[center] [img] http://img01.deviantart.net/e921/i/2010/339/5/7/worgen_by_unidcolor-d347lrd.jpg [/img] [/center] The great, cathedral-like office tower at the heart of Dawnpeak Heights was awash in blood. Desks were overturned, computers smashed, and a whole mishmash of mangled body parts were scattered across the carpeted floor, leaking dark trails of thick red. Long threads of entrails, dripping gore, were slung from celling lights, ravaged chests –torn open to reveal their tangled innards- were propped up against bulky photocopiers, and teeth and fingers and toes were all jumbled up with the stacks of paper that had been hurled across the room in the ferocious and bloody slaughter. “W-w-why are you doing this?” Sobbed a plump woman in a too-tight black skirt as slumped back against a panel of clear glass, resting her bloodied head on the window in defeat. “Justice.” Growled Ameilkas, her immense fur-covered hand darting forwards and grasping the woman by the collar of her shirt. Her victim let out a shaky yelp, but made no move to resist. The fight had gone out of her when she’d seen her colleagues torn in two. She hurled the woman with a powerful flick of the wrist, sending her soaring across the office, and then she was nothing more than a chunky dark red smear on a crisp white wall. Ameilkas inhaled loudly, her black nose quivering with joy as the sweet, sensual scent of warm blood flooded every cell in her ginormous body. She was a towering, feral beast of a lycan; with silvery white fur covering every inch of her body, a huge lupine head, a mouthful of deathly sharp white fangs, and two enormous eyes, one yellow one brown, which burned with a roaring inferno that looked ready to sear skin and bone straight off of all they fell upon. “Did you catch the scent?” Boomed Brunkas, ducking his mammoth head under a doorway, as he came lumbering into the room, stomping in on all fours. “Erikas, dead.” Ameilkas grumbled, a shimmer of rage rippling through her deep voice. “Killed by some rouge pup,” Brunkas spat, slinking up besides the Den Mother “Must’ve gotten lucky.” “They’ll be no more luck for this miserable, wretched shitpile of a city.” Seethed the great white wolf “Nor the mewling rats who call it home.” Her powerful fist short forwards, punching straight through the glass in front of her, shattering the window pane into thousands of glistening shards. She slashed sideward, cutting through glass and metal alike, and the whole window came tumbling down in a shower of see-through splinters, clinking and crunching as they went pitter-pattered into the carpeted floor. The icy nigh time window came howling into the office, slinking and shifting through her clumps of rough white fur and dancing over her steel-thick hide. Ameilkas kicked back her powerful legs and leaped forwards through the broken window, soaring out into the night. She flew downwards, the leering tower of steel and glass falling beneath her feet as she plummeted into the streets below. The wind whipped and cracked past her, bellowing its thunderous tune in her feral ears. She came crashing down into the road, her clawed feet smashing straight through the roof of an unsuspecting Range Rover, sending metal and glass and rubber exploding out around her on all sides. A hundred thousand scents twirled upwards into her nose, begging her to seek out their source and silence them once and for all. She tore down the grimy brick street, rows upon rows of shops and apartment blocks vanishing into blurred trails as she darted forwards, her powerful feet beating fiercely against the ground, tail billowing in the wind. A towering stone statue, garbed in a shawl of rock and carved with the face of Chaerina Somabra, stood amidst a fountain of bubbling water, and Ameilkas came leaping up onto it, her nails biting into its leering features, holding her high up above the stone woman’s cold sneer. “The Hunters have answered the call of the moon, and brought tooth and claw to your wretched city!” She bellowed out into the night, her voice carrying on the howling wind “Come and face me, little wretches! The last thing you see will be the eyes of the Den Mother bearing down into you as your souls depart this world!”