| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
05-11-2013, 06:33 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-05-2013, 08:50 AM by Mauja.)
Continuation from this thread.
There was a growing audacity to idiots. They meandered, wandered, traversed and travailed, trespassing in their nomadic ignorance, beleaguered with the sense of entitlement. They possessed naught more than an inane, inept boldness that didn’t translate into intimidation or prowess; the slip of stupidity tumbling down another few disappointing notches. And for a being that encompassed very little feelings within his blackened, corroded heart, he allowed their impudence and insolence to fuel one: rage. Exasperation, aggravation, vexation fed the dark, swift ire of his frustrations, of frequent, devilish warnings that went unheard, of contemptible incantations that went unnoticed, of the nefarious convictions brimming along his hide, had come to a dominating design. Had they not felt the promise of his treacherous oaths? Did they not believe his perilous decrees? Could they not feel the ruthless entropy cast from his shell? Were they really so brainless as to not fear for their lives, for their souls, for their pathetic, vacuous minds? His muscles undulated, uncoiling, unfurling, into the monstrous contortions of his silent, sinuous machinations, rigorous control, composure and damnation in the stead of his movements, in the quick motion of his callous, frigid exterior. Cold, chilling upon the outside, but within, a fire burning viciously, serpentine embers licking the heat of his fury, the ache of his umbrage, the yearning of his villainous ferocity. How wonderful to be granted an opportunity to annihilate, to obliterate, to ruin and destroy a meaningless existence, to throw them into the discarded portions of rubble, to watch their lives devastated in the wintry air of the Basin. Not since the labor of his liberation with Lace had he felt such a building animosity, such a timeless ecstasy of battle, to pummel, to demolish, to unwind the sparks of indignation, throw them into the inferno of his chaotic wrath.
He looked once to Alan, a simple puncturing glance that spoke volumes of silent, comradely comprehension, the unsung, unsaid reception of a fellow soldier. She’d returned to them, to the boughs of their Siberian arms, to the din of their war drums. In that one piercing blue stare, he laid a gesture at her feet, a welcoming invitation back into their home, an extended provocation to shatter, to eliminate and defeat the struggling morons hissing, grumbling, and posturing at their door. He turned away thereafter, expected her to follow him into the plunge, into the crusade, into the fray of blackguards against infidels, caressing the ground with the tainted trace of his unholy progression. His target, smaller than himself, perhaps lithe, perhaps limber, perhaps quick, laughed, chuckled, as fickle, as idiotic, as capricious as the breeze, and he pondered whether she’d still be cackling if he separated her head from her body. A satisfying image he hoped to emulate; he gathered his frame towards Sinuhe’s right side, dipping his head towards alongside her body, intending to lacerate the side, haunches, barrel, and shoulder, longing to drag the long sword in a lengthy, lancing blow. He wanted her to suffer, he wanted her to fall, and he wanted her to lament in anguish over the travesty she’d committed. He wanted her to bleed, to cry, scream and beg for mercy where none would be found. She’d already erased that chance the moment she wandered into their home.
[2 x 2 battle (Deimos and Alan vs. Sinuhe and Africa) for dominance/capture (Alan for Sinuhe).
550 words.
1/4 posts + 0/1 defense. 0/1 magic.
Deimos draws himself towards Sinuhe’s right side and intends to drag his horn down the length of it, aiming for her right haunches, barrel and shoulder.
Edited: To hopefully make this less confusing, we'll have 72 hour rounds with Deimos/Alan, then Sinuhe/Africa? Thank you!]
|
|
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
Come not within the measure of my wrath. [Sinuhe & Africa Challenge]
