Okkie."</span>

 

Puanym grinned at her reply. It held no mirth, rather appearing to be a sort of grimace, a showing of fangs. He would prove himself, or die trying. Knowing Twelve, those were the only options available.

Watching, waiting...a third entered, making four of their little meeting. He thought he knew of this one, having seen him about the academy. Head went off-kilter, obscure gray optics surveying the flamboyantly yellow figure, the color near putridly bright to his eyes. A small, nearly invisible grimace twisted his lips for a moment before he turned away.

Ah, now this he could handle. Twelve had brought beverages...perhaps Shadowlack allowed such fineries as this, for when the hostess popped the top, a most alluring and delightful oder wafted across the small clearing. Slowly, he approached, stopping nigh the one-armed 'dragon by a few feet.

"Drink?" Said softly, as if to confirm what he has heard. "Puanym would drink with Twelve, if Twelve is truly offering."

 

<font color=darkred>Kjetta watched as the company gained one more youth pendragon around the campfire. There were four of them....he didn't know their name for he didn't teach them. And the organiser of this meeting, the pretty female, they called Twelve. An interesting name....especially for an interesting and beautiful 'dragon. He looked closely at the bottles that Twelve pulled out and the smell was so...attracting. He sniffed the air, trying to work out what it was that was held in the bottles but to no avail. He changed positions to move a little closer. Slowly and silently he crept forward towards a huge tree that would cover him. He avoided twig after twig until he reached the tree and as he was trying to settle on the mossy ground, he slipped and his foot landed on a twig, snapping it in two. Thes! I'm in for it now....</font>​

ooc: hope this wasnt too soon.. o.O *crosses fingers that she's not gonna get eaten*

 

Thoren grins as she greets him. Just seeing her made him smile. And certain body extensions quiver. Her flirting was welcomed with expertly masked surprise. 'Using one another' was an awful term, in his opinion. He preferred 'satisfying each others needs' instead. It held no commitment, which was pleasurable for a young stud such as himself.

"Well," his teeth flash again in the firelight, a suggestive grin having formed on his maw, "Do I stand a chance of receiving that treat later?" He purses his lips and swings his ears back, as if pouting, "I'd be quite saddened if my late arrival lost me that." The devilish look returns as he focuses mismatched eyes on the white-winged goddess, "Generally they're pleased I arrive late..."

He wasn't a whore, per se.. just.. popular?

"However," he winks, "I do believe drinks are best shared bipedally." Shaking his fur as if wet, the pendragon quickly morphs from requiring four limbs for proper movement, to two. He was male, morphing from form to form was easy, especially at his age. Using his right hand to push himself to a standing position, he was now the tallest of the group. Muscles carried well between his two forms; he was far from lanky, but without being a huge bulk of a 'dragon.

Unfortunately, he had brought no clothing. Who knew she would have desired a shift in stature, or he would have so easily agreed to please? No matter, Ramath carried no shame in nudity - besides, he was covered in a thick layer of vibrant yellow pendragon 'fur'. And, no clothing meant, better to treat the ladies with. What a narssistic 'dragon..

He takes the opportunity to gaze at the other two. Puanym is the first his eyes settle on. He takes in the other male's appearance, sizing him up. If this induction ceremony contained any of the surprises he expected, he didn't want to be unprepared. Multicolored eyes flicker then to Xestri. She was younger, and apparently blind. He couldn't visually flirt with the girl. Pity. But, why bring any tension into the group? He knew the temper XII kept contained, and he didn't wish to be the one to bring it out.. in full force anyway. Girls are just so cute when they're angry!

Thoren then inhales deeply as the drink is mentioned, taking in the sweet smell of the concoction his (yes, he'd decided to refer to the unattainable beauty as his) dove had brought them for this little ceremony. Wanting to savor the scent, he breathes again, moving forward to experience it better.

"I wouldn't dream of refusing such a lovely request." Thoren smoothly replies. Then, inclining his head to the girls, "Ladies first." He assumed there would be a toast of some kind, in which they would drink together. But it was the ladies whom should choose their desired goblets before the masculine presences.

The snap of the twig, however, brought the bristled fur on his neck fully erect. Snapping his head behind him and gurgling a low growl, Thoren turns to fully face the threat, his tail swishing, and flame on the tip growing more violent as adrenaline surges. Was this perhaps the fourth XII had mentioned? Should he attack? He'd probably like that. Show off his strength. Always a good thing, and it generally impressed the females - whether they admitted it or not! No one wants a weak or snivelling mate who cowers in fear of shadows.

However, since it was Okkie's meeting, he deferred to her judgment on what to do about the noise - hunt down the creature that made it, tell them to come forward, or ignore it completely. So he stays silent and motionless, save the bared teeth and ill-tempered rumbling deep in his throat.

 

So they were all drinkers. Somehow, this pleased the young Okkie, and a low, ululating purr sounded in the deeps of her throat. As she let loose this noise of contentedness, she watched the guests all slink slowly forward, each now bipedal in stature. Though Xestri was blind, she maneuvered skillfully around the fire and the other obstacles which lay in her path, and the banded pendragon found herself respecting the sightless female a little more than she had anticipated. She knew it had taken extreme guts for the striped creature to venture out here, without the gift of vision, and only her other senses to guide her. If she passed the test, she would be a welcome asset to Shadlow… that was, if she could make the cut. Okkie wondered how difficult it would be for Xestri to navigate the long channel of water she was going to force them all to swim… and she found that, deep inside her belly, a small twinge of guilt panged against the inside of her skin. She looked away from the scythe-marked femme then, her piercing eyes landing on Puanym and Thoren as she tried to stifle any mental images of the blind female struggling for life in a vortex of black water. The two males were just as lithe as the female, and they moved almost in rhythm with one another as they approached her. Okkie waited until all three of them were standing a few feet from her, and then she lifted her right arm, her only arm — signalling them to halt. She then gave each of them a baleful look, and inserted a bottle into each hand. She made special care to make sure Xestri had a firm grip on her respective glass, and then Okkie back pedaled a few feet, surveying her harem as they took the first sips from the delectable concoction.

“While you enjoy these drinks, I will tell you why you came here. Listen closely, kiddies. I won’t repeat myself.” Okkie rolled her shoulders and her mismatched orbs briefly flicked up to the sky. She then drew in a long breath, then launched into her diatribe. “Shadowlack is a new force, started less than a season ago, in the dusty basement levels of the Academy. It was founded by myself and my partner in crime, whom you will only know as the Evil One. Together, we have begun to form this organization of worthy members, and we have tried to make a strong and cunning pack full of shrewd and clever pendragons. It is not easy to get into Shadowlack, but you have made it this far, so do not lose hope just yet. The Evil One and I test each prospective member by offering them a rigorous challenge that not only tests the physique, but the mind as well. The test I have set up for us tonight is one that plays on both agility, dexterity, strength, integrity, and the ability to face blank oblivion. Your challenge, specifically, is to swim across the length of this pond before you… without any kind of help. Ah, and beware! Though this pond seems innocent enough, it is nighttime, and its dark waters hide many traps that I have laid. There is no telling what may happen to you if you decide to go through with this test.”

Stormwing let her voice trail off mysteriously, and once more she found herself glaring from one guest to the next. She felt that each of them was strong enough, but she had to wonder if they would be able to face the fearsome things that would rise from the depths of the pond — if there really were any (who was to say if she was lying to scare them or not?). Okkie also wondered how each would react to the effects of the elixir with which they presently poisoned themselves unknowingly… How would each of these pendragons behave when they suddenly realized that they were being dragged under, sinking by an unseen force, being tugged to a watery grave…?

She almost laughed aloud as she imagined what was going to happen, then Okkie tipped back her cranium and took a deep swig from her own bottle. The bright liquid surged down her throat, full of bubbles and stimulants. She drained her share quickly enough, savoring the sweet tang on her lips. When she was finished, she wiped her mouth and tossed her bottle into the fire, watching it disintegrate before her very eyes. Okkie smiled throughout this whole endeavor, for her own consumption of the saccharine drink would have no consequences. After all, it only struck on those whom found themselves in water… and she had no reason to personally enter the pond tonight.

“Now, if any of you wants to back out now, feel free. I cannot say I won’t hate you for it… but you will have your life in your own hands. If you choose to stay, your life will belong to me for the next few hours. And who is to say you won’t lose it? There are no guarantees here.”

She wrapped up her cryptic speech with a sealing snarl, and then turned away from them. She gave them a few moments to cluster together and discuss their respective courses of action… and was pleased when, even after a pregnant five minutes passed, none of them abandoned their challenges. Okkie, deciding that they were all in for the long haul, then offered them a demonic grin each (though she still realized Xestri had no way of seeing it), then prowled towards them. She wondered if they had figured out the order they would go in… it was up to them, she had no opinion on whom she would like to see struggle first.

“I assume by your stagnant presences that you choose to remain and undertake your tasks? Good for you. Each of you wins a reward just for your bravery. Or should I say foolishness? Ah. Xestri and Puanym, yours will come in time. As for you, Thoren…” And she turned towards him, inching forward a bit so she was muzzle-to-muzzle with the brightly-colored male. “I have a feeling — just a tiny hunch, mind you — that there is no ‘later’ for you. So you will receive your reward now.”

With these seductively slurring lexis, Okkie abruptly pressed herself against the male, her thin tail twisting around her hips to snuggle tightly against his own. Though she was clothed and he naked, she had no inhibitions or hesitations, and she pressed her every curve against his, until their bodies were snugly molded together. She could feel every muscle, sinew, and tissue held against her body, and she purred plaintively as she leaned forward and put her maw near his ear. For a split second, she nibbled on his lobe, and then she drew back, stealthy and weaving, like a serpent. Her lower body remained pressed against his, however, and the youthful female reached out her hands and rubbed them gently against his sides. It was a stimulating gesture, and Okkie was rewarded by the glittering sparkle in the male’s eyes. Inspired by this positive reaction, the femme then took it a step further — she let her digits trail slowly down Thoren’s sides, and a bit forward, until she lay her palms on either side of his phallic regions. She was teasing him, tugging every last thread of desperation from him. Her cinnamon paws tickled ever closer… closer… closer… and she would have perhaps given Thoren his exacting prize, if a twig hadn’t suddenly snapped, shattering the moment and causing Stormwing to leap away and glare icily into the foliage around the group.

“Who dares trespass during this meeting? Show yourself! If it is the fourth, you are late, and shall suffer… and if it is any other… ha, your suffering will far surpass that of any little late comer…”

 

<span style='color:gray'>
Petite bipedal feline took another small step forward, delicate digits wrapping around the heaven-filled bottle. She had indeed noticed, and felt that Okkie took care in giving her the bottle. Perhaps she had done this with others, but she was in no way of knowing. The sweet smelling elixer was now closer, and even more mouth watering and tantalizing. Xestri could not help but lick her lips, as she drew the bottle to her lips. Tipping her head back, the rim of the slender glass bottle pressed firmly agianst her lips, the pure elixer fought it's way back her throat with ease. It tasted like a stimulent, much like alcohol, burning her inner body with sheer bubbly delight. Elixer soon gone, Xestri pulled the bottle away from her lips, then throwing into the fire as she had heard Okkie do. The hypnotic taste still lingered on her tongue, well worth the trip through the pitch black forest in the night.

It was then that sensitive hearing picked up the sound of a twig snapping, not far off from the small gethering of drinkers. Turning her head, and directing her gaze into the night, Xestri was now alert, waiting for what was to come. Even though she was blind, she had always greatly believed in the 'third eye' theory - thinking that there was a psychic eye hidden within one's forhead. Xestri believed this to the extent that she could see images of her surrounding in her mind, simple sketches etched into her memory. To see from her view, would be like watching an extremely fast flick-book, images getting clearer and more detailed the longer you look at them.

Now, this gaze was locked onto the darkness from which the twig snapping came from, hoping to lock onto any sign of movement, whether it be a small animal - or a tresspassser.</span>

 

Strange...Twelve would let none get near her, was the thought that flittered across his mind as the bottle was placed into his waiting hand. Tilting it to his lips, he took a sip--and was rewarded by the fact that the drink did indeed taste as delectable as it smelled. The rest soon followed in three, rather large swallows. It burned, liquid fire draining down into his stomach in a poisonous coil of flavor and bubbles.

The bottle was dropped into the waiting flames, following suit with its brothers. One large ear swiveled forward, intent on Okkie's every word. Shadowlack....in the Academy basement. Not surprising, really. The Evil One? So there was another to this Shadowlack? How interesting...and they were to swim the pond? Solid gray eyes turned in their sockets, though Puanym's head didn't budge an inch. They raked over the glassy surface of the pond. Surely there had to be more to it, and traps would definently add some spice.

Then came the offer.

Back out? He hadn't come all the way out here just to back out...and the Evil One intrigued him. Did he know this Evil One? He would have to wait and see...he didn't move from his spot, simply waiting for the others to make their decision, and for Okkie to tell them when to begin.

Good. It seemed they were all staying. How fun. Puanym had a distinct feeling that, while they had all come here, they would not all be leaving. But who was to go so soon? His attention was brought abruptly back to Twelve, as she sauntered towards them once more. A reward. Rewards were good...depending on what they were.

Though, if Thoren's current reward was any indication, it was one he certainly wouldn't mind getting. The midnight 'dragon was watching, though his head had never turned, and would have kept watching if someone hadn't been so bold as to interrupt.

Now, his head did turn, ever so slowly to the woods. Puanym seemed calm, not worried about whomever it was that had dared to sneak in on such private preceedings. Twelve would deal with them, or have one of them do it for her. He waited, watching and listening, eager to see if perhaps this mysterious one would show themself.

 

<font color=darkred>Kjetta slowly and reluctantly stood up. For the first time since being employed to work at the Acadamy, he was going to have to deal with a situation where he was at his weakest...with a pretty girl. He stepped around the tree from which he'd tried to hide behind, his glossy ebony black coat loking like silk on his unclothed body. His fire-coloured hair lay perfectly on his head, obviously not long brushed, and it fell gracefully towards the middle of his strong, perfectly formed back. His tail flame was a toned-down orange, not that far off of yellow, as his tail hung down twitching ever so slightly. His deep, dark brown orbs fell on the gathered as he walked slowly towards them as his husky voice resounded cooly around the immediate area, but his voice would never be heard here from the area by the Acadamy.

Suffering? My dear, the only ones who'll be suffereing will be you four when I take you to the Principle for breaking the rules. Especially you for being in the basement. Now tell me, what are you all doing out here at this hour?

Of course, he knew already but they didn't neccessarily know that. His large white glsitening fangs glittered in the light of the fire and of the moon as he spoke. He had now stopped walking to be face to face with Twelve, slowly rested his arms on his hips to stop himself from grabbing her and drawing her to him. His orbs were focused entierly on her now, and if she looked deep enough within the coldness she would see the fire of passion beginning to burn brightly;now he unconsiously licked his lips, wanting her touch.</font>

​

 

Thoren was quite a bit more pissed than usual. He was getting what he wanted from his goddess on earth - her touch, no matter how fleeting or viciously teasing and tormenting it was - and was horribly interrupted by that gods-be-damned twig. Which ended up revealing a sorry little snitch which would be delt with harshly - if he had anything to do with it.

Besides that horrible turn of events, he had yet to drink the sweet smelling liquid. No matter, he was used to drinking - he'd chug the delightful beverage in a moment and get a full buzz, right on, rather than nurse it and come slowly to a full blitz.

But he would drink after this intruder was dealt with.

Lifting a lip in a snarl, Thoren begins cracking his knuckles, flexing his biceps as he does so. Each knuckle crunched seperately, the sound resonating through the silent woods around. He eyes the stranger, and quite immediately assumes this one was not the one his dove had requested.

Rather than answering the question posed by this arrogant stranger (takes one to know one..) he glowers, eyeing this one, as if he were eyeing prey. Speaking to XII, but not ever taking his bi-colored eyes from this new comer, he calmly quiries her, "Shall I off him messily, love? Or are you feeling merciful tonight?" Idily referring back to her teasingly amorous affections she'd bestowed upon him early.

And naturally, he'd hoped he would get more of his reward later on. She had said there would be no later for him - maybe she was simply masking the fact that she wanted him as much as he wanted her? A little now? A full tussle later? Yes.. That must be what she meant.. He was stronger and more fit than the other male and the blind femme; he would make it. There was no doubt in his canniving mind that a little spit of a pond would keep him from his decided prize - Twelve.

But death, more than lust, was in his mind. And, given the chance, he'd end the life of this stranger in a heartbeat. Just to get back to the lust part, uninterrupted.

 

For those few moments between her savage declaration and the arrival of the trespasser, Okkie was like a poised velociraptor, her temper unsheathed as well as her teeth and nails, prepared to blind-side and strike whomever dared interrupt her meeting. She stood as still as a statue, her mismatched oculars boring into the dark, drilling the shadows for any sign, any trace, of the intruder whom she could sense. Her sentiments of rage and defensiveness were multiplied exponentially by the similar emotions which coursed through her three guests — she could feel their blood boiling along with hers, could feel their tension and furious wrath, and it caused her own ferocity to fester and grow. She felt this fountain of fury springing up from her belly, deep and open, like a mouth chewing its way up her throat, trying to devour her soul and feed on the rest of her feelings. It wanted to leap from her maw and assail the anonymous lurker, rip and tear and slash until there was nothing left but a pile of pulp and slick carnage, raw and red and dripping from every surface. It was only her pristine balance of justice and sensibility that kept her in check against this churning pit of emotions, even when the trespasser crossed into the light, unmasking himself against the radiance of the bonfire. Though she desired terribly to launch herself at him, to slay him with her knife-like claws, Okkie held herself still, trembling with the effort as she forced herself to speak.

Do you think I fear you? Do you think I will heed your petty, weak threat? Do I look like just an average student out to stir up a bit of mischief to you? You are so sorely mistaken, it is almost laughable. I am not the type of pendragon who can be dragged to the principal and rebuked with a shout or a detention. I have participated in murder, trafficked illegal substances, fucked the brains out of my roommate. I am not just some silly kid out having a good time. My purpose here is serious, and so is every word I utter. Do not underestimate me when I tell you that you will not escape unscathe-”

Her diatribe was delivered with a fierceness and an intensity that startled even the young Stormwing. As she spoke, the male, whom was an adult and probably a professor at the Academy, inched ever closer, and her eyes of emerald and azure pierced his gaze with a smoldering blaze dancing in their depths. Her words were strong, and she was quite enthralled in her speech, but she abruptly cut off as the stranger finally settled himself and stilled, just a few feet away from her. It was not fear or alarm that caused Okkie to stop mid-sentence, but, indeed — surprise. For as her eyes focused intently into his, she saw the burning passion there. Juxtaposed to his authoritative commands, he seemed not to be a true threat, but just a sucker whom had wandered in and whom was now ensnared by the many tricky ways of the Twelfth. This sudden realization caused a quaint sneer to cross her lips, and Okkie turned to glare scathingly at Thoren, her snapping quite brief.

“Shut up. I was only fooling with your heart, and with all of your heads. This is actually my true interest, my dearest lover…” And she turned her cranium back towards the newest arrival. “He has finally arrived. Oh! Where you have you been…? I have not seen you in ages, O love… What brings you to these woods? Participation in the bloodiest of games? Just in time… for we were just beginning. Pardon my morbid game, I did not mean to frighten you… but you are well-acquainted with my savagery and cunning, so I know you will forgive my trespass.”

Twelve knew not where this maudlin poetry came from, but she was excited by her own cleverness and daring. She knew both Thoren and the teacher would be utterly thrown off by her farce,… and that was really the fun of it. She smiled with a reverberating, passionate snarl, then launched herself into the teacher’s arms. Her cinnamon arm clung to his neck, and she leaned in to bite ravenously and amorously at his throat… or so it seemed. But even as the others looked on, most likely believing she was greeting some sort of cryptic lover, she was really leaning her jaws against the stranger’s cheekbone, and breathily whispering a chilling warning into his ear:

“I sense your passion, your daring, your lust. You want to fuck me, don’t you? Don’t dare to deny it. I am afraid that even if you had merely trespassed, execution would have been your prize. But you have dually offended me with your pedophilia. Come… dance with me! Dance with me… O, love. Dance with me… the trot of death.”

 

<span style='color:gray'>
Gaze filled with the forests darkness is finally abrupted, the newcomer having shown his face in the dim light of the moon, the strong blaze of the dancing flames behind them. A tall figure, masculine, and adorned in nothing but slick black pelt and ember-hued tresses. There he stood, throwing hollow threats at Okkie, of all 'dragons. Was he that brave, or merely stupid?

Thoren appeared to be going wild, obviously angered at the fact his 'reward' had been cut short. It seemed as though he would've been happy to rip this newcoming male apart - as would Twelve. Such violence.. Xestri thought, a delicate grin curling into polar features. No matter, this would be an interesting little production to watch - unfortunately though, putting off their 'swim'.

Possibly unlike the other drinkers, Xestri was not too deisheartened by the fact that she would soon be within the icey cold depths of the dark pond nearby. Though with the disadvantage of being blind, she had her gills, along with a sheer passion for the water. It had always excited her, and somewhat aroused her - the feel of cool liquid flowing this way and that around her trim torso.

Until then though, all focus was upon the dark stranger whom had emerged from the shadows. He was sure to be in for a punishment.. Or perhaps not. Okkie seemed to have changed her tune, now lustfull for the new male, Thoren thrown aside. Well well.. That was unexpected.. Listening silently to the near-verse lyrics rolling from Okkie's tongue, Xestri awaited further advances on the situation. Supposedly they would not be torturing this newcomer, then? Slight grin once more returns to features.

I wonder how Thoren feels about this..</span>

 

Principal? Puanym raised a brow, his face expressionless otherwise. This newcomer barked a lot, but so far had done nothing to make the silent 'dragon afraid he would bite.

Besides, Twelve seemed to know him. And well, perhaps, judging from her sudden change of behaviour. She discared Thoren blatantly, harshly, as if he were even less than the plaything she'd been using him for.

He really enjoyed that part. A large, obviously amused grin crept across his face, and Puanym tilted his head slightly, looking over at the yellow 'dragon. His eyes flickered a green-yellow, as did his tail flame; he was silently laughing at the other male. While he bore no romantic feelings towards Twelve, and had no lustful intentions, he enjoyed seeing the cocky Thoren disregarded so easily.

"Perhaps your bravado was a bit premature, Thoren." was his quiet comment, eye flickering breifly with color once again. With a sound like dry, whispering silk, the leathern wings that had so far stayed carefully around his shoulders unfolded. They stretched widely, stroking the air a few times before Puanym carefully refolded them against his back.

 

<font color=darkred>

Kjetta noted those gathered and of how the other students around him seemed to emit an aura of anger at this interruption of this meeting. Kjetta's eyes didn't flicker from hers as he listened attentively to her first speech. So she was the one the other teachers were afraid of? The one that the teachers had one week seen her with two arms and after a two week disappearance, returned with only one? Kjetta wasn't afraid. Not even when she threatened him. I've had students turn into deamons in my class and that didn't truely scare me! He looked calm and collected, not worried or tense. The only thing that you could say would only apply to Twelve for she would be the only one who could see the fire within his chocolate eyes. But then she cut her speech short, and he could feel her sharp, sparkling blue eyes gazing into his, looking for something. He wasn't sure whether to breck the silence that clinged in the air or whether to let it settle like fog. But she broke it instead with a sharp tongue towards the male who'd she'd been toying with before and had wanted to attack Kjetta. Now Kjetta did get freaked out as she spoke soft words and called him her lover. Should he play along? Should he let his emotions and feelings for her be expressed? Or should he follow the code of the professors at the school and back away? Before he'd even had chance to decide, he felt her warm, cinnamon arm around his neck and pulling him close to her. Tsovv es! he thought before letting his own arms move to embrace her slim body, one around her waist and the other reaching out towards her cranium. As he left her lips against his neck, he heard the whispered words aimed only at him and they slightly angered him but he continued to hold her in this passionate embrace. He turned his own cranium towards her ear to whisper a reply.

It is true I want to fuck you... I can't tell such a big lie.... but my dear...my beautiful and enchanting girl, I am not a pedophile. I am not much older than you...I've only turned 2400 this past Mia.... I am only a professor at the Acadamy for the money... Not because I like it. Now you know that and my age, I cannot be called a pedophile can I? I just find you so beautiful.... but in your planning of this meeting of yours, you forgot to take into account the smoke... It can be seen from the windows of the Acadamy. Do you want me to deal with that? I'm a journeyman in Elemental Sorcery...watch...

He muttered something completely unaudiable and suddenly the fire dimmed almost to the point of going out but there was light on the five gathered and no smoke. He turned his eyes back to her like a magnet and his other hand moves to touch her face, almost cradling it in his blackened claws.

Tell me thy name and indeed I'll dance with thee if it means I can stay with thee...

He whispered once more using the olden language, holding back the desire to kiss her in case she refused such an intimate thing..</font>​

 

He should have been angry. He should have been enraged. Maybe even heartbroken. Torn apart piece by piece by her cruel and unexpected words. Broken, lying in a puddle of emotional blood on the forest floor. Loved for a moment, cast away the next. Used and abused, and alone and quite cold, once more.

He would have been all those things, if not for one fact: he was Thoren. And you cannot con a conman. Nevermind, he was only lustful of her - her words only would have stung if he had any real investment in the pretty thing. She miscalculated his intentions, and had just lost an ally. Maybe, though, she would have gained another in this 'ancient' professor who lusted after her as well.

The male smirks. Which progresses to a grin. And finally a laugh escapes spread lips and bared pearly whites. He turns back, and grabs his bottle, savoring a swig of the sweet smelling brew for a moment or two, while XII turns her attentions to the newcomer.

Letting the buzz take effect, for while he was a seasoned drinker, this was quite satisfying to his senses, he releases some violent words all his own, "My dear, you couldn't be more backwards if your head was coming out that tight little ass of yours! Really, did you think I loved you? Oh, poor, poor thing.." His face contorts into that of sincere sadness, before he can't control himself any longer and lets out a peal of laughter.

"You touched me for a moment. It's not like we were lovers for a season or more prior to this, dove. And you admitted it yourself, you're a drugged up slut who thinks she's a tough bitch." he grins again, eyeing her body, currently plastered against the Janardan teacher. "That's probably part of your appeal. Why you're so ... used. Girls like you always are." Oh, he was hitting low, now.

Tilting his head, he snickers into the bottle perched just below his chin. Thoren takes the final swig, and underhanded-tosses the now-empty bottle at the new lusty pair, not intending to hit them hard, but if it did, well it'd be a bonus. He shakes his head, and mutters mostly to himself, but loud enough to be heard. "Girls always are cute when they're angry.."

Another chuckle beneath his breath and he turns around, waltzing off toward her booby-trapped pond, calling back to the little group without looking back. "I think I'll go for a swim, if you have no twisted poems to recite, dagger'd words to throw, or objections."


\\ OOC: *cackles* Lemme know how much longer you want him to still have a pulse. ;D