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| King of the Jungle; Kraven | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 18 2009, 09:39 PM (556 Views) | |
| Amelia Voght | Jan 18 2009, 09:39 PM Post #1 |
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Date: January 15 Time: 10:30 pm It hadn’t made national news. The story wasn’t even on the front page. The girl’s disappearance and death were relegated to a small blurb in the set of inserts in the back newspaper. Her picture, taken when she was alive naturally, showed a smiling teenager with a set of horns protruding from her forehead. She was a mutant. If she had a normal appearance, she would have been featured toward the front of the paper. It was a stretch to expect it to be cover worthy. The girl’s only mutation was the curling horns. She was from New York but her body had been found several counties away. The means of her death was undisclosed. The story was sad and the fact that it hadn’t been made a bigger story upset Amelia Voght. The article was in the back of her mind but when she saw that two more similar cases had been reported later, the red head thought there was a definite connection. She’d pushed for information through a variety of channels. Koen’s technopathy yielded little information. Black Tom’s underworld connections weren’t helpful. Amelia consulted a telepath calling herself Mneme. She dealt mainly in the exchange of memories but also had information for sale. Reluctantly, the red head went to visit the telepath. Amelia was afraid Mneme would help her in exchange for Brotherhood secrets but was surprised when she was asked to offer up memories of love. It was awkward for Amelia. She relented and relived past moments in a flash. Images flashed through her mind. There was a flash of her watching Charles breathing softly as he slept. They were sitting on the mansion’s grounds having a quaint picnic. Having those memories brought up so suddenly, by a stranger, was unsettling. When it was over, Mneme told Amelia that she had gotten the memories of a man who had hunted a mutant girl. The memory was transplanted into the nurse’s consciousness. She relived stalking the girl. There were no details to give her any information as to who the man was but she felt sickened by the sight of stalking the girl through a cold forest and then killing her. One man with those hunting skills and renown came to mind. Sergei Kravenoff. He was a well known big game hunter but Amelia wasn’t sure if he had hunted mutants in the past. He was a public figure and had a penthouse in New York. The idea that he would kill mutants for sport was unsettling. Amelia decided to investigate. The Acolyte waited until night had come. She teleported across the city to where the hunter lived. She emerged into the physical realm as a vapor. She easily snaked into his apartment and drifted around. She found a room that was empty and reappeared there. Her body was solid once more but she was still wary. He would not be expecting her and would most likely be ready to defend his home from invaders but Amelia was resolved to solve this mystery. |
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| Kraven | Jan 19 2009, 12:36 AM Post #2 |
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The penthouse was still and quiet but that did not mean that his master was unprepared or not vigilant. He was a nobleman, he was a wealthy man... and he was a paranoid man, though he called it 'diligent.' Sergei Kravinoff, otherwise known as Kraven the Hunter, dwelt in opulence, and in the thick heady air of incense and herb filled smoke that curled around stuffed death and glassy eyed stares of things that had had the misfortune of catching his notice. At the moment, he sat cross legged on a rug that was made by poor women in a country that was less than third world and yet had cost him enough to feed the entire village that they came from. His mind was clouded with smoke and drugs, and meditation, his senses enhanced with that same triad of divinity. He was as close to the animal as he could be at this moment without being in the hunt, and his mind traveled the planes of the spiritualities that his travels had introduced him to and his potions gave him access to, and so he stood before Amelia Voght, before his body twitched, nostrils flaring and skin rippling as his hackles rose. Without rising from his seated position, he spoke, his spirit coming back into his body, without Amelia having recognized that he was ever out of it, "You come into my home, and reek of outrage. How has Kraven wronged you, Mutant, and what do you intend on doing to ease your anger?" He didn't raise his voice, he had no need to. His rich baritone rumbled and echoed, colored with the scent of amazonian leaves and primitive blood. |
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| Amelia Voght | Jan 19 2009, 03:32 PM Post #3 |
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Amelia stood in the impressive study of the apartment. It was lavishly furnished and immaculately clean. This was a man of wealth and taste she had come to confront. The red head was impressed but she had come for a purpose other than to admire the décor. She had seen wealthy homes with rich decorations but most of the time their style was diminished by sheer nouveau riche kitsch. Having spent a large portion of her life working in undeveloped countries, Amelia had grown to feel that such lavish ornaments were unnecessary. They made life more comfortable but were simply icing on a cake. Kraven’s voice boomed from elsewhere in the apartment, demanding who had invaded his home and what their business what. Amelia strode carefully toward the sound of the deep voice. She found Kraven seated, cross legged and shirtless, on the floor with his eyes closed. A miasma of smoke hung in the air around him. It burned the Acolyte’s eyes and made her slightly lightheaded. Kraven was a large, brawny man. His hair and well manicured strip of beard were jet black. He was handsome but not in the modern style. There was Old World ruggedness about him. Sergei was not a pretty boy. Amelia darkened the doorway to his room and stood with confidence. He was a dangerous man and she couldn’t show signs of weakness. “Mutants are being hunted and killed. For sport. We’re interested in what you know about it,” she stated simply. |
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| Kraven | Jan 19 2009, 09:16 PM Post #4 |
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He opened his eyes when the woman walked in but he did not rise. She was as beautiful as he had seen when his traveling mind had swept past her. Kraven smirked, arrogantly at her. He had little use for women save for the purpose in which they were intended. He had three sons, Vladimir, Aloysha and Edvard by three women lucky enough to have been appealing to him, and apparently he had also sired a daughter, Ana, upon Vlad's mother Sasha, but he had neither seen the girl nor cared to. He was an old man, despite his extended life and perfect health thanks to his potions, and he had no doubts that he would be a miserable father... the sort who might eat his young, or at the least snap their neck at the first irritation. But, this woman who stood before him.... suffice it to say that just because he did not dally with females as of late, did not mean that he did not feel the hungers when looking upon a woman such as this. “Mutants are being hunted and killed. For sport. We’re interested in what you know about it,” she stated simply. Kraven reached over and plucked the pipe of his hookah from where it rested. The Shisha in the bowl was mostly tobacco and molasses as was the normal recipe, but instead of fruits, the extra ingredients were things much less known and much less savory to anyone but him. He filled his lungs with the thick smoke, and filled his head with the mystical properties it embued, looking at the woman from beneath heavy brows and half closed eyes. "I know a lot about hunting and killing your kind, lioness," he said, quietly, offering her the respect a predator deserved. She had come into his territory, but was neither cowardly nor foolhardy. Whatever her mutant abilities were, they would protect her from him should he strike out. At least, that's what she felt, and so he would watch her carefully. The female of the species is more deadly than the male, said Kipling, and in his travels Kraven had come to agree even though he considered Kipling to be a pretentious bore, and slogging through his rambling fictions never ceased to put Kravinoff to sleep. "If you animals act like prey, then those higher on the food chain cannot help but act upon their natures. You come at the Hunter with claws unsheathed and tail fluffed to make yourself look large and fearsome, yet, I am no little scrabbling carnivore, ribs visible, spine protruding, who eats rats and lizards for lack of better game. It is insulting to me that you would think that I hunt for mere sport. I hunt because I am Hunter, and I choose my quarry with great care." He drew off the pipe again and said, "That said, I am a notable in the world of pretenders and, what is the phrase, 'wanna bes.' Little men wish me to give them accolades for little conquests, and it is possible that I know something of what you speak. The question is, why should I tell you anything, Woman? What is it Kraven gets in return? I am not a charitable man, despite what foolishness my publicists and managers throw to the winds to keep my name in the papers as a 'philanthropist' and 'gentleman.' Offer me something of interest, or best me in battle. Only then will I tell you what I know." |
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| Amelia Voght | Jan 22 2009, 10:34 PM Post #5 |
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Kraven took another powerful drag from the hookah before him. He exhaled the thick smoke and spoke to her. His voice was a deep baritone. He explained that he was no mere hunter to be trifled with. Amelia could tell by looking at him and the reputation that was whispered in secret that he was a force to be reckoned with. The then claimed to be insulted by the fact that she had implied that he had been the culprit. It was foolish really. Would a man with such a hunting prowess and renown stoop to hunting little known mutants? He was a Hunter, so he claimed, and didn’t hunt for sport. He only hunted for prey that offered a great challenge. If Kraven did take to hunting mutants, he’d probably go after some of the more powerful and prominent ones. Of course, prid pro quo, Amelia thought. Kraven said that he could possibly know something of the events that had transpired and naturally, he’d want some sort of compensation. There was no way the red head could best him in a fight. Physically, she was no match. She could possibly use her mutant powers to teleport him to thirty-thousand feet and let him drop. That would just end up killing him and she wouldn’t be any closer to the answers she sought. “I apologize deeply for any slight I may have laid against you. Now that I think of it, if you chose to hunt mutants you wouldn’t prey upon young whelps but more mature targets. And even then, would you choose prey that suited the Hunt,” Amelia replied trying a little bit of flattery. “Even though I am a mutant, I would not be able to best you in combat. I wouldn’t even be a challenge for your skills; I may not even be worth the effort. I am not without my talents. I am a teleporter and could offer you my skills in that area. I doubt, however, that if there were anything that you desired, you would not be able to get it. With your hunter’s skills on top of your wealth and assets, there is little beyond your reach.” |
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| Kraven | Jan 23 2009, 01:11 AM Post #6 |
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Kraven smiled at the flattery, seeing it for what it was worth and being highly amused by it. He stretched, languid as a jungle cat, and rose, approaching the woman, in such a way as to let her know that he was not about to attack, but under no circumstances was he unprepared to defend himself. He stood before her, very close to her, close enough that it was clearly a challenge. Kraven was tall, Kraven was powerfully built, and Kraven was intimidating. But this woman clearly had dealings with men such as him before, and this was his test of her fortitude. She met his eyes though, and that made him smile. It wasn't a pretty smile, though his teeth were white and even, though his beard was perfectly sculpted, though his face was far less lined and weathered than a man of his age should be. "You're a clever woman, I imagine the man who has captured you doesn't appreciate just exactly what he has." He stepped to an elegant cabinet and opened it, revealing a bar fully stocked with only the best liquor. He poured the vodka generously into small cut crystal vodka glasses, an old world affectation, overly elaborate. He did not add ice, or tonic, or even any sort of garnish. Handing her one of the glasses, without giving her the opportunity to refuse, he said, "Stolichnaya Elit, the finest russian vodka known to man. There is some foolishness about a Scottish vodka, but I would slit my own throat before scarring my tongue with such a travesty." Kraven sipped his drink and looked her from beneath his dark brows, "I enjoy your flattery, woman. How much of it is idle words and how much is respect doesn't concern me. I am, like most men, easily fooled by the tricks of a quick woman's tongue." His words seemed self-depreciating, but his tone suggested he was merely playing the game. "How much are you willing to sacrifice for your people, my dear? There is more to my collection than skin and bone, after all." He crossed the room, to where there were several long silver bladed knives mounted on the wall. He took one down, his eyes caressing the weapon as lesser men caress the cows they rutted with. Kraven's voice took on a low and dangerous sound and he said, "There are cultures in the world who consume every portion of an animal they have killed, and use what cannot be eaten as tools, weaponry, building materials. They will eat the hearts of their enemies and drink their blood for the strength and wisdom they will gain from it. It sounds like superstition, but do not believe such ignorance. I have tasted the flesh of tigers and their cunning has been mine. I have bathed in the blood of elephants and their power has been mine. There are many ways for me to learn what it is you have to teach me, and most of them are not pretty ways and you, well, my dear, are too pretty for me to use them on you." Bring the silver blade diagonally across his own dark palm, Kraven drew his own blood, not even flinching, just hissing slightly through those large white teeth with a sound that was almost sexual. The red blood bubbled up in his palm, shining like rubies in the light of the candles that lit the room, and there was a sensation like a scent from his blood, not just the coppery smell that was natural, but a spice and exotic sprinkling of herbs. He looked up at her, his green eyes boring into hers, and he extended the knife hilt first, crimson still staining the blade. "A blood pledge," he said, "I shall learn your strengths, and you will have my knowledge. Are you willing to save your people by giving up a bit of yourself?" |
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| Amelia Voght | Jan 23 2009, 06:22 AM Post #7 |
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Kraven the Hunter finally rose from his seated position and stood before the Acolyte. He was right in her face almost menacingly. She had invaded his home and sanctum and he had the right to take offense. He smiled. It wasn’t warm. Kraven’s smile was more like a beast’s with dark pleasure. She had come here for answers and Amelia couldn’t back down. If she really wanted his help, the nurse would have to stand for all she was worth. At the comment about being captured she almost spoke. Amelia belonged to no one except herself. She worked for and with Magneto to better the world for mutants. It was her desire to end the oppression by humans upon her kind. But there was one she couldn’t escape it seemed. He had gotten under her skin. Would Amelia be in the position she was without having met that man so long ago in Tibet? He was like a sun with an undeniable gravity. That man had affected every mutant in one way or another. Kraven stalked over to a cabinet, a liquor cabinet, and poured two glasses of clear liquor. It was vodka. Amelia had taken her share of the liquid in her life. She accepted the drink because there was no need for Kraven to poison her, or anyone for that matter. He would face them at their strongest so that there would be no doubt to the victor if he won the challenge. The red head sipped the drink and it warmed her down her neck and flush up into her face. It was a fine spirit. She held the crystal glass and watched as the man gently handled the silver blades across the room from her. They glinted in the low light. Suddenly and sensually, he sliced into the flesh of his own hand. The sound that escaped between his teeth was feral and was birthed from the Id of the human psyche. The thin red line in his hand sparkled and he asked for a blood pledge between them. In exchange for a part of her, Kraven would give Amelia the information she was after. As a nurse, the sight of blood meant different things to Amelia than other people. Blood was rampant with disease. There were precautions to be taken, procedures to follow. The tiniest little slip could set upon you a plague that could never leave. For Amelia Voght the Nurse, blood meant danger. For Amelia Voght the Acolyte, blood could mean the survival of her people. Was she willing to give up a part of herself for the cause? Had Amelia come so far? At one point in her life, she believed that it was best for mutants to hide from humans. Their safety was in the shadows. Now, had the red head changed so much that she wanted to give mankind a reason to fear what they had pushed to the shadows? Amelia tentatively reached out and clutched the silver blade from his hand. The edge was fine and the handle was well-crafted. She looked at it and hesitated briefly. Quickly, the Acolyte dragged the knife across the palm of her opposite hand. It didn’t hurt so much as it stung. She drew her breath sharply. Have I changed so much? Am I that dedicated? She took Kraven’s large, masculine hand into her smaller, delicate one to mingle their blood. In her mind the nurse was outraged but it was the Acolyte that spoke, “I would die for my people.” |
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| Kraven | Jan 23 2009, 08:58 AM Post #8 |
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The woman hesitated for only the barest fraction of a second, and Kraven, who was not a mind reader, could have no idea that she was worried over the cleanliness of his blood. Silly woman. He could have told her that there was no disease in his blood. After all, he was nearly seventy years old, and yet had the physique and the strength of a man much much younger. His blood was not pure, no, there were chemicals and potions and mystically imbued properties that kept him healthy and whole. If his blood mixed with hers, perhaps she would feel some of that magic that came from the darkest jungles, the holiest of deserts, the highest mountains. Perhaps her sight would sharpen, her hearing focus, her heartbeat race, her strength grow. She might belong to him in ways that were undefinable because of this touch... ... but Kraven rather thought she would not. This woman who clasped his hand suddenly, overcoming whatever her concerns were and pledging her devotion to her race in no uncertain terms. Bold lioness, brave animal, fierce mutant. How incredibly powerful she was. As her blood mingled with his, he felt her strength, felt her courage. This was no mere woman, and he was surprised to feel older base emotions that he thought he had trained out of himself. Many men wanted this woman, he thought to himself, and no one quite had her. He felt a deep rooted desire for her, but he made no movement that showed it. That would be unseemly. "The men you seek run a hunting club," he told her, "They call themselves the Huntsmen and operate out of a mansion in New York. Seem to be quite a lot of those. Americans. You think your tiny lives matter. You have no idea that the opulence is all surface." He waved his free hand impatiently, at his fine penthouse, "These are the trappings of societal obligation, something I keep because I am told that I must in order to present the appearance of old world courtliness. I need only a knife, my potions, and my strength. Some day, I would like to see your inner beast set free. If ever you have that urge, I would be honored to be included in the blood letting." He pulled her by their linked hands to the bar, and removed a silken napkin from a small drawer, wrapping it around her hand. He tended to his own wound with expert movements, and then wrote something on a piece of paper. "This is the address that their missives come bearing. I am certain you'll find them there. I ask one last thing from you though, Woman," and there was a different note in his voice when he said the word this time, "I ask a trophy. These men brought you to me. God knows what other links they might cast back this direction. The Hunter does not like to be in the company of fools. When your rage is spent, send me some trinket, something to add to my collection. A finger, a bit of bone, it matters little what it is, deliver it yourself so that I can have the pleasure of looking upon you once more, and you'll give me something to beautiful and wild to look upon for only just a moment." |
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| Amelia Voght | Jan 24 2009, 07:38 PM Post #9 |
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Amelia had almost expected a bright flash of light or magical realization when she clasped hands with Kraven the Hunter. The only thing that happened was a slight tingling sensation that crept up her arm and made her light headed. Perhaps the drugs he had been smoking were able to transfer into Amelia through the blood. That made the thought of blood-borne pathogens flash through her mind but it was too late for that. Amelia was more dedicated to the cause than ever before. Not every mutant would fight their oppressors, so she and her comrades would have to pick up the slack. Keeping Amelia’s hand clasped within his Kraven explained about the men that she was looking for. These were not men that he thought very highly of. That was good, though the Acolyte and the Hunter probably had radically different reasons for their dislike of the Huntsmen. Amelia’s eyes suddenly widened when Kraven led her toward the bar. She pulled out a silk napkin. He wrapped the napkin around her hand gently and respectfully. The fabric was soft and there was no malice or ill intent in the way Kraven touched her. He let go of her hand and began to write the address on a piece of paper. Amelia took the address and considered Kraven’s request. “A trophy is fair enough, Kraven. And you can be sure I will deliver it myself. These men do not know the pain that is in store for them,” Amelia said. In fact, Amelia Voght was surprised at his request. It was insanely simple. She was expecting more. Amelia thought he would ask for some grand gesture or send her on a quest to retrieve some item. His flattery at asking her to deliver the trophy in person was blatant. It worked, however. The man was horrible and charming all at once. To provide the mighty Hunter with a trophy was well within her means. “Thank you, for your help Master Hunter. I offer my talents to you again, if you should ever need them.” Amelia gave a slight nod to Kraven. She squeezed her fists, feeling the silk napkin in her palm. The Acolyte activated her mutant ability and dissolved into the atmosphere in an instant. She silently swirled around the ceiling and punched through the veil between the material world and the astral plane. She covered the distance between the extravagant penthouse and Murderworld in an instant. She had plans to make. They were going to make the Huntsmen pay for what they had done. |
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| Amelia Voght | Mar 31 2009, 07:01 AM Post #10 |
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[continued from “From Predator to Prey”] Silent as a shadow Amelia Voght, Acolyte of Magneto, and her human cargo appeared in the living area of the penthouse of Kraven the Hunter. She had stood in this incredible apartment the night before asking for information regarding the humans that had hunted desperate mutants in the country. Kravenoff had yielded the information to her on the condition that the red head bring him a trophy of her exploits. She didn’t know what he had in mind. Perhaps a lock of hair, or an ear for some necklace as obscene as that sounded. Amelia thought she would appeal to the hunter within him by bringing back a live subject. She didn’t know how he would react to such a trinket, though. “Kraven?” she called out, thought he was probably aware of their presence before she spoke. “I’ve returned and I’ve held up my part of the deal. I have a trophy for you.” The man at her feet stirred slightly. A moan escaped his lips and he shifted from his face-down position. Amelia didn’t know how long he would be out but it probably wouldn’t be long. The red head gave a look around the apartment while trying to keep the largest part of her attention on her quarry. She didn’t need him jumping up and causing trouble. The room was impressive. She was still amazed by the sights around her. She wondered how Kraven had been able to amass this wealth and these items with so many stories in his life. There seemed to be enough history in this room for several lifetimes. For the briefest of moments, the thought flitted through her head. She wondered how her life could have been different. What would she have needed to do to achieve a life like this? There was no time for such questions. The past was the past and there was no undoing it now. The path was set before her. |
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| Kraven | Mar 31 2009, 08:21 AM Post #11 |
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Unlike the night before when Kraven had been in mediation, tonight Kravinoff had been at a gala, the opening of an exhibit of rare treasures at the museum, many of which his foundation had been instrumental in uncovering. There were no mentions of the Hunt today, no bloodshed save a few slaughtered rebels who had thought to relieve them of their bounty, though no one quite knew of that. Today, Kravinoff was a gentleman, and mingled with other tuxedoed gentlemen, all dripping with money, propriety and accessorized with mindless, unimportant eye candy with teased hairdos and enhanced physical attributes. Kravinoff's own escort for the evening had been young enough to be his granddaughter, though he looked merely like a father perhaps, if not for the way she continually pressed up against him, and fairly reeked with desires hardly daughterly in content. She was now sprawled in drunken after glow in his bed, tangled in silken sheets, wearing nothing but sweat, spent lust and bruises around her throat where his hands had tightened in the middle of the act, something that brought fear and no small amount of pleasure to her eyes. Filthy little beast she was which was a bit of a disappointment. He was seeking someone to corrupt, a rare flower whose petals were in need of coaxing open, not the half wilted droop of fading bloom. He heard his name, and slipped out of his rooms, and out of her grasping arms, not bothering to dress. This was a man who once stalked and killed a yeti in Tibet dressed in nothing but his own desire to see if it could be done. His body was perfect, and considering he was nearly seventy years old, he was right to be proud of it. Amelia Voght had returned, a hunter herself, triumphant, the cowering, semi-conscious man at her feet proof of her strength. This stirred the deeper parts of himself far more than the coquette he had left snoring slightly through collagen plumped lips and a nose that she had not been born with. If only he could take this lioness to be the queen to his king. Oh, that would be a great conquer. Oh, the blood they would draw together, the hunts they would embark upon. "You were successful," Kraven said, casually, as if he often greeted intruders bearing hostages while he was as naked as the day he was born. "Did it satisfy you? Does your heart beat a little more? Your blood pump a little faster?" He approached her his shark's tooth grin and shark's black eyes snapping for her to admit something undefinable. Was she like him more than she knew? Had life ceased to be something treasured and instead just swirled in a plume of smoke into something mystical and bloody? |
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| Amelia Voght | Apr 2 2009, 05:48 AM Post #12 |
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Amelia’s breath caught in her throat when Sergei Kravenoff appeared from the dark recesses of his apartment. He arrived stark naked and smelled heavily of sweat and musk associated with a night of passion. His masculine form was chiseled from stone. He was a perfect specimen in all aspects. She had affirmed before that he was not some pretty boy. He was a handsome man, virile and strong. His muscles and sinew knotted like ropes beneath his skin. He stalked forward with the grace of a jungle feline, proud, strong and unashamed. No doubt his body was an asset and his strongest weapon when he hunted. Amelia felt a twinge of desire spark within her. Her cheeks grew warm and she struggled to suppress any of those base urges that bubbled up. The Hunter asked if she had been satisfied with her vengeance. She was still riding the adrenaline rush from the massacre earlier. “In a way, yes,” she replied. “I’ve rarely felt like this. I felt so powerful, Kraven. I had the power to reduce these men into animals, much like they did to those mutants. I felt…primal.” The Acolyte had killed before but never in a manner like this. She was still filled with excitement and righteous fury to be disgusted with herself. But it was true, she had felt so powerful. “I relented to those urges and desires. It was like some beast had taken over through my fury. Ironic, that in taking the lives of those men that I never felt so alive. Our deeds tonight, though, were a pittance in balancing the scales.” The man at her feet groaned and pushed himself up to his elbows. “Where am I?” he asked groggily. “You’re in your place of judgment, human. Your life is my payment to the true Hunter,” Amelia Voght said coldly. |
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| Kraven | Apr 2 2009, 07:17 AM Post #13 |
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She didn't shy away, didn't avert her eyes, didn't stammer or stutter like so many women when confronted with a man's form... women in so called civilized countries at least. But he did smell the slight scent of her arousal. He was an old man, and he had every intention on living until he had decided on his final hunt. He would die by no hand but his own, no malady, no frailty. Kraven was male, Amelia was female. They were both in prime condition, they were both alpha predators. It would be against nature if she did not, in her deepest instincts, find herself drawn to him, Every creature with a womb sought the strongest genes for their offspring. She was a powerful mutant, he was the peek of human possibility, what a marvel of a child they would produce. But, this was not what she was here for and Kraven would have been a fool to attempt to force himself on her, even if she hadn't been a teleporter of whatever sort she was. To resort to common animalistic rutting, to force himself upon her like a street thug in a back alley, would be like spreading royal almas caviar on a saltine cracker. Another day, this woman would come to him in her own volition and he would have every inch of her beneath his tongue, his teeth, his hands, his sex, his flesh and bone and meat and blood. Yes, that might just be the conquest to end all conquests. She admitted giving into her primal nature, the killing of these lower beings, these little prey animals who thought themselves predator quickening her blood, and he wondered how she would feel when the lust wore off. Before he took her, when the seduction was done, he would have her hunt with him, and while the bloom of bringing death was still in her cheeks, that was when he would experience what only a woman could give. Our deeds tonight, though, were a pittance in balancing the scales.” she said, at the end, a slight reluctance in her tone perhaps? "It is never about the revenge, Huntress," he said, giving her the only title he could give her, giving her the title only she was worthy to hold, "It is about maintaining the food chain. These jackals forgot they were scavengers and sank their teeth in the throats of your weak. It is your place as an alpha member of the pack to protect them. That is why your blood boils, tonight." The pretend hunter stirred and the woman addressed him with contempt, consigning his life into Kraven's hands. The boy looked into the face of his death and whimpered, the sudden acrid stench of urine stung Kraven's nostrils. The boy had soiled himself. "That rug cost more than your last years salary, Little Beast," Kraven said, his voice still rich and calm, "Perhaps I'll have your hide to replace it." He glanced up at Amelia. "Your oath is filled, and your debt is paid. You've left me a worthy trophy. Do you wish to see its display, or have you had enough of blood for the night?" |
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| Amelia Voght | Apr 4 2009, 07:14 PM Post #14 |
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Amela felt as if a fever had swept over her. The deeds they had performed at the country club had stirred within her something that she hadn’t really known was there. She was afraid something like that would happen. She had kept to her so called morals for so long and then her fury had brought her over the precipice to fall into the abyss. The Hunter’s words made her aware of it. She had gone to seek revenge for the mutants that had died at the Huntsmen’s hands. Those cowards took the weakest mutants they could find and hoped to bait in the bigger game. During the massacre Amelia relished their extermination. She hadn’t been like that before but it was she a liar to say that she hadn’t expected it? Amelia Voght was part of a mutant terrorist cell fighting for mutant supremacy. Her original goal was to blitzkrieg the humans into submission by breaking their spirit. In the long run it would save lives. She had pitied the humans once before. They were going the way of the dodo but just didn’t know it. Other members of the Brotherhood had much stronger resentment, even hatred for Homo sapiens. Was it too farfetched to think that their attitude would leech off onto her? A person is known by the company they keep, after all. The stench of filth drifted up to Amelia’s nose and she realized that her captive had ruined his clothes. She looked down at the man with contempt. Would she be any different in his position? It was easy to look down on him then but what if the tables were turned and she was a normal human being? Unfortunately, that wasn’t he case. “I’ll stay,” Amelia replied to Kraven. “I want to see all of them wiped out.” Amelia had said ‘them.’ She just wasn’t sure who she meant. In her adrenaline fueled it wasn’t clear if Amelia had meant the Huntsmen or mankind in general. |
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| Kraven | Apr 4 2009, 10:14 PM Post #15 |
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Drug Induced Animalistic Abilities
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“I’ll stay,” Amelia replied to Kraven. “I want to see all of them wiped out.” Kraven looked at her and smiled as coldly and cruelly as only the Hunter could. There was no malice in the Hunt, there was no evil. There was only the unending quest to be master. One could not live as prey, one could not exist as anything less than predator. Kraven was no fool. He was neanderthal and his woman in front of him was cro magnon. His people were on their way out, crushed beneath unfeeling evolution, and he was not ignorant of that fact. But when he died, it would not be because he had not lived. He went to the door and closed it, locking it behind them, before he returned to the wall and selected several instruments, drugs and potions, a dart to administer them, and a 'noble's knife.' From the thick tangled rain forests of Yoruba land. The hand polished elegantly curved 10 inch blade looked as if it had never been used, though oh yes, it had spilled blood. The African Wild Olive wood handle with its intricate knot work and strengthening lines was darkened with old life and new anticipations. The boy began to weep, and Kraven bent before him, cupping his chin in a none-too-gentle grasp. "You wanted to be a lion, don't cower like a deer." He jabbed the boy in the throat with a dart steeped in something that would paralyze him, but keep him alive and alert. "Normally, Huntress, I would not allow anyone to see me work. You've earned this right. Out of respect for you, I let you choose. Do I flay the skin off his back and leave him alive to suffer for his sins, or do I slit his throat and we feed his flesh to my hounds?" He turned the knife in his hand, offering the hilt to her, "Or do you wish to make your mark, draw the first blood?" |
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8:14 AM Jul 11