In Dire Straits

The ascension had been quiet, there was hardly anyone left to tell. A crown sat upon his head, the power he had always wanted, knew he was destined for, but had always been denied. Power was power, titles meant everything, and finally Ronove had put his name on the map. He would be better than all the rest.

He removed the rest, there would never be another like him, not when he embodied all the colors. Rosa Synstylae, summon name Mastema. Yes, he was content with these turn of events, all that time he spent biding and tongue biting. Finally, it had all paid off. At the top was where he belonged and even as a child he knew it. Though he gave little care for his bloodline, he knew they were meant to rule, they always had been.

However things never can last, and Ronove was an idiot for thinking his reign over NOTHING would be eternal. He awoke to a burning blaze of embers coating the forest maze once more and at first he thought it was a dream, but as ash was carried on the breeze, mixing with snow he could smell the charred wood. The screaming cries, and a massive army.

Their Gods would be laughing at him now, little usurper, blasphemous rat. YOU DO NOT BELONG. A mix of emotions washing over him as he stared in silent disbelief, you will be remembered as the God who died because of your stunning incompetence, because no matter if the valley slumber or not, there would always be enemies. His paws clambered to a start, slipping down rocks with a crash as he scrambled to stand, teeth bared as his mind roared. YOUR CROWN.

The flames slowly licking their way through the forest maze, they'd engulf the valley and that'd be the end. Would he die in these lands? For these lands? All the time spent for this one goal and his heart twisted painful and he growled out in bitter anger. Staggering to stand up, chest heaving with great breaths, that Ronove almost didn't hear as the other had walked up on him. "Who are you?" Came a venomous reply, golden gaze narrowing as he inspected the female that towered over him. "Not one of mine..." By the looks of it, he gave her a quick up and down look, teeth ready to snap at any moment.

"Bow." He must have been out of his mind, power was power, titles were power. They couldn't be snatched away, they couldn't be so easily taken. Crow had made many bow just by the mere sight of him, Ronove could do the same. "Bow, you're in the presence of a God." His scathing demand came, as he tipped his head a tad higher and flicked his tail.

Ironic, the beliefs of his people that he sought to unmake and destroy were the ones he clung to in a moment like this.

Her laughter grated on his ears, a twitch of his eye and a quiver of his lip, just barely seen. He felt as if the heat of the fire was right in front of him, washing over him in a blaze, as anger and rage boiled within his stomach. Queen? Molten gaze looked her over and he could feel just the barest bits of a snarl staring to form, she was mocking him. A mistake. "These are my lands, this is MY pack. I was chosen." It was his birthright. "There are no room for Queens or Kings." The fur on his back bristling, poised and ready like a viper.

As she went on to speak, the old War Captain's words echoed in his ears, there is no honor or glory in ruling a kingdom of ghosts. The power he usurped, all for his own, he dig his claws so deeply into it that he'd see this valley turned into a charred wasteland if that meant he kept his title. It all meant nothing without those to lead? His mind simply wouldn't comprehend that. "Gods bleed." He murmured, a dangerous whisper as she launched herself at him. Gods die.

And he reacted in kind, body colliding with her own as her teeth met his side and closed down and pulled away, ashen black fur and skin going with it as he went for her shoulder. Quick and vicious, teeth glittering with spittle to rip and grab and though she had a great deal of height and weight on him, Ronove only thought about his title, his promised power, and how easily it all could just be taken away. He wouldn't let that happen. No would-be executioner would change that. He was too certain of it, of himself.

However, if he missed her shoulder, he'd go for her flank instead, blood trickling from his side, and adrenaline pumping through his veins, it was only a matter of time before he felt the pain hit him like a swift kick in the guts and he'd be sluggish, but for now he'd press the attack.

It came to him in flashes of what he couldn't quite perceive as reality. The sudden pain of teeth on the scruff of his neck, followed by the pain of his side slowly hitting him as this invader threw him down with little care. Like he was nothing more that a fur covered sack of flesh and bones and he felt all the wind nearly knocked out of him. Eyes rolling back as his blood stained mouth fell open and he tried to gather himself.

You're God, tiny creature, weak. Static resounding through his ears as he turned his head just barely to see that smug grin, but her weight was making it so hard to breathe, or even catch his breath. Golden eyes burned like a molten sea, and he thrashed, albeit weakly.  THESE ARE MY LANDS, his mind screamed, as ash collected on both of their fur and blood mixed with the soil. I CONTROL THE VALLEY. Teeth snapping wildly through deep wheezing breathes and a redddish, frothing mouth.

If he managed to snag any bit of fur or skin, he'd hold down onto it, grinding his teeth away like sharp daggers wishing to drain the life out of something that just wouldn't die. "My...lands... I WON'T"  His voice guttural and hoarse. "GIVE IT UP." Pin prick pupils shaking, he looked like a rat out of hell pinned to the ground. You've lost, little God. But his family had never taken that sort of thing gracefully, even now with foam and mad chattering as he tried desperately to worm his way free.

Your reign will be short, and your incompetence remembered.