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| King of the Jungle; Kraven | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 18 2009, 09:39 PM (557 Views) | |
| Amelia Voght | Apr 5 2009, 03:20 AM Post #16 |
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Amelia watched as Kraven went to the door and locked them in. He was ensuring that they wouldn’t be interrupted. It was foolish to think that he was locking the man in to keep him from escaping. Kravenoff didn’t want his consort for the night to run in and see the heinous deed take place. He stalked around the room gathering different tools and implements to finish the job. He took a dart and knife from the display on the wall. They were both ornately decorated and intricate in design. He made his way through the apartment so unashamed of his naked form. Amelia couldn’t help but watch the muscle ripple under his skin as he moved. He returned and took the crying man’s chin roughly in his hand. Sergei wasn’t toying with his prey. He was being honest and truthful. There was no escaping. That was what he was impressing upon the Huntsman. He wasn’t going to live this room alive. He might not even last the next ten minutes. Then Amelia was given the choice of how the man should meet his end. The Acolyte didn’t know, really. She’d never done either of those things that Kraven had mentioned, nor had she witnessed them though they sounded excruciating either way. “No, Kraven. This trophy is for you. I’ve had my Hunt for tonight. This man is your quarry. I couldn’t leave my mark as skillful or as gracefully as you,” Amelia replied. “Though, I think he should suffer. His brethren paid their debts rather quickly, if you understand my meaning.” |
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| Kraven | Apr 5 2009, 04:38 AM Post #17 |
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Drug Induced Animalistic Abilities
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The boy fell stiffly and silently to the ground, and Kraven looked Amelia in the eye, a challenge? One she met, bowing out of doing the deed herself, but not in a cowardly fashion. She wanted her prey to hurt, and she wanted to watch every moment... she was merely offering him the respect of demonstrating his great skill. He turned the knife again so that he clasped its hilt and said, "Then suffer he shall, my gift to you, Huntress, a mutual exchange of services, of respects. This binds us, you and I in a sacred oath of blood, and death. In this moment, we are his world, his every thought, his heartbeat, his blood in his veins." Kraven turned to the potions he had fetched and downed the contents of one of the vials, mystical potions mingling within him, chemical cocktails granting him powers and strengths that no other could claim. Moving suddenly faster than he had before, he ripped one of the displays of weaponry off the wall, and lifted the boy with one hand, bending the hooks and brackets with powers that his drugs gave him, mounting the boy on the wall like a trophy in a museum... or animal ready for butchering. Using his knife, he slashed open his shirt, revealing his bare chest. He sliced from left shoulder to right hip straight enough to look almost ruled. He sliced perfectly measured so that it only reached to muscle, not the innards. He was not going to kill him yet. Blood pooled out onto the already ruined carpet, blood flow that doubled as he made an opposite mark right shoulder to left hip, opening the chest in an X shape. Ironic perhaps. The boy's eyes were about to bulge out of their sockets, filled with fear and pain and helplessness. Kraven, his unclad skin, dark as leather, strong as leather, but far more supple, splattered with red, turned to Amelia and said, simply, "Stand back, I wouldn't want to send you home a vision of carnage." And, as soon as she decided if she would comply or if she would welcome the fading warmth of the fading life, he continued his work, showing the boy the fang, the claw, the savagery of the Hunter. The Hunter knew no mercy. |
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| Amelia Voght | Apr 7 2009, 06:55 AM Post #18 |
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Amelia was started at the swiftness of Kraven’s movements. He was a normal human, as far as that term applied. He was not a mutant yet he was also something beyond human. Perhaps it was the mystic smoke he inhaled or the clandestine shamanistic drugs he took but his prowess was preternatural. He moved from the center of the room where she and the human prey were located. Kravenoff stalked toward his wall of weapons and trophies and retrieved a handful of implements. With a fluid grace he lifted the boy up, with one hand, and set him upon the wall. Hooks and barbs dug into his flesh causing the prey to grimace in pain. He was like a butterfly mounted on pins, totally helpless. Only butterflies weren’t subjected to these grisly acts. The Hunter slashed open the man’s shirt to expose his chest. The cloth hung in tatters. Kraven’s blade bit into flesh, not too deeply, enough to draw blood and he began to skin the man alive. Blood poured from the incised flesh and dribbled over his belt and trousers. Crimson drops pattered almost silently onto the extravagant carpet. A pool formed beneath him. The jackal was paralyzed, lucky for his sake, for this process, as Kraven sliced and ‘X’ into his skin. The out layer of flesh hung in a flap on either side exposing the muscle underneath. During her time as a nurse, Amelia Voght had seen bodies opened up but she had never witnessed a skinning, a flaying. It was as gruesome as it was captivating to see the master Hunter at work. The boy still lived. “Stand back, I wouldn't want to send you home a vision of carnage," Kraven suggested. She knew what this meant. As long as the heart beat there would be force enough to spray the life’s blood across the room. The Acolyte stepped to a presumably safe distance. It was horror and artwork at the same time. She was witnessing a le grand guignol first hand. As much as she was terrified, Amelia couldn’t turn away. The adrenaline was ebbing away but she was transfixed as much by Kraven’s prowess as the tableau itself. “Oh,” was all she could muster to say as Kraven set upon the grim venture that she had chosen to watch. |
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| Kraven | Apr 7 2009, 08:44 AM Post #19 |
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Drug Induced Animalistic Abilities
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Kraven was no drug addict, no common junkie who wanted his potions and poisons for the mental high, the release of control. The blood of tigers, the venom of vipers, the sting of spiders, the power of gods on his tongue, fire in his belly, in his breast, in his loins... the knife became his claws and his fangs, the gore spilling from the still living thing before him. His work took him into the spirit places. He was Abiku, the demon of the Yoruba people, who ate the flesh of the unworthy. He spoke with Supay the Inca God of Death. He was Ochossi, he was Arvins, he was Ullr, he was Herne... He was the hunt, he was the hunter, he was the blade, he was the blood, he was the flesh, he was the bone. He was Kraven, and Sergei Kravinoff, a disposed noble from a disgraced family, a celebrity, a philanthropist, a lover, a politico... Sergei was nothing, he was lost to Kraven, in the way that the tribesmen were when they gave themselves to the fire in orgiastic dance, in the way priests of old surrendered to the voices of their Gods as they ripped beating hearts from the chests of their sacrifices, in the way that the wolf knew only the stench of his prey's fear as he pursued the terrified jack rabbit through the snow... What the woman did, he didn't know, wasn't even aware of her in the room, only knew what he lived for, what he breathed for, why he had survived so very long in this world that had thrown wars, and dangers and deaths at him to try and drive him mad... was he mad already? No, he was never as sane as he was in these moments, when he knew the primal lusts. How long it took, he didn't know, how long he was beneath the trance of the hunt... he just knew when it was over and the blood was cooling, thick and tacky beneath his feet. Done with his work, he turned from what was left of the would be hunter, and though he was stained with the boy's life, he casually went to the bar and poured them both a drink. "Are you vindicated, Huntress?" he asked as he shot back his drink, "Are your lost children avenged?" |
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| Amelia Voght | Apr 7 2009, 08:24 PM Post #20 |
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JP BETWEEN KRAVEN AND AMELIA The Acolyte was transfixed by the scene before her. The Hunter was the master of his craft. His moves were calculated and precise. Each flick of the wrist had a purpose, not an ounce of energy was wasted. When the task was finished the boy was dead. The pile of gore beneath him ruined the already soiled carpet. Amelia had never witness something like this before. Kraven casually walked to the bar and after pouring himself a drink he asked if she felt the slain mutants were vindicated. The name Huntress sounded strange to her ears. Was that what she was? “Yes, the mutants that died at their hands have been avenged,” she said as she walked nearer and then with a glance to the body added. “He suffered as much, if not more than they did. The scales are balanced. Kraven placed the drink in her hands, his fingers touching hers for just a moment too long. He'd wiped the blood off so that her skin was not stained with gore, but beneath the manicured nails, the red had collected. Kraven met her eyes, searching for any hint of fear or shame. "You mutants are the rising evolutionary giants. Your people are better than mine. But I am the best of humanity, the strongest, the fastest, and the most willing to do what it takes to survive. For this moment, we are equals. I have never considered a woman so before. They are usually weak and mewling things. I have a suspicion that you will haunt my sleep for a long time." He smiled, cracking the drying blood on his cheek, "They will be most pleasant dreams." Despite the blood encrusted upon Kraven, he was still a handsome man. He was quite the charmer as well. He was telling her that she was the greatest, strongest woman he had met. Certainly there were other more appropriate for that mantle than lowly Amelia Voght. Amelia took a drink of the strong liquor and set the glass aside. “Evolution is just forward motion. You can’t fight progress, after all. Though I think you’ve still got a lot of fight left in you Kraven the Hunter,” she said. “I’m glad to have had this experience. If you have need of me in the future, I’m certain a man of your expertise can find me. But first…” Amelia leant forward and pressed her lips against the Hunter’s. She was riding the swell of emotions and chemicals from earlier in the night. That night, she was a huntress. The kiss was unexpected because of who she was, but not because of who he was. Women these days seemed to huddle around fragile dainty boys with no hair on their chests, and paint around their eyes. Few would admit they wanted the masculinity of the old world men like Kraven. She kissed well, beyond well, making the primped and posed lovemaking of the little tart sleeping in his bed seem like a puff of air. His blood was high and his heart was pounding from drugs, from the kill, from all those primal instincts that he of all men embraced. He wanted this woman more than he was able to articulate. But where Kraven succeeded and little pack animals like the life he had taken tonight failed, was that he had his reason about him, even in the passion of the moment. He returned her kiss in courtly, though clearly skilled fashion, conveying his interest without taking liberties. When they parted, there was a smear of blood on her cheek like war paint, and he left it there, marking her a goddess of the hunt. "I will find you, Amelia Voght," he said, using her name for the first time, to prove that he had always known it. "Or you will find me. A predator always knows when another predator is in his territory." In returning the Acolyte’s kiss, Kraven was respectful. He could have wrapped his powerful arms around her and squeezed her, part of Amelia wanted that. Part of her wanted to feel his arms and his chest pressed against her. “Well then Kraven, until we meet again,” she replied with a hint of a smile. Amelia activated her powers and began to fade away into the air. Eventually, the ghost woman had gone leaving the hunter alone in his domain. Kraven finished his drink, before he retired to shower the blood away. He would go into his rooms, ravish his playdate to expend the last of his lusts and longings, and then shoo her home so that he could dispose of the trash in his trophy room. Then, he would dream of the woman who had visited him, half convinced she was the goddess she seemed to be. Yes, he'd meet her again. After all, the chase was the best part of the hunt. The End |
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8:14 AM Jul 11