Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2019 3:25:37 GMT
(January 18th, deep within the jungle. Open to all who would be here!)
It was dusk as evident from the way the earth began to swallow up the sun. Barely any light filtered through the gnarled branches of the jungle at such a time, making it difficult to distinguish between entity and shadow. The entirety of the place could be best described as dank; nothing like the isles, valleys, and forests of Scotland. Not that it particularly bothered a certain specimen whose mountainous form lumbered across the jungle floor at present. Mor'du held little care on what purchase his paws set upon, only on if the lands were under his banner. In some sense they were. Cursed Thorns controlled this area as ever evident from the not-so-distant Black Keep, and he was indeed part of their horde. But it was far from the glory he was still after. That he deserved.
It was only yesterday the Demon Bear had arrived and thrown in with Maleficent and her heinous crew - a force that had called him all the way across the sea. He did not regret it. Mor'du had no capacity for things like regret. Instead the beast simply saw it as a means to an end. Another step in his grand journey toward what was rightfully his. He could handle being told what to do for now, at least, so long as the end result was the same.
But all of that didn't matter right now. What was driving the monster forward at this current moment was far more primal - hunger. It had been a long journey to get to the Black Keep and he had not eaten along the way. Now the obsidian behemoth longed for the iron taste of bloodied meat to fill his greedy stomach. Even just the thought was enough to produce strings of saliva dripping from the bear's ajar muzzle. But where would he get it? Mor'du had been alive long enough to know how to use his strengths. Even a rotted mind like his wasn't completely void. Stealth wasn't an option; it only worked for him in the most ideal of circumstances. Plus he was far too hungry to slow and be thoughtful of his steps. No, brute force was the way to go. There was no need to stalk prey when perfectly confident predators were awakening for the hunt. They were much easier targets for him. Those too prideful or courageous over their kills to back off would be added to the menu. Nothing was too precious for Mor'du's appetite.
And, as luck would have it, the scent on the wind heralded news of a successful hunt. By this point the sun had been completely drowned by the horizon; a perfect setting for the ink-colored titan. With a ravenous intent, the sauntering stomps of the bear transformed into an ungraceful trot. He would soon be upon the scene to the misfortune of whoever was on the other side of the brush.