This seething torment, this scathing, simpering upheaval, this violent, licentious insurrection and sedition, was what he was made for. The lust, the yearning, for indulgent, decadent savagery bled into his soul, scorching and burning against the empty vessel of his glacial heart, caressing with the vibrant, vicious croon of a deadly, nefarious possession. The plunge, the clash, the derision and scorn driven from bestial tidings hummed along his long, slender limbs, his ethereal, necromantic body, chiseling the strife into his desiring, coveting tyranny. Yet, despite this audacious plight of sinners, saints and sinners again, with bodies aching, bleeding, longing, no one came near him. Was his presence an intimidating factor, a slender, marbled countenance of vowed prowess, promised death, assured puissance in the opulent shades of undone, unholy calamity? Or was he merely paid no heed, too dimmed in the shadows of the Edge’s hollow sanction to be rendered an attack, obsolete, forlorn again? With this thought, he nearly laughed, but didn’t dare lose the tangled barb of his features, devilish and unperturbed. They wouldn’t forget him this time, not this undying, black heart.
He watched for a few moments, meticulous plotting and methodical planning boiling along his mind, bearing witness to where he would be needed most, where he could scar, where he could demolish, where he could ravage with his noxious enchantments and rogue cataclysms. If they touched him, would they fall to pieces? If they sensed his magic, would they flee? If they turned upon his flesh, could he ruin theirs? His pillars, dark and argent, churned against the hardened land and postured suitable targets, found them in the shades of the invasion where LUCIUS and LLOYD gathered amongst a hardy group of enemies, slandering and positioning themselves in a raveled cord of attacks and defenses. Toiling, dueling brothers posturing against a Pegasus and equine: Deimos chose to lend his strife, his anarchy, and his maddening, piercing blade to the fellow horned brethren’s aid. Feeding and festering on the friction, he spun his legs towards MADRYN, shifting northward as the equine swiveled around from his prior assault. Charging along his right side, Deimos aimed his long, blue sword towards MADRYN’S barrel, longing to puncture, lacerate, tear and slash against the sienna skin, before turning his hind towards the equine’s right side once more, kicking out his hind in hopes of further, ravaging affliction.
[Deimos lends his aid to the brothers LUCIUS and LLOYD, aiming his horn at the right side of MADYRN’S barrel. He then turns the front part of his body away from MADYRN and uses his hind to kick out against MADYRN’S barrel once again.]
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Bring me to Life [Invasion - ROUND TWO]
