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    She is not who she was and not who she wished to be. Wishes are for the real though and she is anything but real. No real thing could have their throat opened up by metal claws and be buried and wept over. No real thing could be hauled from that dark place by spindly limbs that worked on her body as if she were no more then an object, an experiment.

    So she had concluded her body, her scars, her fleeting thoughts and all just... weren't real. In her dimly golden eyes- absolutely nothing was real.

    She had moved from dark place to dark place. The cut on her neck, now a ragged and large scar, had promised her an eternal rest but it had not delivered- she would get her vengeance yet for that dastardly lie. But not now, not now. The creature that had spun her from death wanted things from her. It wanted her to be her, essentially. And right now, the her it was referencing was the kind that was going to maniacally grin and slash throats just as hers had been once upon a dream.

    Maybe once the idea that she wanted to laugh at murder would've sickened her. She would've denied it and buried it and tried to hide it and snarled at it, keeping it locked in chains at the very back of her mind. But it wasn't real anymore- nothing was. That was the whole point of this show. She sat in the dark abyss that was her mind and watched the show go on- reminding herself "It's not real." Witness to horrors that once would've sparked tragedy only now made a soulless grin appear on her wicked maw. Wicked, she whispered. It was one of the few things she could actually remember from the jumbled mess of everything. That and those metal claws, inching towards her neck. Someone had murdered her, someone had murdered whoever she'd been. But she was no longer that person. Whoever the hell that'd been they died as soon as those claws made contact with her skin.

    She could still feel it. Pain and then relief. It was done- it was almost as if she'd wanted to be murdered.

    An echo of something she failed to recognise pounded in her fake mind. That life was not real just as this one was. And it made her smile in a grossly sardonic way. She couldn't feel anything but this powerful and overwhelming urge to do something wicked. Constantly on the cusp of hurting and slaughtering and ruining lives.... she barely held onto the cliffs edge and why shouldn't she let go? She didn't care about the fake people that lived here with their fake little lives. She really, honestly, truly didn't.

    The former Monarch, fallen from her throne born of determination and false confidence, had been dead for a long time. Her heart had been motionless as had the rest of her body whilst her soul flew in black limbo, unfeeling and unseeing. Her corpse had been on the brink of decaying when the spider had dug her out and meddled around in her brain and in her body with his sharp instruments. Brought her back to a life that she wouldn't remember, brought her back to use her. He had altered her and the feline couldn't even speak properly anymore. If she tried, her sentences were jumbled and incoherent. More often then not, she would be mumbling 'wicked' over and over like a demented old thing. That was what he'd reduced her to, that was the limit her resurrected soul could reach. Yes, he'd managed to resuscitate her, somehow, but she was not the same at all. Even her body had changed. The fur was much longer then it'd been before and more coarse and tousled. Her golden eyes no longer glowed. She had an ugly scar that ran across her neck and took all the attention away from her missing leg and crooked jaw. The slight muscle in her legs remained but her shoulder blades poked through the mass of fur and she walked around as if she were constantly on a hunt, belly grazing the ground.

    She, the Frankenstein of this world, had not yet been revealed to the Exilers or to anyone really, other then the giant spider, of course. He'd worked on her day and night. She wasn't perfected- no- she was faulty, extremely unstable and to put it lightly: unsafe. Putting her on the Exiler grounds could result in serious damage to either herself or the Exilers. But the creature she'd come to know as the one who dragged her from rest was going to use her mental instability. She would be his attack dog. For the months he'd kept her chained in the underground, she had been trained to let it all go under the word "jawlock". He'd seen what she did when the word was spoken. She went rapid, absolutely mad. As if she were a zombie with fresh meat placed right out in front of her. He made her associate the word with all bad feelings she felt but didn't quite know. Rage, confusion, fear, sadness. It all festered in that word. And when she heard it, it was as though her world was cleaved in two again and everything just came crumbling down on top of her muscular back and she lunged. It didn't matter if the unfortunate thing in front of her was a child, an elderly, a big motherfucking dragon- she would attack, her body became fire and her eyes became dead. It was when the word was spoken that the manic side of this new her came out to play and it enjoyed every single hurting moment.

    Humiliation- she didn't know it. Not even when Abathur took her outside for the first time since her death and rebirth, outside where- to her- millions of people were. The bright light hit her like a truck as they approached the tunnels exit. She stopped walking forwards abruptly but Abathur yanked- hard- on the chains. She made no noise or complaint, just a feral grunt and an obedient walk forwards. The dark was all she'd known. The light merely frightened her though she didn't realise it. The tabby took one step on normal ground and looked, squinting into the harsh light, ears pinned back. Things walked around- people that were not Abathur. Immediately she felt an urge- not to escape and be free and go back to the family she didn't know she ever had- but to kill every single creature with a pulse. She pulled slightly against the collar chain. Quite clearly Abathur felt the resistance and pulled her back. She obeyed- not because she was afraid of the spider but because she viewed him as some sort of God. He'd made her, this fake spider. He made her and because of that there was no way she could ever leave him or hurt him or anything of the sort. Now, to make it quite clear, she didn't know what a God was but she felt the definition of the word and related it to him. He, the darkness and the word 'wicked' was her home now, even if it was fake.

    People were staring at her, this feral feline that was once a 'mighty leader' who was now reduced to nothing more then a salivating and dead puppet. She didn't react to their stares, didn't really notice them if anything. She sniffed the air, an agitated huff leaving her agape mouth. She wanted to be set free to hunt. But she knew these chains around her would not let her do that and so she put all her effort into biting the chains, gnawing at the metal with her yellow teeth. It didn't work of course and she was left growling and snapping her teeth against the cold air. "Want hunt." She forced out, her damaged brain trying to voice what she wanted from this fake world. It certainly didn't work as well as it used to for Littlesoldier could only manage a word at a time, if that. She grabbed the chain with her mouth and stared up at Abathur, brow muscles twisting in frustration. "Off."

    People were talking loudly. She didn't understand what they were saying but she didn't care that their voices all melded into one confusing mess. She just looked off into the distance until they'd shut up and her dark eyes went back to them. "Eat you." She said, not realising what kind of feelings these words might produce; fear, anger, shock. She just watched them, almost as if she was expecting them to be complacent and allow her to dig into their flesh with her dancing claws. The thought made her paws twitch, drool falling from the broken side of her mouth. It's fake, it's fake, don't care. She couldn't care. Littlesoldier flexed her metal claws and gave a lowly growl at the crowds, stub tail twitching to and fro, golden eyes staring right at their necks. She slowly swept her scarred mouth with her tongue and repeated her words from before. "EAT you!" Littlesoldier shouted, startling some. But nothing happened. The chain didn't come off and she wasn't let free to do what her body urged. The feline shook her head side to side, then up and down and bit hard on her lips. It was quite clear she'd done it multiple times before as the lips were raggedy split things. But it didn't hurt her or put her off. She continued to bite her own lips and stare at their throats.

    Maze, escape, run, run, run, escape, light, dark everywhere, go, go, go, dirt, swallow me whole, fire, whispers, scream,



    "Wicked, wicked, wicked." The feline mumbled, scratching at the dirt beneath her paws. "Wicked wants eat."




    Hezeluxael Vivanna Ebonlocke + demonic tiger + DO NOT CALL HER HEZELUXAEL + HEAD OF WARFARE +  tags  + played by reiko

  • //jesus that was a lot of tracks

    It had certainly been a while.

    Many nights spent awake, harvesting people's organs, their limbs, trying to perform the greatest work any doctor could - he was trying to bring someone back to life. It was probably impossible, he knew that. Why wouldn't it be? What sort of powers could physically allow someone to bring someone back to life? Even if there were a lot of people that frequently revived, it was because their essence remained, because they still had some ounce of their consciousness that existed. Some part of them remained in the mortal coil, even if their body was failing. With Littlestar, though, she was mostly gone - there was only a little bit of the green, almost gelatinous substance remaining of her. There was so much he had to do, finding the bits of her that could remain, mixing in other essences but keeping hers the dominant one, just doing his best to revive someone. It took so long, so many hours, so much stress, so much wasted paper, ink, whiteboards, a whole room kept to himself filled to the brim with essences and organs and tools and limbs and flesh and notes and everything, literally everything he had and could possibly had. He still had to juggle his job along with it, as well - working however long at a job, using his breaks to come to the basement and tinker a little more, because Littlestar wasn't a person to him anymore. He was now a mechanic, the mechanic of life, and he was trying to fix a machine that was, to anyone else, fundamentally broken. He was trying to go beyond what the average mechanic was capable of - he was going to become the greatest mechanic ever. And you know, it paid off. Even with his constant marathons, taking days off not to go on vacation but to work on his little side project, having to use some of his time to abduct other people and have a bit of fun with them, to tinker with other people's essences, even with all the work he put into this and all the stress and anxieties and fears of failure, he persevered, and it worked. He did it. Even if it wasn't perfect, even if her personality was mostly erased, he had brought someone back from the grave, and to him, that was the greatest victory he had ever made in his life. Besides the figuring out his emotions, besides coming to the Exiles, besides everything else he had done, it was this that truly made him feel such a deep pride for himself, one indicated by his eyes that were a shade of gold, working perfectly against the black of his carapace.

    He had to share this with everyone, of course. He had dropped little mentions of him working on a project, or doing something important, or saying that there was something involving Littlestar he needed to do, so it would probably be a surprise, and boy he couldn't wait for everyone's reactions. He had done the impossible, basically. He was damn sure nobody had brought someone back from complete death before, from brain death. So maybe, all things considered, even outside of the Renegades, he was the best doctor ever, even if the daughter of his old friends back then hadn't signed up to be his patient on her own. She was talking, he realized faintly, turning two of his eyes to look down at her. "No. Chain remains. Subject will eat later," he said, voice noticeably missing the calming sensation it usually had, leaving his vocals still deep but more aggressive, more arrogant, more speaking down to someone than speaking to them - like Littlestar was a toddler he had a particular distaste for. Oh, even worse, she was threatening the other Renegades - this was certainly not good. He would have to tinker around in her brain just a little bit more, make her more... suitable for clan life. At least reduce the amount of violence she wished to inflict on people in the Renegades down to, say, Assassin's level - rude, yes, but not enough to be assaulted for her words. When she snapped at the others, he gave a quick tug of her chain towards himself, making sure they were out of her range. "Renegades!" He called out, just to alert those that weren't already paying attention to the giant spider. "Want to introduce subject to world again,"

    There was a peculiar sense of glee in his voice, but for how flat it usually was, one could easily disregard it as being an auditory hallucination.

    tags - speech


    Her body felt meddled with but, again, she didn't understand or recognize the feeling. Her mind didn't rest on the fact her limbs ached and she could barely manage a sentence. She just followed her urges and instincts. It was almost as if Abathur had turned her into a feral. She could still talk, if barely, but she no longer had a proper thinking structure. She acted on instinct and all of the time, that instinct was to hurt. The only creature she would not attack was Abathur but that was a completely different thing. Abathur said "No" to her queiries and although the rest she barely understood (her mind wandered off from things that 'bored' her quickly) and she gave the big goliath a little snarl. She didn't recognize his tone of voice, the talking-down tone, because her eyes had already move elsewhere. "Eat. Off." She muttered half growled, leaning against the chain towards the inquistive Renegades.

    He was calling them around because many more came forwards. More flesh, more food, more fun for her.

    "Yes." Littlesoldier said. "Me." The tabby opened up her mouth and flashed them all her teeth. Escape, maze, run, dirt, darkness, light, leaving, panic, fire. The fire in her mind was a tiny ember. Fire. Hurt, burn. Run, run.

    Littlesoldier turned around, growling in displeasure when she continually pressed against the chain but it was to no avail. The female looked at the surrounding. It had literally been months since she'd last seen light and yet she remained impassive and careless to it all, bored (though she didn't know what being bored was) out of her mind with the lack of a good murder. "Wicked, wicked." She mumbled, turning back to the crowd and clenching her jaw. They all peered at her. "Eyes." Littlesoldier stretched her claws at them. "Me."

  • "Holy shit abs, when you mentioned a project, you really fuckin went with it" a crass voice spoke up, the bone white and black tar streaked figure of the utahraptor stepping up into the area - head cocked and watching the chained former leader, ho boy indeed.

    red-gold eyes watched the mindless - seemingly so - beast attempting to get away from its chain, the pale bone form of the utahraptor carefully circling the area with neat concise steps of the once extinct predators grace "well fuckin congrats, you revived the dead - that's quite the feat" literally reviving the dead was quite something - the only 'coming back from the dead' things she'd seen before were reincarnates or possessions really.

    "ya gonna release her on her ol friends?" she asked, that'd be some irony there for sure - releasing ol littlebrat on her once beloved clan would sure be something to watch unfold, particularily all those old attempts by her once comrades to likely pull some 'get through to her with the power of love and friendship' bullshit they all loved so much.



    @ Luciferr | Tags | Plot | Renegades Ex-Head of War | Mutant Tiger or Utahraptor | adopted by Alicibiades

  • Raising the dead is something Schenectady has only heard in fairy tales, fabricated stories and the rambling of village elders whose minds aren't in the right places. She's deemed it as fiction, a silly concept that while would be interesting to see come to light, is ever fake - or so she had thought. Upon approaching the scene the sickly scent of the previously deceased hits her, flat nose twitching with distaste. What is this? She knows, she's been told of all the horrid, savage things these animals can do, what they're capable of, but this is the first she's seeing of it and while utterly horrified, she admits she is also utterly intrigued. There's nothing for her to say, other than take a seat among her clanmates quietly, hazel eyes blown wide, fixated on Littlesoldier. Eyes turned downward with a sad expression, seeing the female is not quite there but just a zombie speaking mindlessly, no real soul to it, an empty husk being played like a puppet, and she turns her own face away for just a second, unsure what to do, what to say, if her input was even really needed. Schenectady looks back, and Littlesoldier is pitiful, begging for food, hardly a sentient creature like the rest of them but dumbed down like prey. It's awful. Schenectady feels tears spring to her eyes, hoping by some graces of God that never happens to her - her attention is caught by Abathur, the spider controlling the zombie, and she whimpers silently, fearfully, immediately putting together that he's behind this. He had given her a strange sense of calm when she'd first been approached by the arthropod, as though he had reached his own fingers into her mind and stolen her fear before it could even settle, but now there is nothing like that to keep it away. She stays put, scared but curious, conflict waging a war in her own head as she watches this arguably inhumane display.


  •  HUB ✦ ✧ ✦ —  Madscience was a man that had tampered with countless things in his many lifetimes, he had meddled with things as large as universes and as microscopic as an atom. Ah, he remembered when he himself found an incredibly lust to unlock the key to immortality and revival, he remembered when he too was fascinated to unlock the keys to life itself but to his horror past experiments left him with grave consequences which left him with no other choice but destroy all of his completed works to shield the world from it's atrocious effects. Life as the universe knew it to be could very well be manipulated, extended, reversed, elongated, but he had discovered it was ill to do so, not for ethical reasons because that never stopped him before, but because of a cocktail of difficult complexities that he could possibly write a whole thesis about.

    At first, the enormous brute did not care at all for whatever Abathur had discovered - he loved the oversized arachnid to death but sometimes the Warden was in no mood to acknowledge someone else's successions. Arrogant? Possibly, but what else was someone going to expect from the multidisciplinary scientist. Initially he was unfazed, unstirred, but as he heard chatter rise about the dead and revival like a flash the theropod jumped up and came charging to the scene with a sudden agitation to the many muscles of his core.

    "You what?" He'd practically roar, eyes peering down into the many one's of Abathur before finally his gaze settled upon Littlesoldier and his eyes would widen, steps taking him backwards as he allowed the site of the woman to settle in his brain.

    His sister. His sister. The only true family that remained upon this world that shared his blood, although she had no knowledge of his very existence or their relations he was proud to share genetics with the monarch. To see her reduced to what little... Thing she was would be a crime among man, she was meant to be dead, she wasn't meant to be here and it was obvious.

    "Fucking idiot - she's retarded, brain damaged, the dead belong dead!" The dinosaur would snap over to his Commander, an unusual sort of defensiveness reaching his heart the he would mentally struggle to try and reduce it's growing presence into nothingness. She was not family be heart, only by blood.

    She would not be allowed to matter to him.

    "Her brain's probably still rotting away under that skull. Who knows how she can control her powers like this. She belongs dead, Abs."

    //IC opinions


    Renegades Warden (Leader) | He/him | 1.5 Years | Dinosaur Hybrid | Roleplayed by: Number 1

  • oh yeah she'd forgotten that detail, mads was sibling to this gal right? She canted her head in sympathy - yeah that did seem rather morbid in eventuality - Eternal had had a sibling once but she'd been long gone for an age now.

    She called over to mads "hey maybe it could work like a reincarnate? Maybe you could bring er back boss man?" she offered, with a shrug - eh, she wasn't sure what they could do to be honest considering a bather had already done it.



    @ Luciferr | Tags | Plot | Renegades Ex-Head of War | Mutant Tiger or Utahraptor | adopted by Alicibiades

  • "Yet, this is not reincarnation. Reincarnation is being dead and coming back to life in a new body. Not one that had been in the ground slowly succumbing to the elements." She had met Littlestar once, a long time ago but she had not really interacted with her. The female had died when she was gone and off doing the things she wanted to do with her life currently after.....things. Her bulk moved forward then, wings pressed against her side as the large beast examined the for lack of better terms, zombie, before her. She was a walking corpse, not really brought back to life in her eyes. As Mads had put it she as brain dead, something that had the slightest of conscious thought but all twisted and useless. Poor thing. There was a reason why creatures shouldn't play with the dead and twist things to what they wanted it to be. Her eye held pity but she wondered if she could be improved upon, taught things and if so would that make her become better than what she was now? The dragoness didn't know and she had no mind to really think about it in so many terms so she didn't and instead looked to Abathur, tilting her large cranium to the side and wondering what the mad spider had to say back to the leader.




  • Eternalwar was first, approaching after Littlesoldier had muttered some more of her incoherent ramblings, words even he couldn't hope to understand - or perhaps didn't want to. He would take her out to get food later. For now, though, he would have to respond to everyone who approached, even if only three out of the four spoke their mind. "Yes." Was his only word to Eternal, keeping it simple. He had plans, and if those plans didn't work, he would have to fix her. More and more, until he made not something perfect, but something better, something that worked and thought, that obeyed his commands and could let him dominate his enemies and protect his clan. That was his objective, yes - not just evolution, but to keep everyone alive. He couldn't let it happen again, he couldn't have everyone he knew die before his eyes, he couldn't let himself rot away slowly while everyone he loved was getting picked off one by one, leaving him all alone once again. No, not again. Nothing should happen again. Repetition was inefficient, repetition meant a lack of evolution, if there was no evolution then there was no point to living. Plain and simple. He watched Schenectady for a moment, seeing her cower there quietly, his own mind wondering what was so scary about his little project besides her hunger, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by an imminent tyrannosaur. A rather angry one at that, angry that he was breaking the laws of nature or something - hah. Nobody told him what to do regarding nature, he was the expert on essences and mutations, he did what he wanted in regards to the little semi-coagulated fluids he could see inside of them. He knew what he was doing, and maybe it was his arrogance speaking, maybe it was his pride of his work, but he couldn't exactly trust Madscience in that regards, regardless of how much he could trust the dinosaur. "Still work in progress, subject Madscience," he would say, voice clear and unbroken, clearly unhesitant to stand up to a creature more than twice as big as he was, to look him in the eye with all eight of his and say "no," and still missing its usual calming factor. "Death, rarely permanent. Subject Mads knows. Self knows. Reincarnation, common - revival, next step." He would give a little shrug like motion with two of his limbs, as close as to that motion as he could, before speaking once more, "Will exterminate subject Littlesoldier if project still unsuccessful." Plain and simple. He may not be as godlike as Mads was in terms of science, he may not know almost everything there was to know about everything, but he did know what he was good at, and he did know that he was going to improve what he wasn't good at, and that he was going to protect those he loved at all costs. Evolution and protection. "Nothing, permanent. Everything improved. Everything made better. Mended. Can fix subject Littlesoldier - if not, will experiment with other subjects. Simple."

    tags - "speech"


    People, people and more fucking people. She wanted them all. Inside her mouth. Dinosaur, hound, cat, didn't matter. She would eat and she would kill until her teeth were pure crimson. She would take their lives slow, or fast, depending on Abathurs reaction time to her lunges. He might yank her back before she could reach them all. She watched Eternalwar circle, speaking words she didn't bother focusing on. "Eat." She repeated, her voice in a huff. "Here, now, eat." They were probably getting bored of her parrot-like way of speaking but she could care less. She would say what she wanted until her point got across. She leaned slightly towards the other, lip raising up and running her pink tongue across her teeth, staring all the while at her.

    But as soon as a sort of fear, something she doesn't know all that well, enters her nose, she slowly turns to the prey emitting the fear. It tastes, it reeks of deliciousness. Since when had this sadistic hunger for fear and blood entered her mind? Well, it was all the meddling that Abathur had done, it was all the hurt and it was all the dark parts of her brought out into one. She was not Littlesoldier anymore. People adressing her as such was useless, though she didn't know it and she certainly didn't think about it. Her mind had gone into a very feral-like manner of thinking. There was the prey- these people. And there was the predators- her. Abathur was neither. She didn't think he'd hunt her like she wanted to hunt them but she had felt pain at the hands of him. A weird sort of pain that had her claws twitching, her mind racing as though it were trying to escape something- the darkness is nearly swallowing- and she breathed out sharply. The thoughts of the maze and the fire and the screams and the running was a very, very frequent occurance. It was almost all she thought about nowadays except for killing and hunting. "Smell." She tried the word from somewhere in locked parts of her mind. Her ears pinned back at the strange new word that formed in her tongue. "You. Smell." She jabbed her nose at Schenectady and offered the other a feral grin. "Eat you."

    A roar came out of nowhere and it disturbed her interest in the smell. She gave a snarl and swiped her claws at the air between her and Madscience, barely noticing his rage towards Abathur. "Off! OFF!" Littlesoldier shouted back, the pink scar around her neck shown a lot clearer as she lifted her chin up. He was right in his presumptions- her brain was damaged to the point she could only speak one word or two and most of the time they were the same words. The brain had been too touched and poked at, dead for far too long. It was a miracle that she was functioning at all, let alone speaking. But she was brain damaged. And she was messed with to the point she couldn't remember her life before her death and that all she wanted to do was kill. That last part was on behalf of Abathur, of course. She offered Madscience a snapping of her teeth and envisioned ripping out his angry eyes and swallowing them whole. He was huge. Don't care. "You. DEAD." She didn't know why a heat came into her damaged mind when she saw him but it just did. She just wanted to hurt him, perhaps more then the others and the one she was fascinated in.

    Littlesoldier barely looked at the dragoness who came up, her golden eyes dark and dim as they lay upon Madscience. Her tangled belly fur dragged against the ground, collecting dirt, as she slinked closer, tentatively pulling against the chain. She opened her mouth to utter more words-somehow- when suddenly Abathur spoke in his voice she knew too well. She sharply turned her head to him and for once, she managed to snag a word that made her brain go 'oh'. Fix. She knew that word from somewhere, didn't she? The scarred girls face twisted in confusion, foreign to her, and she made sounds underneath her heavy breath. "Fix. Me." The voice in her mind screamed, the maze that was her mind became more lengthy and more dark. The voice was trapped. "No." Fake, why? No.

  •  HUB ✦ ✧ ✦ —  As Afleynnah came up to address this situation the dinosaur's head craned over to face the dragoness, tension reaching him as she was caught only to mellow as she spoke only of reason. At least someone here was intelligent - that won her some brownie points in his heart. Offering an agreeing nod towards the woman his eyes would then snap back towards Abathur as he spoke in that monotonous tone of his and although he was listening to what his fellow doctor was trying to say, his eyes would roll only to cast themselves upon Littlesoldier as she gurgled those savage words of hers. If this would have been the woman's normal state he would have shrugged it off and graced her into the clan like anyone else, however, this was unfortunately not the case. This female was a leader, a mother, a sister, even if it was unknowingly, she had been a person greater than this and how cruel was it to the ego to be reduced down to such a horrid creature. His scaled brows would furrow his eyes down into narrow slits as she'd flash teeth before him, brandishing claws and hisses like a fired torch towards his person, he however could not sense the heat anf fumes of these threats.

    Being already infuriated, however, left him taking this at heart.

    "The only one supposed to be dead is you." He'd hiss towards the dwarfish cat, his head lowering as a deep, sonorous growl would emanate from his lungs. "And you will again be if you can't behave."


    Renegades Warden (Leader) | He/him | 1.5 Years | Dinosaur Hybrid | Roleplayed by: Number 1