In the midst of silence, anarchy was his barbaric voice, his villainous song, and his iniquitous masterpiece. It was a culmination of upheaval and insurrection, the pinnacle of depravity, the languid, listless rendering of hopelessness, and he beguiled the earth to share his nefarious philosophy, his hedonistic hymn. The deplorable monster felt not a single sentiment of remorse as the world crumbled around him. The lizard fell from the skies, the forest was torn into fragments of grandeur, and the Glazier appeared withered, haggard and feeble from the armaments of obliteration that had scorched his skin. Too hardened, too damned, too impassive and indifferent, Deimos lavished chaos, mayhem and bedlam upon the kingdom, became a witness to the deadly doldrums he’d incensed. And truly, why should he care? The Edge no longer belonged to his brethren, he didn’t guard its corridors, and he didn’t protect its fringe. The Qian had taken his companions’ sanctuary, their shelter, and then stolen him from his newfound home. There was no point to touching his guard with tenderness and dulcet whims, no purpose to caress the ground in sweet affections, no use to adhere beneficence upon an empire that reminded them each and every day that they had failed to preserve the World’s Edge as their own. Sympathy held no place in his heart for territory lost, for friends never made, and for sentries that had taken him from freedom – an element of life he’d always had, he’d always maintained and cherished. He would remain apathetic, insouciant and nonchalant, even as his sentinel launched his vicious tirade.
His deadly siege, while weakening the Glazier, had also ignited his savage malice. The grullo charged at Deimos, flinging his body in a loathsome, vindictive rear, aiming to hinder the infidel’s spine. Amidst this ferocity, the necromancer rushed forward, a turbulent burst of strength, and Lace’s brandished daggers hit along his rump, likely to be a future, meddling bruise. It stung, it ached, but his backbone wasn’t broken, wasn’t mauled or mangled. Due to his onward motion, the guard’s second attack missed tearing at his ear, and instead, tore against his poll, sliding down the edge of his nape in an elongated nip. Then, everything was over. The adversary staggered, carrying his dragon to a safer area, and a strange sort of calm, lack of tension, washed over the beast. He was finally allowed to breathe: bestial assailments had been expended, scorched, and now, he merely began another game of waiting.
With assaults finalized, he could analyze the status of his figure. Pain still burst from his right flank, that searing burn that would likely continue its onslaught until he’d had it properly healed or doused in water. His right knee’s side throbbed, a decadent, glowing bruise. His right cheek lacked tufts of hair. His left hip and poll smarted from the Glazier’s bites, and his rump gnawed from the pounding of hooves upon its crest. He ached, dull and muted in some areas, stinging, blistering heat in others, but he stood, still potent, still vicious, still a deadly, pernicious force in the venomous world of his distortion and disorder.
[523 words. 4/4 + 1/1 defense post. 1/1 magic used in prior post.
Deimos moves forward as Lace rears, avoiding a heathenous crush to his spine, and instead allowing the hooves to hit the top of his rump. Since he moved forward, he also escaped a torn ear, and Lace’s teeth nip the apex of his poll and drag down in a long nip.
Overall Injuries:
Burn to right flank. Right knee bruised. Right cheek lacking bits of pelt. Left hip and poll aching from bites. Top of rump bruised.
Thank you Chan for an excellent fight!]
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[JUDGE] instruments to plague us [challenge for freedom - lace]
