06-24-2014, 06:02 PM
Twilight. A multitude of noises originated from deep wthin the jungle, crowding his perception with a milling different tones from thousands of different beings. He frowned for a moment before making his way forward, keeping his eyes fixed on his target: one of the Northern beaches of his island. He knew perfectly well somethig was off there, he himself had heard different noises just a few hours ago. His suspicions were confirmed after he began to perceive different scents on the breeze coming from down there: he could point smoke and fire, as well as the distinct scent of burning meat and bones. Along with them, there was something else which triggered his instincts: humans. People were over there, in his island. That couldn't be allowed, not while he lived there. Silently, the man pushed away a gigantic leaf from his way and resumed walking surrounded in an unnatural silence from the jungle.
Who was he, though? Why was a twenty-six year old guy doing in an island? That was something which most of the times bounced around in his mind, though the majority of it were simple phrases or words. "Wolffe. Solitude. I have killed. Pain." He retained just enough sanity to understand the basic acts of what he did, yet most of his being was being driven by his instincts. He had arrived seven years ago by boat, which he had hidden in a small bay to the east. Throughout the years, his mind had shut down, allowing his instincts to take control, to heal itself from recent traumatic wounds he had endured. This situation led to a strange occurance in Wolffe's mind. Even though he was instinct-driven, his whole mind still assessed each situation and pointed out the best approach. Even in his current situation, he was just going to explore and observe. He needed to know who was in his island without his permission and what they were doing there.
His massive frame blocked the last glimpses of sunlight filtering through the rainforest's canopy, and as he finally made his way to the beach, he climbed atop a tree to observe carefully. His bright turquoise eyes flashed for a moment as he fixed his gaze on the burning plane at the shore, more like what used to be a plane. The whole skeleton had been reduced to ashed, and though it was still emanating smoke, he knew nothing would be worth finding from there. His eyes then turned to the small group gathered some feet away from the crash, trying to find out what they were going to do with their lives. A silent growl emanated from the depths of his chest as he grasped the tree's trunk stronger. They were unwanted people, and as so, had to be eliminated one by one. A single question echoed in his mind: how are you going to do it? With a deep voice, completely rough from years of not being used, he muttered the answer. "Let's play a game."
Wolffe jumped down the tree and began to make his way to the group steadily, unsheathing his survival knife and holding it with his left hand. Standing at 6'5", with dark hair long enough to reach his shoulders and a shadow clouding his face along with mud and dirt from a day's hunt, he looked impressive. If you then included into the whole picture he was wearing a sleeveless shirt (notice that it used to have sleeves but, apparently, he tore them apart), quite dirty camo cargo pants, and his old and ragged shoes, then you had a quite terrifying individual emerging from the depths of the jungle to meet a group of survivors. It was almost comical. The only thing bright in his whole appearance were his eyes, that deep turquoise shining brightly, though tainted with darkness and madness from within. He walked until they were within a 'safe' distance from him, and spoke once more with that rough voice of his. "You are not welcomed here. Leave now or face your death by my hands." Wolffe stared at them gravely, scanning each of the survivors with his eyes for a moment. However, he took longer with two individuals. One was a burly man with several tattoos and a grim gaze. He seemed strangely familiar, and when he first noticed him, pain coursed through his head. He growled lowly, but moved on. The second individual was the woman standing next to him. He immediately noticed the two guns she was holding and made a mental note. Those guns weren't dangerous to him, but they could come out as a nuisance. He stared intently at the girl and, to his suprise, the longer he stared the more enraged he got. His growl turned out to be louder than what he would've expected, making it noticeable to the survivors. He galnced once more at the group and kneeled, survival knife in hand, and waited just like a predator would do.
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