There's a haunting in these veins of mine.

From his perch on a large cliff shrowded by the trees of the howling woods his red eyes could see little aside from dark leaves and more sheer rock, the woods rose up on either side of where he sat legs and arms folded against him, his brown and black coloring mingled well with the earth, save for the vibrant orange markings on his arms and legs. Silent, a dark monolith as his burning gaze rose to the dark sky , head resting on his hands the massive arachin heaved a sigh, his tail swaying slowly across the dirt.
Time ticked slowly by, its passing nothing to one such as he who would be here long after this moment had faded into the atmosphere along with thousands of others.

Slowly he raised his muzzle to the sky and let loose a long low and haunting sound moving into the symphony of the woods. Eerie clicks joined the howl from the back of his thoat. Drawn out, high and low sounds mingled in stange, almost alien song formed with no words at all.

Vegas let his mind wonder as he sang, a calm stillness settling over him, despite his trail of thoughts he felt hyper away of his surroundings, felt the pulse of the earth under him as if it where his own. The air was a warm, tangible thing against him, carring sweet smells with it as it moved heavily through the tree limbs which were still, iron sentinles against it.

Curious antennae perked up as a blue-black, brown and yellow figure froze, listening to the eerie song. What was causing such a sad sound, the figure wondered, black eyes glancing at the ground, to her her covered ears and antennae listen for her. The song was fascinating, but concerned her. Hollow mourning was not to be taken lightly, and that is what this sound seemed like to her. What in the world, in this dreary black continent, could be announcing themselves so? It was foolish for an animal to let the predators become aware of their presence, and only predators would make themselves targets.

Investigation was needed, even if she was beginning to grow hungry, this sad-sounding being could quite possibly be a child, and she would not let a child go unattended, like she had been left for dead on Monsom. She still needed to grow larger, train to become stronger, before she went back to her birth-hive, to slaughter the mother that banished her to grow alone, nurtured only by the air and earth, and the water she drank. Her mutation had banished her, but her difference in body had kept her alive. From day one, still newborn, she was a formidible enemy, and nothing had dared attacked a newborn the size of an elder child.

For that is what she had been. She was a dangerous being from birth, which was why her mother had ordered her abandoned, left to die from starvation or cold. It hadn't mattered to her queenly mother, as long as the old-blood resembling female had been taken far from the hive. Vespa was strong, though, and would get revenge on her selfish mother, who could have raised the largely mutated hyme to be the best bodyguard, for hardly anything, save another larger than herself, could best Vespa.

Standing nearly thirteen feet tall, and that is with a little bit of a hunched stature she could not fix, because of her torso weight, and weighing several times the amount of a typical male hyme, woe behold the beast or fool who attacked her. Deciding that she would hunt down the source, she relaxed her muscles which had tensed at the start of the song, in order to hear every detail, and took a step forward.

Her toes landed silently, for she had trained her body to be silent, even when running she only ever emitted a rustle or two because of her passing. With a bit of urgency, she picked up the pace, and oriented on faint sound, turning to head that way. She blended in with the dark colored trees, their bark black or dark gray with the smoky air that had been here for centuries, and had thus seemed to soak into the wood itself. The leaves were only a trifle paler, and in slightly different hues. It was a mystery to her how Grimm even bore plants, but she was not a person to know these things, so she did not investigate it.

She was a hunter, at heart, in body, and in mind. She was adapted to kill, to rip limbs and heads from bodies with ease, to leave the prey torn, bleeding and in agony, or to sting them to death with her viscous venom, a contrasting purple to her darkly-colored body.

She trotted at a decent pace, one she could keep up for days if it came to that, but seeing as the voice was getting closer quickly, she would perhaps only be trotting for another five minutes, though it was hard to tell time in a bleak and black place such as Grimm. Nonetheless, Vespa trudged through mucky ground, bushes, trees and vines, seeking out the mournful sound, hollow as it was.

Her secondary jaws clicked softly as she paused, the voice louder now, and seeming to come from above. She glanced upwards between the trees, and saw a cliff side, and an abnormal lump placed on top that should not be there. That was no child, unless is was the child of an ancient, one of the very first insects to roam Meddus. But that was impossible, only the old bloods lived anymore, there were no more ancients, only mutants like her.

Wary though, she stood still, looking through the gap of the black trees. Suddenly, she let out a ear-piercing screech, which in reality was her scream, but others considered it an animal screech or roar. Now, would this figure, seemingly larger than her, respond? If the thing responded negatively, she would merely fly away, for she wanted no quarrel....

The song cut off aburptly as the screech reached his ears, his head snapping to the side, ears flicking up and hackles rising. A snarl built up in his throat, only escaping his jaws a moment before he let his long blue tongue loll to the side out of his lips. This creature, though not what he expected was not looking to fight, so he swiftly changed his body language, pulling his tongue back where it belonged...in his mouth he cocked his head the side. Blinking fire at the female, his tail thumped the ground softly.
"You want ssssomething preciousssss?" He questioned in a soft, baratone voice, using a pet name, something he had a habit of doing, with everything.

His eyes scanned across her form, as if memorizing it, he was no fool and took each detail into account. Having not moved beyond his head and tail until now he slowly raised himself up, lifting only his torso off the ground, swinging his long neck up slightly, but keeping his head low enough to be eye level with the female.

She bristled a little at the name the being called her, but kept her ground. This old blood was much larger than her, and she needed to prove she was not afraid, even if he was relaxed around her. She watched him warily, not yet responding. She investigated him, as she saw him looking her body up and down. This did not bother her - in fact, it pleased her! Few people were bold enough to look her over, for they thought she would brutally maim them for doing so, but no. She appreciated the positive attention, as long as it was just looking.

She concluded he was indeed of Old Blood origin, and an Arachin mix-breed, with some other animal she couldn't fathom. Though, his form intrigued her. She was normally very hostile to arachin-forms of all kinds, but this one, she found herself a little attracted to. But she searched her insect-like mind, and found the reasons. First, she hadn't been around many males as of late that weren't eaten on sight, and she had not been in heat yet. She had never mated, because she had never found a suitable male to mate with. She doubted this old blood would mate with her, but it was comforting to know the main reason for her sudden attraction.

Warily however, she relaxed herself from the stiff standing position her body was used to assuming whenever she was frightened, angry or unsure. She brought some air into her massive lungs, and chittered out to the larger male.

"You s'ng i' s'rrow fill. You are no chil'. I though' you wou' be a chil' in trou'le." she replied slowly, trying to speak as loudly and clearly as she could. Her insect jaws made it very difficult to speak clearly, especially since she had no lips. She focused her black eyes on the old blood, head tilting a little, and antennae creeping forward and scenting the air, also feeling the wind's currents.

He chuckled deeply, a rumbling in his chest as he listened to her, watched her anntena feel the air and her body relaxe. " No, not a child." His lips twisted up into a sort of lop sided grin as he chittered back at her almost playfully. "How niccce of you to come running to my ressscue though." He teased softly tail swaying back and forth to show he meant nothing by his tone.
He inhaled slowly, scenting the air, and her smell along with it as he rose to his full height on his sharp legs, arms tucked in close to his chest. He approched her slowly, long tendrils of hair swaying, beads glittering faintly, spreading his hands in a sort of welcomeing gesture. " You have a name precioussss?" he questioned, bending his neck and bringing his head down to keep his molten gaze level with her's, that grin still on his muzzle. He was embarassed someone had heard his sorrow filled song and actualy came to see him, but he would never show such a thing.

Again, she bristled, but didn't quite mind the pet name, for in a way, it made her feel wanted, or at least acknowledged. And the fact he wished to know her name....That caused all uncomfortable sensations to leave her. No sane male, no, any sane insect desired to know her name, the single word that she had fashioned for herself. Her mother had denied her a birth-name, so when she had learned how to speak her own crude language that somehow meshed with the common Meddian tongue, she had donned herself a name.

As he had approached, she hastened to make herself seem a little larger, raising her antennae higher, flaring her wings a bit, twitching her abdomen, and standing as far up as she could on her strong, thick toes. She hoped she didn't look silly, that was the last thing she wanted! Perhaps he was interested in her - looking a fool would be a bad thing indeed.

"Na'e i' Vespa." she crooned, antennae switching back, showing the embarrassment she had so tried to hold back. She was turning into a puddle at the proximity of this large male! What was wrong with her?! She was usually so strong.... But he wasn't the child she had been expecting to see, what was she to do now? She had no real business in Grimm, except that it was a flitting fancy to explore the drear place.

But....She had the idea that she might soon find a reason to stay.

Something else begins to stir in the mire and muck; the sound of a hissing shriek cut through many, many things. The water was one of the things it did as well. Thick claws clutch at the ground as a turtle that had been under those many claws pops like a small gore filled sack. Thick, slimy muscles groan as that body is forced into action; surfacing almost an instant later as large middle arms flex fully; allowing the muck to slide off. A bestial huffing hack; and then it's gone. Through the trees with such quick grace it would be almost spider-like in a way; though branches break in the wake of such a savage beast.

Breath hitches, body nearly tumbles; those claws grasp at the trees as vomitous bile is let flow from an abdomen, oozing down as the rest is thrown up with wracking gags...

Breathing air... Breathing... Breath...

And then the savage roar is let loose that shakes the very trees, the sound almost indescribable, a rumbling shaking sound that would herald lightening, thunder, and the sparks of fire. The sound was a cracking death that most all in Grimm knew. Almost all in Grimm had heard of a beast that lives in Mire Muck and eats all but the most righteous of people. Everyone knew of this beast, this, creature. It had no name to them... But all anyone knew was that those who went to slay it... Never came back.

And thus, Caliban's pleasure was born of need for food and a dislike for most other races. His needs, his enjoyment, his food. But, now there was something new, something he'd never heard.

And he was going to find what ever it was and if it was nothing to him...

He was going to eat it...

Again that shadowy form flits through the trees, muscles dribbling with slimey muck; bloodied hand prents left as wood slices into the palms. Thick legs force themselves down against tree limbs even as the trees end... And then the massive shadown rams down to the ground; to continue it's loping run toward where the sound had originated. Internal ears always pinpointing the direction of sound, always holding true to it... After his challenge only a fool wouldn't respond, less they are a coward...

He so did enjoy a chase....

"Vessspa" he cooed as softly as his voice could manage, tasting her name as it rolled past his fangs, and he brought his muzzle down closer to her face, sniffing the air an inch from her form. He chuckled a little more at the raising of her antenna and her posturing which he didn't mind or find foolish at all. " I have been called Vegassss" he nodded his large head as he spoke, more out of habit then any real need to make the motion. He exhaled faintly, a slow brush of breath from his muzzle. " hmmm, would you like me to sing for you again, Vesssspa?" He questioned with a tilt of his head and a faint flick of his ears.

Quite suddenly that thunderous sound shook the sky and Vegas wheeled around, swinging his large head up on his neck to peer off the edge of the cliff, ears flat back and his lips curled up to expose his teeth as he snarled, low in the back of his throat. His tail dropped and stilled, his hackles raised. What had made such a thunderous roar. He could hear it approaching but not pinpoint its location. He reached out with one long arm and gestured to Vespa to move behind his larger body, out of habit, not that he doubted her strength, it was just what he was used to doing, he'd not often been in the company of those like himself.

He craned his neck, trying to spot the creature who bellowed like the bowels of the earth, and he felt his mandibles flex inside his jaws. He did not want to fight, but he wasn't sure what this being wanted and Vegas would not back down from a challenge, and would not leave Vespa to fend for her self.

Finally he let his voice raise into the atmosphere, now that the creature had to be closer. "Show yourself to me thunder caller?" He beckoned, placing his body between the open space on the cliff and Vespa.

Vespa shrunk as close down to the ground as she could - she had been born with the natural instinct to fear anything that either sounded, or looked larger than her. Vegas.... Had been an exception, because he was treating her with grace. Though she had nearly swooned at the way Vegas had hissed her name, but now was cowering in fright. Vegas called the approaching being 'thunder caller', who had roared in challenge. Perhaps it was her own piercing shriek that had stirred this beast, rather than Vegas's song. In a way, she hoped it was her own fault, for this sounded like something neither of them could handle. She would rather her life, a mutated freak's, be sacrificed to sate this newcomer rather than such a large, pure-lined old blood.


But Vegas had also stepped in front of her....An act of defense, of protection. What was there about herself that was worth protecting, besides that she was a female? Surely the scent of her soon-to-approach heat was not causing the elder Arachin to act so boldly. She had shrunk down as far as she could - to a mere five feet off the ground since she was so crouched. Her antennae were stuck flat and back against her hide, wings that had once been flared for size now seemed to fold to her body, diminishing that assumed size.

Why was she cowering, besides the natural fear born inside her? Was she afraid for herself, or perhaps that this would be a fight of dominance, and she, a breeding female, was caught in the middle of it, perhaps not the reason for the fight....But if it wound up she was the prize by default, she hoped she could fly away fast enough, and Vegas would escape with not too much harm....

With anxiety in her gut, she nearly spilled them with how much pressure her knees were putting on her stomach. She forced herself to give herself a little room.

Thick claws tear into rock, rip into it like the diamond tough flesh of a scarabin; chunks fall as he approaches, climbing, thick, tough muscles writhing over one another as the beast continues upward. A voice, a dusky voice calls from above in a way that causes the Weak Blood to hiss in the back of his throat. His eyes glazing over as he forces himself into an act that was almost stupid in it's rashness... He leaps, upwards.

A bound of thirty feet, enough to catch the edge of the ravine, enough to grip the edge of the small 'mountain', and more than enough to force up another, horrendous leap. Black shadows against a dark grey sky, the stench of the murk upon him; muscles roiling as he lands several feet away; that massive, scarred back where wings once laid bared to them as he lets loose another, thunderous roar....

But, as he turns, those eyes narrow as massive, clawed, hands come to bare....

"Caliban.... Not... Thunder...."

His voice was a thick, soupy growl, his mouth moving in an alien way as his throat bobbed and swayed; obviously he is not one born with lips either. Instead, salivated slime oozes from his teeth as he chuckles hoarsely, those eyes kept on the spider, he slowly standing up as he growls angrily, "Why... in... Territory... Old One?", the question is one sided, as the beast was not amused, his muck covered body so dank with it's own scents he couldn't catch the under laying scent of heat... Indeed, even if she was just starting it would affect judgement... So was the way of males...

The smell of a mire, swamp water, mud.... Vegas' mind blurs, his senses reeling as memories are pulled out of the black fathomless depths of his mind for a flashing moment before the figure springs, more bursts into his range of vision and lands before him, its aura is power, the ferocity ebbs and flows off this beast like waves crashing into the old arachin, but Vegas is a monolith, and can weather the storm.

His legs slide out, bracing as if to pounce, muscles coiling, reading the old blood for anything, but he raises his head, tilting it faintly. "Caliban....I wasss unaware thisss belonged to you." He made a sort of sweeping motion with his hands, his tone cool, collected, but low enough. He would not back down, but he would offer respect for one such as this, besides he would do no less if he felt his territory was being invaded.
He swayed his tail, the tip brushing against Vespa's hide, as if checking that she was in fact still behind him and out of harm's way.

He fixed the other male with a burning gaze, as if prepared to track his ever motion, but by his posture showed he was ready to fight, but did not want to.
He was so used to being the biggest thing around, of having no need to concern himself with anything such as Caliban, so he was a little taken aback by the situation.

Vespa could not smell that well, but even this monstrous male's scent proceeded him - the smell clung to him as if his hide was made of the stuff. She nearly blanched, but held her....pathetic position behind Vegas, peering out at the visitor on the low ground. He was a massively built figure, strong no doubt by sheer size. He was one to avoid if she could - but was it right to abandon Vegas?

Her instincts, the ones that told her how to survive, told her that it would be fine, should she leave. In fact, she nearly bolted right then, except that the beast began to speak. She froze, fear overtaking her once more. She was a large female, but this figure was far stronger than her, and his voice was clouded like hers in an accent that seemed to be hard to understand, though she heard him perfectly. His tone, one that seemed annoyed, demanded presence and respect.

Her body demanded she obey, for what was a lone female of her species supposed to do? In reality.....She was just breeding stock, and her body would betray her, if it saw the chance to create younglings in her partial image. Though, she wasn't sure what she was doing, now. Her instincts told her to stay still - perhaps the creature had not noticed her behind Vegas.

What was she to do? She was in the background in this....

"Yes... I live... here... I defend... What... want... Old One....?", the tone of his voice was little changed, those milky white eyes staring into those blazing orbs the spider possessed. He begins to huff loudly, his eyes closing as apparently he clears his sinuses of the foul smelling muck, the sound of his fully clearing himself out was rather, disgusting... But; even as he does, he'd never taken his eyes off the spider for a moment. His nostrals flare behind the gibus mask of his own flesh. Those milky eyes turning as he huffs a low grumble; he could smell her now.

"Female... Hgn... Yours?"

The question was asked with a low purr; apparently he didn't mind females, not at all. His body language suggested he'd either calmed much more knowing there was one. Or that now there was one he was not inclined to fight. Teeth that are permanently bared in a ghastly snarl open as he runs a tongue that reaches well past a foot to taste the air. Such a bestial thing, such an alien beast... Yet, if Vegas were a true old blood; he'd feel that this creature was indeed one of their kind.

Not a monster, nor was he an evil beast, however, his body hunches a bit as he begins to stand. His entire form adjusting even as his legs pop and crack into a new position to let him stand up fully. His massive, formerly reptillian form was now a very, very large humanoid's his entire body now that one could see it; was indeed the most 'human' out of all those present. Although as he jerks his arms back and the lower arms almost seem to lower a good half foot; it's obvious he has to be flexible to even use any form of locomotion when using his body how he naturally wishes to be...

"My... Home... Welcome... I... Have... Few.... Guests.....", isn't that the truth you scary bastard....

Vegas' eyes sort of roll backward, looking back to where he had Vespa pressed against him and the rock face. She wasn't his, no but he wasn't letting her be up for taking unless she wanted it. "Not exactly" he hissed, though it was simply his way of speaking, flicking his gaze back to the mire colored form as it begain to shift and change.
He cocked his head this way, and that as if trying to follow every subtle movement of the carapace as it became something else.

He couldn't help the faintly squicked expression that ghosted across his features at the sounds the other male made, it was just so off, so unlike anything he had heard before, besides his ears were sensitive and the sounds bothered him. He did not want to admit what he had come here for, but thankfully, by way of Vespa's scent which he too had noticed, the fellow old blood seemed to calm, and finally extend a welcome. This spared the spider from having to share far to much of himself with those he had only met.

He bowed his head, haning as it was on the end of his neck in a sort of nod before his body relaxed and he took on a much less defensive stance, though it was obvious his guard was never down, he was no longer hostile. " Thank you...Caliban, wassss it?" His tail sways again, bumping against Vespa as if to urge her out from behind him now, but he intended to keep her within arms reach.
His tongue lolled to the side out of his mouth again for a moment, bending his neck back to look at her, a vary playfull and canine gesture, before slurping it back behind his teeth. " Come on out precioussss." Normaly having his head at such an angle would be eerie if not down right wrong, but his tone, and tail screamed playfull so it lessend his oddness.

She relaxed a little at the changes that occurred, though she was far from giving them the trust they should have. Being the only female amongst three large beasts, and being the smallest to boot, she was downright terrified of what could happen. Typically amongst old bloods, females were more revered, but she had a notion if a fight broke out, it would be her who would pay the final price. She just hoped a fight didn't start.

Warily, she unclenched her muscles, which were a little sore from the constant constriction. She sidled a few steps to the right, coming out from behind Vegas, though she didn't dare step forward. At this point, Caliban, as she heard his name, was still a threat to her. Well, so was Vegas, but the arachin had shown her no ill will from when he met her, rather the opposite. She had not spoken a word since she had revealed her name to Vegas, but she had a good reason not to!

Caliban was a formidable opponent, and actually, formidable all around. She had a flitting wonder of how long he'd been living here....Her curiosity was sparked, but she was embarrassed to ask, as she looked over the viridian hemitian's hide. Guests.....She had a pang of guilt.

She herself had very few connections with insect folk - she knew how it felt to be despised, shunned for what you were born with, your strengths.....She had been born on Monsom, and had several homes all over Meddus, though the one on Monsom was the one she visited most. She had one in Darpan, the secluded jungle of Coven, her domain on Monsom, a small lair in Fellgrad within the depths of a cave on Volcanis, and finally a small grove within the Redwood on Los Tandum.

All of those places had one thing in common - they were secluded.

"Gues'....Are ra'e 'or you?" she asked timidly, desperately trying to make her voice less waspish.

"I... am... Fear. The... Color... of... Grim. Guestsss... Are... Rare. Food... Is... Plentiful....", again he chuckles, the difference between food and guest was all but species. They were Old Bloods, he ate those who he disliked when he had to; though flesh of other Meddus Peoples was not the best in the world. However, his head tilts a bit as he leans down; his entire spine showing flexibility not even needed in his already damnable species, and he breathes in deeply... His nose twining at the power of his own scent, interlacing itself with her own... And he shakes his head slowly, huffing darkly as he quirks an eyeridge at the female....

"Not... old blood... But... not food... Strange... not... bad... But... strange...", if he could smile, he would, though he nods toward the Arachin, "I am... I... welcome. Fear... not... But... Zetula, she wish... later... to see....", his senses had not chimed in his head, he couldn't sense her on his radar-like sixth sense of what she was. But, she was different, she was, strange looking, but; thanks to her pheromones and the very nature of her sex to be able to control such beasts like himself or even the mighty Vegas.

He does however turn his head and point, one large claw scraping the air as he laughs, "My home... That way... Or shall... we talk... here?", the massive beast of a bug's voice was less... powerful, marking it as a calmness; plus, his voice had become easier to speak with so, instead of a massive pause between each word... It's not every two words! Much easier to pace. Much easier to manage...

Vegas' ears twitched, turning faintly as if trying to pick up the finer nuances of the other male's voice as it changed, becoming more understandable, less garbled. Craning his neck he tried to peer off into the distance where Caliban had gestured, hoping to see some form or other that would indicate where it was they would head should the chose to follow. He took a step forward, gazing out over the cliff before swinging his neck around to look at the other male. "Who issss thisss Zetula?"

His ears pivoted towards Vespa again, now that she was no longer shielded behind his own form, and it was clear the other male had taken stock over her. He was listening for sounds of her protest. " Yesss, we sshould go, thiss cliff isss no longer fitting." His tail still swayed but slower now, as if counting the passing of time with each motion. Another failed quest so far, but at least this one had proven more interesting then the many others. These two were company, though he was rightfully leery, despite his size he was no fool.

She listened carefully, a bit saddened because she had no ability to make her speech clearer, though she had tried for many years. She had even captured one of the locals of Shoverdale once when she was nesting in the jungles of Coven, and forced him to try and teach her to speak proper! That ploy had failed, and seemed like repeating the attempt would achieve nothing. So she mourned her disappointing failure in silence, antennae drooping a little as she kept her eyes on Caliban.

When he mentioned a female, she perked up, curious. Caliban seemed like the type to take relationships seriously, friendship or otherwise. If this female had gotten his respect, she must be quite the something! Her curiosity showed, as she was now perched higher on her toes, standing nearly full height - which was only about twelve feet, excluding her extremely lengthy antennae. But she was not able, physically, to stand in a humanoid manner, rather, the weight of her torso kept her leaning over, much like the form of a raptor. Her arms were tucked into her chest - all four of them nestled closely together, claws interlocking with their respective opposite pair.

It was a peculiar pose, but this was her most relaxed stance, besides laying down. Nonetheless, she remained wary, though a little more trustworthy due to Caliban's own change of attitude. She remained her spot, which was her way of showing her hesitation. Surely though, she had no reason to fear.... Caliban and Vegas were behaving peaceably, and neither seemed ready to fight or argue.

She watched with her onyx colored eyes, looking at Caliban, and comparing herself to him.

They had similar problems, or rather, hindrances. They both had difficulty with speech due to jaw structure, though she could still readily open her maw. It looked as if Caliban couldn't even open his mouth! Her maw was structured specifically to bite heads off whole - first ripping the neck to tasty shreds and then her mouth parting wide enough, but to still have sharp edges in case an artery, or the spine wasn't cut all the way. But this did not make for very good speech. Having no lips, after all, did not bode well for certain sounds. Sure, she had her own mutated clicking, chittered, and screeching language, but she hardly found the opportunity to use it, for hardly anyone else knew it except other hyme old bloods, whom which it came naturally. Perhaps Caliban could speak it, due to his own jaw structure, but she highly doubted it. Vegas surely wouldn't be able too - he had lips, a hindrance with that language.

But she was getting side-tracked. Her focus had to be on the present, not mere pondering. She remained silent, though she too, wanted to know who this Zetula was.

"Young Blood.... Ollllld.... blood, female.... Charge for... many years, lovely, strong....", he chuckles again, the sound almost like vomiting as he slowly drew himself to his full, imposing height; he not turning his back on them; he had no need to ignore... Instead, his mouth, it does open; the fleshy pendulums infront of his sharpest teeth pulling back as he lets loose what sounded like a feral scream. His body vibrates as he does so; arms upheld as he slowly moves to being back on all fours, his smaller limbs tucked toward his chest even as scything claws held themselves toward palms. Eyes alight on the pair and he grins, the corners of his massive maw stretching in a langid way as he chuckles again; "Letting know... guests... not food...", he chuckles once more, though now he slowly moves himself around, keeping his distance before turning and looking toward 'home'.

And then he jumps, his body was powerful, the jump accurate; and the sound of shattering wood is heard even as nothing else is. He was however on the ground within moments... Teeth snapping at the air as he looks up, that massive tail keeping him balanced as he stretched himself to full length.

He was waiting for them to follow...

Vespa, in his feral mind's eye, was a suitable mate. She didn't fit the food catagory nor the 'threat' catagory. So thus it was mating or worthwhile material for enjoyment; he too was male after all. He had no concept of beauty, Vegas would come to find he might be called 'handsome' even by this fearsom beast's standards.

He could only chuckle again, his body easily adjusted for the nearly insane environmental needs of the land, for which he held no fear of. Even the leeches staid away from him, the old bloods knew well what he could do, and the new bloods were too small a threat. However, the Feral Worms... they tasted delicious, he would hunt tonight, he would bring back prey....

He would impress Vespa and Zetula...

Yes... that sounds good...

At the shriek, most primal in sound,Vegas' ears pinned back against his head, his hackles raised but as soon as the sound had erupted from the other male, he was told it was simple to let this /Zetula/ know that he and Vespa were not food. He scoffed a little, having a hard time thinking of anyone assuming /he/ was food but he nodded to Calliban, and calmed again. The the massive male leaped from the cliff face and Vegas was left staring down at the ground bellow and Caliban waiting.

He could make his way down simply enough, he did not even need to jump for he was equipped to climb up or down rock faces, but he remembered Vespa having to pull her self up when she had come to investigate his singing. "If you wish, Vesssspa I will carry you down." He offered swinging his neck around so he could look at her, standing as he was, already half over the edge. His tail swaying contently as he watched her. Oh how he wished he had found the one he was searching for, so they could be here to meet these two most interesting of compainions, the one he could not find loved to examine others and he knew that both Vespa and Caliban would have pleased the one he sought.

These thoughts brought a shadow of a mix of sadness and happiness across his wolfish features for a fleeting moment, before it vanished and he returned to grinning playfully at the female.

Zetula was an evermore intriguing character....She obviously was an apt hunter, and would even be able to take down either her or Vegas - well, form Caliban's mannerisms he certainly thought the young... Old blood was a match for either of them. Though that sent her off on another pondering session - for whoever was more apt a huntress than she? She had been birthed into the bloody gore of hunting, after all. Her body was suit for chasing down prey - be that chasing performed down in tunnels of the darkest souls, on the ground of terrain too harsh for soft toes, or cold and punishing sky which demanded bodily response and shrift.

And her meals differed as much as her hunting ground did - for she oft hunted in all of those spaces. She ate rare treats on exotic isles of colorful persuasions, red blue and bloody. But no green - she had not yet seen a green, yellow, purple, white, black or other colored isles. Only such Red, Blue, and bloody. And bloody was only a title, for the real location was of the Hook, not of blood. The natives though fancied her, though she was only tolerable of their shrunken presence. They were pygmies, and for that she adored them, but then again she abhorred them, for they were Arachin.

She ate also, on an even rarer occasion, servants of those who try to slay her. Few succeed, though she was sure that she would eventually meet her demise near or after her revenge on her unloved yet lovely mother hyme. That was other thing she abhorred beside the Arachin breed - royalty. Though she would not attack hives other than the little one her mother rose, not without the means of defense. In fact, on many a time she had stayed in hives - though these were usually hives whom accepted their mutated, and so she was not a wrong in their eyes. Typically, this was a southern fellgrad hive, of bright and colorful bees. Apparently the queen had given birth to an abomination of body - and had kept the infant in Vespa's name, though she herself had not yet struck to meet the young thing. Surely the child would not be long dead yet.....She was not yet past her prime, which was a ripe sixty-and-two. But as she wracked her thoughts, she gathered the youngling hyme's age; of a fresh twenty or so, if she remembered correct.

She gave a sharp screech of fettered surprise as she heard what resembled a massive tree being torn - in fact she startled so badly she instinctively burst into the air, four arms clutched right to her midsection, and legs tucked up underneath them. It took her a moment to recover her mind, but as she glanced below in her sustained hover, she realized it was just Caliban jumping and landing - landing was what had made the sound, it seemed. She huffed, but remained floating. Vegas apparently hadn't noticed her squawk, and had turned to see if she wished assistance down to follow the viridian beast. She would need none such help. She would fly.

Vespa gave a click or two of polite and friendly refusal - and tilted her head and back legs - now extended - to change her flight direction, and also forward with a bit of a muscular push of her wings to get the air of movement proper flowing. Within moments she was at the lumbering beast's side - and now was waiting for the lithe Vegas. Vespa was a bit perturbed about her spook, but then again it was mostly her fault, not paying attention and all. That was also one of her problems - she tended to drift off when something made her experience nostalgia.

"Ar'chin slow... I am no'." she muttered, mostly for herself, though Caliban would be more than free to respond to her if he wished. She would be more than happy to receive his words...

Vegas remained aloft for a moment or so after Vespa had landed beside the male known as Caliban. Turning his head to the sky and narrowing his eyes, rolling them backwards as he heaved a sigh. From where he was, he knew they could not make out the torrent of emotions that swiftly rampaged across his wolfish features. Another failure, and now this, these others and he could not share them with the lost one, could not converse with the lost on their oddities and endearments, could not bring the lost one to meet this Zetula. He wanted to roar his rage and howl his sorrow but he had drowned it in song and now that was gone, the rage was burring itself back in the pit of his stomach, like icy water. He gave his head a shake then and leaped into the open air at the edge of the cliff, rather then walk down the rock face.

Pointed legs hit with remarkable silence upon the earth as he landed, crouched before uncoiling to his full height and raising his neck high above his shoulders which was not his customary position for it, but he wanted to catch his surroundings a moment. Once he had gotten his bearings he let his neck hang once more and eyed both the strange female and odd male, though both were seen as quite interesting and pleasing to his eyes.

He let his ears flick forward, to lessen his melancholy expression, and then with a small wag of his tail it vanished in full and he was once again the impish old blood spider.

Moving around behind Vespa he pushed the flat of his forehead into the small of her back, urging her forward. "Alright then Caliban, lead the way, I will make sssure thisss one keepss up." He teased her, giving a small barking laughter so she would know he was only playing with her and in no way meant that she could not keep up.

Being as heavy as he was didn't help him any in most things except falling; but the muscle that lent to the weight was certainly a worthwhile endeavor for when he needed to defend his territory against other would be old bloods. Teeth clack together in the mimicry of laughter as a harsh coughing wail attempts to catch what it was. He could but laugh at how silly these two were, though one was but a feralish throwback, he did feel an attraction that was of a lusty sort. Though his speech was broken and fettered with consious effort, it was his mind that always spoke clearest.

Right now it's speaking of things he doesn't want to think about. The winged one under him, screeching in either pain or pleasure for he would be unsure... But, akin to thoughts of food these drift away as he begins to swiftly move again.

He was always so silent when it came down to moving himself; his large, milky eyes truly at home in the murky damp of the swamp. Quick changes in tragectory; swift leaps and bounds over surprised deer and even more surprised pigs. That long, slimy tongue stretching out of his vicious, mutated, face as he continued to run at speeds that would have been; well, short of amazing. One could see that his body was a predator's own; from the air, one could see every muscle sliding under that thick hide; and the scarred back shield of a creature attacked from fear.

"Catch... me... if... you.... CAN!", a challenge!