In the Night There Tolls a Bell

[River]

And the soldiers gather 'round,
Before the spires made of stone,
To die for their phantom home,
To live badly and perish well,
They fill their blood up with bile,
Seeing the General with his silver smile,
With his pretty monster towering upwards,
Into the blackened, sooty sky.

A terror, rising into the sky, it's sound a gritting screech, nails against a tree, the crows cawing and flying, fleeing from their menace. Deep in the mouth of Alteron, what gastly horrors await in the darkness? What monsterous beasts rise to eat what small little puppies think only remains in their nightmares. HaHA! No, Alteron is their nightmare, sire. Of what we fear, what brings bile to our breath and blood to our ears, what stuffs us up to feed to the cannibals, what leaves us in the dirt to die. And their are such beasts called soldiers, the brutes, the mindless machines bent on bloodlust and warfare, and to come across one could maybe by your last and most fatal mistake. Luckily for us, the soldier we are meeting is Zahnuas.

"Prance, prance, prance...through all the pretty daisies." The moron mumbling to himself as his paws raked across a bone, sharpening his nails like preperation for a slaughter. No pigs are out in the fields...must be safely locked in their pins. A mournful hum of a tune that was more appropriate for Inaria, the timber pondered his schedule for today. It was almost dusk, and he hadn't eaten much...but he had been hunting for the past few days. He was lazy, lazy, lazy! "I'm a bad soldier, not training. The Baron won't approve that I'm slacking off. He won't!" Zahnuas shuttered of the thought of a demotion, and stood up from his sharpening class. Snarling curses such as "fucking idiot, I'm so stupid, I'm the worst goddamn soldier that ever walking upon this fucking soil", the timber boy slinked into the darkness.

Checking the air for any sort of scent, Cadet listed his choices off while grinning away, "Hmm...let's see...shit, shit, shit, rotting carcass, shit." Forrowing his brows, for no soldiers in sight or smell, in the sweltering heat of the almost night, he finally choose his favorite, "I'm gonna choose...shit!" Quickly, he leapt to the side, mimicking a deeper, smoother voice, "Isss....THAT your final answer?" Leap back to the original spot, "Hell yeah." Leap back, deep voice, "You choose....CORRECTLY!" Then off in the side, he mimicked a, "DING DING DING DING!!!" Deep voice again, "You win...a brand-fucking-new scar!" He bit into his leg, feeling the sensation of pain, and smiled. He moved to the scent, slightly limping, like nothing ever happened.

In the night there tolls a bell,
And no, it doesn't toll for thee,
Nor for the people who beg to be free,
Beating on the stone walls with their burned hands,
Hateful, is the song of hell,
All the soldiers hearts will swell,
And make them laugh and scream with glee,
What you ask is this dreadful spell?,
It is the magic of the foggy city,
The city with it's tolling bell,

"Life is war and war is hell."

[River]

The rising of the moon had become his dawn. Nocturnal beast of dark treasures and secrets, where have you been hiding? It was true that Brady had been hidden away for quite some time, locked away in the darkest reaches of the hell he knew as Alteron, much in the same way a young child would hide deep down in their bomb cellar, just waiting for the blast. None of Alteron had noticed his disappearance, he was sure - no one cared enough, no one gave a shit. Brady had tucked himself away in remembrance. It had been around this very same time not but a year or two ago that his dear mother had abandoned him. He still held a large grudge against her - how could she abandon him, abandon the Motherland?! Seething in anger, the bulky male grit his teeth against each other in a grinding motion, his fur standing on end as he remembered it. While most children would pine for their dear mother lost, Brady simply chose the other path; hatred, and along with it, resentment. Oh how he wished he could rip that damned woman's skin right off of her body! In a sense, though, he thought his mother had done that the very moment she'd chosen to leave Alteron; she had been stripped of all that made her worthy, all that made him respect and love her, leaving only a skeleton, a mere has-been of a once great warrior and Knight.

All of that was gone.

A voice not too far off startled him from his thoughts, inwardly. On the outside he merely lifted a brow, wondering what the hell that stranger was screaming about. He sounded like a banshee in the night. Curious, the orange peasant made his way through the thick jungle brush toward the sound. What he found amused him, to an extent. A wolf, acting as if he were mental - hell, maybe he was. Was Brady one to give a damn? No. When Brady looked at the male, all he saw was weakness, and weakness needed to be culled, even if it was only mental. The first thing he'd heard from the male was that he wasn't a good soldier. Brady knew he could help out with that.

So the big male picked up a run, gaining speed before launching himself at the soldier.

Brady had aimed to hit him from the side by letting his right paw slam into the other males shoulder, and his left one right into the ribcage. Should that attack succeed, he'd attempt to pin the other male down and snap at his head, aiming to give him a nice little scar or so on his face to remember the encounter by. Even if this didn't work, and he somehow missed, he'd whirl on the opponent and stiffen up like a board, hoping to be able to face him and plan his next attack.

^{This post is awful, sorry.}