Don't Ask, Don't Yell
Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2007 10:24 pm
The wind howled as he stood on the hill. Lifeless bodies laying around him. Small insect like objects seem to be squirming around in their open wounds, but a closer look shows them to be blood brought to near life itself.
The cause of the insects stood with a protagonist's outlook on the story unfolding in front of him. He wouldn't, the good guys never lose. A grin spread across his face as his open wounds were neatly patched up with what appeared to be clotted blood... Yet the scabs had a peculiar shine as if they had been polished roughly and some others seemed to be small spikes protruding from the wounds.
One enemy stood in the clearing, looking at the odd lumps all over the place. It blinked and realized that tragedy had struck its comrades. The creature stood hunched over, its fur standing on end as it bared its teeth and snarled at the invader. Claws gleaming in the night with a sharpness not uncommon of a werewolf. It charged...
He took off running down the hill, stepping over the dead bodies without any grace. He stumbled from exhaustion but kept his target in sight and the distance slowly disappearing as he ran. Ignoring the fact that his feet were being stubbed by rib cages and open mouths every chance they had, he took a leap at the lycan.
A glow appeared from his hand and the wolven creature seemed to freeze but keep moving. Blood began to mat the creature already as it took a swipe at him. Gashing at the muscles in the abdomen, the claws fell to the ground with him.
The lycan howled and straightened his posture as the attacker was writhing on the floor in pain. The light began to pour over the horizon and the form of the dammed dog was evaporating. A naked man standing there, muscles rippling as he stepped over the hill. His green eyes ran over the battlefield that used to be his den and then froze nearly in fear, mostly in rage.
The assailant stood in the sunlight, the blood seeping back into his skin and the gashes on his stomach began to patch up layer by layer but a dark red polished material. His movement was impaired greatly but no longer would it be a threat to him. The 4'5" form named Oni let out a roar to rival any great leaders'.
The lycan, now posing as some sort of human, began a flying kick in the direction of Oni...
Oni's eyes closed and his whole body seemed to enjoy a yawn and stretch before giving one hard jerk on the axe and lopping the demon's neck off of the spine.
Oni collapsed right where he had slain the leader, no more energy to fight or even move... Blackness.
The cause of the insects stood with a protagonist's outlook on the story unfolding in front of him. He wouldn't, the good guys never lose. A grin spread across his face as his open wounds were neatly patched up with what appeared to be clotted blood... Yet the scabs had a peculiar shine as if they had been polished roughly and some others seemed to be small spikes protruding from the wounds.
One enemy stood in the clearing, looking at the odd lumps all over the place. It blinked and realized that tragedy had struck its comrades. The creature stood hunched over, its fur standing on end as it bared its teeth and snarled at the invader. Claws gleaming in the night with a sharpness not uncommon of a werewolf. It charged...
He took off running down the hill, stepping over the dead bodies without any grace. He stumbled from exhaustion but kept his target in sight and the distance slowly disappearing as he ran. Ignoring the fact that his feet were being stubbed by rib cages and open mouths every chance they had, he took a leap at the lycan.
A glow appeared from his hand and the wolven creature seemed to freeze but keep moving. Blood began to mat the creature already as it took a swipe at him. Gashing at the muscles in the abdomen, the claws fell to the ground with him.
The lycan howled and straightened his posture as the attacker was writhing on the floor in pain. The light began to pour over the horizon and the form of the dammed dog was evaporating. A naked man standing there, muscles rippling as he stepped over the hill. His green eyes ran over the battlefield that used to be his den and then froze nearly in fear, mostly in rage.
The assailant stood in the sunlight, the blood seeping back into his skin and the gashes on his stomach began to patch up layer by layer but a dark red polished material. His movement was impaired greatly but no longer would it be a threat to him. The 4'5" form named Oni let out a roar to rival any great leaders'.
The lycan, now posing as some sort of human, began a flying kick in the direction of Oni...
Oni's eyes closed and his whole body seemed to enjoy a yawn and stretch before giving one hard jerk on the axe and lopping the demon's neck off of the spine.
Oni collapsed right where he had slain the leader, no more energy to fight or even move... Blackness.