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Though he does not call upon them, they rush to his aid, arcing over hills and through water to throw themselves into the fray. He wishes they did not have to, but is proud to see them fight so valiantly for their land and loved ones. They take control of the battlefield, and for a moment his boiling anger - a sea writhing in his blood, earth shaking in his bones, how could it do this? How could he fail them? - is soothed by the honor he feels at seeing the Helovians so faithful and fervent in their defenses. Archibald rushes to take the lead in the attack, the earth quaking beneath his magic and throwing the tiger onto the defense. The God is momentarily distracted as Resplendence joins him at his side, forever peaceful in her worry, and he spares her a grateful look. Healers converge beside and behind him, prepared to tend the wounds this battle will bring.
The God grits his teeth, slamming spiked earth up into the tiger’s belly when he has a clear shot. He won’t harm those who fight on his behalf, and they swarm in such droves that he cannot always aid them. Chaos rips through like racing wind, tar catching fire and exploding in equal measure. The tigress screams her fury and agony as they descend upon her, the pain of fire coiling her skin like rippling waves as she lunges for those before her, massive paws with blackened tar-stained claws swiping through the masses. The Earth God watches as she swats Erthe away, a tiny doll against the massive span of the tigress’ paw. “NO!” he bellows, and the earth quakes with his anger. He can almost hear the shattering of her leg, the agony that will cripple her, and her body is swathed in light as he teleports her immediately to his side. Eyes dart to Resplendence as he strides forward, wings held high and face twisted in an uncharacteristic snarl.
“Do what you can,” he bids of the brindled mare, and encourages water to form in the tigress’ lungs, momentarily choking and drowning her from within as water slips from between her lips. Isopia follows his lead, pelting earth down upon the ruined queen, avidly protecting the companion he’d given her. He swells with pride to see her in an equal role of protector and defender. The tigress turns her eyes and they lock gazes, though one eye is missing and sickly dripping acid. The one good eye flickers uncomprehendingly to Maren, distracted by seeing the mark of her kin in his realm, her pounce slowing. It did no good regardless, as a high pitched yowling scream pierced the ears of all around. Volterra’s spike had stopped the tigress’ lunge completely, slicing the side of her neck and preventing her from moving forward just as Cera pinned the beast’s tail to the earth. Her yowling was thick and garbled with the water that she was choking on, contrasting the fire that burned her skin. Ophelia silences her with a sharp stab of horn to furred chest, but the tigress is not so easily defeated.
Ripping away from the spike before her, she whirls, tail lashing out and paws swiping at any in her reach. The Earth God summoned vines to wrap around her broken paw, trying to take her attention momentarily off the Helovians. She wrestled with it, furiously screeching incoherently, her singular eye wild as her fur burned and skin peeled as her body’s substance turned against her. “YOU WILL NOT RULE THESE CREATURES!” he bellowed in the face of her mangled desires. Though she did not answer, teeth were bared in a sick snarl of promise, and she lunged for the next closest victim.
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SWP :: Blunt Little Instruments (Part II)
