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11-08-2015, 03:19 PM
EREBOS He was lost. The prince had been that way before: without purpose, without drive, without any motive but the need to find something, anything, to fulfill his twisted longings and feral yearnings. But this way was different, literal, without allegory or symbolism, because his distracted mind (rattled and addled by the nature of current events, fallen Gods, vengeful ideas) hadn’t sorted out the possibility of wandering far beyond his knowledge. In this state, ignorance was not bliss. The enigmatic unknown, the previously beguiling, flickering wiles of leaves, meadows, and sprawling passages had taken a vile turn. What would have intrigued him throughout the morning suddenly fueled his desire to escape. Day dwindled into evening before panic truly set in and his once content, contemplative, calculating mind began to snag in apprehensive coils. Shadows shifted in midnight decadence. Predators roamed the dusky hollows. He jumped at the sound of snapping twigs. Orsino growled at unseen, unholy shapes – and Erebos suddenly felt the weight of dread, of panic, of fear. It was disturbing. It cut through his heart and wavered along his ribs, pulsing and pervading and notching a maddening quiver through his skull, until he wandered and wandered deeper into the thicket, ignoring his kitsune’s snorts and hisses, persistent in attempting to solve his dilemma, but becoming unraveled, unfurled, at every turn. Erebos hated it. It was disgusting and foul, to be incensed and caught in the webs of alarm and trepidation. Where was his boldness? His valor? His courage? Had he been a hypocrite all along? His breathing erupted in short, callous, bitter waves, pooling into the air as the thunder roared above them and lightning cracked and any remaining fiber of his bravery began to decay, because he’d been a silly, stupid fool, they should’ve never been out here – He swung his head beneath a low-hanging bough and the blue boy’s gaze fell upon an eerie scene. For naught more than a few seconds, he was sure he’d seen a ghost, some merciless phantom writhing and crawling through the eaves; masked by only a skull, formed by some minstrel of death and damnation. Fight or flight, his brain recalled. Senses snapped and thoughts slowed to an ugly, deluded crawl, blinded by the wraith coming for him – he’d seen monsters, he’d helped do away with infidel beings. Could he do the same now to save his own skin? If he didn’t chase after the devil, would it pursue him? His lungs seized, but his stance shifted. Instead of becoming illuminated in the still silence, he threaded his way into a curtain of branches and leaves, allowing the rain to claw through his vision, trace shadows over his eyes. Here was the time to act – here was the time to show what he was made of. They roamed closer, the pair of cretins felled by curiosity (if it killed the cat, would it slay the boy?), and the lad recalled Orsino’s gift, his talents, his abilities; asked and pleaded for a chance, for an opportunity, to brandish them all over again. The miniature cretin was obliging, sinister, savage, and as they advanced towards where they’d last seen the figure, Erebos was not Erebos – but a mirage of bestial quality, briefly altered and transformed through layers of deceit and illusion, hallucinations cast in wide, brutal shades. His skull was a disturbing, unearthly caricature, wolfish and long, ivory-fanged, jaws snapping and clenching, carnivorous and rapacious – a demon borne from Lucifer. Would it scare the other away? Would he be free to run from this wicked place? Was this enough pluck, enough daring, to make him feel less defeated, alone, and afraid? Was this the searing boldness he’d be known for, or the callous, nefarious instinct deep within all of their darkened hearts? And when he thought he was close enough to his living nightmare, slow and stalking, unsure if he’d advanced adequately or if the beast had vanished into the twilight’s storm, he attempted to swing his cranium and his sword to the right, dissolving the delusion, hoping to puncture the fellow fiend’s right shoulder. [1/3 + 0/1 defense. 682 words. - Nice setting Jen! This'll be fun! ^__^ Panicked and unnerved by the storm and labyrinth, Erebos sees Ashamin as a skull-faced monster. Instead of fleeing, he uses Orsino’s dark illusions magic to look like a wolf-headed equine, hoping to scare away Ashamin. He attempts to get closer and swing his horn towards Ashamin’s right shoulder. - OOC commentary/teaching notes will start after your first attack. Good luck!] |
@Ashamin
