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Snippet #1292578

located in L'ore Forest, a part of From Fear in the Eyes of Madness, one of the many universes on RPG.

L'ore Forest

This is where the adventure begins for all.

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[Ignore the double post.]

Thump, thump, thump, thump. The sound of padded feet pounding the foliage that lay on the wet ground was barely audible amidst the flurry of other jungle sounds. Every once in a while, the sound of wildlife would echo throughout the moist air. Had the owner of the paws been any normal animal, they might have stopped in curiosity, quirking an ear up to listen for any threat. However, this particular animal, wasn't an animal at all. Well, by all human standards, this animal was just that. A wolf. To a trained eye, however, this was not a wolf at all. To the trained eye, this specimen was far to large, far to intelligent to be a common wolf. Besides, wolves didn't tend to run on two legs, now did they? No, the being that ran through the jungle alone was not a wolf, but a much more fierce animal. This dark grey, rather menacing animal known to most as a lycan. More commonly thought of as a werewolf, but incorrectly so. A werewolf was something quite different. A lycan can control when it changes form, usually. A werewolf is subject to the full moon, which I might add, is rather unfortunate. Alas, over the many years of mythical lore, people formed the common misconception that they were one and the same. The lycan race looked down upon werewolves, seeing them as pitiful. Well, lets face it, the lycan race looked down on pretty much all other races, most of all vampires, second of all witches.

This particular lycan was on a mission. The Gauntlet. Something he'd aspired to enter since cub-hood. To win this, was to win fame. And let's face it, who doesn't want to be known as the bad ass who took the gold? The lycan's destination was drawing closer by the minute, as he charged forward, dodging trees, and other obstacles with an odd grace. This particular lycan was known as Alucard the Bloodied, however the distinct irony of his name did not amuse him. He instead preferred to be called Zero. Why Zero? Well why not? Where do nicknames hail from anyway? Zero, in lycan form stood at a staggering 7'3, with muscles that bulged from years of training.

His fur was a deep grey color, with a very distinct crescent moon shape over his left eye. On his underbelly, the fur faded into a soft white color, with darker flecks of grey laced in and out. Around his frame he carried a leather satchel, the contents of which were some human clothing, and a few essential things. He called them his 'just in case' items. You never know what will happen in todays world. His eyes were like yellow orbs, scanning the terrain for the destination he had in mind. A tomb, no doubt decrepit and dank, full of perilous beasts, or impossible passages. Never the less, inside the tomb was a treasure he sought. Twelve points, not anything to get excited about, but would add quite nicely to the fifteen he had already managed to acquire. What was the object inside said tomb? A headdress, hidden within a sarcophagus. He'd heard this particular headdress was made of gold. Regardless, it had his name on it, and had anyone dared get in his way, he would make sure they didn't live obtain it.

Zero was not the biggest, or strongest, or even smartest lycan in his clan, The Immortal Kinship. He was not the youngest, he was not the bravest, but he was well known. Family was important in his clan. Each lycan watched out for the other, as any family should. Though Zero was a force to be reckoned with, he wasn't all muscle and a hard exterior. He had a heart. He was, after all, partly human. Only, that part of him wasn't often used. He didn't often have need to take his human form. Had he been in human form, he'd have stood at a much less menacing 6'5, and his grey fur would be replaced with a golden tan skin, hardened by the sun, but still soft to touch. His eyes, now yellow as the moon, would be a deep blue. The sort of eyes that took your breath from your chest, for just a moment. His hair would be a dark brown color, and fall just past his chin, curling outward. To the world of humans, he'd look to be in his late teens, early twenties. His real age however, was a bit more. Lycans aged differently than regular humans. Each year for them equaled about five or so for a human. Not immortal beings, lycans, but long lived.

Had you been close to Zero, you would know that he could be funny, sarcastic, and charming, that is when he wasn't trying to rip your flesh from your bone. His mother was close to the Alpha of their clan, his father was dead. Zero had three siblings, two older sisters, and a twin brother, Ichiru. Zero and Ichiru seldom acknowledged each others existence. When they did, it was usually unpleasant. The two had once been close, but as is the cast for most twins, one is always trying 'one-up' the other. As time went on, they simply stopped talking. Had you been very close to Zero, which few were, you'd know that he hated what he was. He wanted nothing more than to be human. However, this was not possible. Not to his knowledge anyway. So, he had a choice. Deal with it, or self-loathe for the rest of his life. He chose to deal with it.

His thoughts had been wandering aimlessly, as they often did when he ran, when the most alluring and delicious scent caught his attention. As soon as it passed his nostrils he'd known what it was. Somewhere, not far from here, and not too long ago, there was a witch. Stopping dead in his tracks, he lifted his large head, and took in the scent. His mouth salivated at the thought. What to do? Follow the scent? Get the gold? Follow the...? Get...? His head was swimming. This was too much for his animal instincts to take. He decided that the treasure was more important that a feast. Reluctantly, he returned to his human form, and donned the clothing in his satchel, which now looked rather silly, almost like an over-sized purse. Making his way on the path he had set out on before, he could still smell the witch, however in this form, it wasn't quite as potent and half as delicious. Oddly, as he made his way to the tombs entrance, the scent of witch got stronger. It then became obvious to him, as it should have long before, he was not alone in his quest to obtain the headdress. He readied himself for a fight, and entered.