the Rift


dancing with a wolf

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#1


There is a distinct chill in the air, quite unseasonable and certainly unusual in the normally humid archipelago. The bastard's flesh, dripping with moisture from his swim across the channel between the mainland and this island, quivers unbidden as the cold sets in and gnaws at his bones. It makes a delicious change from the all-consuming summer heat, and the stallion savours the precious relief from the searing weather. Being black has its drawbacks, especially in Tallsun, and Volterra doesn't quite know why he chose to return to the Riptide Isles, which are so humid they make the sweltering season even worse. But now he is glad he did, as he is delightfully cool and full of more energy than he can remember since spring ended.

It is a clear night, which perhaps adds to the unseasonably cold temperature, and the moonlight illuminates each hard plane of the giant's body. There is a spring in his step and a distinct bounce in the pounding of his dragon's wings as the duo move in synch across the grainy sand, serenaded by the crunching of the sand beneath the leviathan's feathered hooves. They pass caverns and great yawning cave mouths, beckoning them in to explore, but they resist. The night is too deliciously cool and pleasant for them to want to maraud beneath the surface in sticky, claustrophobic caves. Instead the black monolith pauses on a wide section of beach, with the towering cliffs behind him and the moonlit ocean spread out in front of him, stretching away to the distant dark horizon.

His mane ruffles gently in the breeze, tickling the sides of his thick neck. Standing still only helps the cold set into his bones, but he savours every icy moment. His dragon curves his wings and lands heavily upon the hellion's back, his claws digging hard into new, tender flesh where it has begun to heal after the boiling tar splashed him during the tiger battle. It stings, but the stallion hardly flinches. Instead he stands, as though hewn from the rocks behind him, letting the chilly night air wash over him whilst he stares idly into the middle distance. ""
__________

@Gashad !
Set on a beach in the Riptide Isles a few days after the God battle, in the early evening. Magic and companions fine! :D

0/3 - 349 words

FOOL ME ONCE, IT'S SHAME ON YOU
FOOL ME TWICE AND LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
image credits

[ 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 ]




Gashad Posts: 6
Deceased atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 21hh :: 30+ HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#2

I don't know who you think you are
but before the night is through
I wanna do bad things with you
</style>



I'd stayed well away from Mrs Stripey as she busted through the veil between worlds and threw the usual old hissy fits. It was no secret that I loved myself a healthy portion of chaos every once in a while, but not to the point where I'd risk getting on the wrong side of the gods. Dying would be the most pleasant outcome, and let me tell you, there really are fates worse than death. Just look at me - I'm living proof!

Still, this place was boring. Everything all neatly ordered and well arranged, the sun rising and falling at set intervals, each day lining up much like the other had been. Where was the adventure in living like that, all scheduled and timely and picture perfect? Where was the madness, the chaos, the leaking timestreams and distorting space-time wormholes and the delightfully horrific mutant creatures, a result of centuries of over-exposure to magical energies? There wasn't enough of anything here, and it was so tedious my bones ached with it.

Ha, get it? My bones.

Anyway. Since time was actually flowing in a noticeable fashion, I decided to spend it on something worthwhile. Like stalking! It's always been a favorite pastime of mine, I do love seeing the paranoia awaken within their eyes and how they start to glance over their shoulders. I picked him out as I watched the battles from a safe place, well out of reach and very comfortable indeed, and I'd spent these past few days skulking about in his tracks, dropping hints every once in a while in the hopes that he'd notice that he wasn't alone.

But my, wasn't this particular sample very dumb? From what I could tell he hadn't noticed me at all, and what, I ask, is the fun in stalking someone if they don't notice, feel afraid, run and try to hide?

So I changed tactics. One night - at least I assume it was night, it's so hard to tell when you're used to morning and midday follow upon afternoon with night shooting by in the blink of an eye. You know, the way it does in the Rift. Anyway I got bored with following him around, so instead I decided to make myself noticed. I drew myself up to my fullest height - rather considerable, if I may say so myself - put on a charming grin

hehehe see what I did there?

and then I charged out from behind, screaming from the top of my lungs (or rather, I would have if I'd had any). Thrashing my clawed wings I tried to slash at his juicy looking ass, shuddering with delight at the thought of being able to spill blood again. It had been so very long since last time, not since I'd played with those nice little girls at the beach.

It had been some time ago... or at least I thought so. Time was a funny thing, after all, and it didn't behave at all the way I was used to.

Nor did anything else.



PC: 1/3 + Cl Def
WC: 508

Summary: Gashad attacks from the rear, attempting to slash the claws of his wings across Volterra's rump.




Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#3


What. The. Fuck.

There is a scream, the ungodly bellow of the most hideous beast that hell could ever create, and the titan's immediate reaction is to try and wheel around to the left to face his would-be assailant. But he's too slow, and his attacker succeeds in doing what few others ever manage; taking Volterra by surprise.

Agony explodes in the left side of his rump as the creature's wing-spike rips deep through flesh and touches hard muscle. Not only that, but another of the demon's claws clips Vérzés on the side, sending the dragon sprawling away into the heavens with an indignant squawk. A gargled groan rumbles out of the stallion's gullet, a forbidden hint of pain; combined pain from both his own wound and the injured side of his companion. Vérzés' diamond-hard scales protect him from most forms of damage, but the sharp edge of Gashad's wing-claw has managed to press a bruise into the skin beneath them. Volterra continues to pivot and, finally, he sees his attacker.

Holy shit.

It's the creature from the Tiger battle, the walking skeleton. Close up, he's absolutely fucking huge. Volterra is a titan amongst men, but this creature dwarfs him by a good three hands. And, jesus, there's not an ounce of flesh on him. He's all bone - huge bone, but bone nonetheless. How is he still standing? Magic. Dark magic, no doubt. No other form of magic could animate this skeletal behemoth and make him able to attack with such brutal force.

How the fuck didn't you see him? the stallion mentally spits at Vérzés. The red, trying to loosen his side where it's tightening into a bruise, sends his master several images of the demon that he'd picked up over the last couple of days, evidence that not only had brute and dragon alike been taken by surprise, but they'd been intentionally stalked by their attacker. Volterra is apopletic. You didn't think to tell me we were being followed?

There's no apology in Vérzés' voice when it comes. "Bones left many clues. Vol-ter clever, thought Vol-ter would notice. Looks like Vol-ter need practice."

If Volterra could fly, he'd be drop-kicking his companion into the ocean. As it is, he must leave his scolding for later, because there's the pressing matter of a giant skeletal asshole hell-bent on annihilating them. At this notion - tracked by a creature from the depths of anyone's nightmares - most horses would cower, beg mercy. Not Volterra. Hell, no. Nobody attacks him. Not even monstrous bone-demons from the armpit of Hades.

The giant has been spoiling for a proper fight since he reached manhood, and this is the perfect scenario. But like hell is this going to be a friendly spar. Bastard Bones will not be leaving this place alive...if he's even alive now. With blazing eyes filled with the fury of ten thousand suns, the stallion fixes his gaze on his opponent, unwavering, defiant despite the fact he has to look up to even see where the creature's head is. "You die now." His voice, thick and gravelly, is almost devoid of emotion, save for the simmering of anger that brews in the undertones of it. He feels his infamous temper begin to rise, a volcano bubbling beneath his flesh; the red mist lowers, almost delicately, into place.

And will you look at that? It's rampant-murder-o'clock.

A quick and pointless assessment of his foe tells Volterra what he already knows; the creature is bigger than him by a considerable amount, which in an ordinary battle would certainly force the young warrior to re-evaluate his technique. However, Gashad is pure bone - no muscle, no fat, no flesh. Thus, Volterra assumes he must be pretty vulnerable to direct attacks, given that one hard kick to an exposed bone could shatter it. So he decides to just fight as he always has - with sheer brute force.

His ripped backside is a damned inconvenience, though. He can still put weight on it, but any tugging of the flesh around the wound causes incredible pain. He continues his pivot to the left until he's hopefully facing the skeleton, and in the same beat he lashes his left foreleg powerfully forwards. He aims to kick his massive hoof into Gashad's right foreleg, just below the knee, to try and damage the bone. His lips peel and a bite begs to be freed, but biting will be little use when there's no flesh to nip - he's best conserving his energy.

Like a bloodied angel, Vérzés swoops from above, aiming to approach behind the skeleton. His jaws gape and he aims a bite towards the same claw of Gashad's wing that harmed him earlier - he tries to grab this bone between his jaws and snap it clean off, a gruesome trophy.
__________

@Gashad !
Tries to kick left foreleg into Gashad's right foreleg below the knee, whilst dragon tries to bite off a wing-claw.

1/3 - 800 words

FOOL ME ONCE, IT'S SHAME ON YOU
FOOL ME TWICE AND LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
image credits

[ 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 ]




Gashad Posts: 6
Deceased atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 21hh :: 30+ HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#4

I don't know who you think you are
but before the night is through
I wanna do bad things with you
</style>



There was one thing that had been gnawing on me ever since I changed my address. Magic and godly energies and shit was still abundant in the atmosphere of this place, but it couldn't even begin to compare to what the Rift had been like. As a direct result, the fuel that charged my continued existence had been cut off, leaving access to only a mere trickle, a puny drip where once I'd savored flash floods and torrents of it. Where once my essence had been clearly visible, wrapped like a shadowy cloak around the pulsating orb of consciousness in the hollow of my chest, I found myself reduced to a mere fragment of my former terrifying splendor.

Now, my bones a gorgeous, that's not the issue here. It's just... well. Isn't it a bit... ya know, ridiculous about a simple pile of walking bones? No one in their right mind would ever be remotely scared of a common old skeleton, regardless of how big boned or well shaped it might be. It was the aura that mattered, the premonition of sudden and decidedly messy, impending doom that made people blanch, and I had worked so hard on building up enough bad karma to really hammer down the message.

Here, in this fucking orderly world I felt stripped down and naked, robbed as I had become of what used to be my defining character. The crimson blood that splashed across my bones didn't feel half as good as it usually did, nor did my deranged cackles have the desired effect. I detected none of the customary shock and terror, heard no terrified screams or whimpers of pleading mercy.

All I got in return was anger, and a swift kick to the shins. It was a good kick, quick and strong and fairly well aimed, and there was a horrible crunching sound as a splinter snapped off and spun away across the beach. I gazed down at the gash, and would have raised a laconic brow, if I'd had one.

How utterly boring.

It hurt of course. Whatever the magic had done to me when it stripped me of life and flesh, it hadn't completely removed my sense of pain. Horribly unfair, but there you are; it hurt, and I would have loved to make the usual hisses and curses and wrathful grimaces but what was really the point when I had neither lungs nor tongue or even ears to flatten to my elegantly domed skull? I opted for a cackle instead, my ever present grin a taunt to shove into the face of my chosen prey. Literally; I bent down and tried to gouge out one of those delightfully red orbs from the so conveniently placed head, the sound of bone grinding against bone accompanying my never ceasing stream of mad giggles when my jaw creaked opened. 

Unlike my over-excitable friend, I wasn't particularly angry at all. In fact, this all was just a matter of passing time, a way to entertain myself as I waited for the end. 

What better way to do that then spill blood, wreak havoc and spread mayhem. It was almost a shame I'd likely end up killing the bloke - he sure had pretty eyes.




WC: 540
PC: 2/3 + def
Summany: Stays in place, laughs as Volterra kicks him and tries to gouge out an eye with his teeth.

Note: changed the font color to #cccccc as per admin request- hope it's easier to read now.







@Volterra

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#5

Crunch! A fragment of bone splits from the brute's kick, but the skeleton seems unconcerned by it. A savage hiss slips from his teeth, whilst a combination of satisfaction and frustration burn through him. Satisfaction that he landed a good hard blow on the bone, but frustration that it did not shatter the limb into pieces as he hoped. The giant had perhaps underestimated how hard this battle was going to be - he half-expected the skeletal giant to submit after a single hit, squeak an apology and blend back into the shadows. It is not to be. This will indeed be a fight to the bitter end - be it Volterra's or his foe's. The earthen colossus knows what he's putting his money on. Images of shattered bones and screaming skulls flash before his eyes, sweet and succulent victory...

But there will be plenty of time for that. Rage still burns beneath his skin, bubbling like the heart of a volcano. Any notion of fear or trepidation is swallowed up by the thrashing waves of potent fury that sear inside him, causing sweat to froth across every hard plane of his body. He channels that rage, wields it like a sword. In the absence of battle experience (or, at least, absence of battle experience against giant undead hell-creatures), all he has is his instinct. And his instinct knows that, throughout his life, his explosive temper has given him power. Fearlessness. When the red mist descends, it swallows everything else in its path.

It makes him take risks. It makes him foolish, violent, brash. But it also lends him a feeling of invincibility, for better or for worse. If he is to win, decimate this creature spawned from the darkest depths of anybody's nightmare, then he needs to ignore any concerns about getting hurt. He can't fret about the consequences of his attacks. He needs to enter the zone and stay there, channel every ounce of his strength and not give a shit about what this creature could do to him. To do that, he needs his temper. He wears it like armour, feeling it caress his flesh like the touch of a lover.

Just as well he isn't worried about pain, because no sooner has his attack landed than the demon is launching one of its own. (Is it an it, or a he? It seems masculine, but Volterra can hazard a guess that it doesn't have any balls.) Again, instinct takes over as he glimpses jaws heading towards his face, and despite the screaming protest in his wounded hindquarters, he forces himself to take a small hobble backwards. It's slow, and there's no way he can avoid the attack fully. But the step backwards, coupled with a downwards flinch of his head, means that the creature's teeth only clip the region just above his left eye, mercifully protecting the stallion from being half-blinded. Although blunt horse teeth are not built to rip flesh, the sheer force and angle of the impact breaks the skin of Volterra's left eyebrow, creating a small bead of blood that trickles down into his eye and causes him to blink furiously. The cut is not particularly deep, but is coupled with a bruise from the strength of the attack, causing a headache to thrum in the back of his mind.

Do it more, screams his temper. Give me more reason to fucking break you. The pain of the blow, coupled with that in his hindquarters, only spurs the titan on. Alas, his rage does not numb his wounds, but it does force him to tear his focus away from them and onto the rest of the battle.

After his attack, Vérzés ascends, taking a small breather. The dragon usually has the unrivalled stamina of a hunter, but he, like his bonded, bears a painful wound that restricts his movements. But Volterra is still capable of causing damage, even when handicapped. He channels his potent, animalistic anger into magic. He grasps hold of his power and commands it, mastering the earth like a puppeteer. He bids it to lift into a plateau beneath Gashad's back hooves, trying to burst it up to knee-height in an attempt to make the skeleton lurch forwards and badly unbalance him/it. Simultaneously, the leviathan heaves his titanic frame forwards a fraction and flicks his left foreleg forwards in an exact replica of his last attack; he aims for the same area on the skeleton's right foreleg, where the bone is already chipped, to try and damage it further or perhaps shatter it completely. He hopes the skeleton will not think he will try the same thing twice, and also hopes the demon will be too preoccupied by the earth lifting under his hindlegs to be able to avoid damage.
__________

@Gashad !
Tries to erupt a plateau of earth beneath Gashad's hindlegs to try and unbalance him and make him lurch forwards, and tries to kick left foreleg at right foreleg again.

2/3 - 799 words

FOOL ME ONCE, IT'S SHAME ON YOU
FOOL ME TWICE AND LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
image credits

[ 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 ]




Gashad Posts: 6
Deceased atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 21hh :: 30+ HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#6

I don't know who you think you are
but before the night is through
I wanna do bad things with you
</style>



Overall, I think it would have been better for this poor idiot to be afraid. If he had done as he should, screamed and thrashed around a bit before begging for mercy, I might have granted him life.

But the way things were going, it seemed to me he was more bent on begging for death. I mean. Could he not see how much goddamn effort I had put into making myself presentable, skinless as I was? No cloak worth the name could fill out these less than gratifying curves of mine so I had gone down the other road and revealed for all to see that beauty was not just skin deep, it was etched in the very bones. Hours and hours of painstakingly detailed work, and then this brainless hulk came stomping about and kicked around so that all the boring darkness of bare bone became visible once more.

I ask you! No sense of delicacy!

It served him right to be marred in return. Teeth weren't the best instruments when it came to gouging, but though I failed to squish that juicy looking eyeball like a berry I did manage to make a tenfold improvement to his appearance. A few more scars like those and he'd almost look edible!

Now, I did feel a bit distracted even as we were, so to speak, in the middle of something. The loss of freely available magic must affect me more than I had thought possible; I didn't even notice the mosquito of a dragon until it fluttered up into the air again, and the sight of it made my blood run cold. Or, well.. you get the idea. Bony, scrawny tail bones thrashed in a sudden blaze of anger, fury that hadn't been there for even a second before. But I couldn't help it, couldn't keep it at bay because how dare this no-name son of a goat-fucking bitch bring dragons within a hundred miles of my self!? A small, stunted and underfed version, yes, but a dragon none the less! The sight of it made my teeth itch, my voice switch from cackle to vicious snarl - and it might have been imagination, but for a second there I almost felt the good old power surge through my essence again, to lend a ghostly blue glow to the empty sockets and make the ribcage swirl with tendrils of pure, true darkness.

If I'd had my magic intact I would have paralyzed his flabby ass and ripped out his jugular then and there. But I didn't. And I was distracted. So I failed to register the new flow of will through the ether before it was too late.

The earth heaved under me, pushed my rear up from the ground and toppled me off balance. Not even in my prime had I been particularly agile, big and heavy as I was, and it had only grown worse after the grounding flesh and stabilizing membranes rotted away. I fell, but by making a last minute twist around a front hoof and a jerk of the same side wing I ensured I fell towards the irksome bloke, sneering eternally as I made to crash into his bulk, which I dwarfed upon comparison. Blackened teeth snapped as I strained to reach for the throat, the clawed wings clumsily attempting to cut open the pretty velvet skin, so smooth and pure and young, untainted by age and pain and suffering.

Oh, he knew nothing of life, nothing at all; he could kick and flail and try his best to make the lesser ones bow and humble, but it would all be for naught. Just like his last attack.

I almost envied him the chance to pass away into oblivion. It would be too horrible to see this cute little turd succumb to the years and get all wrinkly and fat. Better kill him now, to spare him the misery of it all.

Yes, let's do that.



PC: 3/3 + Cl Def
WC: 662

Summary:  Gashad notices the dragon and is distracted. Volterra succeeds in bringing him off balance, Gash tries to turn the fall into an attack by turning and crashing into Volterra's side, teeth aiming for the throat while wing claws attempt to rake his opposite side barrel




Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#7

A snarl rips from the skeletal creature, a monstrous noise that would bid weaker men to quiver at the knee. Not Volterra. Instead, it adds to the boiling soup in his heart, the needles of rage in his veins.

His hoof returns to the ground after its attack (successful or not, he can't quite tell) and he's pleased to see his plateau of earth lifting beneath the skeletal giant's hind hooves, lunging the creature forwards. Alas, the demon turns so he's falling directly towards Volterra, and the beast's eyes flash as he acts on pure instinct and a split second of thought. He throws his weight to the right, almost choking on the groan that escapes him as pain jabs through his injured backside. Going to the right rather the left means he can slightly favour the badly hurt left area, but it doesn't stop the explosion of fire in the ripped muscle. This is the most he's moved in the entire fight, but he has little choice - stay where he is, and the massive skeleton could have crushed him.

The creature's wing-claw just clips the black warrior's left rump as he shifts to the side, creating a small, thin graze that irritates more than hurts. Mercifully, it's just above the gash caused by the demon's first, brutal attack, because another direct hit to that area would have caused a hurricane of agony within the behemoth.

The brief sting of the attack is the straw that breaks the camels back. Time to end this. Time for the creature who dared stalk and attack him to die.

That patterned skull will make a lovely souvenir.

He's sweating, exhausted and aching, but he has just enough left to finish this and condemn the skeleton to a final death. He continues to swing to his right, so his backside is hopefully pointed towards Gashad's left shoulder area. With a feral bellow, the giant summons his magic again, this time beneath his own hooves. He creates a plateau of earth just big enough to elevate him to Gashad's formidable height, then throws his weight onto his front hooves and kicks out hard with his back ones. He aims his massive hind hooves for the skeleton's head, to try and smack his skull clean off his neck - he puts more force into the kick with his right side than his injured left, to try and prevent further injury to the delicate area. He forces every ounce of pain, rage and hatred into his attack, foaming at the mouth, sweating everywhere. The volcano inside him adds fuel to the fearsome bulking of his muscles as he throws fucking everything into this final roll of the dice.

Because if he doesn't kill the demon, then the devil-creature will dedouble its efforts to kill him. And hell is not quite ready for Volterra yet.

Vérzés, with a second wind from his small rest, adds a dragon's scream to the din of the battlefield. He swoops, aiming to approach from behind Gashad, and opens his jaws to release a fearsome blast of frost breath. He hopes to raze the skeleton from tail to shoulders, to turn those old bones to ice and send them crumbling into dust. Because, dammit, the two mind-mates might not always get along. Even in this fight, they've bickered and disagreed. But they will do anything to protect their bonded, and their conjoined determinations rampage through Volterra's mind like a herd of wildebeest. Neither dragon nor stallion has allowed their resolve to waver throughout this arduous battle, and it will not waver now.

It can't. Not when their lives could be on the line.

And not when glory is just a kick away.
__________

@Gashad !
Lifts earth beneath his own feet to try and make him tall enough to kick Gashad in the head, whilst dragon tries to frost breath alllll over Gashad's booty. Thanks for the fight Chan <3

3/3 - 618 words

FOOL ME ONCE, IT'S SHAME ON YOU
FOOL ME TWICE AND LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
image credits

[ 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 ]




Gashad Posts: 6
Deceased atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 21hh :: 30+ HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#8

I don't know who you think you are
but before the night is through
I wanna do bad things with you
</style>



Well, fuck. If I had know that today was the day to snuff it, I'd have put on something a bit more suitable. It's not every day you get to meet your maker, after all.

It would be a lie to say I didn't see it coming. Truth be told, I'd been waiting for this day ever since that day on the battlefield when this whole thing started. I lied when I said I didn't know what caused my current state of being - fact is, I know exactly why. It's not a very long story, nor is it particularly interesting... My brother shagged my girl. So I killed him. Right there, when he got careless enough to turn his back on me. With his last breath he cursed me, and in a place like the Rift, those kind of things cause ripples, they have a real effect.

So I died, yet did not perish. How stupid is that!? Immortality was mine, that fickle dream bastards and fools had walked over bones to attain, and all I wanted was to let it all end.

Well, here it comes now, finally. I knew it even as the nameless pretty-boy of a fool evaded me and let me continue the fall towards the ground. I had failed, but for once I wasn't particularly upset. In all his hot-blooded berserker rage he probably couldn't even fathom the peace I felt as I watched him rise above me, hooves flailing and the dragon's red shadow approaching from above. I kind of wish I had time to tell him the whole story, to warn him of the price he would one day have to pay for blood, for rage, for pride and glory. Because he would pay, he like every other fool who dabbled in the darker sides of life. Before he knew it, he would find himself covered from head to toe in filth, stinking of mud and blood and all the corpses of all the lives he had ended.

It would have been better to tell him, now before he went too far down the wide path to hell.

But hey. Why rob him off the fun in discovering it for himself? Damnation might be more interesting for him than it had been for me.

My end came about in a dragon's sigh. I felt it wash over me like rain and cold water, not so much freezing my bones as it purified my essence of darkness. It wasn't painful at all - more like falling asleep again after living a long, long nightmare.

I would have thanked them - but they probably wouldn't have been happy to hear it. So I only grinned, and winked. And died.


Hooves connected with bone in a not-so-subtle clunk. The force used was more than necessary to tear bone from bone when no ligaments or chains of magic tied the pieces together. Like a marionette cut from it's strings the skeleton crumbled, scattered across the ground with a bone-chilling clatter. The skull shot off through the air from the force of the impact, hit a tree and rebounded; while the mandible came off and landed with a forlorn thud in the sand however, the silver-embellished skull spun through the air, straight back at the dark young stallion. Whether through pure chance or by some last remnant of will from the fallen monster, the large skull smacked Volterra in the face and latched on, sticking so tightly over his face that it would require some serious effort and the sacrifice of some skin to peel it off again.

And the ghost of Gashad's last laugh lingered in the air, until wind and gulls and the rush of the sea overtook the sound, so that it might never have been there at all.




WC: 632
PC: Closing defense
Summany:  Vérzès' breath attack succeeded in killing Gashad. Volterra's kick sent the skull flying, it rebounded against a tree and lodged itself over his head. Permission from snow to pp the skull latching into Volterra's head.

Note: It was fun! thank you for giving my char a good sendoff!











@Volterra

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#9
Volterra has defeated & killed Gashad. Earns 1 VP + 1 VP killing bonus.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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