Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Pest Control

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    Mortis
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    Pest Control

    Post by Mortis on Sun Apr 24, 2016 3:26 am

    Time: 11:00 AM
    Date: April 20, 0006

    Samhain had been more than eager to start tracking down the wolf pack, nearly pacing at the barn to get her tack on, and at some points trying to pull some of the straps on herself. Upon her back Mortis had packed a few extra essentials to bring along their trip, the saddle bags holding a map, a few rounds worth of hunting slugs, and a hunting knife. His shotgun had been holstered in his belt, not unlike another superfiend years ago. As they rode out into the rolling, grassy hills, the farm soon sinking underneath their soft, static waves, the undead withdrew the weapon to lay across his lap.

    The portable radio he had found last month gently bounced against the bone of his hip in time with Samhain's stride. With every step her heavy hooves thudded softly against the damp earth, out of sync with the song that was playing softly. A man was singing against the galloping beat of a guitar, lamenting about a lost love. Every so often a woman's voice would come in to back him up, her voice ethereal and oddly haunting for the tune.

    ...Well it's hard to believe I know

    But I hear her singing in the sighing of the wind

    Blowin' in the tree tops way above me...


    His talons tapped idly against the barrel of his gun in time with the beat, beneath the wide brim of his hat Mortis' eye sockets studied the ground, keeping track of the trail that the mare was following. He could still see the path of the wolf pack pressed into the grass, the earlier scatter of large recesses pressed into the grass having drawn to a single file line across the plains. Five large wolves, and three smaller ones that were most likely part of their newest litter of cubs. They were old enough to move with their parents, but not enough to go off on their own just yet. Although the trail said nothing of it, he needed no paw prints to discern the nature of the pack or where they were headed. It wound and curled over the hills, always pausing at small clusters of trees. When investigated, the result was always the same.

    A territory marker.

    But they were getting closer, the tracks were growing more and more fresh with every step they took. Samhain's perpetual sneer curled, her nostrils flaring as she took a moment to sniff the ground as she plodded along.

    Their smell is growing stronger, we will catch up to them soon.

    The 'smell' as it were held no odor, but more a presence. It was their essence the beast was following, lingering psychic residue left behind as they traipsed across the heartlands, oblivious to their undying pursuers.

    Mortis leaned forward, giving the necrotic steed a fond pat on the neck before sitting upright. dully glowing pinpricks glanced up at the sky overhead, as he had done every so often since they started their hunt. The earlier clouds passing benignly overhead had started to become heavy and dark, clogging out any trace of blue overhead. They could just threaten to rain as they passed by overhead, or it could start to pour within the hour, and their tracking would have amounted to nothing as the weather grew too violent to leave Woolie alone with Angemort.

    The mare was sweet and attentive, but there was only so much she could do on her own.

    With their prey close and the long winding tracks starting to close on their origins, the choice was a simple and the answer obvious."Then let usss ssshorten the wait. Come Sssamhain, we will linger behind no longer." He hissed, bringing one hand to grasp the reins while the other pulled the shotgun off his lap to hold at the ready. The undead mare gaze a small toss of her head, sparse tail bristles cracking like a whip in the thrill of the hunt.

    The heavy thud of her hooves quickly turned to a pounding thunder as she leaped into a gallop. Mortis adjusted his posture within the saddle, standing slightly in the stirrups and moving with the massive revenant. Beneath them the grass became a blur, both superfiend and undead steed nearly flying over the plains.
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Universal NPC on Sun Apr 24, 2016 3:57 am


    These parts of their territory had been plentiful with prey the past two years, rampant with wild rabbits, grouse, deer... Even the farmland that intersected the long miles of rolling hills and dense forest tended to be ripe with meat for culling. But what they came across today, even the elder of their pack had never come across something so... disgusting.

    It tasted like a rancid carcass, its smell burned in their noses, and it towered over even the most robust buck. Dripping, oozing, rotting. At a distance they had thought it to be an old corpse to be scavenged; at least until the wind changed and it stood up. A ghastly roar, a snarl always upon its face, the pack's lack of experience with such an animal showed, and cost them one of the larger males in their pack. The leader, a she-wolf with a dense grey coat turned her snout to the air her lip curling back and tongue sticking out as she sampled the air.

    snuff-snuff...

    There was prey this way, the welcome stink of a shepherd's flock carried on the air. Behind her, the survivors of their ordeal followed readily. All save for two, yearling cubs that grew too cocky for their own good. Long gashes cut across their backs from where the walking carcass' hooves had sliced into them, and one was barely keeping up as he limped along. He was hindered by a wounded back leg, mangled and sticking out awkwardly where it had been dislocated at the knee.

    She knew he would not survive for long, experience reminded her of a similar event on a pack member when she was younger, one of her brothers. A few days at the most they would struggle to keep up and then simply keep falling back further and further... Until they finally faded away. His brother however, his fate could go either way depending on how the gash across his back healed. Every so often he stopped to lick at it, stemming the flow of blood.

    Her golden eyes looked back, observing as her mouth hung open to pant from the journey and the air that was steadily starting to stifle with its humidity. They still needed to find something to fill their bellies.

    She turned fully towards her pack, wagging her tail as she came to stand nose to nose with her mate. The rest of her family group followed suit, tails wagging before they all turned to head towards their prey. That is, until the wind changed. Something foul traveled upon it, their noses burned and a familiarity of the stench made the group turn to look in its direction, their fur bristling and ears interchanging between flicking forward attentively and pinning back against their heads.

    It was close.

    It had followed them.

    The thought of prey completely left the she-wolf's mind, she and her mate quickly bringing the rest of their pack to a strenuous pace.
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Mortis on Tue Apr 26, 2016 8:17 am

    They caught wind of us, the pack is moving!

    Samhain's observation was not the only one to be made, for her rider had readily sensed their dismay. Fear coursed through their veins, hearts hammering in their furry chests to set a fitting beat to their panicked escape. The trail they left exhilarated them both, and the undead mare's legs threw themselves into a sprint to close the scant distance between them.

    Empty eye sockets beheld the fleeing pack as they crested a hill. Two were badly injured and lagging noticeably behind the rest. The thrill of the hunt flared in the depths of the superfeind's skull, illuminating his sockets with a hellish glow. His thumb flexed back, the safety disabled with a click that was lost among the thundering of Samhain's hooves. Mortis' steed gave a hellish bellow, leaping from the top of the hill and nearly flying down the slope. Her mouth hung open, steam puffing from her nostrils more as a result of the surrounding humidity than any semblance of breath the carcass could produce. Samhain's rictus grin seemed to widen as she descended on the fleeing group, eager to take a bite out of any creature that was unable to evade her or crush them under-hoof.

    Mortis sent a few thoughts of encouragement her way, his sights set on one wolf in particular. She ran ahead of the pack, her mate not too far behind. The shotgun ready and pointed forward, his taloned fingers wrapped steadily around the right trigger and once Samhain brought him in range, squeezed.

    KRA-KOOM!

    Thunder and smoke erupted out of the right barrel, a fist-full of hot lead screaming towards the Alpha's back. In the time it took to fire, the barrel was already pointed at her mate, nary a moment of hesitation wasted on emptying the weapon's left barrel.

    KA-KROOOM!

    ---

    Flip a coin, if HIT, Mortis' shot brings down his target

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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by System on Tue Apr 26, 2016 8:17 am

    The member 'Mortis' has done the following action : Dice Rolls


    'Coin Flip' :
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Universal NPC on Tue Apr 26, 2016 10:18 am

    Large paws hammered the grassy earth, puffs of steam roiling from the maws of each pack member as they ran across the grasslands. Move, urged the pack leader, her body language and distressed whines enough to get her family unit racing along to her pace. At least, almost all of them. The yearling with a mangled leg struggled to keep up, his crippled state sending him nearly tripping nose first into the ground. His brother thankfully was not so unfortunate, but the deep gash across his back was clearly slowing him, the pain biting into his form and restricting the extension and contraction of his stride.

    Otherwise, the alpha was starting to grow confident they could possibly outrun the frightening thing that had attacked them earlier. Yet, she just as quickly felt that sensation wane. The stink of decay and rotting flesh clung to the air around her, stubbornly seating itself in her nostrils and placing a rancid taste on her tongue.

    One of the older wolves yipped, his ears pinned back against his neck as he ran. It was growing closer, they weren't making any distance. The chilling scream that carried unlike any prey or predator they ever came across was the first thing they heard from their pursuers as they caught up to them, the next raced to hammer faster than the beating in their chests.

    Thudda Thudda Thudda Thudda Thudda THUDDA THUDDA THUDDA!

    Hooves; big, heavy, thundering. They shook the ground and sent lightning down their spines, a chorus of dismayed yips and whining coming from the pack members behind the alpha.

    It found us!

    What do we do!?

    I'm scared!

    Fear, fear, fear. It gripped the hearts of her pack, it silenced any semblance of collection and replaced it with the rapidly growing seeds of chaos. All there had to be now was a catalyst, and the unit would fail.

    KRA-KOOM!

    Yipe!

    Pain like she never felt before tore through her back and out of her chest, shock carrying the she-wolf a few more yards before her body collapsed beneath her, dead. The pack scattered, even her mate dashing off from the group with a series of startled yelping and howling. It was by that divergence from the route dictated by the now deceased alpha, however, that spared him from meeting the same fate.

    Overhead, the clouds churned, and another awesome power slithered across the heavens in blinding arcs. The rain clouds that had been threatening for a good part of the morning now had issued their herald, as a series of deafening roars followed after. It shuddered in the chests of each animal, threatening to jostle the air out of their burning lungs. Now the pack had not one, but two monsters chasing them down, as the roiling sky above spat lightning and thundered.






    Storm Warning: Mortis has three turns to finish off the pack before the storm starts in full

    Wolves:
    Alpha - Dead
    Beta - Alive
    Adult - Alive
    Adult - Alive
    Adult - Alive
    Healthy Yearling - Alive
    Gashed Yearling - Alive
    Crippled Yearling - Alive
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    Mortis
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Mortis on Tue Apr 26, 2016 4:40 pm

    "SSssss!" The satisfying sound of a slug meeting its mark, Mortis doubted there was any sweeter music in the world. The Alpha dropped to the ground moments after being struck, and Samhain was more than glad to push her further into the ground as she leaped hooves first upon her corpse. However, the chase was far from finished, as there were still seven wolves that needed to be dealt with.

    The alpha's mate still needed to be taken care of, his first shot having missed its mark. Reaching down to the saddle bag just in front of him, Mortis pulled out two more slugs from the box within while Samhain diverted her course to chase after the beta. The gun folded open, Mortis emptying the spent casings from it with a brisk shake before pushing two more slugs into the barrel and snapping it shut again.

    His arm raised, the shotgun's muzzle pointed at the wolf's tawny flank as they came alongside to match his pace. Mortis squeezed the trigger, and another bout of smoke and thunder erupted from the right barrel.

    KRA-KOOOOOM!

    ...That wasn't his gun. Above the superfiend noticed the sky suddenly come alive with brilliant flashes of light. Electricity arced overhead, and another dull roar of thunder rolled through the clouds. His steed's ears piqued at the sound. Immediately Mortis' thoughts turned to the farm, while Angemort could get Woolie into the barn should it start raining, the idea of the black lamb panicking in the barn as a storm raged around her and the second undead mare did not sit well within his mind.

    He would stay out here only for a short while more before returning home. Enough to possibly knock off a few more shots and pick off some more of the pack.

    Quickly he brought the barrels around to one of the adults that had scattered in the chaos ensuing the loss of their alpha. One hand grasping the horse's reins, the undead swiftly curled his finger around the left trigger and set lose a barrel of lead into his chest. As for Samhain, the moment the barrels were emptied she came around to catch up on the slower members of the pack, her long legs sweeping out to catch and smash them into the ground.




    One shot, one kill- if a coin is HIT, Mortis hits his target, limited to two coins per turn due to having to reload

    Rampage - For every coin that is HIT, Samhain manages to catch and kill a pack member
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by System on Tue Apr 26, 2016 4:40 pm

    The member 'Mortis' has done the following action : Dice Rolls


    #1 'Coin Flip' :


    --------------------------------

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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Universal NPC on Tue Apr 26, 2016 7:31 pm

    Two more shots were fired, and two more pack members fell to the ground. The beta had been lucky earlier, but it was like an old saying went; he had to be lucky all the time, while his attacker only had to be lucky once. He fell first as his side erupted in a cloud of fur, one of the adult wolves of their pack succumbing to the frightening thunder that this rotting monster and its rider wielded.

    Another snaking line of lightning raced across the clouds above, and thunder joined with the weapon's terrifying sound. Further away, a strong gust could be seen approaching over the hills, throttling the sparse trees so their limbs swayed dangerously to and fro. The long, lush grasses that managed to push their way early out of the thin snow layer was brusquely shoved over and flattened. Closer and closer until the pack and their pursuers were buffeted by the gust.

    Although the pack had scattered, the two wounded yearlings kept close to each other. Their eyes were peeled wide with terror, trying to escape as quickly as they could with the injuries they both sustained. Any promise of perhaps seeking safer ground or cover quickly was erased, as the one with the mangled leg heard a terrifying beating of hooves upon the ground, the air growing an icy chill as the animated carcass bore down upon him. The last thing he felt was the weight of a heavy, hard hoof smashing in his ribs and sending them stabbing into his lungs. His brother was next, adrenaline starting to blot out the pain of his earlier wounds as his feet became a blur beneath his body.

    Yet, even with his genuine effort, he could hear the creature quickly advancing, ice freezing his haunches before he was shoved into the earth head first.

    Now there were three, a male, a female, and a yearling. One of the adults briefly howled and the two others quickly followed in behind her. Their earlier panicked path took a turn towards a patch of scrub that bordered a small wooded area. Perhaps this would be enough to hide them until the storm passed.




    Storm Warning: Mortis has two turns to finish off the pack before the storm starts in full

    Wolves:
    Alpha - Dead
    Beta - Dead
    Adult - Dead
    Adult - Alive
    Adult - Alive
    Healthy Yearling - Alive
    Gashed Yearling - Dead
    Crippled Yearling - Dead
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Arro on Wed Apr 27, 2016 3:17 am

    There was lightning yes, oh and other crashing things.

    BLAAAM!

    Came the sound of the shells parting ways with their lead partners. It echoed for miles through the hills and clouds, repeating the death knell for an inhabitant of the heartlands to all little ears that could catch it.

    The thundering sounds however did not come from forces so heavenly as the crack of lightning. Their distinct explosive clang caught the attention of another predator lurking far above the terrestrial events. He knew thunder and lighting, he knew how the atmosphere sounded when it screamed, and that was not the sky roaring down there. Turning in the clouds like a shark in the surf, a shadowy body aligned itself with the source of the disturbance. All sharp angles and piercing eyes, he rolled above the chaotic cloud bellies, peering through their shafts of light to peek at the world beneath and surfacing when he sensed the charged particles foretelling lightning's returning flash.

    In doing so he came to understand the situation in keen fits of visibility. He saw for miles in blistering acuity and the sights he stole and the drifting stench of fear raised his scales and provoked a roiling possessiveness deep in his stomach. A fist clenched hot on his lungs and steam trickled out it's angry tentacles. What were the undead doing over the lands of the living, harrying his corpse makers, his kin in killing, his competitors and killing them with abandon in return?

    Arro tore out of his rhythmic circling, pulling the clouds out of the darkness with him into a long great loop in the cold sun, before slowly tilting earthward and exploding down into the dim world below.

    Screaming winds and visages whipped past him as he sliced through miles of atmosphere, at his sides a blur, below and ahead in telescopic focus were racing hounds and cold dead hooves trampling their innards into bursts of bone shard and blood. The superimposed figures at once distant and simultaneously in hyper detailed focus both rushed towards him and away as Arro, a speck then transformed into a fully realized missile, appeared out of nothing and smashed talon first into Mortis, shooting him two hundred feet away, skipping over stone and off his rampaging steed.

    The red whip of muscle shot like a boomerang back into the sky without a stutter, streaming smoke from his parted maw and swinging in a wide arc back around for an incendiary top-off. He needn't roar, the wind at his back did the job for him.

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Agility (unmissable):
    --This attack hits without fail. Arro rushes in, deals his blows and retreats. Can be dodged.
    Specifics: three (3) dice, no coins
    AP Cost: 25AP; five turn recharge
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by System on Wed Apr 27, 2016 3:17 am

    The member 'Arro' has done the following action : Dice Rolls


    'Attack/Heal (51-55)' : 3, 3, 2
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    Mortis
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Mortis on Wed Apr 27, 2016 9:23 pm

    In a flurry of hooves and discharge of powder and lead, the pack quickly reduced by four. This was good, better than expected, Mortis thought. The superfiend reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a couple more slugs, emptying and filling the barrel in a fluid motion. At this rate they would have the pack completely eradicated by the time the storm came in full, and he could return home with nary a worry about any unwanted visitors prowling his property while his back was turned. No toothy maws and gleaming eyes haunting the shadows where his lamb decided to graze and play, no threat of possibly finding a ravaged, half-eaten corpse in place of the joyful, prancing baby that brought a spark of energy and rare contentment into his unlife.

    Or so it had seemed.

    Mortis was the first to notice a disturbance, something large and very alive lurking above them. Samhain's ear's pricked and her nostrils flared as she turned to chase after the remaining wolves, noting her rider's unease. Something else was with them this afternoon, and it did not take long for either of them to find out what. It came as a rage, a wrathful heat stirring in one's breast and muddling calculating thought with emotion. Possession, outrage, kinship? Mentally the ghoul thought to squint. Since when did these lands have a single owner among them? To top it off, the self-proclaimed master of the grasslands had an acute distaste for the undead. Red became clear against a mass of dark grey, the source itself screaming out of the sky. Although the moment was incredibly fleeting, the superfiend could have sworn he knew that visage before, but not through his own eyes.

    Instinctively his arms came to wrap firmly around his middle as the creature barreled into him, the reflex ingrained from weeks of holding something precious where a vacancy once was. A shielding action, meant to protect even when that which he protected and cared for was not there at the given moment.

    If this beast had the slightest clue, it would count itself lucky that there was nothing beneath that outer layer of cloth and leather today.

    CRACK!

    Samhain managed to duck her head down as talons came in contact with her rider, evading the blow while Mortis was tossed clear off the undead horse. The beast's claws ripped at his overcoat and sliced a new addition of holes into the leathers beneath, and the velocity had effectively knocked the ghoul out from under his hat, which the howling gale quickly stole away. He bounced once over the grass, before his tail whipped about and he managed to roll himself upright, plating his feet firmly on the ground as he skidded to a halt. The horse, naturally, was dismayed and gave an oddly haunting neigh in his direction as she turned to face him.

    What shall we do about that one? Do we kill it too?

    Mortis straightened, uncurling his arms from around his stomach as he looked upwards to where the streak of red tore off, a trail of smoke the scant indicator it was there to begin with. "Sssss..." Red pinpricks burned within his empty sockets, his claws flexing and curling slowly as he studied the storm clouds overhead. Then, his now bare skull tilted to look at the group of corpses they had made, the reason they came out here to begin with. "Not now." He decided, striding over to the fallen body of the beta he had put down only moments before, lifting the carcass and placing it over his shoulder. "We cannot leave your sssisster and Woolie alone with thisss weather coming our way. Take what we came for and let usss return home. If the beassst decidesss to make a nuissance of itssself again or try to follow usss, we will take action." He hissed, his senses kept on the clouds for any further activity while he collected the body of the alpha, his shotgun in hand and at the ready.

    But, master! It attacked us, we can't let it just get away with that!

    Her ears pinned back and the horse's tail swished indignantly in the wind, glancing back up towards the clouds every so often.

    "No butsss. I am not going to risssk desstroying either of our hosstss and leaving them alone any longer than need be over an ornery drake. We mussst consssider our prioritiesss, Sssamhain. he hissed sternly, quickly making his way over to her. "Would you rather your ssisster be left alone to look after Woolie while three wolvesss are ssstill loosse ssshould we be reduced to ssspiritss, or do you want to be there to aid her ssshould they turn up on our property again, intact and able to do sssomething?" Mortis took her by the reins, leading the mare over to where the rest of the bodies were to be collected.

    The horse gave an irritated sound, her rictus grin twitching into something that resembled a snarl. However, despite the way her ears were still pinned against the rotted remnants of her neck and icy air puffed from her nostrils, Samhain turned her gaze toward the carcasses.

    ...I would rather be able to help, master.

    The steed quickly gathered up the crumpled form of the adult her rider had taken down, before galloping back over to his side. Keeping an eye on the clouds, Mortis quickly swung himself back into the saddle, his gun poised to take a shot if need be as they rode off. Though something peculiar happened as the mare quickly built speed, their air around her becoming a dense mist that quickly swallowed both steed and rider whole. As it dissipated, one would find the ground bore no hoofprints where the mare had been upon entering it, and no scent could be followed.

    It was as if they never were.
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Universal NPC on Wed Apr 27, 2016 11:29 pm

    It was hard to rationalize what happened, at one moment the remaining three could feel the pursuing monster's hooves thudding just behind them, and the next... It ceased. Neither of them paused to look back and see what stopped the relentless chase. They were too close to freedom, to safety, to life.

    The two adults rushed into the underbrush first, followed by the yearling who dashed in and ducked between the trees. It was only when the stink of rotting flesh vacated their nostrils and an icy chill far bitter than any winter they had ever seen stooped gnawing at their bones that they decided to pause. The two adults, siblings birthed by the recently deceased alpha and beta, were the first to stick their noses out of the brush.

    Nothing, no stamping, grinning carcass. No skeletal rider that wielded thunder like a weapon.

    Their tongues lolled out, panting as they glanced around from their vantage point in the underbrush. Perhaps the storm had swept them away? It was an optimistic thought, but very unlikely. The two adults turned to the yearling, who looked around nervously from his hiding place between two thick maple trees. They no longer had a pack, the three that remained were the only family they knew and yet...

    The male sniffed at the air, his lips curling back as he caught an appetizing scent and trotted off after it. Out of habit the other two decided to follow, but the meal they would find alas would not be one that was shared as a family. Without their pack leader, the two adults were left to find their own packs, old enough to breed; and the yearling...

    His fate had yet to be decided. Caught between being a youthful cub and a strong adult, it was uncertain if a pack would bring him in at all.

    All to be learned in due time, for now, they left the area as a tentative group.
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    Arro
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    Re: Pest Control

    Post by Arro on Thu Apr 28, 2016 1:33 am

    Heat blistered a spiral in the sky, sparks streamed off from the fire the young dragon kept primed and crackling past his teeth. Steam or smoke occluded the air where he passed, trailing and tangling like transparent scarves. Arro swept around the bloody landscape in a wide arc. As tension eased and no immediate flight or fight moment came to pass, silence soon set in again on the plains. The air whistled over the waving grasses. Only intermittently interrupted by the hushed buffet of air beneath wings, the gathering thunder, or the pop of a yearning flame.

    Arro slid into an easy pattern of loops and curls, all the while garbed in menace. The show spoke volumes of what would eagerly come to pass should the Judge below will it. But perhaps even with the generous warning display his desires were too transparent. The sliver eyed dragon's gaze met the vacuous bore of the undead Judge's sockets, and he could immediately see that nothing further would come of this.

    The extent of the violence to be experienced here today had already been reached.

    Arro pivoted in the sky, dragging that empty gaze in circles. Their eyes still held and time had crossed the lines into staring. It drew out for several minutes it seemed until Arro snorted his disdain, breaking a spell or exhaling a breath that something somewhere had held. Then the Judge and his horse too swept their gazes earthward and set to new tasks. Their actions as easy as vultures at a corpse after the lions left to digest. Arro was relegated to guard and minder, circling high overhead on a stormy breeze and left to ponder the reasons for what had just transpired.

    Endless scenarios from mundane to outlandish flickered through his thoughts, but each was ultimately a dead end without knowing more about the odd pair of corpse collectors below him... That seemed even odder perhaps. His imagination could summon only suspicions when the dead set to collecting fresh kills. A fur cloak or dog skin boots looked unnecessary or even silly when imagined on the reanimated beings of human and animal bones below him. Admittedly he couldn't know better, he was out of his depth in this regard. There were no such things as walking corpses or spirits in his world, and so knew little to nothing of what to expect from them. If forced to hypothesize though... clothing wouldn't be what he'd have come up with.

    The bolt of red turned his golden orbs towards the horse creature as it drew up to meet its master. A crushed wolf dangled like a rag-doll between it's blunt teeth. Arro's maw pinched up at the corners as it looked at him. It wanted to kill him. He felt the odd twinge of empathy, a similar yearning in his muscles to tear these things out of the ground and burn them to ash, but Arro had arrived at a similar conclusion to the horse's rider. His goal had been accomplished, if they didn't offer up further offense there was no good reason for him to attack or prevent the corpses from being taken. Fighting now wouldn't bring back what had been lost.

    Master and mount loaded up their winnings and left without further fanfare. Arro escorted them out as a matter of course. Pursuing at a great enough height to render the shotgun leveled over the pack of furs useless but near enough to be seen and to pressure their exit.

    They vanished in a fog summoned out from the thundering hooves of the horse creature. There and gone in a second with no lingering traces of scent nor sound to indicate their destination. Arro drifted low into the haze to skim the grass and inspect the earth, chill moisture clawed at his wingtips as he noted the complete lack of hoof prints, he'd have been surprised by anything less.

    He banked, pulling wisps of the otherworldly haze with him now instead of sparks or steam. The fog dissipated as he began to vigorously pump his wings. He was aware of the storm's growing presence and circled back in a hurry. It'd be wise to get above the clouds again before the lightning returned.

    Arro skimmed and skipped into a landing back at the kill site and trotted along the few marks the undead had left. Blood, hair and bits of bone that marred the landscape where they'd trampled their prey. They were clearly capable of leaving physical impact on the land when they desired it. The dragon snuffed and licked the red grass, then slowly snarled as he turned his head towards the distant trees. He huffed out his distaste and trudged up the hills, sniffing the electrically charged air for the few survivors, and caught sight of them upon cresting the mound just as they were melting into the treeline.

    Arro blinked in the dimming light. The dragon raised his head and bellowed out in distinctly wolfish tones. "LEAAAAAAVE!" he screamed, mirroring the canid tongue in lyrebird fashion. "Poison is in the white sheep, and the slow cattle, this death is what it brings you and only death if you return!"

    Arro bit off the wolf speak with a growl and chased his own threats into the air, bounding off the hilltop into the sky and racing over the heartlands.

    It was only a guess, but it was the same reason a human usually sought dragon heads, and regardless would serve the hounds well if they encountered anything like Mortis again. Along with meat and furs however he could only wonder why a manifestation of death would keep livestock if that had been the case. Or it could be that these creatures were killed simply for being alive. He had no idea with Mortis. How could he fathom the thoughts of the undead, when his only experiences were through living eyes, how could he understand when this was where it led?

    As the wolves vanished below, Arro vanished above. With a single stroke he flitted upward out of the darkness and past the reach of the storm.

      Current date/time is Mon Aug 21, 2017 1:55 pm