| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
11-04-2013, 07:52 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-04-2013, 07:53 PM by Murdock.)
Like the needle of a sewing machine, her head darted back and forth with a deadly rhythm. He could feel his skin tearing as feathers were ripped from their places, blood beading at the surface and staining his snow white wings with drops of scarlet. He knew nothing at that moment but fear and panic. The mare that had seemed so utterly eerie yet altogether vacant had turned into a monster within a matter of seconds, and he found his confusion replaced with an overwhelming desire to escape and run until his legs could no longer hold him up. His feathers were what allowed him to visit the skies. Without them, he would be nothing.
As his fear manifested into fury, he could feel her hold on him change. Her crazed attack turned into a wild struggle to free her leg from his back, her jagged bones stabbing into his rib cage as he tore at her neck. His teeth were met with thick strands of her mane, and without waiting to ensure his grip he tore fiercely. Her screams of pain reverberated through his skull as he tossed his head to the side, bloody pieces of her hair fluttering to the ground amongst the flurry of feathers. All he could feel was the chill of the air as it clung to the dampness of his body, now drenched with sweat along with what stream water had soaked into his coat, and the sting of missing feathers. Oh, not to mention her elbow digging into his spine.
Her body begins to twist and writhe against his side, her limbs flailing as a terrible sound rips from her throat. He ducks away from her frenzy, thrashing against her efforts and beating his bloodied wings. Her forelimb, slung over his back and firmly caught across his withers, smashes against his shoulder repeatedly as she dances about. His muscles ache and his ears ring, but all he can think to do it save his wings from her assault. He leans to the side, spreading his legs to brace their combined weight when suddenly she slips free.
She falls away from him into the darkness with a sickening crack, and he can see her dark silhouette against a bed of pale, glowing feathers. He cringes at them, like a pile of fallen snow, abandoned on the earth where they will be dragged away by the wind and carried off by nesting birds. His sides shake as he catches his breath, tearing his eyes away from her rising figure as he turns to run. His hooves slip across the damp earth as he spins on the spot, folding tattered wings against his sides. But it is too late to escape.
A squirrel flies through the air toward him, its body projected with impressive velocity as it arcs toward his legs. There is hardly time for a thought to pass through his head, hardly time for his eyes to register just what, exactly, was flying toward him with deadly determination. Murdock flinches away from its trajectory, but needle-thin claws find a firm hold on his foreleg and suddenly the tiny, wet creature is scaling his knee. Horrified, he glances down at the half-decayed rodent seemingly risen from the dead that is rapidly nearing his neck. Without a second thought he lurches away, rearing up on his hind legs and reaching for the minute attacker with bared teeth. He snaps his jaws at it, hoping to grab it and toss it back into the stream from whence it rose.
The squirrel is not the last of his problems, however. Murdock whirls around as a small mountain lion cub races toward him. Its body is also half-rotted, with its coat hanging raggedly from exposed flesh that clings to its tiny bones. Clearly, it was well past its ‘best before’ date. It is at this moment that he prays he is dreaming, for how could real life be as terrifying and horrific as this nightmare? He backs away, thrashing his forelegs out at the undead cub. And suddenly, she is there too. Her teeth reach for his throat, and he ducks away from her jaws. “Please, call them off!” He cries out desperately, wide, green eyes daring to meet the madness of her gaze. He could not be sure that she was the one to reanimate the dead, but at that moment it seemed safe to put the blame on her. “What do you want from me? Can’t we work this out?!”
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
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