[Essentially this is timed directly following the invasion, ICly at the very end of the invasion as this will basically be his death from the last attacks given to him.]
He moved with a careless grace that comes to one who has snapped free the stringy sinews that bond the body whole. Like a snake wriggling from its ghostly casing of damaged skin so does Jaydan shuffle off his mortal coil.
Beneath the apparent fevor and the raging intensity that streaks in his eyes like a storm, the bird is breaking. Every beat of his heart sends the precious fluid dribbling through the flaps of meat that are the mouth of his chest. With each stretch of his limbs dancing around the frozen king his bones clatter and clang and slowly begin to shrivel and rot. His muscles have gone beyond strain and instead deteriorate as the ligaments are sawed apart by the insatiable madness that drives him, drives him, DRIVES HIM!
Death has a hold of him now.
The brush against Deimos did more than leave a red line on his hind legs, a wound as yet unfelt by the desperate warrior. The contact was brief but a touch of hair was all it took for Deimos to unwind his powerful hunger.
What once was a searing agony of pain lancing through every fiber of his being had since grown into a cold, desolate sensation. In initial thought Jaydan only assumed it the passing of his limitations. Like a pouting child his pain had sunken into a corner of his being, refusing to ignite the regions that ached because it wouldn't matter, it would be ignored as Jaydan pressed on.
The chill was much more absolute than that.
Even when the whirling fire engulfed the wretched blue bird he did not feel the cinders snag his hide. Though his hair curled to ash and his color branded black, Jaydan refused to relent.
His hooves flew better than his wings now. The one in fact had falklen off entirely at some point, the feathers crumpling into dust as they burned amongst the ground. Only the pearly stub of bone glinted pure amongst all the char and the blue.
Inwardly the bird did not appear much butter.
The claw of Deimos devilish kiss carved its way to Jaydan's core. It was a slow descent for the porecious seconds burned on the battlefield, but the effects eventually took their toll. When his hooves began to stumble the pegasus could truly fly no more.
The finality came when Deimos reached out to him once more. The act was merciless, but Deimos was more kind with that lack than any that boasted it.
If Jaydan would be remembered at all, it was that a smile flittered on his lips when his battered body slouched against the icy crystals, the fortress behind which Mauja hide from the dragon's spit.
The last light of life fled the dull eyes of the gelding as se sunk into a puddle of red. Shining like some bleak hope amidst the foul colors of ended life, his trinket swam in the mire of destruction. The bauble floated for a moment before it started to drown in the blood - the last blink of his spirit in this crooked world.
He would stretch his wings, whole and hale, to fly the great skies of forever with Luin, finally at peace.
 |
| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
The detached, heartless statue watched his minuet design, the cursed, damned condemnation of life, as it dwindled another of breathing, of beating, of wishing and dreaming. Here was his gift brought to unfurling, unwinding ardor, fervent and plaguing, touching, caressing until it consumed, relinquished and abandoned the perished and departed being. With one ruthless fixation, it had poisoned the air, the ground, noxious, toxic, tainted, and he merely stood, witnessing the bedlam cast a callous spell. This was the destruction he’d promised the earth, the iniquity and licentious creed bestowed by his father, the acrimony and maelstrom he’d annihilated in each arcane arch of his argent body. The Pegasus, an unknown enemy, was not the first, and would not be the last to be damned by his monstrous animosity, his cold conviction, his hardened, desolate rapture, or his feral indignation. Had he been given the chance, all of the intruders would have felt the swinging plunge of his scythe, of his reaper potency, of his raw, undulating power. Eventually, he thought. They’d understand the dark trappings of his puissant disposition, of his intimidating, formidable, chilling oeuvre. They’d shriek, scream, and grow silent, just like this creature, doomed by the sinister terror thriving, pulsing, crooning a sinuous, slinking beat in his hollow, desolate heart. He’d devour the world. Amidst the smoldering, unwinding havoc, he bowed his head once to the fallen, a final, rampant decadence along the treacherous, predacious grandeur, because here was a victory amongst the many losses. With a slinking prowess, his enigmatic, cryptic conceit left the grounds, just as cold, just as reserved, as he’d been before.
[Deimos out.]
|
|
Mirage the DragonHeart Posts: 414
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: Eighteen HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
|
Akaith :: Royal Golden Dragon :: Fire Breath
Whit |
Death. It pained the mare to know that as a result of her decision, her determination, her longing for a home had caused a death in the ranks of one of her allies. Movement at the edge of the battlefield drew the mare's sights. A sense of drain, more than an energy loss, overcame her, though it was not aimed at her. She moved as swiftly as she could, lacerations dripping blood down her sides, bruises and wounds slowing her motion to an agonisingly slow dawdle.
A steely grey steed, with a horn, retreats from the scene, and with his departure the sense of drain upon her very soul also ceases. It takes minutes for her to even begin recovering, but she is only standing over the hybrid gelding that has fallen, so as her energy leaks back into her, it is spent almost immediately on the depressed sadness that takes over her demeanour as she realises the effects her actions have had on others.
"Thank you, winged friend." Akaith lands beside her bowed head as she murmurs to the fallen gelding, Jaydan. She allowed tear to drip from her eyelid, and fall to the ground beside the now dead, crumpled body. The DragonHeart then lifted her crown, her face a mask of seriousness, respect and sadness.
"Kri," the tones are gentle, but subtly urgent. His body would draw predators to her new home, a prospect Mirage did not welcome and so longed to resolve. But the customs of the Throat could be different to her own thoughts of disposing the body; and she would respect them. "I am so sorry," she knew her words would have little effect on the situation, she blamed herself directly for the fall of this unknown warrior, and yet she had to say them, for they were true.
|
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
