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02-25-2015, 06:21 PM
The concerns of the surrounding creatures were commendable, and he administered to their advice, for the most part (some cheeky portion of him still wanted to be the mischievous rebel), carefully winding his way towards the glacier, watching the teamwork of the dragon girl and the icy stag, fire and chill warding and waning. Yearning to be formidable, helpful, he listened to Adelric, and nearly went for the proffered tool, when another idea struck him – because if their fire was helping, couldn’t his? He started with light touches, fine, crisp embers, not enough to boil and sear the iceberg and ensure the orb would be lost forever into the frigid depths, intending to aim for where the draconic creatures, like spirits, were casting their coals. Could he even reach that far? Would it help, or hinder? With renewed sense, with ebullient, determined crescendos, he continued in his task (because every notion, every rumination, filled him with the churning desire to connect and seethe and carry the earnest, bright bulb), until the sound of something moving swiftly through the sea urged him to glance around him. Fins broke along the surface. One by one, they appeared, great, massive beasts unwinding, circling, beneath his feet, then surging upwards, snapping, clasping – he froze, rigid, taut, strung together in unholy horror, in absolute terror, for several moments, gaping at their appearance, at their strength, at their potency, as he ever so quickly became suitable prey, became the bottom of the food chain, a scrap, a snack, in the midst of an eternal ocean; Poseidon and Neptune sovereign no longer. Then, he bolted. It felt disheartening to leave the orb, because the inner fire, the brewing inferno bursting within him called back for it, but the dire need to be away from danger, from treachery, from death outweighed the flailing bits of phoenix insurgency. The princeling galloped across the sea, kicking out towards approaching fins, gills, and wide, devouring maws, menacing, rancorous jaws, racing back towards the embankment – Only to become wide-eyed again at some behemoth of a monster roaring, lumbering, carrying a colossal weapon, crashing its way through the other orb-seekers. He ceased all movement once he reached the icy shore, tied and tethered into uncertainty. Erebos didn’t want to be the useless, flailing inept child left upon the rocks, for the adults to defend or forget, nor to be sunken by apprehension and trepidation. He was more than that. He had to be. A sudden burst of frustration coiled and unfurled from his soul: it tasted dark, trenchant, and morbid, an incredulous, malevolent slide, force, clawing and rasping, chiseling its way through the immoral, restless arts of his essence; it sculpted and morphed, like devilish hands, like brutal, gnarled fingertips, springing along invisible chords. He clenched his jaw, narrowed his gaze, and felt the familiar tidings as an old friend (they’d been there before, ruminating, speculating, but so strangely unknown, disconcerting), sending the invocations crashing towards the Yeti. With any luck, perhaps he could control the beast, impact it in meager amounts; maybe cause it to freeze in place while the rest of the equines conquered it. OOC;; Summary: [Before noticing the sharks, Erebos tries to help the dragons, using little bits of his own fiery magic. However, as the sharks appear, he’s forced to bolt towards the shoreline, kicking out at any approaching him. Once he reaches the embankment, upon seeing the Yeti, he attempts to use his dark, corruption magic, hopefully freezing the Yeti in place for a couple seconds to allow others to gain the upper hand.] Wishlist - Trying to upgrade fire magic (for more damage). Prior Refusal TAG;; @[ ] "talk talk talk" |
- table by Niki -
