In the course of his life, Amon had seen and experienced many terrible things. His youth was filled with fear, of his father and older kin, that he may not live up to their expectations. He and every other Abraxas knew that the punishment for any grand failure was likely death. That mentality had left him with no other option but to succeed. Succeed, or be removed. As a youth Amon had embraced that challenge and swore to himself that he would strive to shine in the Fallen God's light, and if his god was not satisfied with his service it was his will that Amon be struck down. Amon found a strange sort of comfort in that. As the titan made his way to the battlefield, escorted by his family members, he reviewed his days so far spent in the living world. He had sired seven healthy children and united the Abraxas in a way few in their history had done. When his own magnificent father had begun to falter it was Amon who had rallied them, who had continued their ways. He was proud of his service, but also eager to continue his work. No, he did not want to fall that day. He would not. There was still too much to be done. Amon knew that even if he should fall his children would carry on his legacy, of course, but he was not ready to leave this world quite yet. Upon arriving at the desolate plain, Amon began to focus on his body and the way it moved, taking long strides to stretch the tendons of his legs, and rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles of his neck. A strained muscle could easily be his downfall, and Amon could not see himself succumbing to such a pitiful mistake. No, he would prepare himself as well as he was able, given the short time he had to do so. He strode forth onto the plain and turned, having placed himself six or seven body lengths ahead of the rest of the party. Gulo stood on his left side approximately five feet away and watched alongside waiting for Ganta to arrive as well, wondering how close the other male would dare to stand. Amon squared his stance before dropping into a leisurely stretch, as if this were little more than a friendly spar. Amon rose back into a standing position, each limb planted firmly atop the ground. "I doubt this will take long," he said. Gulo snarled at his side, the wolverine bristling. AMON vs GANTA for DEATHMATCH Round 0/3 Height 45" Build: Heavy "Talk" "You" Think

The jig is up! The news is out!
They finally found me!

Pyralis was in a mood as she stalked after her brother.  She wanted to participate.  She wanted to tear into one of these idiots but ohhhhh no, it was now boiling down to a one on one fight to the death. As fun as it would be though well, Pyralis had her own plans. She respected Amon and his authority but that didn't mean she didn't want any for herself.  Well… technically her son, Ashiel.  She could rule in his stead and then turn the pack over to him when she felt he was worthy enough to do so and then she could live in the lap of luxury!  She could do whatever the hell she wanted, when she wanted because there was no way her son could hold anything over her head.  

Patience.  That's what it all boiled down to and to be honest Pyralis really was not a patient creature.  She wanted what she wanted the moment she wanted it.  She was fickle, her mind always rolling.  Her desires shifting in the moment.  She continued her stride to the battlefield, rolling her eyes at the stupid mortal traditions… when a dark thought entered her mind.  While Amon was distracted with the death match… who was going to prevent her from challenging the pack herself?  She almost cackled at the thought of it.  Of course… would Amon see this as a betrayal?  She hadn't exactly been subtle about Ashiel's desire and her own that one day her son would lead a pack and if she were there, ruling a boy king behind the scenes, she had the perfect opportunity to set herself up for life!  But how to convince her brother?  He'd be livid to come back from a death match to find she'd uprooted the pack.  He'd been working hard, tirelessly for this moment.  For her to usurp him well… that would be just evil.  What a relief she had no qualms about that... most days anyway.  Pyralis valued her family but her harsh upbringing had left a streak in her that was entirely self-absorbed.  Now the question was... how to sell her idea?

Her mind twisted and folded and twined in on itself until at last they arrived at the battlefield.  She moved to brush alongside her brother, a mischevious gleam in her eye before she broke from him as he prepared himself for battle.   Pyralis turned to Amon.  Now to make her case before the stupid mortal showed up. She spoke smoothly, twisting her words, enjoying the feel and the implications as they rolled out of her mouth. "Brother, dearest brother, I'm a bit… displeased by this.  Here you are having all the fun and I have to stand by and watch.  Not that I don't enjoy it but I've been doing some thinking.  Remember our little chat about Ashiel?  Well here's the thing… this whole thing, this… fight to the death.  It's delaying our plans."  Step one, appeal to his logical side.

 "See if you survive you'll have to heal before you can rip the pack away from his widow… assuming our family hasn't disposed of them. In fact I think he's just trying to manipulate you, to lure you away from the vulnerable and buy time for his pathetic family."  She spoke carefully, putting each piece into place.  One wrong step and this could all backfire.  "And if you die and join our god well… I'll just take the pack from them anyway. So why don't we do this more efficiently, my dearest brother."

Now to appeal to his ego. "You are the leader of our family in this conquest and that is exactly why you should lead them on to the next target.  We should move as a unit, swift and calculating. Give me Dragoste.  Let me cleanse it of mortal filth and make it into a training ground for the next generation of leaders while you secure the next target.  What do you say? Let me rip his bride to shreds and send her family scattering before my fangs."  She grinned sweetly at Amon, wondering if he realized that grin meant that most likely… she'd do it anyway. Even if it wasn't today she would, one way or the other.  Of course… there was the mortal.  He was the only factor that she could not entirely account for. If he changed his mind and handed over the pack to Amon then all bets were off but she really doubted he'd do that.  Mortals were particular about their ego, he'd made a big show of it and now they were at the point of no return.

"Please Amon, let's do this together."  She reached out to nuzzle his ruff, her voice low and just a touch sentimental. "Or we can just drop this stupid one-on-one challenge, you take this self-righteous idiots pack… establish the first true Abraxas pack. Leave this fool to watch and then you use your influence to back me up and work with me now that you know my desires. I care little for the act of ruling but I want the freedom it gives.  I want a pack for my son and I don't care who I have to go through to get it. Drop this stupid death match, take his pack, make him watch what he loves be destroyed… do it for me."  

The renegade that had it made

While he waited for Ganta to arrive, Amon was surprised to find Pyralis draw closer to him. He shook himself from the war-like mindset that had fogged his mind, listening with surprise and then interest as his sister spoke. A variety of emotions played through his mind as he did, a mingling of confusion and a bit of irritation. Why Pyralis had waited so long to speak to him, he could not say. Then again, the woman was hardly one to care for timing. Then again, he recalled the words she'd spoken at their earlier meeting and again while standing on Dragoste's border. Perhaps he should not be surprised after all. He leveled his sister with a cool stare. Ashiel did have the qualities for a leader, that much was obvious. He was a quiet, calm boy, yet he did not shy from violence. Amon knew he was bright and would make a strategic general once seasoned. He would do well with a pack, but he was still so young. Amon rumbled. “Hmm... You make a valid point, Pyralis. But I believe Ashiel is still far too young and inexperienced to lead without a year or so of seasoning and true combat. And besides, I cannot let the mortal filth's words to go unpunished. If you would rather shred him alongside me and bring him back living, well... I can see validity in it. The dead are forgotten. The mutilated living are not quite so easy to brush away.” Amon turned back to the cluster of brush that marked the barrier of the battlefield, still waiting for Ganta to appear. Amon wanted this man's blood. He thirsted for it, but was it truly the fastest route to achieve his goals? Amon was nothing if not pragmatic, but it would seem he had allowed his pride and rage to cloud his judgement. To spend time and strength in a senseless slaughter of one wolf would only make the conquering of the others more difficult. It truly did make more sense for them to take the easiest path. “You've convinced me. If only because you know how much I love to watch you work,” he rumbled, voice still hinting at displeasure, but less so than he might have thought. She may be a wild one, his sister, but she had certainly inherited the same sharp mind he had himself. “Very well. Do you suppose we ought to let the poor wretch know the terms have changed, or surprise him?” He lifted a brow, and smiled. AMON vs GANTA for PACK CHALLENGE Round 0/3 Height 45" Build: Heavy "Talk" "You" Think

You Made Me A Believer

Night continued to draw around them as she watched her brother's face, eyes scanning his, as if by sheer force of will she could pierce that mysterious veil that cloaked his thoughts.  She felt a glint of excitement as he stated she had a valid point.  Excellent, so he hadn't rejected her thoughts outright though there was still the issue of Ashiel's age.  Pyralis drew back with a frown, her brow knitting for a moment as she thought about her son.  In her eagerness for her own desires she'd failed to think properly about Ashiel.  "Hmm… you are right Amon.  He's still young and still… hesitant.  No where near seasoned enough to lead and to give him time to learn would require me to lead for more time than I currently care to manage."  

She turned her head upward, gazing for a moment at the stars.  The raging sea that had been boiling in her moments before was now calming, the excitement that had sent her mind into a whirling, vicious frenzy was now growing clearer as she felt the rush of emotions becoming more manageable.  "I wasn't thinking properly about him and his readiness. Some mother, eh?"  She laughed.  Their kind was always meant to grow up quickly and who knew what the hell it really meant to be a parent in this family anyway.  She took a deep breath and laughed again.  "Besides, it would look poor wouldn't it?  For me to just hand Ashiel a pack.  He needs to work for it… fight for it. Nothing worth having is ever easy to attain.  I'll make him work harder, train harder… he will have to gain the respect of others on his own and prove that he is worthy of the Abraxas name. I will not coddle him, even if it's for my own benefit."

Pyralis stretched.  "Amon…"  She looked at him for a moment and spoke anyway, detesting the sliver of sentiment that was seeping into her voice.  "Thank you for putting up with my tempestuous nature. I know I'm fickle, and not the easiest sister to have but you stick by me anyway.  That means more than I know how to say."  What was that about a single self-absorbed streak?  For some reason when it came to her brothers, to Apollo and especially Amon, that streak had a tendency to run.  She shook her head.  "You know, it just occurred to me that whatever challenge this ends up being it's got to be you versus this alpha.  Either way I'm sitting on the sidelines.  When this was a death match I felt I needed to be there, to witness you should they be your final moments. Perhaps now I'll go and sink my bloodlust into the alpha's hapless pack while you take care of business here?  Or perhaps you won't mind a cheering section or commentary while I chat with my daughter about your performance?"  Perhaps she could garner a few tips to pass on to her son.

She chuckled at the mention of the mortal.  "Oh, lets not tell him.  Let him sputter and bleed for a bit before he realizes you won't give him the sweet mercy of death." She gazed out across the horizon enjoying the last few moments they'd have alone before the others showed and she decided if she would indeed head back to the packlands to check up on her son and the rest of the family.

Ganta’s mind was spinning the whole while he walked. The hell was he doing, throwing his life away like this? Risking Roza… Ulric… had they run? Had they gotten somewhere safe? The man sighed softly, shaking his head as he came to a brief stop. He couldn’t worry about that now. As much as he loved them, he could only pray that all that remained of his pack had fled at his warning howl. He could only pray that he hadn’t been too late, or perhaps that Amon had been bluffing. But something deep in his gut told him that the man had no reason to bluff. With wolves of monstrous sizes like that… he had the strength to back things up.

But Ganta wouldn’t for a moment believe that their loyalty was the only reason they would attack in a horde. There was something… unsettling about it all that he hadn’t been able to place his paw on. The male took a breath, breathing in deeply before exhaling. No matter what happened today… whether he fall into death or fell the behemoth that lead this murderous crew… it wouldn’t be over. He finally understood the situation his father had been in. The situation his family, the Hellstrom side, had found themselves in. Perhaps the line between good and evil was more fine than he’d believed.

He continued on, ears perked, his silvery-white orbs sure of the decision he’d made. There was only one way these beasts could dare get him to change it… and he prayed that his loved ones would not be captured by their kind. It was bad enough Philomena had been taken by Rikeros… or was it? Maybe… there was a small sliver of chance that his daughter was alive and well. Why else would Rikeros continue avoiding him? That… actually brought the young man some peace.

He stretched his own limbs as he walked on, trying to quiet the doubts and cries within his brain. They had no place anymore. He had spoken his piece, what he believed and knew, and now he would carry it with him until his last breath. He sent a silent prayer to his mother, and then one to his father as well. Whether or not they would get them he didn’t know. Ganta wasn’t sure how much he believed in the spirit realm being able to interact with the mortal one.

When he arrived at the scene of the battlefield he allowed his ears to lay flat against his skull once more. He approached Amon, stopping about ten feet away from the other wolf. This time the male knew the time for words were over. He slunk into a battle position, rolling his shoulders forward. His weight was distributed across his four limbs evenly, stance widened and squared. His digits were splayed, claws biting into the soil and his eyes narrowing into mere slits. He didn’t speak, gaze fixed on the other.

As was custom… The challenger was to make the first move.


Ganta vs Amon for PACK CHALLENGE
Round 0/3
Height 36"
Build: Light

Amon watched as the smaller man finally made his way onto the field. Mind alight with all that his sister had said to him, Amon hummed under his breath. Once Ganta came into view Amon moved  as well, wanting to control the space between them. As Ganta came to stand approximately ten feet in front of him, Amon angled himself towards the other male so that they were facing one another directly head on. A cruel grin curled onto his lips. “Pyralis I appreciate you coming along, but I'm sure your help would be just as appreciated by the others,” he said lazily, seeming in no great hurry to begin and certainly unconcerned with all that was about to unfold. “Your choice, of course.” Returning his attention to Ganta, Amon realized the man had no intention of making the first move. All the better, Amon took a moment to take stock of his own body and adjust himself before beginning. He spread each limb equidistant apart, and adjusted his weight so that it was evenly distributed. Amon pinned his ears flat against his head and rolled his shoulders forward to loosen and shift the thick skin beneath his ruff, the bit that is in excess and designed to protect his throat and vital arteries. Amon would much rather Ganta grab hold of that than something more important. He aligned his tail with the rest of his spine, streamlining his body and securing his balance. Tensing his muscles, preparing to strike, Amon reflected for only a breath how natural this stance felt, and how much he had missed it. Amon launched forward suddenly, attempting to catch Ganta by surprise. Amon pushed off mightily with his hind legs and propelled himself forward in a reckless attack, attempting to close the distance between them in two strides. He attempted to barrel full force into the other male, shifting his course only three inches to his own right with the intent of forcing the frontmost part of his left shoulder into the direct center of Ganta's chest and throat, hoping perhaps to strike his windpipe as well. Regardless, Amon hoped to drive the wind from the man's lungs, if not knock him to the ground entirely. Gulo would also launch himself forward as Amon moved, but the wolverine moved to towards Ganta's other side, arcing around Ganta's right flank. The large mustelid would attempt to quickly circle Ganta's right flank until he stood at approximately Ganta's 5'o'clock, with his hindquarters facing away from the enemy wolf, ideally maintaining a distance of two feet. Gulo would leap forward, unafraid of physical retribution, and attempt to dive towards Ganta's right hind leg. He hoped to aim his powerful jaws towards the ankle of Ganta's hind right leg, at the span of bone just above the man's paw. He hoped to crush the bones there, and make it difficult for the man to retreat from Amon's attack by hopefully blocking off a route of retreat. At the same time, as Amon attempted to charge into Ganta, the shadowy wolf would also attempt to whip his head down and to the left, aiming to sink his top canines into the flesh of Ganta's shoulder. He aimed for an area approximately three inches behind Ganta's left shoulder and two or three inches down from the man's spine, where the man's deltoids and trapezius muscles would join. Amon was aiming for the jumble of muscles which controlled the limb's movement, hoping to position his jaws so that he grasp as much of this crucial musculature as possible, sink his fangs in and rip the muscles free, rendering the limb useless. AMON vs GANTA for PACK CHALLENGE Round 1/3 Height 45" Build: Heavy "Talk" "You" Think

And the winner is...

AMON	Due to not posting within the time limit, GANTA must give up by submitting, fleeing or passing out. Amon has now laid claim to Dragoste.

Amon slammed into Ganta with seismic force. The impact was firm to Amon, but crushing to the smaller male. As he had expected, Amon's height meant that his shoulder was level with approximately Ganta's throat. As they collided the smaller male let out a ragged, choking sound as his windpipe collapsed as the air struggled to escape his lungs. Amon's teeth also found purchase in Ganta's shoulder, just as he had hoped. His fangs dug deep into the muscle and tendon along Ganta's back, and Amon relished the sensation of tearing it free. He listened with sick pleasure to the sounds of them ripping and popping beneath his might. Off balance now, Amon easily barreled the smaller male over, forcing him to the ground. As Ganta toppled, Amon noted that his hind right leg had been savaged by Gulo, leaving the wolverine looking rather proud of himself. Blood now streamed down Ganta's forelimb, and Amon gave him a cold smile. "Please remember that you had the chance to avoid this whole mess. We could have made a deal, but instead you decided to be overconfident. I can almost feel sorry for you... But not quite. Whether you truly believed you could best me or are simply dimwitted, your own choices have been your undoing. At least it will be a message to your family." Amon placed one gargantuan paw on the man's ruined shoulder and pressed his weight down onto the fresh wound, pinning him in place. "Don't play games that you can't win." Amon did not give Ganta a chance for last words, overcome by his bloodlust and reinvigorated rage. For all that he had had agreed with Pyralis that perhaps they ought to keep him alive, Amon had lost himself to the seductive pull of battle and torn flesh. Amon hadn't realized how much he missed it, and with the sweet taste of his enemy's blood on his lips he lost himself to those most primal urges. He had not been trained to conquer and let live. No, Amon had been molded from conception to conquer and kill. His head darted for Ganta's throat, jaws clamping down over his jugular. Clamping down and ripping sideways, the artery would rip open and begin painting the soil beneath them in a beautiful ruby red. It stained Ganta's snowy fur as the man gasped and flopped in his final throes, but was invisible against Amon's dark pelt. Amon stayed there until it was done. Stepping back from the corpse, Amon turned to see if his sister had left to return to the pack or not. Either way he spoke, knowing Gulo would be awaiting instruction as well. Blood dripping from his jowls, Amon said, "Let's hasten back. I'm eager to see what progress the others have made." Pride lifted the man's head as he walked, feeling more powerful now than he ever had before. The first step was complete. His empire had begun. -EXIT- "Talk" "You" Think

Proof for PP:

You Made Me A Believer

When the Dragoste alpha arrived Pyralis would separate from her brother to give them room to begin.  She shot the mortal a vicious grin.  Oh, this was going to be brutal.  Pacing to the edge of the determined field she would sit down, golden eyes gleaming in the dusky shadows as she turned her gaze to her brother.  The air stilled around them.  Then fury exploded as Amon dove for Ganta and brought him sputtering and bleeding to the ground.  It was over before it had even begun as Amon pinned the smaller male to the ground, his words cutting as much as his fangs. Pyralis got to her feet, expecting to be called over to join the mauling before they dragged the alpha back to his pack.  However, as she caught the look on her brother's face she knew his bloodlust had taken root and she shook her head, shrugging lightly.  The mortal was a goner.  Ah well… there was plenty more where he came from.

Amon's fangs darted for the male's throat and a slow, low chuckle rolled up from Pyralis throat. "You just couldn't help yourself could you?  Ah well… hopefully the fool has no regrets.  He was given a chance after all."  As long as the rest of the pack fell in line that was all she cared about.  She didn't want to have to deal with the alphess after this but hopefully at learning her mate's there would be no more struggle.  With Ganta alive they could have tried the bargain again, with him dead there was always a chance that grief would lead to them throwing away all sense of survival and engaging in yet another match.  Though as she looked at the mess her brother had wrought she really doubted it.  They'd just have to see, her tempestuous nature was swimming and stirring, contradictory as always.  She was eager for more bloodshed but also eager to finally have a base of operations.

"Let's hasten back. I'm eager to see what progress the others have made."

She looked to her brother and nodded. "Yes, we're done here. Let's see if the rest of the pack is falling into line."

-exit-

Amons call for battle had been heard. She was lurking nearby like always. She never seemed to stray too far. Why did she do that? She wasn't certain. It was Whatever though.

She moved swiftly, not wanting to miss too much of the battle. She didn't seem to miss much though. She arrived and saw Amon killing the poor sap. She shook her head at that. Stupid men and their hotheaded tempers. The white mortal looked more like possible godkin and she rolled her eyes at that. Pyralis was already on the case of showing her own distaste at this death. He didn't need them both doing it verbally.

She moved up to take in the scents of the dead body. A female, pack and young child clung to it along with blood and fresh death. Easily it was discerned that Amon had just taken a pack by killing their alpha. She snorted. Truly her cousin was without cooth. She moved after Amon though and voiced only one thought to him. "Cousin this one was surrounded by his friends no doubt, you should beware that fact. They may rally against you or conceive a plan to poison you if you do not tread this meeting lightly. Brute force will not always be the answer." She kept her tone nuetral enough, and intended no harm by this but was secretly worried that her cousin may have just bitten off more than he could chew. Her eyes flashed to him, expressing this. She stayed silent beyond this. She knew he would likely ignore her advise anyway.

-exit with Amon and Pyralis-
Walk, "Talk", Think

Apollo ghosted alongside the strange alpha, escorting him as requested to be certain he would appear at the proper time and place. You could never truly be certain if these weak creatures would unexpectedly attempt to flee their fate despite seeming to welcome it up until that point, and he was not willing to take the risk to his family's pride and plans by depending on a mortals whims. On the way he picked up Seth, who had been lurking a safe distance away with the usual healers' paraphernalia in anticipation of wounds taken. The little dwarf didn't complain, much, at being dragged along on the trip but simply hauled along the herbs and such he might need if Amon were injured in his battle.

Upon their arrival the alpha moved to face Amon, and Apollo hung back to keep out of the way and observe. It took him a little aback at how quickly the fight ended. Yes, the Abraxas were mighty, but they were nonetheless held back by their mortal bodies and he had expected this creature to be able to give Amon a challenge. But perhaps he was simply too used to seeing the Abraxas practice against one another and had forgotten the sheer power they contained, for the strangely furred wolf fell quickly to Amon's jaws. Having not heard the conversation between his litter mates, Apollo was not surprised when Amon chose to end the former alpha's life. It was logical, to him, to end the threat to the Abraxas that the dethroned king may have represented and to show an example to those in Dragoste who might seek to oppose them. He was concerned, a little, at the possibility of having created a martyr for their cause, but he dismissed it as irrelevant for the moment. They could not afford to show weakness to the mortals, and if that meant creating a few martyrs along the way so be it. A necessary evil, for now.

As Amon moved to retire from the bloodied battlefield, Apollo nodded respectfully to the new alpha and fell into step alongside he and their sister to make the journey back. Polished gold eyes gleamed disapprovingly at the young upstart who sought to chastise the leader though, and he spoke in a deep rumble to her as they left. "It is not your place to question Amon, pup. You have neither the experience nor the knowledge to make a judgement. Be quiet and obey without insulting your betters, or you and I will be having more than words later."

He flicked his tail in a summoning gesture to the midget healer, who had not been needed after all, and continued on with his littermates. Fool children. They would need a firm paw to keep them in line as this plan of Amon's unfolded.

-exit with everyone else-

Ooc: apologies if there are any weird typos going on. Phone post.

The challenging howl had sent a chill through her blood. She had a terrible feeling about it, but there was nothing she could do to keep Gantt from going to meet it. Part of her wished she had just told him to forget about the pack and retreat with the rest of them, but she didn’t. She hung back long enough to make sure everyone made it out of the pack lands and Ulric had spot to hide in the Mangroves that she used to call home. It made her nervous to leave Ulric alone, but she had to trust that her brothers were still near by and could keep an eye on him. The last thing she wanted was for Ulric to see his father in whatever state she was about to find him in. She sprinted toward the battleground, but as she arrived she saw the massive wolves standing in a cluster. She had missed the fight entirely. She stopped some distance away and crouched down so they wouldn’t see her, not realizing she was holding her breath as she watched them walk away. She waited as long as she dare to before she got up again and ran toward Ganta’s pale form on the ground. She was already trying to figure out how she would get him back and where she would find the herbs to help him, but as soon as she saw him she realized it was all worthless. For a while she stood there, barely breathing as her brain tried to register what was at her feet. “Ganta... Oh, Ganta, you idiot...” she whispered, her words dropping off into a sob. Tears welled up in her eyes and fell without her really noticing. She slowly settled onto the ground beside him and pressed her forehead to the top of his head. She wanted to scream, she wanted to chase that beast that killed him down... but she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave Ulric alone. She couldn’t give up on Philomena. Her legs felt weak as she forced herself back onto her paws. Roza took Ganta’s scruff in her teeth and began to carefully drag him off of the battlefield. She didn’t think she could get him all the way back home, but she could get close. At least far enough away to find a decent place to bury him. -exit- Talk Abbey Others