Regeneration (P)

Werewolves were just a myth back in the old days. Back when someone by the name of Naruto Uzumaki was hokage, people believed that creatures of that caliber were just story material. Men who wouldn't die, men who drank the blood of fellow men, man/dog half-breeds and yet, all those came to pass. Salzem was such proof that monsters such as those did exist. He surely appeared to be such, towering over most men and women and having the body of a werewolf. If he had a mind to match his grotesque form, maybe he wouldn't quite be a danger to those who would hunt him. They may think him a beast, granting his unique senses and form only belonging to such a thing but a beast, even a cleaver one cannot plan. A beast couldn't give a single care about the lives of certain people. A beast couldn't look past it's own cowardice to face a superior foe. Salzem was no such creature despite is gnarled appearance.

He squatted atop an abandoned sandy outpost, leaning heavily to the left above the sand that would claim it. Even half absorbed, the outpost provided a nice little over-look of the surrounding desert. No real important reason for him being there. All he was doing was chasing down some small-time criminals. Thieves, bandits, drug hustlers, that sort of thing. Despite the amazing senses and power this new body gave him, it had crippled his skills rather thoroughly and would require him to relearn old skills. What better way to get started than to hunt some lowly scum? Salzem couldn't think of any. His presence wasn't really.... "enjoyed" in the village anymore, at least in this body. He assumed his friends would act the same. They were, of course, trapped in their cowardly human shapes. Training no longer seemed to satisfy him the way it used to either. It seemed to have lost it's appeal once he realized how much more fun it was to smash foolish humans who would disrupt his peace. Barbaric? Salzem knew not what that word meant anymore. He had cast out a great number of words from his personal encyclopedia when he transformed into... this for keeps.

He watched as the small group of 10 or so men trekked through the desert, hauling crates and sacks from another score, no doubt. He snarled and sunk down through a hole in the roof of the tower, sinking his claws into the inner walls as he slid down, slowing his decent. As soon as his feet touched the floor, he slipped out through the half-submerged door and began inching closer to the moving group. They didn't seem to have noticed him yet. That gave him the element of surprise and even better, he was aided by the shifting air of the arid desert. He drew ever closer on his four paws, only about 20 meters away. He could practically smell the sweat on them, their anticipation, their... eagerness to leave this hot and difficult environment. That was just fine because they wouldn't be staying long. There was no debate in his mind. Anymore, that is. These people have disrupted what was serving as his territory by taking from those under his protection. That wouldn't stand anymore and soon, neither will they.

He drew within only a couple of meters, paws making the softest of sounds as they pressed into the gentle, warm sand beneath. He watched through his sanguine eyes as one of the men near the back wavered and stumbled in his steps, clearly suffering in this environment more than the rest. He was lanky, not much meat on him to Salzem's distaste. His lips curled back into a snarl as he drew ever closer to him, practically within arms reach if he stood up now. However, Salzem was smarter than that. He was eying up the other, more healthy man, noting the katana swords hanging around their hips. He also noticed a couple of them were cradling something like a crossbow close to their chests and with their fingers on the trigger. He could sense they knew something was tracking them, but they didn't know what. The ones on the outside of their little group were checking every direction but right behind them. Apparently the weary one in the back wasn't doing his part. Salzem struck fast, wrapping a massive paw around the weary man's face, claws digging into his cheeks. His eyes shot open, but his couldn't yell or scream due to his mouth being covered. Before he could retaliate pitifully, Salzem raised his other claws and sunk them into the man's throat, quietly, but brutally. He didn't tear the throat open, as much as he wish to, as that would cause a whole lot of noise as the contents splatted on the sand. Instead, he plucked his claws from the flesh of the victim slowly, and laid the body down slowly, putting distance between him and the group.

Salzem followed them further, something around 4-5 meters back. It seemed they hadn't noticed his dirty deed. Wonderful. That meant he could do it again. Like before, he inched up behind the person farthest in the back, raising himself up slowly so that he could wrap a paw around his mouth. It seemed this man was more alert than the first, noticing the towering, wolven figure behind him. He recoiled away from Salzem's paw but not far enough, causing his claws to give him a nasty 3 clawed slash across his face. He fell on his back, clutching his rendered face, screaming and that there is what caught the rest of the men's attention. They all turned to face the noise and came face to face with the horrendous White Wolf of the sand. For a moment, all they could do is stare, some at their fallen man, others at Salzem's twisted form. Their pause gave Salzem time, however and he lunged at another man, this one holding a crossbow. He tried to level it at Salzem's chest and pull the trigger, but alas, Salzem was too quick. He wrapped his massive paws around it and tore it from the man's grip, sending it crashing to the ground. He then delivered a vicious right hook the the side of the man's head, knocking him flat and cracking his skull wide as the rest of the men were raising their weapons. He noted exactly two near the front of the caravan of criminals held crossbows and he needed to dispatch them first. He leaped into the air, at least a good 20 feet above the criminals but that didn't stop the ones with crossbows from firing. They got a good two bolts off each as Salzem descended, 3 out of the four missing. However, the lucky fourth shot managed to imbed itself into his left shoulder, causing agonizing pain. Salzem, however, did not wince or make any sort of pained noise as he touched ground next to one of the reloading crossbowmen. He brought his right arm down in an overhand slash, cutting the man's face cleanly open while knocking the crossbow from his hand and onto the ground. He then clutched the dying man's throat and tossed him at the other crossbowman.

With him distracted, he turned to the regrouping katana-men. They seemed harrowed by the gruesome experience before them but that didn't stop them from attacking. Apparently, they were being paid more than what their good sense was worth to them because they attacked. They attempted to surround Salzem, work his bad angle, but he wouldn't let them. He cracked the head of one with his own, smashed the knee cap of another, his one arm a typhoon of death. He ripped the throat out of the man's neck with his maw, tearing tendons and shredding flesh. Blood sprayed upon him, the dead, the dying. Soon, every man was on the floor either dead of dying which gave Salzem an opportunity to clean himself up. He tore the bolt that still nestled in his arm from his flesh, breaking the point off in the process. Salzem winced slightly, absently digging out the iron tip with his claws while looking about his handy work. A few still lived, but they wouldn't make it back to their base to set up a revenge attempt with the wounds he gave them. Lovely sanguine. He felt instant relief as the blood soaked barb popped out of the wound like a cork. He flicked it to the ground, still holding the other half of the crossbow bolt in his hand. Just then, he felt a slight tug at his ankle. Salzem looked down, annoyed, only to be met with the pleading face of one of the katana-men. His legs were bent at an akward angle, give Salzem the impression he must have smashed his legs in the brawl.

"P-p-please......" The man stuttered through clenched teeth. He was obviously in great misery. "Help..... meeeeee......." Salzem looked down at the man in cold disdain before tearing his leg free and kicking the man's belly with his foot, flipping him on his back. The man groaned and coughed as Salzem squatted down over the man so that his face was only a couple of inches away from his. He thought about simply biting the man's neck open, but then he recalled he was still holding the sharp, shattered wooden shaft of the crossbow bolt in his mangled, lycan hand. He smiled. He then raised the shaft to the man's forehead, gently pushing at first, scratching the man's skin, marking it as a carpenter would park their spots with a painted 'x'. He raised the shaft over his head and crashed it down into the man's skull, implanting it brutally, yet effectively into the man's brain. Salzem suspected he didn't have time to feel before the bolt was reunited with it's master. Good for him. Speaking of feelings, his arm no longer throbbed with the annoying pain of the bolt and was instead, feeling good as new.... Salzem looked at where the wound would have been and, was instead, greeted with a small scar. He smiled widely. It looked like medical ninjutsu wasn't even needed....
(EXIT)
(WC:1710)
(Claiming 1710 words towards Lycan regen and 8 stat points)