| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
Her voice is terrible, like the grating ‘caws’ of raucous crows that call to each other from the treetops. While his body aches, his ears feel as though they will bleed from the screeching cries that she utters in her moment of maniacal ecstasy. To see him suffer seems to bring her such pleasure, such enjoyment that he cannot even imagine. Why is she doing this? What has he done to incite the punishment that she now serves him, relentlessly and heartlessly? He was but a mere wanderer, out for a walk in the wilds when he happened to stumble upon her. At first, she had seemed strange, but far too vacant to be deadly. How had his judgment failed him?
His body twists beneath the teeth and claws that scrabble at him from all angles. His eyes are closed, his head ducked beneath the shelter of his chest and his wings lifted high in the air so that they might be away from the reach of her undead minions. His feathers are gone, or at least, mostly so. His wings feel light and bare without the burden of soft plume that he was so accustomed to. He hardly cares about the blood that is drawn from his body, or the muscles that might be bruised. He mourns the loss of his feathers, the loss of his ticket to the skies.
Another voice then adds to the symphony of chaos, and suddenly, he is saved. The creatures release him, scattering into the darkness where they collapse on the damp earth, void of life once more. He hardly dares open his eyes or remove his head from between his knees, lest this newcomer be far more foul than the rotted mammals he had been dealing with. This sounded far bigger. Though, perhaps, if luck finally favoured him, his saviour had arrived. With a moment’s hesitation, he lifts his head as his eyes follow the darting form of the dark mare. His gaze finds the figure of a fellow Pegasus, whose eyes lack the light of insanity that has grown far too familiar.
He ignores them now, coughing until his body shakes and he crumples to his knees in the dirt. He has suffered mere scratches, though some have been deep and let thick blood flow down the insides of his legs to scatter across the grass like drops of crimson dew. In the darkness, his body becomes almost invisible, save what white feathers remain on his tattered wings. He vaguely takes note of his assailant fleeing down the stream, but the sudden quiet is far too overwhelming.
“Thank you,” he manages through trembling breath, tilting his chin upward to look at the stranger who saved him. She is hard to see through the darkness, but she is tall and winged, and smells of his home. The smallest of smiles is summoned to his lips, but it fades quickly. “I wish I knew what I had done to deserve this,” he gestures loosely to his torn wings and bleeding body, “but your guess is as good as mine”. Though he had suffered great loss as a result of the mare’s attack, he found he felt no anger toward her. Confusion, of course, and regret for ever having approached her, but he could feel no hate. Perhaps that was owing to his own insanity, or the fact that he was far too delusional in his current state to make any level-headed decisions about his emotions.
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
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Image Credit
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