[div style="width: 360px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; color: #383838;"]//tw for blood and gore the like
kinda crappy uhhhhghghghghhh
tl;dr: iosef does bad things™ by committing murder and eating his ex-friends buts it cool bc he found a stuffed animal that looks like an albino rabbit and he's rejoining the typhoon

They were waiting for the hulking Siberian tiger to snap. It was only a matter of time.

They figured that he was a gentle, polite beast in spite of his immense stature. At least, that was how he aimed to introduce himself to the small roving pack. But this was no ordinary tiger they would be dealing with: he was a pirate. A pirate could not be trusted, no matter what. They took him in anyway. He was a rover like they were. They needed protection, a big guy like Iosef Aslanov. Surely exceptions could be made to that con pirate stereotype. The tiger didn't fit it at all in the first place.

So who were "they?" They were nobodies, nameless fools who took shit from no one and gave everyone shit. Pranksters, jesters, you name it. A trio of loud, rowdy canines who couldn't walk the walk. They were confrontational yet despised confrontation, never owning up to their actions and ducking from every mob that sought after their precious flesh. The only creature that even dared to take an alias was Iosef: the only truly named beast in the group. And to be frank, they were apprehensive of him and his size. But Iosef was calm and relaxed. Nothing could go wrong.

But he was sick of them. He was sick of their stupidity, sick of their ways.

"So that's the Typhoon, eh? Just 'cross this here track?" a slim, somewhat short shepherd remarked, twitching an ear at the sight. In the distance lay Iosef's former domain, though his heart longed to return to the crew, to take to the seas once more. Those were his comrades, not these careless, rebellious fools who hadn't a bit of sense.

"Yes, that is it," Iosef replied with a subtle sniff, following the shepherd's gaze and nodding as he spoke.

"Hrmph. Pirates. Say, Joe, wasn't this your place?" another lanky canine, this time some sort of mixed-breed terrier, inquired.

"It's not Joseph, it's Iosef." The tiger was demanded of the least bit of patience with these fellows when it came to remembering names. Seeing as they took no aliases, they didn't care about them at all—to call someone by their actual name was a foreign tradition to the group, one they still hadn't gotten the hang of even long after they took the white beast in.

Another soft sigh erupted past the feline's lips. "Yes, this i-was my old home." His voice faltered a bit at that statement, and it was then that he would finally address his deep longing to return to the seas, to the rowdy yet much more dignified gang that resided in the soothing Barracuda Bay. These were fools he took on as partners—he desired to return to a much more honorific lifestyle...as honorific as a pirate's life could possibly be. It couldn't be any worse than this.

"Ugh, sand. I don't like sand," the third and final canine piped up: a pint-sized yet muscular whippet that carried a spacious pouch with him. Those who dared to defile his property were met with his unholy wrath: numerous marks lined Iosef's massive paws as a result of his inquisitive manner, and it was safe to say that he had learned his lesson...for now.

"But y'know what I do like? Pirate whores," the shepherd commented smugly, and the terrier beside him snickered.

"Hah! Amen to that!" the whippet chuckled. "Man, those bitches are tough!"

As they continued their banter on the females they would find on the island, Iosef found himself silent and almost appalled at the unfolding scene. How dare they speak of them in such a lowly, filthy manner? His obsidian-black nose crinkled as he listened into their conversation before the terrier turned to the tiger. "Well? You lookin' to dig into one of those whores?"

"They...are not whores," Iosef retorted sharply, his tail flicking back and forth in sheer annoyance.

"What's that, Joe? You defendin' those snake-eatin' fuckasses now?"

it was only a matter of time

"What are they gonna do? Throw me off their ship? Perform some spooky-dooky voodoo spell curse? Sic their parrots on me?"

they were waiting

They dared to insult his comrades. His real comrades.

Iosef could feel his heart beat, the drums of war exploding in his ears. Pa-BUM, pa-BUM, pa-BUM. His entire body erupted into flames, flickering embers only he could witness and feel, and his sharpened teeth grinded against one another. Pitiful shrieks filled his ears, accompanied by cries of battle, and his claws dug into the sand as his tail whipped back and forth like a banner in the winter wind.

i will take no more

An eerie wave of calm fell upon the Siberian tiger before everything went to hell.

He wasn't aware of what had occurred, but he could feel his weight landing upon the disgusting, filthy scum, one at a time. The little rat was taken first, his great claws digging into his spine and dragging him into the sand, choking the whippet with a mouthful of the grains as his massive paws took every bit of breath from his body. With a ferocious growl the tiger turned to the shepherd, who dared to even take but one step closer to the enraged beast that could no longer be tamed. His dagger-like canines dug into the lanky shepherd's throat, shooting out a waterfall of deadly crimson that cascaded upon the tiger's once-pristine pure white pelt. Tossing the flailing canine aside as if he were a mere doll, his icy blue hues landed upon the terrier mix, and he felt himself lunging at the other dog, pressing as much force as he could possibly muster onto the other's hind leg. A satisfying yet horrific SNAP echoed throughout the area, and the terrier let out a terrified shriek, begging for his friend to put an end to it.

Heaving breaths drew Iosef back, his tail now lashing angrily, blood dripping from his maw and from his pelt, which was splashed with crimson and dark red. The terrier made his greatest attempt to limp away from the scene but found himself pausing and looking at the tiger, disbelief in his eyes.

Have you not been entertained?

In another flash he found himself locking his jaws around a massive hunk of flesh, blood spewing from the corpse of the shepherd as his body was ever so gruesomely defiled bit-by-bit. The raw flesh easily slid down the tiger's throat, and there was a great pang of yearning in his heart now, a desire for more, more, more. Hungrily he tore into the belly of the beast, fur and all, his claws tearing at the body and drawing a pool of crimson as his teeth dug themselves in, taking out immense chunks that he would consume.

His hunger fully satisfied as he reached bone and bone alone, the tiger lifted himself slowly and turned in the direction of the terrier. He saw...nothing. By then the last surviving canine had disappeared, and Iosef did not desire to chase after the damned, filthy beast.

An icy blue gaze shifted to the carcass of the tiny whippet, who was no more than a snack at best in spite of his mesomorphic build. Iosef was quite satisfied...but his curiosity was piqued as he took note of the satchel that would still lay beside the whippet, and he gingerly lifted the opening to reveal...

A stuffed animal. A tiny, soft replica of an albino rabbit.

Iosef reached out to take hold of the plush toy, gripping onto its "scruff" as if it were a real creature. The storm deep inside his build almost instantaneously began to settle upon feeling the soft touch of the nonexistent, static animal, and he felt a strange calm roll upon him as he held onto the stuffed animal. It was in this manner that he carried himself across the railroad tracks back to his rightful home in the Typhoon, bearing nothing but the white plush toy and a satisfied, relaxed smile upon his once-vengeful maw.

#psychosocial.

[div style="width: 360px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; color: #383838;"]Iosef shared a common goal with many: rise in the social hierarchy, establish control and dominance. One would do a lot of things to achieve such a task, but few would truly rise to the occasion and go the extra mile to prove their worth. He would be more than willing to risk a life or a connection to climb upwards, and this gruesome situation had only proven his gall and sturdiness. At the moment he felt little remorse for the lives he had stolen, for they were lives not well spent. Yet he had grown fond of the Typhoon in his brief time prior his more or less insignificant hiatus—and before he made any bold moves, he would have to establish himself as a positive, contributing entity in the group. Surely that wouldn't a problem.

His striking light blue eyes fell upon a lithe gold-and-black feline that stood much shorter than his hulking stature. This was an unfamiliar sight, though Iosef presumed that it was expected for new faces to pop up in the Typhoon—it welcomed all who had the grit and the courage and the iron heart to stick around and prove their worth. It seemed like this fellow had done precisely that. His hues flickered to inspect his surroundings. Hmm, here already? His paws felt quite damp from the trek, yet the soft, smooth sand comforted him in a way, made him feel at home. It was a massive contradiction from the tundra he was born in, but he quite enjoyed the island regardless.

No matter standing around, he would have to reintroduce himself to these folk. At the other feline's words the Siberian tiger set down his plush, and it was only then that he noticed the pair of dog tags wrapped haphazardly around the stuffed animal. They were his dog tags—that rat must have stolen it when he wasn't looking. Oh well; they were truly his now. Setting the pair of dog tags in their rightful location around his neck, the feline cleared his throat. "Hello there, I'm Iosef. I was a...crewmate a while back, when the Typhoon was founded. I've come to return." He would only offer a twitch of his ear at the long-bodied cat's previous statement regarding his stuffed animal, for he felt no need to introduce two entities if there really was only one.

[div style="width: 360px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; color: #383838;"]He was not raised to become a bloodthirsty warmonger from his true family: both his canine family and his more recent tiger heritage with this younger form. In the first occasion, he was merely instructed to deceive and scavenge; to become a street urchin, but a damn successful one. He had eventually graduated from the stray life to the less frantic lifestyle of a pack dog, residing with people who would protect and feed him if he would do the same. He had convinced them he would, and very successfully.

But all good things had to come to an end. He was a power-hungry fellow, craved for total control of his pack's domain as well as the unclaimed territory around it. A realm of potential just waiting to be turned into a bustling hub of activity, yet it stood stagnant at the moment, run by inattentive jesters who failed to witness the big picture. But Iosef saw it. He saw it very clearly. In the end his paws were painted crimson, slicked with the blood of his dominants, but it was worth the cost. He became the alpha, and soon packs and loners alike far and wide would come to acknowledge and stand in awe of the name Dimitri Aslanov.

Months beyond the peak of this momentous occasion, months beyond his brutal demise as a canine, he was born into hiding as a cub to two Siberian tigers, this time in the Motherland as his canine parents were. Usurped from his freezing, rightful territory by none other than bipedal kings, humans themselves, In time, he would learn to free himself of the earthly restraints that were forced upon him, fleeing to a realm of sentient creatures as himself that established hierarchy and tradition and foreign policy, a truly civilized place to reside in. Maybe, in this world, the Typhoon was not the peak of sophistication, but he found the whole setup fascinating. It was that same keen fascination that drug him back to the island.

The tiger's icy blue eyes met two other pools of blue, this time belonging to a pup, a child and nothing more. A soft smile spread across Iosef's maw at the sight of the child who tentatively made her way forward to greet him back into the group. He found her statement to be amusing, yet not entirely incorrect. "I suppose so. I wouldn't worry—I've dealt with plenty of folk just like him before," he mused, flashing a mischievous and almost smug grin to the feline named Caesar, though it was all in play, really. Promptly he would return to the much smaller child, his warm smile unfading at the sight. "Have you a name, малыш?"

#psychosocial.