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The shadows caress each rugged muscle of the beast as he prowls through the dense foliage, his colossal hooves a drumbeat on the snow-dusted ground. Thorns snag and rip at his skin and roots seem to reach upwards in their attempts to trip him, but he hardly notices. He is still so god damn numb, his mind crippled, his emotions hidden behind a steel wall of nothingness. He wants only to forget - he has become animal, driven by perfunctory desires and monstrous instincts. He craves women beneath him, and blood on his hooves. The part of the monolith that remains rational and untouched by Isopia-woe points out that the latter urge is the one he should focus on. He will recover from this, one day, and when he does he will lament the days and weeks he lost in the depths of melancholy. Days and weeks he could have spent training, fighting, growing ever stronger. If he is to suffer the agony of loss, then he may as well channel it into something useful, not the creation of yet another bastard child. Because nature is a whore and will punish any and all conquests by commanding his seed to quicken in the womb of the mares he takes - it is known. Although his virility pleases him, it also means that fornication would be...ill-advised at this moment in time. But fighting? Fighting he can do without fear of consequences. Fighting will allow him to forget for a few blessed moments, and will ensure his body remains strong, his battle-instincts honed like weapons. He comes to the Deep Forest because he has never fought in a place like this before, where the trees stand huddled together like gossiping fillies, the space between them ill-suited for a giant like him. Fighting in such close quarters will be difficult - but he wants this to be a struggle. If it is easy, it will not satisfy him, and will not keep him from his misery for long. The leviathan slows between the trees, his feet crunching on a few sparse patches of snow. The foliage above is so dense it protects the ground from most snowfall, so the forest floor is largely free of it. His dragons perch on nearby tree branches, glimmering like deadly gems, and they add their voices to his own as he trumpets a call for an opponent. ________ Teaching spar for @Orithia ! Set in the Deep Forest at night, between dense trees with a light snow on the ground. You decide whether magic and companions are allowed or not :D 0/3 - words YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR |
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
