Welcome to Gaia! ::

*The wolves circled Iden and his kills, as he made them. Snapping at each other and at the pile of dismembered bodies, they stole pieces and bites, blood spreading over the floor as the pack squabbled and laughed with each other, tails held high in tribute to the newest member. Not a one shifted forms though, all stayed as wolves, leaving Iden the guest of honour still as the women died, one by one, smile son their faces, lust on their lips.*

Think of all the women of the world you could have, childe... of the havoc you could wreak. And prehaps.. the vengeance?

*At the rear of the open hall, an arch opened in the temple, revealing the path back to the real world, and the mansion. To Iden's rebirth, almost.*

The German's have fed me well, as has Abaddon... prehaps their time IS up, but then again... prehaps you will let he who made you live, hmm?

*the Wyrm was openly laughing, still implanting images of violence into Iden's head, rolling the debauchery his newest avatar was indulging in around on its depraved tongue, enjoying THROUGH Iden... and all the other wolves. Indeed, it was enjoying Korbinian and the Reich's experiances near the mansion also. It did not wish to lose any fo its servants, but seemed MORE concerned with seeig what Iden woudl do, now his way 'home' was open*

Then do as you please, my avatar... I look forward to rewarding your service...

*The Wyrm was a chuckling voic ein Iden's head as he moved, moving into the background as O-kuni spoke. Yet the Wyrm would not vanish form Iden. Not so long as he bore the taint.

The wolves DID approach Iden as he moved to leave, but not to stop him - they came to brush against him, lick him, n** at him. Bond with him. HE wa stheir and they were his. One pack, with one master. His deeds would fee dthem in this barren place, along with the REST of their kin. After all, had not Korbinian brought Iden to them? With the gate open, Iden's exit would be easier than his entry, the darkness in him only growing as he moved further form the Dancer's Temple*

HOOOOONEY! I'm HOOOOOOOOOOOME!

The return to Malfeas was a...pleasurable sensation. But also, it was a horrid one. For the return to the source of Iden's rage also renewed it, which fueled his need to slake his hungers. The corruption that flowed through his body, that WAS his body was forcing it upon his mind. He could not think, not anymore. His plans had gone out the window, leaving just one thing remaining.

He was standing in the Temple Obscura once again. The green marble echoed the sound of his boots, which slowly faded into the soft padding of bare feet. He was with the pack that had accepted him as their own on his Dancing of the Spiral, and so they had met his passing through the ancient halls. He met the wolves as he passed, much as they met him. There was the posturing, the snarling and the hostility, but there was the kinship as claws passed across fur. Already Iden's form was sprouting dark fur of its own...it felt more natural to hear the constant ticking of claws upon the marble, to feel the raw power that flowed through his inhuman form. Power that demanded exercise.

Malfeas was certainly the perfect place for this, and as part of the hellscape, so was the Temple. Captives of the Black Spiral Dancers, wretched souls that had found themselves drawn in, even just the poor refuse of the other domains of this Wyrm blasted underworld. There was no end to the victims he could choose from. And so he did. Prowling through the corridors of the temple, the telltale streak of blue fur amongst the black mass of his wolven form stalked. Finding victims was not difficult. He somehow had an intuition to rely upon, a gut feeling to guide him. A higher power, if you will.

The victims all were a bit of a blur. Each one, as they caught Iden's nose, had brought a red haze over his vision. The irresistable need to maim, the kill and feed was pouding in his head, and making the empty space in his chest ring hollow. So he would stalk his prey, and when he found them, he would fall upon the poor damned souls with a fury worthy of the devil himself. There was no savoring the deed, no pleasure beyond the feeling of flesh and bone being ground beneath his claws, and blood pouring over his jaws. Never was it enough, though. The consumption of flesh merely made his hunger stronger, his need to kill more potent. So each victim would be slaughtered more savagely than the last, until his fur was matted to his body by the bath of blood he was making for himself.

His roars of blooddrunk rage echoed in the halls. It seemed to be a beacon, as it only hastened how quickly he tore from one body to the next, then the next, then the next. More, more, MORE! He needed more! It was not enough, never enough. The blades of hunger were sharper in his gut, the all consuming rage burning madly in his mind.

MORE!

The word almost seemed to be a mental command, as more and more came to him. He seemed to be attracting a flock, a small mob of feeble creatures that had been summoned by his psychic command. He tore into them without mercy, slashing and rending and tearing as they came within arms reach. Not a one resisted, and many actually exposed themselves to his claws, nigh on begging to be cut apart by the blood crazed abomination.

All around him, more victims were being thrown for the beast to tear apart. More of the slender naked women had come, sacrificing the rabble to the avatar of that which they gave worship to. The Wyrm had sent them, knowing its servant had come home, and had seen fit to put them into the hands of the young abomination.

As the victims numbers began to thin, the ring of priestesses began to close around the beast. They knew of him, their knowledge given by the master they all served, beast and victim alike. The massacre had slowed, the physical needs grinding lower as Iden's need for sustinance was finally slaked. He was gorged on the flesh and blood of those that had been offered, but now his other needs were pressing in on him. Violence and sex had always gone hand in hand, and he was struck by lust as the women circled him. This was not to say the rage had faded...this would be a brutal satisfaction that would best be described as violent.

:: G -Corp Labs ::

Only a small amount of time had passed since Seraphim and his pack had made their escape from the G- Corp labs, though Abaddon was hardly sitting on his hands and waiting for them to return, prepared to take him on. They had barely managed to destroy any of the Garou or Cainite specimens in the stasis chambers before being forced back, and Abaddon, had plans for the remaining specimens.

Standing in the midst of the stasis room, Abaddon would give a wickedly tainted grin spanning across his features filled with ivory white canines, and slowly begin to raise his open hands from his sides.

With every inch they ascended, the shadows in the room would seem to grow darker, absolute blackness spreading out to gradually engulf everything, leaving however the remaining Cainite specimens untouched.

Finally, Abaddon's hands would be raised above his head, and with a sudden jar from his elbows, and the joints and tendons in his hands, a deep, violating indigo glow would permeate from his being, full black eyes ripping with the energy, before the torporess corpses in their pods would all out of unisen begin to open their own eyes.

One by one the bodies held captive awoke, and began to show visages of agony and torment, their minds and bodies breaking under a flooding torrent of missery, before finally, they started to bleed out from every openning. The stasis fluid in their pods would mix with the vitae, before the glass couldn't take any more pressure.

With a snarl from the world eater, the chambers would explode to fill the air with tiny particles of glass like glittering snow flecks that refused to simply fall to the floor. Instead, the blood stained glass particles and shards would defy gravity, floating magically in the air all around the bodies that hit the floor, bled out and cut to ribbons by the glass breaking.

Amidst the glass however, the collective vitae glided as droplets of varied sizes, as if in zero gravity, the greatest Diablerist to ever exist, caught in the trance of his actions.

Body trembling, muscles straining, Abaddon would then give a thunderous roar unlike any heard in Gaia before, his battle cry shaking the very deepest foundations of the labs even down there, in the underground as the building above the surface would selectively crumble, portions of the structure unable to keep up after the abuse of the battle before hand.

Dust was thrown into the air at ground level and cracks webbed out from the facility as its epicenter, as the vitae drained from his captives, all at once then raced in, to soak into the Diablerist.

As the last drop of vitae would be assimilaited, Abaddon's abyssal black eyes, would turn to iris' made of pure, indigo energy, like candles lit in the sockets of his features. He was complete, in one sense. All of the worlds clans. All of the Disciplines known by even the eldest Cainites. He had it all, save for one Discipline. Infinitas.

Letting his hands fall back down to his sides, back hunching as he took a moment to exhale, Abaddon's grin returned, and he knew there were only two, remaining components to his perfection. Seraphim, and Corbin.

Then, clear out of the blue, a whistle would pierce the air with its gradually ascending, impressed tone, and the Diablerist's eyes would rise to lock onto the figure now standing in the stasis labs doorway.

A man in a long, dark crimson cloak not unlike the ones worn by the Abomination leaders, leaning against the door frame on his left shoulder.

"What are you doing here.... Migel?...Korbinian?..."

It was then that Abaddon would take notice of the absent insignia. This wasn't any of his officers, and the realization brought a snarl to his lips, though that expression would change just the same, as the figure tilted its head back slightly, exposing the lower facial features, and a single bunch of cerulean strands of hair dangling about the cheek.

Shock came over the beast, followed by an even more loathing look of disdain, as the name was spat out with a forked tongue.

"NARok!?"