Lie to me...(open)

[Scáth]

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The lake was a beautiful, shimmering mirage of temptation beneath the midday sun. It was an unusually warm day for Autumn; the wind had stilled for once, along the heat to hang lazily in the air. The sky was clear, and so the lake reflected the blue shades without hinderment from the clouds.

A single wraith tainted the lovely view.

The dark brindle warrior sat by the shore in silent solitude, gazing out across the large body of water as he collected his thoughts.

At first glance, the Dutch Sheperd dog was exactly what was expected of a Metnal pack member. His large, lean frame was littered with scars, his unsettling burgundy gaze and ominous crooked grin seeming typical of the bloodthirsty reputation Metnal dogs had earned. He was an intimidating canine, unpredictable and amoral; it only made sense that he would be the bad guy.

But there was so much more to him than met the eye.

Scáth was unreliable and self-serving, and in fact many of his more recent scars were from his own pack members - he'd left worse ones on them in retaliation, but the fact remained that Scáth was simply not a team player. He had no problem with violence, but loyalty was another thing entirely. Scáth liked to do his own thing.

Of course, that was how much his fellow Metnal packmates knew. There was even more to the 'shadow' of the pack than that.

No one knew the truth about the role he'd played on the night of the extermination. No one had a clue as to that softer side Scáth held deep within him; the merciful sector of his tangled personality that had a life-long fault.

A permenent fracture, caused by the simple innocence of the human child whose life he'd been forced to take. Execution, rather than slaughter; after all those months of kindness, the most he could give her was a clean, quick death...

No one would ever know that Scáth had a conscience, and it was torturing him.

Other dogs only saw the peculiar, grinning warrior with a shady reputation and a limp, only heard the dark humor that came from his subtly sadistic jaws. That was the way the Dutch Shepherd wanted it to be, and that was how it would stay.

The unmistakable sound of paws against earth caught the dark brindle's attention, and Scáth merely turned his head to see who had dared to intrude upon his time of reflection..

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Word count: 425
Muse: Up to scratch
Other: First post with this character; still a liitle fresh

[♦€rida♦]

[bg=black][atrb=width,470,true][atrb=border,0,true] Quiet. It was something that was much needed more and more. Within the dark queen was torn, her soul slowly ripping in half like worn parchment almost disgustingly audible. She was quite pleased to have welcomed two more to her pack just a day before. Both of the siblings quite an asset in their own right. Even if the brute's reasons for being here were all a lie, it was indeed part of the fun. The fae's lips quivered as a small smile attempted to cross her maw at the thought of the pair, yet it was fought back by the emptiness. There was something still missing from life. Many couldn't imagine how as it seemed she had everything she could want. She ruled, in her opinion, the most powerful and intelligent pack upon the island in some of the most beautiful of lands. Her own form of a harem was filled with brutes willing to wait on her if she so desired yet she just wished to toy with them. Her days were filled with game after game, and the power to stop such fun by any means she sought at a whim. But there was still that part that felt hollow, as if she had absolutely nothing at all. It was the same part that had sent her off wandering off of pack lands not long ago when she had met up with that rogue wolf, quite an interesting character indeed. Dainty paws tested each rock that jutted from her path before baring any weight upon it to be sure to keep her pace as silent and steady as possible, cropped receptors standing guard upon their post always ready for the unexpected. The lake was generally a quiet place, deceptively peaceful with it's still, crystal clear waters. Perhaps some time alone would allow her to gather her thoughts and figure out exactly what was wrong with her lately. As slender limbs pulled her leanly muscled frame over the crest of the mountain honey hued orbs lit in pleasure, the lake reflecting within them. It took but a mere few steps before the scent of another smashed through her nares as if she had run full speed into an ancient oak soldier. Motion ceased, a single paw hovering mid-step over the green terra. A deep growl rolled over itself, ping ponging off of her ribs and pushing up her throat and into the atmosphere. Apparently her plans were spoiled once again. A ruby muscle caressed sharp ivories in agitation as she simply looked over the figure in the distance. To continue or to trail off in another direction was now the question. How much was her peace worth to her at this moment? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Word Count: 478 Whispers:Welcome Aboard

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[Scáth]

[bg=2D2D2D][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,true] He knew her as soon as he saw her, without needing the floating remnants of her growl for clarification. Her tall, lean sillhouette was statue-still as she, too, realised she was not alone here. Erida, the volatile leader of the Metnal pack. Clearly she was not pleased to see him; an unwelcome annoyance, in the way of her own version of 'quiet time'. There were only two conceivable options at this point, Scáth mused. One, she'd turn and stalk off, to brood darkly elsewhere. Two, she'd send him packing. The latter seemed more likely; Erida was not the kind of dog who backed down, especially not to one of her own warriors. Such a thought was too absurd to even think about. Just like the idea that the Doberman would converse with him. Scáth had been part of the Metnal gang since before that night, and had never witnessed her engage in interactions of any kind. Apart from giving orders and playing mind games, of course. Still, undeterred, Scáth stood up and limped over. He gave Erida the ominous crooked grin that rarely seemed to leave his face, his tail waving subtly from side to side in a canine's typical indication of recognition. "Hello, sunshine. How are you today?" The voice was deep, masculine, and unmistakably his. Scáth's twistedly cheerful, fearless tone, so subtly sadistic and unsettling, was impossible to forget. One could not call him cocky, or disrespectful; Scáth never challenged his higher ups, or mocked them openly. But there was something unfazable about the Shepherd Dog... He did not seem to fear concequences. Scáth did, however, put limits on himself occasionally. Especially around his leader. "D'you want me to leave?" Scáth added in the question casually enough as he neared her. The reflective, PTSD-vulnerable state was long gone by now; he had slid back into his cheerful, frightening self once more. Furthermore, he'd sensed the Doberman's hostile agitation, and if she wanted space, he'd give her space. Truth be told, Scáth respected Erida more than he let on. Not that he'd ever let her know. Scáth was fortunate enough to have never been on the receiving end of a hostile confrontation with the alphess. He was good at avoiding trouble - and as unstable as he was, trouble generally avoided him. Also, Scáth was clearly not a traitor; he was too dark-hearted to simply sit back and watch with the neutrals, and the idea of him switching to the human-loving housepets was ludicrous. He belonged with the Metnal, if only because it suited his nature better than the other packs. No one really wanted to hang around with the unpredictable Dutch Shepherd. His crooked grin, his odd, limping walk, his lean, scarred frame, his black humor... Every feature acted as a reasonable deterrent. Also, his dark reputation was proof enough that Scáth was not to be messed with. He was strange, and secretive, and it was never certain as to whether he'd keep to the shadows or join the bloodshed with a vengeance. Thus, Scáth was unreliable, but intimidating. His mere presence made enemy canines have second thoughts, and it was that side of him that made the black-brindle dog an asset to have around. Word Count: 563 Muse: Still floating Other: Cheers; I'm loving this site already ^^ Scáth's quite strange, which will make things interesting...

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[♦€rida♦]

[bg=black][atrb=width,470,true][atrb=border,0,true] The scent meant very little to the demoness other then the fact that this definitely was a dog that belonged on the lands. She never paid particular attention to the members to be able to distinguish one from the next by looks let alone scent. She never spent enough quality time for her to care either way. Although as the figure began to near the rumbling echoing within the doberman's chest ceased, a smirk spreading further along her maw as each limp brought the brute closer. This one she quite remembered. Most members of the pack were feared by outsiders simply for the Metnal name that they carried along with them. While all of the members here could undoubtedly hold their own, and each had something they brought forward to make the lands one of the most feared on Diripio few would catch the queen's attention. She had silently noted this shepherd dog on multiple occasions. Surely there were larger, more fierce looking canines upon the lands than he, but it only added to the mysterious feel about him. It added to the fear he was able to strike into the hearts of others. Erida had considered approaching the warrior after viewing him wandering the shadows multiple times, however, she did not care to mingle where others were present. She generally preferred a one on one situation, most likely due to her secretive nature. A single triangular soldier quivered upon it's post as his baritone voice filled it, the sly smirk dancing along her maw at it's fullest potential now. Her aerodynamic crown tilted ever so slightly, a single tan brow quirking. "I am as well as ever, and yourself, warrior?" Though she had found the male intriguing she had never taken note of his actual name. Showing any other that she was curious about what made this dutch dog tick was out of the question therefore she had refrained from questioning others on the matter. A light, deceiving giggle vibrated from her jaws as he offered his departure. A single, slender limb stretched forward pulling her lithe frame one stride closer to him as she began to counter the offer, "No, no quite the opposite really. I have been quite bored of late and perhaps you could offer me some amusement? Her voice trailed off, oculars narrowing in thought, nearly burning through his own canvas. "What is your calling any how?" As she asked the question motion continued, long steps devouring the distance passed him as she approached the water's edge. The only sign that she had expected his following was a twisted cropped receptor falling behind her to wait for the off beat limp of the male. It was a strange day when the temptress' first line of action was not a flirtatious tactic yet a seemingly genuine interest. Even the queen herself was unsure of how her mind worked or why it did the things it did. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Word Count: 512 Whispers:Glad you're enjoying, sorry if there are any typos, etc. I'm kind of mush minded right now.

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[Scáth]

[bg=2D2D2D][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,true] Her ill-willed rumbles ended, and a smirk slowly spread across her muzzle as he neared. There was recognition in her eyes; pleasant, but not entirely unsurprising. Scáth was not your generic Metnal brute, not by any means. Though he gave the illusion of being crippled in his limping walk, and was not particularly large or thuggish in appearance like other warriors, the Dutch Shepherd did not need the Metnal title for others to fear him. His physical as well as his mental state were either difficult or deceptively easy to overlook, all depending on when he wished to be 'invisible' as he was so good at being. Or, simply whether or not he cared about being seen, which he generally didn't. But staying hard to find was something Scáth excelled at; it had become a tendancy, a habit of sorts. More of a precaution than an avoidance tactic, but it worked just as well for both. One of Erida's ears twitched at the sound of his voice, and the sly smirk reached its full length along her pointed muzzle. Her head tilted fractionally as she raised an eyebrow, regarding him almost coolly. Unfazed as always, Scáth's crooked grin remained, his dark burgundy orbs regarding her steadily with subtle amusement. Scáth often looked amused. It was although the whole world was just an endless source of entertainment for him alone. Which, in a way, it was. The black-brindle canine's only true enemy was boredom, and he had no qualms about provoking certain situations if it would hold his interest. A dangerous game. His ears acknowledged her words patiently; the amusement increased as he easily deduced that she did not know his true calling. This came as no shock to Scáth; since her interactions with her footmen were minimal, it was rational to assume she had little awareness of them past the fact that they belonged to her pack. "As fine as a crow on a lamb carcass, oh high and mighty leader." Scáth spoke the dark simile airily in reply, without batting an eyelid at her light giggle. The deceptive, feminine sound at his offer did not provoke a response from the grinning male, nor did it unsettle him as it might have done with other brutes under her command. Scáth was no stranger to mind games. She took a stride forward, narrowing the distance between them, as her somewhat suggestive request for company was vocalised smoothly. Scath cocked his head to the side, his crooked grin never faltering; the pose made him appear even more disturbing and frightening than usual. He did not need to consider; the 'offer' was rhetorical, and she expected him to accompany her. Her narrowed, thoughtful eyes burned into his for a moment, but the black-brindle dog did not react. He met her gaze calmly, deceptively still. Erida then continued forward, passing him closely as she headed for the shore, requesting his name at last. An ear flicked back, indicating he was to follow, and Scáth obediently limped after the Doberman, completely at ease. "I am Scáth." He stated the words simply as he followed with his odd gait; for Scáth was what he was, as well as what others called him. He was a scáth, a shadow, by name and by nature. Word Count: 571 Muse: Decent Other: No worries, it was fine.

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[♦€rida♦]

[bg=black][atrb=width,470,true][atrb=border,0,true] The cool vibe being presented by the warrior was quite a relief compared to the tension that spewed from most others that she encountered. Most avoided her path, and when it was crossed were sure to keep on their toes. Erida's quick changing moods and notorious reputation for lashing out where others would see little reason for agitation were typically at the forefront of the minds of those who knew her. Yet this brute stood without a single sign of hesitation, muscles relaxed, and that grin...that crazed grin spread along his maw. Such a relief to know that she was in company of another and didn't have to be on complete guard...she didn't need to look for a reason to strike like she did upon the nervous canines. Perhaps her mind could rest here as planned even with the company of the scarred shepherd dog. A short chuckle was offered and a wag of her stubby tail in response to his reference of carcass and those pesky birds that never seemed to stop cawing in the wood. The words seemed to fit the ghoulish external features of the brute. The dark queen didn't pause to dwell upon it long before she moved passed him, and as expected received his name. Quietly she repeated "'Scath.' Quite fitting from my observations." Dainty paws continued to pull her lithe frame over the distance, only pausing when the pads upon her feet sunk into the moist sand of the lake's shore. The fae retreated a single step before allowing gravity to gently push her rear to the earth below. Her gaze fell upon the crystalline waters, watching the reflection of the clouds dancing upon the cool liquid. After a long pause her focus shifted to the brute who had followed as she had anticipated. The smirk had faded from her features, the obvious sign that she had been in some deep, thoughful state as she looked over his battle marked frame. "Scath, I have been seeking a few individuals for...." her words were cut short as she considered what she was saying to him, "...more specific tasks. I have kept an eye on you for some time now and feel you may be perfectly suited for such." The queen's crown tilted slightly off balance quietly judging his reactions. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Word Count: 469 Whispers:...

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[Scáth]

[bg=2D2D2D][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,true] Most canines would be on edge around Scáth, wary at least, but Erida seemed the exact opposite; the Doberman was relatively at ease, as though she did not feel the need to lash out at the sinisterly calm warrior. Then again, most would be edgy around her, too. It was a trait their auras seemed to share, that expulsion of darkness. Scáth let his mind meander down that road for a while, an ear twitching at his leader's short chuckle. The brief wag of her tail was something pleasant to see; it was an indicator of the flicker of amusement his cheerfully visceral simile had roused. 'Scáth. Quite fitting from my observations.' Scáth rumbled in agreement as he limped after slender frame. Erida padded right down to the water's edge, stepping back to sit down on the relatively dry sand by the shore. She stared out at the large body of water, her expression unreadable; Scáth sat down about half a metre to her right and watched. There was no attempt to hide that his focus was on her rather than the lake, no use of subtlety or tactical method at all. And why should he be subtle? There was no denying that the Metnal leader was far more interesting than the lake he had sat by alone mere minutes before. Scáth's curious - and rather sinister - burgundy gaze never left her form. After a while she turned her head to regard him. The smirk had faded from her muzzle; obviously she had been deep in thought. Her eyes looked over his scarred form as she spoke at last. "Scáth, I have been seeking a few individuals for...." She cut her words short as she considered what she was saying to him, "...more specific tasks. I have kept an eye on you for some time now and feel you may be perfectly suited for such." The Doberman's head tilted slightly to the side, quietly observing his reaction. Scáth's face had been strangely solemn as Erida spoke, as though considering her words and their meaning. The pause seemed much longer than it actually was. Then his eyes glinted, and that ominous grin slowly spread - crookedly as always - to rule his muzzle once more. "Specific tasks, eh?.. Whatever you wish, sunshine." Scáth was not generally one to ask questions; it was a matter of giving the command, and waiting to see whether he obeyed or not. The black-brindle male was not the most reliable of servants, after all. But his curiosity compelled him to speak. "What's the deal, exactly?"

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[♦€rida♦]

[bg=black][atrb=width,470,true][atrb=border,0,true] The quietness and the lack of emotion did not surprise the demoness as the pair of canids sat simply watching each other. The silence would make a weaker dog shift with discomfort, yet it was something these two were quite use to. Almost as a direct mirroring of his oblique grin, her own gradually advanced across her finely crafted maw. The possibilities of what he could be assuming that the queen was offering caused a glint of amusement to dance upon honey irises. Her own curiosities were kept locked away in a dungeon of ivory enamels simply choosing to survey his features until his voice pulled her receptors forward once more. "Specific tasks, eh?.. Whatever you wish, sunshine." The smile widened at the potential of what she could ask of him with such a comment. A single brow raised questioningly, the other falling deeper upon her face. And before she could make any sarcastic comments he began his inquiring, "What's the deal, exactly?" Bright oculars narrowed in consideration as she simply locked her gaze upon his for a moment. It was as if she needed confirmation within her own mind before enlisting the assistance of the intimidating brute. Pupils slid to take a quick survey of the area to be sure that they were not in ill company, her rear rising to meet the front half of her body. The distance between them was nearly completely devoured by lengthy strides before she dropped once more to her haunches near his side. "We have a new guest upon the lands." Her neck craned forward, a moist nose nearly touching the shepherd's cheek as she continued, "he is not aware of the truth of what had happened. He believes the other packs are the darkness upon the island." Her chin now tucked into her tan painted chest, irises shifting in an attempt to find his. "I need him watched, Scath. No other keeps to the shadows as well as yourself." A new demonic glow cast itself upon her features. It was a toss up as to how the male would accept such a request. Would he want to spend any of his time tracking the newcomer? Could he deny the chance of deception? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Word Count: 392 Whispers:Sorry took so long, was lacking muse

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[Scáth]

Scáth sat comfortably, utterly at ease with his fearsome leader. The widened smile on her muzzle at his light response, along with the singularly raised brow, indicated that she was aware of the fact that such a comment could be easily manipulated.
The sinister Dutch Shepherd was aware, too. But he could care less about having his words used against him. Scáth lied as easily as he breathed, and unlike other dogs the black-brindle canine could smoothly contradict himself if he felt the need. Honesty was often used, for no other reason than because it required less effort.
Truly, if there ever was a dog who appeared to be without a conscience, Scáth was the one. Not that such a statement was factual. Scáth had a conscience; it had been dormant ever since that night. In the treacherous and dangerous lifestyle he currently lived, it was no longer needed.
At his casual question, Erida's eyes narrowed. Her gaze locked with his, before leaving to sweep the area. Scáth watched with interest, not attempting to hide his amusement as she finally rose up and quickly closed the distance between them. His tall, lean frame was solid and unflinching as the deadly Metnal alphess sat down next to him, nearly close enough for their pelts to touch, and leaned over to speak into his ear.
Scáth listened calmly, patiently. At her words his ominous crooked grin broadened, and his chest rumbled quietly with amusement.

"Interesting..."

Then the Dutch Shepherd's burgundy gaze met her own, brighter irises. His casual, unfazable nature remained, but now there was a more business-like mood to it. Scáth was considering, weighing up the Pros and the Cons in his mind.
This was a whole new level of deception, an intriguing yet intensely dangerous game. The mutt would have to be quite young, or very naive to have accepted such lies; probably told to him by someone he trusted. It would be an epic mission, cleverly keeping him in the dark - in more ways than one. Still, if he realised what was going on there was no telling how the mutt might react. It was safe to say the mutt wouldn't take it very well, and would probably be killed if such a situation occurred.

"Clearly he did not fall under the impression that we're the 'daisies and rainbows' pack all by himself. Who's with him?"

[♦€rida♦]

[bg=black][atrb=width,470,true][atrb=border,0,true] Patience was something that the sinister femme held close. It was the only virtue that Erida had ever thought worth harboring within the sea of deception, cruelty, and hate. In her mind it was the difference between success and failure. It was what had allowed this group to rise upon the pedestal where she so strongly believed that they stood. She refused to drop her eyes from the burning exchange of glares as she sat in self-control while he toyed with the idea. Most leaders of her nature would have snapped and attempted to force their subordinate to bide by their will, however Erida, as usual, used the mental approach. For she knew that most members worthy of being allowed upon these lands would love nothing more than to be a part of such a plan as hers. They would enjoy every moment of deceiving the fool. And quite frankly, although she may not personally attack one for denying her request she would definitely make them pay for not being as cooperative as she would like. A single side of her maw tightened as he made the assumption that he had another feeding the naive brute information to make him believe that he was surrounded by kindness. Several soprano notes rolled from her maw in the form of a light giggle. It was the sound of amusement and pleasure wrapped tightly and decorated with a fancy bow. For most other canids it would be the sign of something fun and airy, maybe a roll in the fresh green grass or a game of tag along the soft, white sands of the beach. Yet, for any who knew the dark queen they would be aware that it meant something much, much more portentous. The laughter was interrupted by her words that still carried the pleased tone, "his sister, Tsunami, had convinced him." She paused considering the pair of Rottweilers before continuing, "normally neither would have been of much use, and I may have just allowed her along to see what she was truly made of, but there's something about this male...." her words trailed off as her gaze shifted toward the expansive mountains to the north. The fae's optics narrowed in thought, taking a moment to herself before allowing her thoughts to be completed, "He will be an asset to the pack, and once his usefulness wears off it will not matter what you choose to do with him...nor his annoying sister." Her gaze snapped back upon the shepherd's features, her frame rising to it's full height. The patience was fading, and her posture told a story that an answer was expected without a need for words. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Word Count: 462 Whispers:...

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