2015.08.13 - Cutscene: The King's Wrath

**Emitter:** N/A

*Brock tracks down some of the rogue werewolf pack that's holding his brother.*

Unknown

Somewhere in California

(He's close... I can smell him. It don't make sense that he'd be alone, but I don't even care. If there is a sliver of a chance that I can get him back safe, I'm gonna take it. C'mon Brodie, please let it be that ya escaped and are trying to find me...) O o . A streak of gold and muscle breaking through the forest; powerful haunches flex and push the great weight of the maned beast across the environment, while thick paws crush sticks and leaves under the mass of weight. The lion; the king; Brock Bryant stops his four pawed pursuit and lowers his nose to the ground to gather scent, lifting his eyes to look while his jaw hangs open in a flehmen response.

His tufted ears lift at the very last second as the entire scope is revealed to him. It's not him, it's simply his scent! Those military bastards, using his scent as trickery! To lure him! And now there are three of them... But it was discovered too late, for his hide is penetrated in three different directions, solid silver stakes stabbing into him. Immediately the behemoth of a lion drops deadweight to the ground; lifeless and still, bleeding upon the forest ground.

Three shadows close in on the body, with stake firing rifles trained upon the body. "We got him." Says one of the mask covered men.

"Shit! That actually worked! Look at the /size/ of him, I thought this was gonna be a real fight for sure. Cross was right, using that kid's scent made him lose focus. Better report back, give Cross the good news." As the three get close, the second one leans to poke the lion body with the barrel of his rifle. "Hey, I thought... dropping one of us with silver... He ain't returned to human form..."

The leader barely has time to almost break his neck to look back over at the scene, and screaming a warning was for not. Brock was already shifting shape as he was getting up. The forearm that batted the curious soldier poking the body was half his size, and it sent him flying far into the forest night, until his desperate groan faded to distant.

The second nearby soldier's vision was darkened as a clawed hand, twice the size of his head pushed the palm of itself into his face and gripped his entire dome. He panicked as the feeling of the earth below his feet left him, and flailed in terror, screams muffled by flesh and fur. He shifted in his fear, growling claws and fur, biting into the palm-flesh that cut off his breathing, swinging his claws.

Scaling well over 10 feet tall, Brock now stood as a beast of Goliath stature, a perfect blend of man and lion, existing as perfected qualities of both. In one hand, he held the panicking wolf soldier, a squeeze away from a crushed neck. Just a small flex from this lord of beasts is all it would take. In front of him, the astonished leader of the group, backing away with his proverbial tail between his legs, shifting and gnashing his teeth.

The wriggling and biting annoyed him finally, and Brock chucked the wolf into a nearby tree, his body almost wrapping around it from the force. His spine broken. No... he's not dead... yet. He'll recover in time; heal. But his time was up. As he tried to use is arms to pull his broken body back away, whimpering, The great king set his burning alpha eyes upon the observing leader, narrowing as his feline face lifted in a warning snarl. "DON'T. MOVE." The lion growled at him.

He was compelled to stop in his tracks and drop to his knees and watch while Brock turned away from him. The great beast's powerful golden body flexed while he moved, taking slow stalking steps toward the discarded and broken soldier, now soiling himself with fear. His muscles pushed the silver spikes out of his flesh, the wounds starting to mend themselves.

The humongous leonine head moved in inches from the broken soldier's face. He could smell his death upon the lion's maw; see it in his gaze. And he started to scream anew, only to be silenced as Brock's head turned to the side, and a bestial snarl was given with the opening of those great jaws, snapping shut around his face with a hungry crunch.

The leader started to hyper ventilate at having to watch this happen. The increase in fear within him brought Brock to raise his head up and look over at him with feral interest, while he chewed on the mouthful, maw-fur stained with red. He was ready...

Brock started to stalk over to him. "WHERE. IS. HE? ONE. CHANCE." The lion warned. It was his final opportunity at redemption. For the sin of joining up with the ones who took one of his own, and the crime of attempting to murder with trickery just now.

"I-I-I-I d-d-Please! I just joined the pack! I-I-wasn't-" None of that mattered to Brock. He was not listening to excuses. It was the entire wrong answer...

The first soldier, the one that had been smacked away so far away, was just now recovering, and getting to his feet. "No! No! NO! NAAAHHG-" is all he heard in addition to the animalistic growl and sounds of much breaking. It was enough to convince him to go and run away as fast as he can. He had to get away and report back about this beast! But...

His weight, along with the excessive weight behind him crashed face first into the dirt as mounds of solid werelion landed ontop of him from a leap, head under bestial foot. All of that weight began to transfer onto his cranium, and he started to struggle under the pain and realization of what was happening. His eyes wide and then-silence...

"The things that ah would die for, are the same that ah would kill for. Ah don't care /how/ much blood I gotta spill... A lion's pride is his life. And anyone that tries ta break mine is nothing but meat for the beast... Ah'm comin for ya, Cross..."