The only thought running through Chris' head was that he was extremely glad that he lived in the middle of nowhere.
Well, that, and staying alive.
Fists were flying toward his face, his chest, his stomach at alarming rates. It took most of his concentration to avoid them. The man in front of him was snarling with a ruthless, menacing intent in his glowing yellow eyes. A low growl was forming deep inside of Chris' own throat. It was astonishing that his opponent was not yet worn out -- they'd been going at it for at least half an hour now. Chris knew he'd be excruciatingly bruised. Too bad his regeneration only counted for external wounds. His arms could barely keep up to block the blows, and before he could react, there was a sword at his throat as he lay flat on his back in the middle of the road.
"Jesus!" Chris exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "After a few years, you'd think you'd get tired of this!"
The blade began to cut into his skin, and he winced. It wouldn't take long for a minor cut to heal, but if his opponent decided to decapitate him, it was game over. This had already happened before. There was still a lingering scar on his throat that was now being ripped open again.
"Keep relocating like you always do, and it makes it more fun," his opponent and brother, Jacob, growled down at him.
"So kill me," Chris smirked. "Get it over with."
In the exact second he felt the blade begin to press further into his throat, Chris used every ounce of his strength to throw his brother off of him. Out came his large, black wings, ripping through the fabric of his shirt. They began to flap, pushing the air underneath them as he was lifted quickly into the air. Jacob reacted just as quick, wings spread, and began to fly after Chris.
To fly took an immense amount of energy. It took keeping his weight up, as well as moving the muscles of his wings to propel him forward and stay in the air. Now, Chris was flying at his maximum speed -- yet it still seemed to not be enough. He cursed his brother for coming first. He caught all the good genes.
"C'mere, coward!" Jacob shouted behind him. Chris only continued to fly, eventually slowing over a large field from growing tired. He turned to face his opponent and lifted his palm upward, summoning a small ball of fire in one quick motion, then launching it toward his pursuer. Jacob dodged it with flawless skill, drawing a frustrated groan from Chris.
"God, stop being so OP," he huffed, then had no time to react as his brother crashed into him. His brother's hands grabbed the front of his shirt, positioning him downward as they began to crash into the ground. Making impact, a small crater was created, and of course Chris took the most damage. He could feel ribs snapping and then desperately try to mesh back together, and it elicited a strongly pained scream, following by a string of curses.
Pathetically, Chris called out for help. It would have been idiotic to call out for help if nobody was around, but he could vaguely sense a nearby presence -- he didn't know whether human, animal, or other, or how close they were. His senses were being numbed by the pain.
Well, that, and staying alive.
Fists were flying toward his face, his chest, his stomach at alarming rates. It took most of his concentration to avoid them. The man in front of him was snarling with a ruthless, menacing intent in his glowing yellow eyes. A low growl was forming deep inside of Chris' own throat. It was astonishing that his opponent was not yet worn out -- they'd been going at it for at least half an hour now. Chris knew he'd be excruciatingly bruised. Too bad his regeneration only counted for external wounds. His arms could barely keep up to block the blows, and before he could react, there was a sword at his throat as he lay flat on his back in the middle of the road.
"Jesus!" Chris exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "After a few years, you'd think you'd get tired of this!"
The blade began to cut into his skin, and he winced. It wouldn't take long for a minor cut to heal, but if his opponent decided to decapitate him, it was game over. This had already happened before. There was still a lingering scar on his throat that was now being ripped open again.
"Keep relocating like you always do, and it makes it more fun," his opponent and brother, Jacob, growled down at him.
"So kill me," Chris smirked. "Get it over with."
In the exact second he felt the blade begin to press further into his throat, Chris used every ounce of his strength to throw his brother off of him. Out came his large, black wings, ripping through the fabric of his shirt. They began to flap, pushing the air underneath them as he was lifted quickly into the air. Jacob reacted just as quick, wings spread, and began to fly after Chris.
To fly took an immense amount of energy. It took keeping his weight up, as well as moving the muscles of his wings to propel him forward and stay in the air. Now, Chris was flying at his maximum speed -- yet it still seemed to not be enough. He cursed his brother for coming first. He caught all the good genes.
"C'mere, coward!" Jacob shouted behind him. Chris only continued to fly, eventually slowing over a large field from growing tired. He turned to face his opponent and lifted his palm upward, summoning a small ball of fire in one quick motion, then launching it toward his pursuer. Jacob dodged it with flawless skill, drawing a frustrated groan from Chris.
"God, stop being so OP," he huffed, then had no time to react as his brother crashed into him. His brother's hands grabbed the front of his shirt, positioning him downward as they began to crash into the ground. Making impact, a small crater was created, and of course Chris took the most damage. He could feel ribs snapping and then desperately try to mesh back together, and it elicited a strongly pained scream, following by a string of curses.
Pathetically, Chris called out for help. It would have been idiotic to call out for help if nobody was around, but he could vaguely sense a nearby presence -- he didn't know whether human, animal, or other, or how close they were. His senses were being numbed by the pain.