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05-11-2016, 10:24 AM
the tempest of an unrelenting sea
The behemoth’s shadow changes over her, furiously unblinking eyes watch his giant back hooves scramble backwards in the mirrored sands. Though his movement brings his soft, fleshy barrel out of reach of her horn, it also lulls her into false security— no longer is she trapped beneath this giant (or so she thinks). Her hisses morph to growls of satisfaction as she feels the gritty slip of her bladed horn cut against the grain of his muscle; a fine chest he may have, but no longer would it be unmarked.
Too soon is her triumph, too easily does she revel in the warm droplets of earth-scented blood that bathe her ridged forehead— a treat she is unused to, for the sea keeps warriors clean and austere in her arena. This baptism by blood is new, and some back part of her aquatic mind begins to understand the barbaric ferocity emanating from this dark demon. It was so unlike the stringent zeal she had for fighting. But, as red liquid pools beneath her horn, she began to realize the allure.
But, in a half breath, her basking is destroyed by monstrous hooves and kicking forelimbs. His left, still leaking blood, does not kick so hard as his right, and so her training throws her muscular body to her right, trying to save her from the brunt of his attack. Her right wither twinges at the movement, the bruise he left earlier growing sorer the longer they duel.
But the twinge is nothing, nothing, compared to the carnage that opens on her left shoulder.
Aided by gravity— a foe she does not know how to fight— his plunging hooves dig deep into the fleshy muscle beneath her left wither. His landlubber shield scrape away her plates, her now-flashing skin, and expose the pale flesh. They sink into striations— so surprised is her body by the violence of the landed attack that blue blood is slow to well to the wound. But, once there, it gushes forth, drenching her left shoulder and leg with blue.
A strange, strangled, rattling cry escapes from her— it is more reptilian than aquatic— as her left knee buckles beneath the brunt of the skulled demon’s weight. But her body, a warrior to the end, does not surrender; no, her right left scrambles, hops, and scrapes into the sand, sending water flying as she struggles to move her body away with on one foreleg.
And, just when she thinks she is out of his reach, a sharp and stinging pain laces up her tail. She snorts and jumps, wanting to strike out with her back legs but being unable to balance on her injure forehand. A ferocious snarl unleashes from her bared teeth as her overlarge eyes catch sight of the red dragon attached to her tail. She bends and whips it, seeking to fling free the abhorred, winged lizard and perhaps sting him with her barbs.
Her eyes dart to the man, eyes that had once been impressed now appalled and disgusted. “True warriors need not rely on rats of the sky,” her growl is laced with pain, left toe resting limply on the sand as her blood darkens to navy on the flats. Her eyes, so usually large and luminous are dull and narrowed— though her pain makes her coat glow vibrantly against the night.
WC: 561
D: 1/1
Too soon is her triumph, too easily does she revel in the warm droplets of earth-scented blood that bathe her ridged forehead— a treat she is unused to, for the sea keeps warriors clean and austere in her arena. This baptism by blood is new, and some back part of her aquatic mind begins to understand the barbaric ferocity emanating from this dark demon. It was so unlike the stringent zeal she had for fighting. But, as red liquid pools beneath her horn, she began to realize the allure.
But, in a half breath, her basking is destroyed by monstrous hooves and kicking forelimbs. His left, still leaking blood, does not kick so hard as his right, and so her training throws her muscular body to her right, trying to save her from the brunt of his attack. Her right wither twinges at the movement, the bruise he left earlier growing sorer the longer they duel.
But the twinge is nothing, nothing, compared to the carnage that opens on her left shoulder.
Aided by gravity— a foe she does not know how to fight— his plunging hooves dig deep into the fleshy muscle beneath her left wither. His landlubber shield scrape away her plates, her now-flashing skin, and expose the pale flesh. They sink into striations— so surprised is her body by the violence of the landed attack that blue blood is slow to well to the wound. But, once there, it gushes forth, drenching her left shoulder and leg with blue.
A strange, strangled, rattling cry escapes from her— it is more reptilian than aquatic— as her left knee buckles beneath the brunt of the skulled demon’s weight. But her body, a warrior to the end, does not surrender; no, her right left scrambles, hops, and scrapes into the sand, sending water flying as she struggles to move her body away with on one foreleg.
And, just when she thinks she is out of his reach, a sharp and stinging pain laces up her tail. She snorts and jumps, wanting to strike out with her back legs but being unable to balance on her injure forehand. A ferocious snarl unleashes from her bared teeth as her overlarge eyes catch sight of the red dragon attached to her tail. She bends and whips it, seeking to fling free the abhorred, winged lizard and perhaps sting him with her barbs.
Her eyes dart to the man, eyes that had once been impressed now appalled and disgusted. “True warriors need not rely on rats of the sky,” her growl is laced with pain, left toe resting limply on the sand as her blood darkens to navy on the flats. Her eyes, so usually large and luminous are dull and narrowed— though her pain makes her coat glow vibrantly against the night.
WC: 561
D: 1/1
Please tag Aquila in all posts.
