the Rift

[INVS] Deimos vs. OPEN

Official Posts: 847
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
@[Deimos] vs. OPEN
The INVADER must post before 4/10/15 @ 10:00 AM CST or the fight will result in no points for the invading team.

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB

There was the rush, the treachery, the deceit, lacing and calculating and murmuring in deep battle drums, in harpooning, vicious landscapes, in tumultuous perils and dastardly feats. Behind his nonchalant, reticent features, he would have been grinning like a fox, immersed in all the wickedness, all the nefariousness, all the immoral sentiments of a devil’s crowning abyss, lurking like a serpent, hovering like the promise of misfortune. Bedlam’s oeuvre, chasing away the ruminations of virtue, crashing and emboldening the rising tides: the taste and relish of victory so close, hovering just beyond their reach.

How much more would it take?

They outnumbered the Falls members in glaring measures, knives and blades poised against their throats, lancing and gliding through their utopian wonderland as behemoths, raptors, and predators, and his soulless gaze swept over the storm, the anarchy, the mayhem, as if he were immersed in the ultimate parallels of bliss and satisfaction. He was home in the depths of cataclysm, in the seditious swirl of upheaval; the reign of chaos tied and tethered to his throne.

The only disappointing contortion of their outnumbering was he was left with no one to chase. Hadn’t that been part of the reason he’d arrived: to assault, to assail, to earn new scars, to varnish fresh ones upon another? Wasn’t it to throw violence into the eye of the Falls, watch it descend in a heedless, unrelenting crescendo, filter and flicker until there was naught in his path but fallen bodies? Now he was being subjected to nothingness - like desolation, like isolation, all over again. Now, that was vexing. His purpose, his monstrous contortions, his beating, blackened, sinister heart was spurned all over again. What was a beast to do?

The Reaper further ground his teeth as the sway of acrimony didn’t arch or revel to his favor either: his prior target swerved and dodged his attack, the gliding Ghost sneaking as a wraith off to another portal of battle, leaving him with nothing to do but stare and watch, glare at her neat patchwork of ice along the ground (and now he’d have to be careful of his steps, remaining still, stoic, reticent), when he wanted to overthrow, when he wanted to puncture, when he wanted to devastate. Could it be a true victory, an absolute conquest, if he wasn’t given the opportunity, the chance, to drive his sword through one of their obsolete, pathetic little hearts? So Deimos waited, clenching in the wayward lacquer of patience, whittling away what little was left in his recherché void, plotting disaster in the taking of paradise.

[0/1. 432 words.
Deimos waits by a patch of ice caused by Ghost towards the middle of the Falls.]

Sevin the Sucky, I mean are you a # or vacuum? Posts: 161
OOC Account
Mare :: Other :: 5'5" :: 25
Default to Invaders, +0.5 invasion points. No VP awarded.

Forum Jump:

RPGfix Equi-venture