(Here's the starter!)
It was a dark night... Black clouds were covering the sky and only leaving view to the shining-white full moon.. The clouds were dropping rain on the city of Yorkington, a place full criminals.. A dark place were almost nothing.. or nobody.. ruled..
Jasper was standing there, on the roof a of a tall building. Full moon.. that was a bad thing for her.. No, not for her.. for the other people.. She knew she wasnt going to remember anything.. and didnt seem to care at all.. After all, Yorkington was nicknamed ''Crime City'', right?
As those thoughts flew out of her head, her transformation began. The young woman from before slowly turned into a black-furred beast, similar to a wolf. The beast howled, starting to run around on the roof tops and looking for a prey.
It was a dark night... Black clouds were covering the sky and only leaving view to the shining-white full moon.. The clouds were dropping rain on the city of Yorkington, a place full criminals.. A dark place were almost nothing.. or nobody.. ruled..
Jasper was standing there, on the roof a of a tall building. Full moon.. that was a bad thing for her.. No, not for her.. for the other people.. She knew she wasnt going to remember anything.. and didnt seem to care at all.. After all, Yorkington was nicknamed ''Crime City'', right?
As those thoughts flew out of her head, her transformation began. The young woman from before slowly turned into a black-furred beast, similar to a wolf. The beast howled, starting to run around on the roof tops and looking for a prey.
The howl resonates, its throaty declaration echoing above the smack of rain on stone and slate, and the sound easily reccommends itself unto Zephyr's senses.
Beneath the cascading precipitation he strides, a large black umbrella acting as a shield to ward away the wet, and his pale face holds a wariness. Any and all that reside amongst the damp and dark alleyways of Yorkington learn this half-conscious caution, for those that did not would sooner than later.
He pauses to discern this abrupt din, setting his jaw to clench as he knits his brows to construe in furrow, before the youth simply hastens his steps. The sodden rasp of his leather soles over the puddles and the concrete is of the quiet symphony succeeding the wolf's cry.
Perhaps making to his homestead, or whatever shelter is to be his own, he is but a steady flurry of grey cloth and cardigan, forsaking this path in rounding the corner...
((Forgive me. I am aware it is a horrific introduction.))
Beneath the cascading precipitation he strides, a large black umbrella acting as a shield to ward away the wet, and his pale face holds a wariness. Any and all that reside amongst the damp and dark alleyways of Yorkington learn this half-conscious caution, for those that did not would sooner than later.
He pauses to discern this abrupt din, setting his jaw to clench as he knits his brows to construe in furrow, before the youth simply hastens his steps. The sodden rasp of his leather soles over the puddles and the concrete is of the quiet symphony succeeding the wolf's cry.
Perhaps making to his homestead, or whatever shelter is to be his own, he is but a steady flurry of grey cloth and cardigan, forsaking this path in rounding the corner...
((Forgive me. I am aware it is a horrific introduction.))
((No worries! It's pretty awesome, to say))
The beast continued running, but this time, jumping off the roof-top and falling into a big puddle of water before continuing running and finaly meeting it's prey. The prey, was actually Zephyr. Jasper,ahem..the beast, knew nothing about him. Even in it's human form, the wolf never met that man. But right now, even thought she didnt want to, Jasper (the wolf) growled and slowly walked towards him with an aggressive look, starring into his eyes and always growling more, also showing off it's sharp teeth and not caring about the dripping rain on it's dark fur.
The beast continued running, but this time, jumping off the roof-top and falling into a big puddle of water before continuing running and finaly meeting it's prey. The prey, was actually Zephyr. Jasper,ahem..the beast, knew nothing about him. Even in it's human form, the wolf never met that man. But right now, even thought she didnt want to, Jasper (the wolf) growled and slowly walked towards him with an aggressive look, starring into his eyes and always growling more, also showing off it's sharp teeth and not caring about the dripping rain on it's dark fur.
The growling of the hound registers in his mind ere even the image of its menacing visage impresses itself to the vanguard of his thought.
Halting as it descends upon him, the sudden pause causes him to slip for that of the puddle, much of his grey jackets altered so as to be of a darker colour. His umbrella gone, broken beneath him, there is nothing to ward off the sight of the creature.
His lips are formed as an 'O' as he regards it dumbly, viridian oculi attached to that of a feral gaze.
Unless prevented, the pale lad attempts to take advantage of the slow approach and scrabbles away, firstly on hands and knees (as though prey indeed), and then he would rise to his feet to speed away.
He does not dwell on the bizarre appearance of the wolf, he does not ponder its presence. Its eyes steal such sense, warning against time spent in waste, for it was nearly upon him!
The animal could easily capture him if it made even the slightest effort.
In its assesment, should it make one, it might take note of his present weaknesses. Maybe these weaknesses were even its reasons to select the boy above others. Or was it but unhappy chance?
His breathing is already hoarse and heavy, a whining wheeze as it escapes betwixt his lips and nostrils- an asthmatic responce to strain and panic, his lungs begin to constrict.
And though his limbs are indeed long, they are weak and untried. He did not find much love for what he felt was unneccessary exertion, and always thought to himself 'I don't think anyone should run unless they're being chased.'
His defences are less than his vulnerabilities; at his belt, though sure to be in hand swiftly, is a thin pocket-knife. He is not trained in its use, and it us unlikely he could escape being ravaged by the canine with it.
Put, there is so little reason that he should be able to survive this eve, and he very we might not...
He does not cry out for help, however. How very strange.
Halting as it descends upon him, the sudden pause causes him to slip for that of the puddle, much of his grey jackets altered so as to be of a darker colour. His umbrella gone, broken beneath him, there is nothing to ward off the sight of the creature.
His lips are formed as an 'O' as he regards it dumbly, viridian oculi attached to that of a feral gaze.
Unless prevented, the pale lad attempts to take advantage of the slow approach and scrabbles away, firstly on hands and knees (as though prey indeed), and then he would rise to his feet to speed away.
He does not dwell on the bizarre appearance of the wolf, he does not ponder its presence. Its eyes steal such sense, warning against time spent in waste, for it was nearly upon him!
The animal could easily capture him if it made even the slightest effort.
In its assesment, should it make one, it might take note of his present weaknesses. Maybe these weaknesses were even its reasons to select the boy above others. Or was it but unhappy chance?
His breathing is already hoarse and heavy, a whining wheeze as it escapes betwixt his lips and nostrils- an asthmatic responce to strain and panic, his lungs begin to constrict.
And though his limbs are indeed long, they are weak and untried. He did not find much love for what he felt was unneccessary exertion, and always thought to himself 'I don't think anyone should run unless they're being chased.'
His defences are less than his vulnerabilities; at his belt, though sure to be in hand swiftly, is a thin pocket-knife. He is not trained in its use, and it us unlikely he could escape being ravaged by the canine with it.
Put, there is so little reason that he should be able to survive this eve, and he very we might not...
He does not cry out for help, however. How very strange.
The beast followed him. There was only a couple meters of distance between the human and the animal. Somehow, the animal turned half human for a couple seconds. ''Run, fool, otherwise it'll eat you!'' She said, turning back into the black furred beast and starting to approach the prey. But somehow, the beast got distracted by a nearby sound, running away to where it thought was the sound. The wof howled again and ran after a new prey, not Zephyr, another random human that was walking and when saw the animal, started running and yelling for help. Obviously, nobody came to help, it's Yorkington City, not 'WeWillHelpYou City'.
Dazed to see the brief metamorphosis, the creature would have had him if not for the unfortunate soul in the opposite direction. As it darts away to feast on this new prey, the adolescent remains there for but a second, of which the span is filled with an inward gasp, and then revolves to flee from this place.
Umbrella forgotten, garbed in cold and wet attire, he runs with no true direction, the only thought to avoid the predators that might stall him...
In his mind, he dwells on the face presented him when the sable hide had drawn away. The fact that any such visage should be present in that horrible fiend was enough fright.
Umbrella forgotten, garbed in cold and wet attire, he runs with no true direction, the only thought to avoid the predators that might stall him...
In his mind, he dwells on the face presented him when the sable hide had drawn away. The fact that any such visage should be present in that horrible fiend was enough fright.
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