Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Varied / Hobbyist Thief of Rage18/Male/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 6 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 59 Deviations 391 Comments 5,381 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Random Favourites


Mature Content

or, enter your birth date.



Please enter a valid date format (mm-dd-yyyy)
Please confirm you have reviewed DeviantArt's Terms of Service below.
* We do not retain your date-of-birth information.
Hitting the Fan

"You're gonna do something? Or just stand there and bleed?”
-Wyatt Earp

It was early morning when Tristan and Israel met Joseph outside a house. The sun was just barely peeking through the mountains, casting a dim blue hue on the town. Winter and all of its accoutrements were gone and there was genuine heat in the air again as the town came back to life. Tristan found out about a straggler from Commodus’ pack that was hiding out in this dilapidated mess of a house and they were here to finish their job. It was simple for them. Go in, shank rush the target in his bed with their new silver knives they had just bought from Andre not half an hour prior and leave before anyone sees them.
It was on the way out that they had trouble.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Israel shouted from the back seat of Joseph’s car as he clutched the bullet wound in his side. He, Tristan and Joseph were driving to Saren’s as fast as they could, without rousing law enforcement. Tristan was hyperventilating as he held a rag on the bleeding gash in his arm. Joseph gritted his teeth as the holes in his abdomen sealed up, trying to focus on which turns to take to get to Saren’s house without running anyone over. After five minutes and a collective two pints of blood out of the three of them they finally careen into Saren’s driveway. Saren limped out onto the lawn, still needing a leg brace, as Tristan and Joseph helped Israel out of the car.
“What the fuck happened!?” She cried out, taking in the sight of her team with multiple bullet holes in them.
“Just help us into the house,” Joseph snapped. He helped Saren get everyone inside the house and began swearing at his luck, “Fucking hell, fucking hell,” he kept repeating to himself.


Tristan slammed his knife into the man’s throat, finishing him, and the remnants of Commodus’ pack, off for good. Israel sighed in relief as he pulled his knife out of the corpse’s chest and wiped it off on the bedsheets. They grunted the standard congratulations to each other, poured a bottle of rum from the kitchen onto the corpse and threw a match on it to cover their trail. They began to hurry out the door before the house burned down and the evidence along with it.
“Fuck, the smell just hit me,” Israel said, covering his nose, “How did that rotten fuck live in this sty?”
“Probably not stabbed twelve times or on fire,” Tristan quipped
They stepped out onto the soon to be cinders porch and froze in their tracks. In front of them were two cloaked figures adorned in billowing black robes and white Venetian doctor masks, with handguns pointed at them.
Tristan and Joseph drew their pistols as Israel dropped to his knees to give his comrades more open shots and drew his own pistol.
Both sides began shooting, gunshots cracking out in suburbia. A bullet winged Tristan’s arm, forcing him to lean against a support beam on the porch as he tried to aim with his good arm. Joseph shrugged off the bullets that hit him and kept shooting, hitting his targets as they kept shooting him as well. Israel ran dry just as a bullet struck his side, above his left hip, forcing him onto the ground on his side as he loudly cursed.
The assailants took bullet after bullet, never doing so much as flinch as they were peppered with lead. After the both of them ran out of ammo they looked at each other before they began to casually walk away, leaving their would-be prey to bleed.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, motherfuckers!?” Joseph rushed forward, slightly transforming the muscles in his legs to give him the speed he needed and grabbing for the sword on his back. It availed him not as the closer cloaked figure grabbed him by the neck, took him over their head and slammed him into the ground. They moved faster than Joseph had ever seen, faster than Irina or Commodus had ever done.
“Look at what we have here,” The voice of the one holding him was unmistakably feminine. Joseph wagered that they were vaguely the same age as him based on that and the height and build of her. She loudly sniffed the air, “I honestly didn’t expect a mutt amongst you,” with her free hand she pulled down the cloth under her mask that was covering her mouth, “But stranger things have happened,” she beamed Joseph a bright open smile. Joseph was taken aback as to how white her skin was, like fresh snow. However, what Joseph focused on much more were her teeth. Her canines were much longer and thinner than the rest of her teeth, but not as thick or robust as a transformed werewolf’s.
She clenched her fist and three dagger-like metal claws sprung out of her sleeve with a mechanical click, protruding over her hand. Joseph was briefly reminded of Wolverine before the assassin punched him in the stomach, driving the blades into him and the breath out of him. “Good bye,” she lowered her face to his. Joseph expected those teeth in his neck but instead he felt a light, cold, kiss on the cheek, “For now,” she pulled the blades out of Joseph’s gut, “Be a good boy and don’t get killed before tonight,” she let him go and stood, “I want to tear your throat out myself,” She and her partner then left, disappearing into the quickly fading dark.
“Fuck you!” Tristan shouted having reloaded and opening fire again at the shadows of the assailants, but to no avail. They were gone, leaving the boys as bloody messes.
“Tristan, Iz!” Joseph got up, clutching his stomach, “Clean the blood, fucking hurry with it!”
Tristan pulled Israel to his feet and sent him staggering to Joseph. Israel tossed Tristan a small aerosol can of ammonia, which he sprayed on all the blood he could find on the porch.
“Fucking get moving!” Israel shouted as Joseph laid him into the backseat of his car. Tristan sprinted to Joseph’s car and got in as Joseph did the same. Joseph started the car and floored it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Israel shouted from the back seat of Joseph’s car as he clutched the bullet wound in his side.

Joseph and Saren had bandaged and mended the more heavily wounded Tristan and Israel and had taken a moment in her living room to let the adrenalin subside and calm down. The sun had risen in earnest and ensured a few hours of relative safety before it set again.
“There was a firefight!” Israel shouted from the couch he was using as a hospital bed, failing to resist the urge to quote one of his favorite movies, “By the way, what the fuck was that?! Besides another item in a long list of things we were not told about, in the least bit,”
“This is unprecedented,” Saren said putting away her first aid kit, “I have fucking nothing on plague doctors with pieces,”
“Well we’ve covered feral vampires,” Tristan pointed out, still poking his bandages, “What are the biggest differences between ferals and…those?”
“They’re pretty much the same,” Saren said, “Stab in the heart and or decapitate,”
“Minus the guns, the ambushes,” Joseph listed, “And the weird murder flirting,” he rubbed his cheek like a little boy who got kissed by his overly affectionate aunt.
“Okay then, pulling out the big guns,” Saren said before going down to her basement and returning with a leather-bound book with faded lettering saying ‘vampires’ on the cover, “Everything we need to know about vampires is in here. If there’s something on assassins like this, it’s in here,” she glared at Israel, “And you didn’t even have to root through my stuff to get it,”
“This time,” Israel muttered grabbing the book and flipping through it, “Aww, no pictures,” he joked.
Saren grinned and lightly punched his shoulder.
“I know for a fact that there are pictures in that,” she laughed, “Get reading, all of you,” Saren said, walking to the door, “I’m gonna hit up Andre and get some vampire specific firepower while the sun’s still up,”
Joseph heard Saren swear to herself after she got in her car. His now enhanced hearing also let him hear her muttering various grievances about it being her fault, again. He sighed as she drove off toward Andre’s storage locker.
“This was…,” He muttered, “What was this?”
“Shit,” Tristan answered, slouching in Saren’s armchair, “This was nothing but shit,”
Joseph nodded
“This is the first time we’ve really come across something that will take up more than one evening,” Israel said, gritting his teeth and sitting up, “The wolves were the biggest thing we’ve dealt with and that only took one fucking night,”
“This will only take one night too,” Tristan proudly declared, “When Saren gets back we’re gonna hunt ‘em down, stake ‘em, and steal those bitching masks,”
While excited at the prospect of bitching masks, Israel did not comment. He laid his head back on the couch’s armrest, held the journal over his face and began to read.
“Hmm,” Israel decided then to help lighten the mood, “There are apparently different types of vampire,” he flipped through the pages of the journal, “Ferals, regular old vampires…holy shit, look at this thing,” Tristan and Joseph crowded around the book to gawk at the picture of the gross mess of puss that was supposed to be a vampire.
“Holy fuck,” Tristan ineloquently put, “Turn the page, let’s keep looking,”
Israel turned the page to an entry about a wizened wing-armed hag with wiry hair and a belly so bloated that it appeared that it couldn’t walk.
“’Winged Shekab,’” Israel read aloud, “Damn that bitch ugly,”
He turned the page again, this time to a mosquito monster from central Africa
“Okay then,” Joseph said, somewhat sickened by the creature, “Let’s not try to pronounce that thing’s name,”
Israel flipped back to regular vampires.
“My guess,” he said running his finger down the page, “Saren is going to get some silver stuff, some garlic, and some fire starters,”
“We still got some silver from before,” Joseph pointed out, walking to the kitchen to make himself breakfast,
“Oh yeah,” Israel remembered his silver dagger that was still on his belt.
“We got garlic in the fridge,” Tristan said, “And I know for a fact that we have plenty of burning stuff,”
“Then why the fuck did Saren go to Andre’s?” Israel loudly asked.
“A booty call!” Joseph japed from the kitchen, taking a bite of his freshly made sandwich.
“Wait, with Andre?” Tristan ask, not quite getting the joke yet, “I thought Saren was a lesbian,”
Israel looked up from the book and slowly turned to Tristan.
“Where would you possibly get that idea?” Israel put the book down on Saren’s coffee table.
“Combat boots, short hair, manlier than all of us,” Tristan listed, “And the fact that I found this,” he pulled a picture out of his pocket and showed Israel.
The picture was of Saren kissing a girl with ginger hair as they both winked at the camera.
“Where did you get that?” Israel disapprovingly asked,
“It slipped out of her pocket yesterday,” Tristan explained, “And don’t you give me that look, Mr. ‘root around in her basement’,”
“Who the hell is that?” Joseph reappeared behind them, happily eating his sandwich.
“Let’s ask Saren when she gets back,” Tristan suggested before his expression shifted to dread, “No, scratch that. She’ll kill us for taking her things,”
“No, she won’t,” Israel picked up the journal and continued reading, “She’ll kill you, singular. Not us, plural,”
“Yeah, great solidarity there,” Tristan slipped the photo in between the cushions on the couch. “Anyway,” he changed the subject, “What the crap would Saren be going to Andre’s for?”
“Nothing,” Joseph said, looking out the window, “She’s parked down the street. She’s throwing another frustration fit. She’s hitting her head against the steering wheel of her car,” he ate the rest of his breakfast, “With how hard it looks like she’s hitting I’m surprised the airbags haven’t-... never mind, there they go,”
Israel sighed, putting the book down and struggling to his feet.
“Tristan,” he rubbed his forehead, “Would you kindly retrieve our intrepid leader from her tantrum?”
Tristan saluted and walked out the door to drag Saren back.
“Ah crap,” Joseph muttered, sitting back down in Saren’s chair and pointing at the television.
A news broadcast had just come on with breaking news about a massive shooting.
“Breaking news,” the clearly balding reporter said, “There are multiple reports of a massive shooting happening on Third Street outside of what appeared to be a burning house,”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Israel groaned as he hobbled to the kitchen for food.
“Witnesses claim to have heard the shooting then see two groups firing upon each other,” The reporter obviously read off of a teleprompter, “Before leaving the premises one shooter apparently rushed the other side and was thrown around with some kind of judo. Both sides then left, taking their fallen comrades and leaving behind pools of blood that the police are not yet able to run proper tests on,”
Israel sat back down, eating a muffin and sighing again.
“Saren’s going to shit a chicken,” he grumbled.
“Girls don’t poop,” Joseph dryly added.
“There are a lot of videos on the internet that prove the opposite,” Israel said, cringing.
They sat in silence, watching the news ramble on about what happened. Putting on whatever political spins about childhood obesity or animal rights their sponsors made them say were responsible for the incident.
“This morning sucked,” Joseph said.
“No argument,” Israel nodded, taking another bite of his muffin as he heard Tristan outside the door, clearly struggling with Saren’s tantrum as she did something that resulted in noises that sounded eerily like someone’s head getting hit with a boot.
“Are those vampires screwed, or what?” Joseph nonchalantly asked.
“Like a pooch,” Israel confirmed, grinning and giving Joseph a high five.

"Either I will find a way or I will make one"
-Hannibal Barca

“Pull!” Joseph called to Tristan, who accordingly, pulled the rope on the catapult contraption he had put together, launching the cinder block straight at Joseph. Joseph reeled back and punched the brick in the air, crushing it and sending the pieces flying across Andre’s practice room. He and Tristan had been playing with Joseph’s newfound abilities under the guise of scientific testing and had bought an afternoon in one of Andre’s many suites for such activities. Saren observed them, her leg still in a massive cast. Israel was sitting with her, perusing one of the many journals she had sanctioned the reading of. Israel was smiling, enjoying the trove of information and the first moment of leisure they had had in months. No stress from work or the lack there of and, with the exception of Saren’s leg, they were in the best shape they’d been in their entire lives.
“You don’t approve,” Israel said to Saren, not looking up from his book, “You think Joseph is dangerous now he’s a werewolf,”
“Wow,” Saren sardonically replied, “I didn’t know I had any psychoanalysis books in that bunch you stole from my basement,”
“You didn’t,” Israel finally looked at Saren, lightly smiling, “But I’m not an idiot, Saren. A blind man could see it,”
Saren sighed in her chair, partially hoping Israel will drop the subject in the next few seconds, but to no avail.
“Yeah, I ‘don’t approve’, as you put it,” Saren said, “I’m trained to kill werewolves, not work with them,”
“You work with Andre,” Israel pointed out, losing his smile, “Andre’s more physically a beast than Joseph,”
“Andre’s different,” Saren began raising her voice, “He’s showed nothing but self-control and patience. Joseph is the poster boy for ‘angry werewolf’. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little concerned for everyone’s safety. Like it or not, Joseph’s dangerous,”
“Your blatant hypocrisy aside,” Israel looked back to his book, “I know that he’s dangerous, but I’ve known that longer than we’ve known you. Joseph becoming a werewolf is not what makes him dangerous. The fact that Joseph exists in the first place is what makes him dangerous, werewolf or no, which is why you keep him around in the first place,”
“Huh,” Saren almost blushed in embarrassment at her bullshit being called out, “I hate it when you’re right,”
“So that’s why you’re such a hateful person,” Israel teasingly jeered,
“Asshole,” Saren said, finally smiling again. Her smile was quickly lost when a baseball sized chunk of watermelon hit her dead center in the face.
“Fore!” Tristan called from behind the catapult, already loading another melon.
Saren looked to her cast then to Israel with rage and doom on her face.
“Hurt. Them,” She snarled.
Israel looked at her then Tristan, then the book, then back at Tristan, then Saren again, then the book, then finally back at Tristan. He extended his hand, pointing his index and middle fingers at the catapult. An orange spark shot out of his fingers, striking and catching fire to the catapult.
Tristan leapt back from the now neon orange burning wreck of his contraption, swearing loudly. Joseph looked on with a cold appreciation of the flames, still smiling from his punching of the watermelon. Israel was laughing like a madman, now standing on his chair in a dramatic pose with the book.
“Kneel before my might!” Israel called from his perch, “Bow you shits!”
Saren grabbed his chair and pushed it over, knocking Israel onto the ground, sending the book sprawling to Tristan. Tristan grabbed the book and opened it to Israel’s bookmark.
“Magic?” he said, incredulously, “We can learn fucking magic?!” he smiled like a child given candy.
“No fucking way,” Joseph rushed to his friend’s side and began reading over his shoulder.
“I know, right?” Israel said from the ground, not bothering to stand or even lay face-up, “Fucking magic!”
Saren laid her head back against her chair.
“This,” she groaned, “This is why I didn’t tell you guys about this. Magic is not a toy!”
“Yeah,” Israel surprisingly agreed with Saren, “It’s a dangerous toy,”
“No!” Saren shouted getting everyone’s attention, “I actually have a good reason for not telling you guys about this one-,”
“Oh here we go,” Israel said finally standing.
“Shut up,” Saren snapped, “Magic is complicated, dangerous, and just plain…weird,”
“You focus on a central point in yourself then literally just will yourself into doing shit,” Israel explained, “It really is all it boils down to, observe,”  he pointed to the wreckage, shot another orange spark out of his fingers, and the fire reignited, just as bright as it was to begin with, “You just gotta want it. There’s probably some bullshit about mana or whatever but who cares? Unless it gives you cancer or some other bullshit I haven’t read about yet, the only problem is that it’s as physically taxing as swinging a sword. Does that sound complicated, Saren, or are you going to make up more bullshit,”
The fire flickered silver-white before suddenly going out, the wreck becoming pile of dust with Saren pointing at it.
“Joseph, Tristan,” Saren coldly said, glaring at Israel, “Go tell Andre that we need some more materials, tell him we need ‘basic silver market goods’ and he’ll know what you mean,”
They did as they were told, leaving the room giving some concerned glances to Israel and Saren.
Israel picked up his chair and set it across from Saren before sitting in it and facing her.
“Did I do something that will actually warrant this scolding?”
“Shut. Up,” Saren snarled through her teeth, “I bring you into all of this, take the time to train and brief you three, give you strict guidelines and you repay me with bullshit like this. If I wanted you morons to know magic I would have told you,”
“Except you’ve actually done fuck-all,” Israel scoffed, “It took you until one almost killed us to tell us how to kill a werewolf. Even if it was common knowledge that still doesn’t constitute ‘training and briefing’ in the least fucking bit,”
“I’m the expert at this,” Saren rebuked, “I know what I’m doing!”
“No, you fucking don’t,” Israel barked, rising from his chair, “An expert doesn’t go off on their own after lying to her team. An expert doesn’t go off like a crappy firework and get hurt trying to salvage their bruised ego, twice.”
“Oh, really?” Saren shot back, “And how the hell would you know? I’ve been doing this all my life and you have the fucking gall to lecture me,”
“Gee, I didn’t know that,” Israel mocked, “I wonder why. Oh wait. I didn’t know because you’ve done almost nothing to say so. If you’re the expert, the gold standard, then a fucking wonder we’ve never heard of any of this, because the people stopping it are so incompetent they die and let the people following them die so goddamn easily,”
Saren reached for her hip, to her holster and gun. She was almost startled to realize she wasn’t wearing it, and that she almost pulled a gun and shot Israel, who saw it all. She and Israel stared at each other for only a single quiet moment.
“Iz,” Saren whispered, “I…I don’t-,”
“Experts,” Israel looked at her with hurt and disappointment in his eyes, “Experts don’t try and shoot their friends, Saren,”
Saren stared at her friend, taking in the fact that she would have shot him. She would have ruined everything if she hadn’t simply forgotten her piece that morning. She raised her trembling hand to her eyes before quietly sobbing into it. She began crying, quietly and slowly working to open sobs.
“I’m sorry,” Saren choked out, “I’m…so sorry,”
Israel slowly and calmly picked up his chair, put it down next to Saren, sat down and wrapped his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around him, “I’m such a fuck up,” she sobbed into his shoulder, barely more than whispering.
“Hush,” Israel said as he patted Saren’s back.
“I am though,” Saren insisted, “Everything I’ve done with you guys has blown up in my fucking face,”
“Hush,” Israel said, far more insistent, “Saren, you’re the biggest badass I know. Mistakes have been made, yeah, but we’re all still here and kicking,”
“Barely,” Saren argued, burying her face deeper into Israel’s shoulder, “Joseph’s not even human anymore and it’s all my fault,”
“Hush,” Israel ordered, louder, “Saren. Did Joseph look saddened by his newfound powers? No, he didn’t. Because he doesn’t view it as a curse, if anything it’s a boon,”
“You don’t get it,” Saren whispered, “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He, me, all of us almost get killed every fucking time we do anything. He was the one who paid the most all because I wanted-,”
“Saren!” Israel Interrupted, having lost what patience he had left, “Enough. I get it. You blame yourself for every little thing that happens to us then do the same fucking thing with barely a second thought,” he tilted her head up so that he could look into her eyes “Don’t shut us out, tell us what we need to know, let us do our jobs without bitching about how it’s your fault and none of this will happen again,” he rapped his knuckle on Saren’s cast.
Saren sniffled for a moment before clearing her throat and wiping her eyes.
“You’re right,” she said, her voice still cracking, “Why do you have to be fucking right,”
“It is in errors that we find that we are human,”
“Stop trying to be philosophical,” Saren smirked, “You sound like you’re trying too hard,”
Israel smiled back, breaking his embrace and getting up to get the book.
“Thank you,” Saren said, lightly smiling.
“Oh what’s that,” Israel cupped his ear, “Was that praise I just heard from the mighty Saren?”
Before Saren could respond and hit Israel, Joseph and Tristan barreled back into the room, holding actual barrels under their arms.
“Holy shit,” Tristan remarked surveying the floor, “We’re not slipping on Iz’s guts,”
Israel dismissed Tristan’s words with unintelligible howling, grabbing one of the barrels,
“What do we have here?” he said, eyeing the barrel. He set it down and cracked open the lid with his elbow. He was shocked to find another, smaller barrel inside. He pulled it out and cracked it open only to find an even smaller barrel in it.
“What the hell?” Joseph said, inspecting the barrels, “What the hell are we supposed to do with these?”
“Light them on fire,” Saren said, openly smiling, “Just like Iz did with your mechanical abomination. Basic silver market goods are things to practice magic on,”
Tristan’s and joseph’s eyes lit up with mischief. They scrambled to set them up in a slipshod firing range and scrambled back to get ready to start blowing things up.
Tristan held his fist forward and placed his other hand on his pointing forearm in a clumsy stance. Israel corrected him, making his fingers point, squaring his shoulders and changing his pose to be less like a video game character. Tristan focused, just as Israel instructed, pointed at a barrel and shot a blue spark from his fingers. The barrel he pointed at burst into a bright a vibrant blue fire for a moment before bursting and burning out.
Joseph mirrored Tristan’s second stance, shooting a grey spark, burning and bursting another barrel in a dark grey blast with a smile on his face that none could call good natured.
“There you go,” Saren proudly stated, “You can magically burn barrels,” she and her team laughed, “But. This is the simplest magic there is, blowing shit up is the most artless thing you can do with magic. Also you’re probably feeling that little spike of fatigue, right?” They all nodded at her, “The bigger stuff might knock you on your ass before you’re ready for it,” she lectured, “Simple sometimes is all we need. We can work on teleporting and summoning demons later. For now,” she set a barrel on fire, “Guy who blows up the most chooses dinner, guy who blows up the least pays for it,”
She and her team then played with magic like the toy Saren claimed it wasn’t, all just to not be the last and spend the little hard earned money they had. They didn’t care about anything else, just having fun and enjoying the day. They truly did not care about what was coming, just that they’d deal with it with maniacal grins on their faces.
The Hunters: Adjustments
And here's this shit. Love it, hate it, just tell me and I will try to improve. Holla!
Good Samaritans

“I like a man who grins when he fights,”
-Winston Churchill

Joseph’s car lumbered through the heavy snow on the trail through the canyon. Joseph, Tristan and Israel peeled their eyes in search of any trail that may indicate Saren after they found her car at the opening of the path. The snow fall had resurged and fell in a heavy white blanket veiling any hint that they may have found.
“How long have we been at this?” Israel asked with a tinge of panic in his voice, “It feels like we’ve been at this a while,”
“Dude, calm the fuck down,” Tristan reprimanded, pointing at the clock in the car’s dashboard, “It’s been five minutes, relax,”
Israel sighed as he looked out his window again, wringing his hands in worry and wincing again as he remembered his sore joints. He pulled his lucky coin out of his coat pocket and began fidgeting with it. Joseph snatched it out of Israel’s hands and pocketed it as a way of telling him to ‘sack up’.
Joseph said nothing, possessed of rage as he was. After taking the road out of town he did not speak. He just kept his eyes looking out of his windshield for the one that lied to him and his friends.
A scream resonated out through the cold woods. The boys, having been screamed at plenty, instantly recognized it as Saren.
Joseph slammed his foot on the throttle and careened further into the woods in the general direction the scream came from, actively ignoring the fact that his friends weren’t wearing their seatbelts and honking the horn as they slammed around. The car bashed through a pair of small saplings, into a clearing populated with skinheads, corpses and an ill-treated Saren. Joseph spun out into the snow, careening through the clearing, crushing a corpse and spraying the blood across the snowy forest floor.
Joseph, Tristan and Israel all calmly opened their doors and stepped out of the car, cracking knuckles and loosening their wrists in an attempted to look more hardened and threatening than they thought they were.
“Oh great,” Irina sighed, “The bitch boys are here,”
Tristan whipped the Macedonian out of its holster and shot Irina in the sealed wound in her belly.
“I don’t remember asking for a new team name,” Tristan taunted as Irina clutched her now reopened wound.
“Fuck. You,” Irina snarled, trying to ignore the pain she was in.
Joseph set his eyes on the Alpha, mentally working out the easiest way to kill him and end this debacle. Whatever plans he had never got more than a few seconds of thought as the Alpha stepped forward and pointed at him.
“I challenge you, hunter,” The Alpha roared, “One warrior facing another in a battle to the death and let fate decide who’s will is the strongest,”
Joseph looked to his friends then gestured to Saren’s mangled form. Israel and Tristan rushed over to Saren to provide whatever medical attention they could. Joseph took a second to admire the amount of skulls the alpha was wearing on his person. Several on a neckless, one attached to each of his boots, four hanging from his belt, and Joseph wasn’t sure but he believed he saw the bulge of more in the alpha’s torn and worn leather vest.
“Are you insane?” Saren hissed “He’ll fucking murder you,”
“I think he knows that,” Joseph quipped, “But he’s willing to challenge me anyway,”
“Yes,” The Alpha snarled, barely more than a bestial growl, “Yes! Bravado, pride, and bloodlust that is what I wish to see. When you face your ancestors, you may tell them that it was Commodus that slew you and sent you to them,”
“You talk too much,” Joseph drew his sword and settled into his practiced stance, “Guys, try and…” he fumbled for the right words, “Stabilize Saren,”
“Already on it,” Tristan said as he took Saren’s pulse and ignored her glare, “I know I’m not helping, I can’t do jack shit. Look at your fucking leg, woman! There’s nothing to do,”
Commodus hefted two massive axes, dark steel and caked with gore, one in each hand. He and Joseph circled each other for a few moments before he brought both axes above his head and lunged. Joseph sidestepped the attack, narrowly missing getting his arms chopped off, and swung at Commodus’ back, opening a dark red gash.
Commodus roared and pivoted, extended his arms and swung his axes in Joseph’s general direction. Joseph rolled under the strike and stabbed at Commodus’ exposed midriff. Joseph ran him through to the ricasso of his sword and was knocked aside with a massive arm to the side of the head. Joseph hit the ground and rolled away from Commodus’ general location. When he looked up at Commodus’ his eyes widened at the site of a massive beast of a man barely hindered by the large sword protruding from his abdomen charging him.
Commodus slammed his shoulder into Joseph, sending him crashing through a sapling and face first into the reddening snow. Scrambling to get up, Joseph grabbed a piece of the sapling and drove it into Commodus’ thigh as he grabbed his sword and pulled back with all his might, freeing his sword. He immediately spun and swung it into Commodus’ right arm, embedding itself once again into the massive man and digging into the bone in his upper arm. Commodus dropped the axe that his right arm held and swung his remaining weapon, arcing the flat of the axe-head it at Joseph’s head. Joseph saw stars as the axe struck him, knocking him into the snow once again.
Commodus threw his axe away and grabbed the blade of Joseph’s sword and tore it out of his arm. He inspected the blade, examining the build and make of it.
“This is a fine blade, hunter. After your death I shall wield it to slay other worthy foes,”
Joseph grabbed Commodus’ fallen axe and twisted it so that the bladed edge pointed upwards
“Go to hell!” He shouted as he drove the axe into the much larger man’s left underarm.
Commodus reeled back, bleeding profusely from his multitude of wounds.
“You…have actually caused me pain,” Commodus smiled as she spoke, “I shall grant you…one parting gift,” his body twisted and morphed, becoming lither and lean as well as growing dark red hair. His head and face shaped to that of a beast, then to the obvious visage of a wolf. He roared as the transformation completed, he was his true self, a monster, a werewolf.
Joseph had grabbed his sword during the transformation and once again made his stance. When he swung he hit air, air that once held a colossal wolf beast. Commodus had moved behind Joseph in an instant and swung his great claw, carving open Joseph’s arm and slamming him against a tree. The sound of his ribs snapping could be heard by the stringent crowd.
Irina shouted various praises of her alpha and similar curses of his prey. She wanted to see the beast tear someone apart and add another skull to his collection. She watched with the attention of a child hopped up on ‘learning’ pills at the spectacle before her.
Joseph’s friends, between pretending to provide medical care for the immobilized Saren, were frozen in fear. Resembling the rigor mortis that they’re corpses would gain, that is if the werewolves didn’t eat them before they went cold.
Joseph coughed blood, enough to splatter the front of his coat. He sat against the tree he was thrown against. He barely could think through the sheer agony of his broken bones jabbing his internal organs but he certainly felt the claw around his throat lift him to eye level with Commodus. He smelled Commodus’ foul breath, smelling of rotten meat and blood. Commodus growled in Joseph’s face before parting his great maw and slowly working Joseph’s head into it. Seeing only one opportunity left, Joseph meekly shoved his clutched fist at the wound in Commodus’ abdomen.
Commodus immediately lurched, pausing. Joseph saw something in his foe’s eyes, like those of a beaten dog. Fear, what he saw was pure and simple fear. Commodus suddenly dove and sunk his teeth into Joseph’s non-shredded shoulder. Joseph shouted in pain as dagger long teeth ripped into him, and just as quickly as they entered they exited without any extra damage. Commodus fell backwards, falling on his back and relaxing every strained muscle as he gave his death rattle, dying in the cold snow.
Joseph fell to his hands and knees, still shouting from the bite. He had to breathe between the shouts, the blood pouring out of his mouth further hindering him. The shouts became loud pants, becoming more and more guttural each time, descending into bestial growls. He went dead silent as the blood flow from his mouth slowed to a trickle and stopped altogether. He began to stand, only slightly staggering as he righted himself and looked up at his spectators with his own blood covering his mouth and eyes shining bright yellow.
Saren’s heart sank as she saw her friend rise. Her friend was turned and she was completely powerless to do anything about it in the slightest. She knew that fresh turned werewolves were even more dangerous than a pack of inexperienced youngbloods. The chance of them going feral is at its peak post turn and neither she nor her friends were able to kill one in their condition.
Irina approached her new alpha with a smile. A dead alpha and some dead scrubs were in all a minor setback to the pack but not one that couldn’t be fixed.
“So, new bossman,” she wrapped her arm around Joseph’s bloodied but healing shoulder, “What’s the first order of business?”
Joseph wheeled around and punched her in the face, breaking her jaw and knocking her down.
“Anyone,” he growled, “Who was stupid enough to be loyal to this dead fucker,” he spat the word ‘dead’ as he kicked Commodus’ corpse “Fuck off or I’m tearing you open and leaving you to be eaten by whatever passes by,”
The surviving wolves quickly scampered away, terrified of the person that tore their pack apart.
“Joseph?” Saren said, barely above a whisper. Joseph turned his attention to his friends, who, with Saren’s exception, had a hand on their firearms, “Please. Don’t tell me you’re one of them,” her voice cracked as she spoke, she would later claim it was hoarse from yelling, but the truth was that she was moments away from breaking down and crying.
Joseph calmly walked over to his friends and picked Saren up, bridal style.
“I’m still people,” he said, in a voice that for the first time that night, sounded completely human, “You lying bitch,” Which also meant that he absolutely wasn’t going to let Saren forget this night, not that she needed help remembering.
Israel walked over to Commodus and knelt down, running his hands over the corpse’ eyes to close them,
“May you burn and your ashes fuel the growth of things of greater worth,” he grabbed at the wound Joseph attacked in his last desperate move and pulled his lucky coin out of it, he smiled at the fact that Joseph remembered he called it his ‘lucky silver’, “Rest in chaos, you psychopath,” He pulled out a flask, another thing he found in Saren’s basement, and poured the kerosene contents on the dead werewolf before striking a match, tossing it and lighting the corpse on fire, just as Saren did for the first wendigo they saw.
Saren smiled as she saw her team doing what they should do. Burning the bodies and inspecting what they could use for trophies and death proofs so that they’d get paid for clearing the pack out.
“Joseph,” she whispered again, finally realizing the immense pain she was in from her destroyed knee, “Do you think we could speed things up, my leg is really-,” Joseph just grabbed Saren’s off kilter leg and straighten it with a sickening crunch noise. Saren froze and whimpered through her clenched teeth as Joseph walked to where Tristan and Israel were crowding.
“What’d you guys find?” Joseph asked. He was met with Tristan hefting a large sawn-off double barrel shotgun with a smile on his face, “That answers my question,”
“Small question,” Tristan asked, looking for any ammo in the clutter of what was apparently a storage box, “You’re uh…kinda sounding different man. You’re not gonna turn out to be that big fucker possessing you or anything, are you?”
“I sound kind of off because I’m still regenerating from my ribs stabbing through my lungs. Which, might I add, is a very painful process,” Joseph would have smacked him if he wasn’t still holding the whimpering Saren, “You towhead jackass,”
“Yup,” Israel said, inspecting a dagger, “It is absolutely still Joseph,” when Israel pulled the dagger out of its sheath he found it shined much more than steel would, “This motherfucker had a silver dagger,” he said putting back away, “I totally call it,”
“Why,” Joseph found he had a new natural repulsion to the material, the same as an animal backing away from fire, “Why would he have that?”
“Same reason people make mustard gas,” Israel said, attaching it to his belt, “Kill shit,”
“Please,” Saren sobbed, “Can we please go home now?”
“Sure thing, you lying bitch,” Joseph grabbed one of Commodus’ axes, “Tristan, grab the other axe. Iz, you’re driving Saren’s car home with her in the back,”
“He’s not driving my fucking-,” Joseph shifted Saren in his grip, jostling her leg slightly and making her quiet, “Oh...why?” she whined.
“Fucking hell,” Tristan struggled to pick up the axe with one hand, “How did that guy swing these things? They weigh a fucking ton,”
“Wolf steroids,” Israel said, “Wolfroids,” he was clearly proud of himself for that one.
Joseph dropped Saren into Israel’s less bruised and mangled arms. He got into his car with Tristan, the axes, and the shotgun and began to drive off.
“He’s mad at me,” Saren grumbled as the car lurched away, “he’s so fucking mad at me,”
“Of course he fucking is, you lying bitch,” Israel said, never losing his smile as he trudged through the snow back to Saren’s car, “But I think the bigger thing on his mind is that fact that his last name is now even more fitting,”
“Yeah,” Saren began nodding off, realizing just how little sleep she’s gotten in the last forty-eight hours and just how much she’d done, “Yeah,” she said as she lost consciousness.
The Hunters: Good Samaritans
And here we have the werewolf arc finale! Yay! One off or two to follow then another arc.
Cry ‘Havoc’

“If you cannot bite, never show your teeth.”
                                                               -Old Nordic Saying

Saren needled another stitch into Joseph’s back where Irina had clawed him. They had retreated back to Saren’s living room to sew themselves up and lick their wounds. Joseph was wincing in pain as Saren half lectured half ranted to him and the team while stitching him up.
“What we saw was a proving,” She continued her needlework, not noticing or ignoring the obvious pain her teammate was in, “Aspirants are shoved in a room, told to kill each other, and the one winner is made into a werewolf by the supervising-,”
“Words words words!” Israel suddenly shouted “What’s our next move?”
Saren glared at him as she tied off the stitch. She’d done the same style of stitch hundreds of times.
“If you’d have let me finish I would have said that there’s a pack in the area. We need to find it and get rid of it. Lucky for us a typical pack only consists of about five or six-ish actual wolves, the rest being cronies or pets. Hopefully Andre is still offering that deal on pelt trade ins. That and the standard fee for dead wolves-” she trailed off into mutters about finances and profit.
Israel stood up and went to the kitchen, leaving Saren to ponder just how much profit she would get and how little her team would get. He wrung his hands, wincing as he remembered his recently set wrist bones.
“Dude,” Tristan walked behind him “You okay man?”
“I’m fine,” Israel sat on one of the breakfast nook chairs “No, no I’m not. Fucking shit man, why does it take until we’ve almost been killed by something for Saren to tell us feth all about it? How long until one of us gets killed by fucking Bigfoot and THEN Saren tell us how to kill it?”
“I dunno man,” Tristan leaned against the wall and rubbed one of the many bruises he’d gained, “I get what you mean, it makes me mad too. You remember that vampire I shanked? Saren never actually told us how to kill a vampire. I was just going off friggin’ Dracula and shit. If that wouldn’t have worked, we’d be thick red paste back at that farm,”
“Augh! This is bullshit,” Israel threw his head back into his hands, “You know what we should do? Go back in there and demand full access to her library or information trove or newsletter or whatever,”
“Yeah,” Tristan’s eyes lit up, “And then she’ll shoot us in the face and spare us the pain of being disemboweled by werewolves. That’s a great idea,”
“Eh, prick,” Israel slumped into his seat
“You’re right though,” Tristan opened up Saren’s fridge and grabbed a pair of sodas, “We should talk to her and get this shit done right. We should be the badass anti-heroes not the naïve protagonists,”
Israel lightly smiled as his friend gave him a soda
“Damn fething straight we should be,” he gulped his drink, “At least, *burp* at least we’re having fun,”
“Amen,” Tristan sat down on the other side of the table, “Man, how did we even get into this shit?”
“Altruism my friend,” Israel half slurred out of exhaustion “The kinda altruism that make us help a girl getting beat up by assholes. Then said girl becomes our friend and puts us in all these crazy scenarios where we could die, literally, at any time.” He chugged what remained of his drink “I am so fucking glad we met Saren,”
“Fuck does altruism mean?” Tristan asked
“It means charity you putz,” Israel retorted


“They’re talking about me,” Saren said as she taped down a bandage on Joseph’s shoulder, “I just know it,” she sighed, “I fucked up,” Joseph lightly nodded, only half paying attention, as he put his shirt back on. “Dammit. You guys almost died because I felt like acting like the big dog, kicking the door down and calling out a bunch of lunatics who were about to kill each other,” A small cardboard box that the gauze came in lightly hit the side of her head.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Joseph said standing up “When we first met you were a fucking beast, getting into fights with skinheads, taking us into the woods to play with sharp things, and teaching us all the most effective ways to kill things with soup spoons. The fuck happened to that Saren? That Saren was cool. That Saren didn’t cry like a bitch when things get a little scraped up,”
“Hey, fuck you,” Saren got into his face, “Forgive me for giving a damn about the only living friends I have, and not wanting to have to attend their funerals!”
“Fuck me? Fuck you,” Joseph growled out, “Thank you for throwing us into the meat grinder and then feeling bad about it,”
Saren snapped her arm and punched joseph in the cheek, sending him back into his chair. Saren grabbed his jaw and made him look up at her.
“Yeah I feel bad. I feel bad because I care about all of you, you dumb fuck,” her voice lost any trace of mirth she had left for the evening, “I brought you all into this, everything that happens to you is on my head, my fault,” her grip shifted to his neck “I feel bad because I would never forgive myself if you got hurt on my watch. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Joseph snarled, “Yeah, I got you,”
“Splendid,” Saren’s voice became light and happy again as she let Joseph’s neck go, “Go get the bums, tell them they’re staying the night and we’re hitting the pack in the morning,”
Joseph did as he was told with a grin on his face. The Saren he liked was back and he was happy with it.


“Guys, wake up!” Tristan called out from the top of the stairs,
He and the others were sleeping in Saren’s basement on some cots she had in storage. Tristan woke up to use the bathroom and noticed that- “Saren’s gone!”
Israel and Joseph bolted up, swearing to themselves as they rushed to put their gear on.
“Fucking bullshit lying ass-,” Joseph stopped himself before he got carried away
Israel checked his phone for the time. It was only about an hour after they went to sleep.
“She waited all of one fucking hour before abandoning us,” Israel swore as he kicked his cot, he then swore as the pain of kicking a metal cot with no shoes hit him. “Fucking perfect,”
They loaded their guns, grabbed their swords and got in Joseph’s car.
“Wait a minute,” Joseph said, “Where the fuck are we going? We don’t exactly have a GPS implant in her,”
“The canyon,” Israel responded, “Werewolves prefer the wild. The woods and shit like that. It’s the closest, most defensive place that fits the criteria,” Tristan starred at his friend
“How the hell do you know that?” Israel’s response was to smile and hold up a faded leather bound book with ‘Werebeasts’ printed on the cover.
“I found it rooting around in Saren’s basement,” he said through his smile
“Right,” Joseph turned the key in the ignition, “The canyon then,”

Saren crept through the snow, sword in one hand, pistol in the other. After arriving in the canyon she immediately spotted a light trail of blood and boot prints, presumably left by Irina, and followed it. This is what she lived for, the hunt. Knowing her foe and going to meet them. She grinned to herself as she put a small handful of snow in her mouth to mask her breath, completing the ensemble of camouflage she was wearing, a white coat and snow-pants.
There were totems hung in the trees. Rotten small animals, miscellaneous bones from deer, humans or whatever the pack had eaten and kept the bones of made up the totems. They marked the territory and hunting grounds of the pack, though it was rare that such borders were respected.
Saren wrung out her sword hand, slightly nervous about her choice of weapon. Andre forged his weapons with an amount of silver smelted into the metal, not enough to instantly kill things like pure silver can, but enough to be able to do damage. But after the amount of times Irina was stabbed and did not die, Saren had her doubts on the lethality of the amount in Andre’s wares.
Saren diverged from the trail, hoping to swing around and flank her quarry. When she heard loud talking and growling she knew her instincts were right. She began crawling in the snow, staying as low as she could as she grew closer. The voices got clearer and clearer the closer she got, after some time in the snow she could hear what was being said
“-told you to not go alone,” a young male voice. Saren made a mental note of at least two wolves, Irina and the new one.
“Fuck off,” Irina herself
“Quiet, both of you,” grumbled a low and heavy voice. Saren knew from experience that this must be the alpha. No one else gives orders in the pack. “You both whine like pups fresh off the teat. Irina’s failure came from being outnumbered by a skilled hunter and some of his untrained underlings,”
Saren smiled to herself when she heard ‘skilled hunter’ but was confused by the ‘his’.
“Fucker with the claymore must have been trained by some bigshot to have his own brood,” Saren made another mental note about a fourth member as she came to a realization. They thought she was a newbie and Joseph was the veteran who taught them everything. She decided she hated these wolves more than she usually hates things.
“It wasn’t a claymore, it was a zweihander,” Irina pointed out
“Fuck is the difference?” the young one again.
“I know swords, dumbass,” Saren began to ignore the conversation as she got close enough to see them. More importantly, she saw that one was leaning against a tree with a split down the middle, giving her a clear shot at the back of his head.
“Whatever, it’s just a sword,” it was the young one, who was also the leaner. Irina made an audible sound of disgust, “But still, who walks in with a bunch of handguns and guns dudes down? What kinda Al Capone shit is that? Guy has to be half crazy to-,” Saren permanently shut him up, curtesy of her sword going through the back of his neck and out his mouth, also assuaging her doubts on the efficiency of her sword.
Saren let the body slide off her sword as she casually walked out from behind the tree. She saw all the people she heard, five werewolves in total, now four. One never said a word. They shared the aesthetic of the aspirants from before.
“Listen up skinheads!” Saren shouted, “Either line up or come at me all at once! I don’t care which,” They were silent, either in shock from their comrade getting stabbed in the back of the face or from awe in that no one would try anything as stupid as calling out a bunch of angry werewolves. “Hey!” Saren continued shouting, “Are you deaf or something?!” They still didn’t move or say a word.
Suddenly, Saren heard a low grumbling laugh, slowly getting louder. It was the alpha. Saren finally got a good look at him. He was massive with a trimmed buzz cut, standing a head taller over a man who stands a head taller than everyone, wide as a double door, and all of it scarred muscle. Saren noticed that his grey-blue eyes were almost identical to hers before shaking thoughts from her head that weren’t ‘how to most effectively kill these people,’ this was no time for pointless trivia.
“You,” he said casually walking up to Saren, “Are either stupid, brave, or both,”
“Both,” Saren responded tightening her grip on her sword, “In all likelihood,”
He smiled, if twisting the ugly patchwork of scars that formed his face counted as a smile.
“Excellent. Excellent! A proper battle, at long last!” He started laughing as he spoke, “A good fight and an even better death, for one of us at least,”
“Then let’s go!” Saren pointed her sword at him, “Stop talking so we can kill each other,”
“No,” He said, untwisting his smile, “Our audience is not large enough,” he turned his back and started walking away, “Your master and comrades should be arriving shortly. Then, we will face each other,”
“I’m the one who taught them you idiot!” Saren lunged forward and swung her sword, missing the alpha as he dodged. She kept swinging, punctuating each swing with a shout, “I. Taught. Them!”
She was enraged, not thinking, not paying attention to the other pack members, or to the fourth pack member that swung a sledgehammer at her leg, connecting with her knee-joint and bending her leg around the hammerhead. Saren screamed as she fell into the snow, the overwhelming pain in her leg made her mind go blank with shock and pain.
“Idiot!” The alpha grabbed his subordinate by the face and slammed his head into the ground. The snow around the werewolf’s head began to turn red as the alpha grabbed Saren’s sword, looking comically undersized in his hand, and ran him through. He stared down at Saren’s writhing form with a look of disappointment and frustration. “Our fight would have been glorious,” He put the tip of Saren’s sword to her neck, “I am almost sad that it will now never happen,”
Saren struggled to stay conscious through the alpha’s speech. She regretted coming out on her own, stubbornly ignoring and abandoning her friends. She grabbed the tip of her sword and began vigorously shaking it, slicing her hand and wrestling it out of the alpha’s hand. Her vision began fading as she grabbed onto the tree behind her, smearing it with blood from her carved hand, ignoring every urge to lie down and pass out. She stressed every muscle that would still move for her to prop herself up against the tree and point her sword at the werewolves.
“Which one of you wants to die next,” She groaned.
The Hunters: Cry 'Havoc'
Here we go, part 2 of the werewolf arc. One part left and then probably a one-off and then another arc. Please enjoy.
It's been a cool minute since I was last on here...huh
  • Mood: Noble
  • Listening to: Stuff
  • Reading: Nothing
  • Watching: Nothing
  • Playing: Heavy Rain
  • Eating: Chicken
  • Drinking: Sierra Mist


Thief of Rage
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
Name's Izzy (7 other known aliases), you don't like me, you can bite me.

I like video games, anything Japanese, music, books, and tearing apart/building things

I hate hypocrites, whores, punchable people, and if i missed anything F&%K IT!

Age:18 goin' on 19 in a few months

Hobbies are but are not limited to: Shooting to thrill playing to kill, daydreaming during class (SUMMER FOR LIFE), writing my own series', watching TV, martial arts(currently street fighting), video games(since I was 2), and building just about anything i have an idea to make

I couldn't care less about what you think of me, if you don't like me you
may call 1-800-EAT-SHIT
Current Residence: F%&$ you Gumby
deviantWEAR sizing preference: If it's comfy enough, I'll wear a mini skirt... That came out wrong
Favourite genre of music: hard rock/metal
Favourite photographer: maes hughes
Favourite style of art: Explosives
Operating System: Windows 7 on a fuckball of a computer
MP3 player of choice: i like the ipod
Shell of choice: I aint no turtle foo
Skin of choice: what/whoevers skin i happen to be wearing
Favourite cartoon character: Deadpool
Personal Quote: All I want out of life is blood, guts, and chocolate cake

My Droogies:


AdCast - Ads from the Community



Add a Comment:
Tevo77777 Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014  Student Writer
What kind of writing do you do?
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
used to be horrid fanfics. currently action/adventure/comedy
Lobo-1 Featured By Owner May 18, 2011  Student Writer
thus you shall check this $H!T out.
It is cool.
Lobo-1 Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2011  Student Writer
Check this out!!!
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You have been hugged!

Spread the DA love around! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)

1- You can hug the person who hugged you!
2- You -MUST- hug 6 other people, at least!
3- You should hug them in public! Paste it on their user page!
4- Random hugs are perfectly okay!
5- You should most definitely get started hugging right away!

Send This To All Your Friends, And Me If I Am 1, On Second thought, Please give one back.
If You Get 7 Back You Are Loved!

1-3 you're a bad friend
4-6 you're an ok friend
7-9 you're a good friend
10-& Up you're a great friend
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Dec 11, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
then you get the hug back then I guess
Hidden by Owner
Hidden by Commenter
Lobo-1 Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2010  Student Writer
sarabudbug Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2010
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
sarabudbug Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2010
whats up whats up whats up??????????????????????????
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
someting just exploded
(1 Reply)
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave!
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave!
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the fave! please tell me what you thought!
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
me likey series
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the faves!
I saw on your profile that you would like to bash sasuke's brains out. May i help?
I assure you that in the apprentice story we cause him a lot of trouble! He he he...
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
tell me when the new one comes out Kay
Add a Comment: