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Indeed it seemed like the entire swamp had just --stopped. There was that warm feeling of tenseness in the air (Manslaughter thought it was warm, in any case, surely to every other it was cold and caused shivers). The birds had finally shut up and left the area, and there wasn't a buzzing bug in earshot. And his prey in question was standing at full attention, that is, until the female started walking towards him. He knew that she could have caught a slight glimpse of him, and so instead of moving directly, he let out a raspy growl, somewhere between an angry dog's and a large cat's, but he managed to do it without opening his mouth, and so there was no more to see of him than what had already been glimpsed, if anything at all.

A split second afterwards, Massacre straightened up, still completely an inkling, having kept her eyes closed, and tilts her head back in a bellowing howl. It is chilling and primal, and though it first comes from directly behind the group, perhaps the direction that Peeper is looking, it reverberates off of the trees in the area possibly giving the illusion of more than one creature howling, perhaps not.

As the howl endures, Manslaughter quiets his growl and raises his haunches just the slightest so that he can stamp his back legs softly and then softer and softer to emulate the sound of something running away into the distance, away from the howling. He continues to wait where he is though, giving the party a couple of tense moments to take in the howling before making his next move.

Lower Down isn't quite so ready to let his guard down as Peeper is. He is, after all, a prankster at heart, and his father perhaps a tad bit paranoid-- some of that caution was bound to rub off on him sooner or later. There's no denying, however, that the strange growling and howling sets the fur of his neck and back to rising. He perks his ears up and toward the sound and tilts his head, moving to Twilight's side to stare in the direction she had been looking earlier.

A less observant buck or doe might mistake the stomping sounds to be the sound of something heavy leaving, but Lower Down is not so gullible. After all, they would have surely heard it's splashing escape, too-- this part of the Swamp being thick with water, after all.

"It's not gone. We would have heard it in the water. Whatever, or whoever it is, is trying to get the best of us." Some of his unease melts at this conclusion, and Lower Down smirks a little bit, his head lowering in a bit of challenge as he moves toward the thick tangle of mangrove roots.

"Come out then, whatever you are. You're no gator, and you're certainly no lynx-- not with that howl." He is a little nervous, yes, but neither is he a coward. He'd rather face and fight a threat than stand around shivering in fear of it.

Massacre sees her chance and takes it without hesitation. The pink thing is still, while the other two begin to move closer to where her companion lays in wait, when she makes her move. Where she had been hiding was almost directly behind the group, but slightly to one side, so when she leaps out of cover, her body stretching out and then contracting once she hits the ground, her long legs take almost no time at all to make it to the group of kimeti. Once there, she makes her first hit on the pink one, jumping up at his back, nipping at his shoulder and jumping straight off of it in less than a split second. Once she turned around towards the others, she hunkered down, head low and teeth bared in a crazy snarl. Her long legs could maneouver through this water without any difficulty, and her lithe body allowed her to twist any which way she needed to as she kept her guard up and readied herself for any physical response from the kimeti. She was half their size, yes, but she was faster and had sharper teeth, and she was not afraid of fighting, in fact, she relished it.

Manslaughter waited until the others turned to react to the hound before springing his own introduction, but until then he pressed himself down as much as he could and all of his muscles tensed, readying for their next use.

Lower Down takes a sniff of the air, and growls low under his breath just before Massacre leaps out to attack at Peeper. He whirls in that direction, having not noticed the hound, but is relieved to see that the pink bouncing thing seems alright... even if his fighting capabilities are rather.. well.. meager. There is the scent of something else though. Familiar, yet alien-- and it's not the dog, though he's never really seen a dog like that before. Coyote's, sure, but this one looks different. Canine, yes, and that's all he needs to know to know that it's not what he's scenting.

"There's something else here. Damn-- we need to help Peeper. There's something else here though, I can smell it. Like.. a kimeti, but unfamiliar. I don't like this." He growls again, almost as viciously as the inky hound in front of them, ears laid back, in the direction that Manslaughter is hiding, and backs up toward Peeper to keep the dog from blind-sighting him. "Keep together! Whoever it is is likely going to try and take us one by one if they're too coward to fight us without the help of their mangy flea-bag."

Massacre makes another run around the troupe and this time, a mongoose adds to their numbers and Massacre instantly begins to drool. Her tongue lolls and saliva drips from it as she scrambles to get herself turned around as fast as she can manage. This time instead of leaping onto the pink thing she ducks her head and just as the doe warns the pink thing not to let the little rodent jump Massacre makes perfect timing to catch the squirming thing in her jaws as she dashes past. But she doesn't squeeze the thing hard enough to puncture it's skin, she just holds it in her mouth just hard enough that it cannot escape and then slows to a lope but continues to circle the group, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she glares at the pink thing, challenging him to come after his pet.

The reactions were perfect. The prankster is uncertain, sniffing the air and can feel his presence. The pink fluff thing is nervous, and the doe is uncomfortable, scared. She becomes Manslaughter's obvious target because he does not see the two males as competent fighters, at least not from what he has been able to learn about them from the short time he's been stalking. And so, tensing his muscles he finally leaps out of where he was hiding, takes one bound off the ground and launches into the air to make a good landing... straight into the doe's shoulders so that when they collide she falls to the ground, the two tumble over each other once, and he ends up standing on top of her with his two front hooves, placed on her lower chest, keeping her pinned to the ground.

His eyes glow red once more, threatening and cold. His jaw slides open in a vicious grin, revealing fangs never seen before. his tattered ears flick about, keeping track of where the males were, readying himself in case they were foolish enough to attack. His sides barely move as the calm demon bows his head down closer to the doe's own and whispers loud enough for all three to hear, "Manslaughter, come to fulfill your deepest, darkest, nightmares..." And with that, he stills, only his tail lazily twitching back and forth, but his eyes keep that contact with the doe as he awaits her reaction.

Inside, Manslaughter is relishing every second of this chase, devouring every negative emotion as if it were sustenance. He would sigh in contentment were it not important that he kept all his muscles tense in case the puny males decided to attack him. He knew it was the female that could be most dangerous to him, hence her takedown... but he was double her size, and a good half-size bigger than the males, and he knew that this alone might keep them at bay, if only until he dealt physical harm.

As Twilight is suddenly ambushed, along with Peeper's pet, Lower Down whirls in the direction of the dark Kimeti before them. He doesn't feel that Manslaughter is really bigger than them so much as he appears to be. The multiple horns and extra scales make him appear bulkier than he actually is-- not to mention his red eyes and the glowing red markings on his hide. Lower Down is not fool enough to rush the other kimeti while his sharp teeth are so close to Twilight's throat, but neither is he afraid. Instead of whimpering or stilling in fear, he snarls.

"Let her go." A step closer, and his eyes flick over to the circling dog, one back hoof kicking out savagely to kick the thing in the ribs, sending it sprawling. It's not enough to kill it, or really do any permanent damage, but it's enough to free Peeper's mongoose and to make the creature sore for awhile.

His glance flickers from the bulky buck to the smaller doe trapped beneath him, and though they only just met--- it doesn't matter. There is violence being done before his very eyes, and he would no more hesitate for a doe or buck who's name he didn't know than hesitate to help Twilight or even Peeper had it been him trapped under the dark Kimeti.

It's obvious that the buck isn't about to give up and abandon his friend. A little nervous he might be, yes, but not for Manslaughter. Rather, for the things the buck might attempt to do to the pretty doe.

Massacre is first greeted with a swift kick in the side, ends up dropping the rodent and not two seconds afterwards another pair of hooves clips her other side. Instead of resisting the hits she exhales as they impact and allows her body to roll after the second hit. She rolls on her side once, twice, and then swiftly untucks her legs on the third time over to end up standing, and standing low to the ground at that. Now she is thoroughly pissed off. Bruised and mongoose-less, the dog curls her lips as much as she can, exposing not only her lips but her gums beyond that too. Her own snarl starts up and with it comes some flying drops of saliva. She has turned on the males now and is pacing back and forth, shoulders poking out of her back as she prowls, tail lashing back and forth angrily, and she barks, low and loud at the rodent, considering how to next attack.

Manslaughter, atop the doe deftly dodges the doe's kicks and then steps off of her neatly. Keeping his eyes on the doe, and his ears on the males he replies in his normal tone this time, low and raspy, "There. You've been let go, my darling." He raises his head and glances about the group. His muscles relax just the slightest and his tail stops swishing as violently. He whistles once, and his faithful hound, Massacre, stops pacing, stops eyeing the group hungrily, gives one last snarl for the bruised sides and then turns tail to lope out of the area, melting into the darkness once more, disappearing. "You're right, Fluffy..." His gaze falls on the pink buck for a moment before turning back over to the doe, "Perhaps I should start with flowers next time." And with that, he walks past the doe calmly, and once he is out of the group's reach he trots and then canters back into the shadows, this time for real.

The last thing that can be seen of him is his tail curling around a cypress tree a ways off, and then his parting gift can be heard: a sinister, cold thing without feeling or understanding; his malicious laughter diminishing into the distance as he puts on speed and begins to gallop through the swamp heading to the darkest heart of all: The Swamp's.

Perhaps this trip had been unfruitful, perhaps it had been a waste of time, but it had definitely at the very least exposed his demonic aura to more kimeti, and that was something to count. The more that heard him, the more that saw him, encountered him, the more there would be talk of him. And in the end, more talk meant even more encounters which meant more fun and games for him and his inkling hound, Massacre.