12-02-2018, 02:26 AM
[glow=#000,1,400]BUT YOU WERE BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN — TAGS[/glow]
// hi yes joining threads are currently the Bane Of My Existence so i skipped straight to an intro/m&g sort of deal!! :>
Glistening metal ground against the even surface of a stone, and although both were relatively smooth in texture, a rough and grating noise was produced from every grind. A wolf — a very large wolf, at that — clenched the handle of the dagger in his jaws, currently craning his neck downward so that the edge of the knife would meet the stone in an attempt to sharpen it. What use was a blade if it was not effective? Lucky had simply found the weapon lying in the open, and was now making do so that the quality of it would be as good as new.
He was new to the Pitt, a new face found among the ranks of outcasts and thugs. While unfamiliar to the customs of this particular group, he was not a stranger to the scene of criminal activity. The hellhound had been something of a gangster for the whole of his adult ( and most of his adolescent ) life. The metallic stench of blood had been engrained into his senses, his veins accustomed to the pumping of adrenaline, his mantra "kill or be killed". Having dwelled in the shadowy depths of a city sprawling with threats, he could not let himself become the victim. There were people that wouldn't hesitate to snap his neck in less than a second.
The hulking hellhound was currently minding his own business on the grounds of one of the trio of towering pyramids. He had to admit that their stature was incredible, though he doubted that he would be peeking inside of them anytime soon. For now, he had taken up a small bachelor residence in the city; somewhere to rest his head while he fixed his grip onto "clan life".
Glistening metal ground against the even surface of a stone, and although both were relatively smooth in texture, a rough and grating noise was produced from every grind. A wolf — a very large wolf, at that — clenched the handle of the dagger in his jaws, currently craning his neck downward so that the edge of the knife would meet the stone in an attempt to sharpen it. What use was a blade if it was not effective? Lucky had simply found the weapon lying in the open, and was now making do so that the quality of it would be as good as new.
He was new to the Pitt, a new face found among the ranks of outcasts and thugs. While unfamiliar to the customs of this particular group, he was not a stranger to the scene of criminal activity. The hellhound had been something of a gangster for the whole of his adult ( and most of his adolescent ) life. The metallic stench of blood had been engrained into his senses, his veins accustomed to the pumping of adrenaline, his mantra "kill or be killed". Having dwelled in the shadowy depths of a city sprawling with threats, he could not let himself become the victim. There were people that wouldn't hesitate to snap his neck in less than a second.
The hulking hellhound was currently minding his own business on the grounds of one of the trio of towering pyramids. He had to admit that their stature was incredible, though he doubted that he would be peeking inside of them anytime soon. For now, he had taken up a small bachelor residence in the city; somewhere to rest his head while he fixed his grip onto "clan life".
[align=center]![[Image: NMNfCHJ.png]](https://i.imgur.com/NMNfCHJ.png)