| Dragon's Throat Guardian atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.3 :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Atreus :: Lammergeier :: None
Nova |
10-25-2015, 12:52 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-25-2015, 12:56 PM by Nephele.)
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Miss. She missed.
There's nothing quite like a shot of bitterness to swallow down while broad wing strained under the pressure of a swift ascension, the desert amazonian is forced to land unceremoniously a short distance away from the burning tar and dying tigeress.
Watching with one blue eye as the mighty Goddess is impaled, burned and sizzling from acrid acid, fire and twisted earth aiming to silence her once and for all. For all her bitterness in that she missed her target, along with another from the Throat — momentarily taking her eye off of the great creature to see if Zenobia is okay, her glance a silent question, despite the searing wounds she views on Zenobia and the ache in her wing — she cannot help but feel a stab of stinging pity for the great feline, now the red mist of surprise and adrenaline has subsided to something more manageable.
Perhaps in another time she was as benevolent as she was mighty, she wonders, stalking the tropical rainforest with pride and elegance befitting her station. Though it is not her place to question her gods and their judgements, after all she is but a thread in the great tapestry of life.
What she does know, comes from hearing of foreign Gods and their mannerisms in her time away from Helovia. All of their greatest achievements, and greatest atrocities, came with a price, and more often than not it was of their subjects, who suffered the most — and even more were the ultimate price that was paid.
Sorrrow. Agony. Bitterness. Anger. Greed.
She see's them all in the tigers writhing frame, and she see's their various forms written in all the faces of the equines still crashing against the divine being like waves against a crumbling mountain, bidding it to wilt under their corrosive barrage.
Did Father Earth truly believe that other Gods were not fickle in their deals? That to them there was no cost that could not be paid, there were no deals that could not be turned back on?
Nephele pivots on her back legs to face the fray once more, pushing aside the whirling thoughts and collects herself. It was not a title she truly wished to carry, God-Killer. God-Render. For that is what they called anyone on the vast plains of her adoptive home who had felled a god — foreign or not. It carried with it great prowess, and great stigma.
For if you could kill a foreign god, in the end, what stopped you from killing your own?
Tucking her chin against thick, battle muscled neck she begins a steady charge towards the tiger goddess. Hooves digging deep in the earth and sending it spraying against her legs and stomach, she dodges the throng of bodies and burning tar as best as she can, gathering a thunderous momentum.
Maybe this will be the first and only time, silent words drifting in her skull like a sad lullaby, she will help silence the breath of a God. It is for her birthland after all, for her herd, for her new found family and new friends she was making. Those thoughts eased the sting and whirling emotions and she gave a great leap, wings carrying her despite mournful protests of strain in one — she would not take to the skies now unless she had to. Her hooves primed and her teeth ready, she sent the plate sized weapons in the direction of the tigeress' ribcage, aiming to crush and splinter.
Splinter them into fragments that would spear and snare her lungs, fill them with liquid life and suffocate it out of her at the same time. Meanwhile her teeth snapped for the orange and black marked neck, they would tear shreds of fur and flesh should they meet their target.
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Notes;; #teamearthgod
Lands to catch herself after missing her first attack, feels sympathy for the rift Goddess and has a moment of wondering but in the end steels herself and charges the Goddess once more. Uses her wings to lift her enough above the crowds and crash her hooves into her ribcage, aiming to break ribs and puncture the remains into the tigers lungs. Meanwhile her teeth aim to bite at her neck.
And my heart is a hollow plain
For the devil to dance again
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Mentions @Zenobia
“She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.”
― Terry Pratchett
Please tag Neph in all replies!
Force & violence permitted with the exception of maiming & death
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SWP :: Blunt Little Instruments (Part II)
