Avatar of BayRat

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

Boring.

Most Recent Posts

@dragonmancer Your fusion card uses "Dragon Tyrant", I assume it should use "Tyrant Dragon", nitpicking ftw ^.^


Oops, thats a mistake
@MissingAxis Will do I'll fix it when I get the time, then let you know when its updated.
@Eklispe Should be fixed now.


If this is still open id be happy to make a Cs later today.


Chris the loner


Chris's primeval instincts were torn when he was suddenly lifted into the air, trapped in some bubble. Unaware, Chris violently bashed his horned skull of the bubble that imprisoned him, desperate to escape and finish what he started, but that ended when a great explosion claimed the monsters among the field. Chris, now loosing sight of his targets for destruction, finally started to calm down. His red orbs would stare at the debris before him. It took him a few moments to register what had happened.

When he was freed of the bubble, a wave of sorrow washed over the dragon as he looked around him. The previous sight of a dead teammate now sunk in with the heat of the battle gone. He recognized him as his roommate. He never even learned her name, all because he was too rude to care. The guilt there was dwarfed by the guilt that came when he realized he didn't save her from the monster's grasp. This caused the beast's legs to shake, and he'd tremble, wallowing in his own guilt in silence. His eyes were closed as he lamented, refusing to even look at what was left of his team.
𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕤




ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 / / @RedDusk@Dragonmancer


𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙 / / ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕤 / / 𝟚𝟙𝟛𝟘



Sander fully intended to move onto the scaly beast, right after he finished with the spaghetti monster. The creature was hardly resilient; its tentacles gave far too easy underneath his fingers. Then the scent of pine needles assaulted his nostrils. He half-turned, just in time to stare down a massive maw with rows upon rows of jagged teeth. Caught by surprise, he barely had time to turn before fire licked at his back and left shoulder just as a horrendous stench hit him. He cried out first, though it had already begun to sound like the maddened howl of a wounded animal than a frustrated grunt of a man. Instincts took over, and he twisted himself from the erosive substance and launched himself to the waiting ground below. The awkward angle of his leap prevented him from landing on his feet, but he managed a few quick tumbles to soften his fall. Once he regained his footing, he clawed at what remained of his tattered shirt, getting the bile off his skin. The fabric fell apart almost immediately, revealing red, angry burn marks across his back and left shoulder. And they hurt, but the pain was already receding, a reminder that Christmas’ magic still lingered. Sander allowed himself a few shaky gasps of air, crimson eyes locked onto his next target, now just standing on the other side of the tentacle monster’s corpse. He took a moment to observe the monster, noting the patches of blood on its left side and the way its legs wobbled.

Then he was moving again, sudden like the snap of a whip. He dashed toward the creature head on, only to change his route at the last minute with a quick sidestep, targeting what he felt to be its weakness.

Had Chris recovered from his stomach ailment, His crimson orbs looked towards a human, Sander, racing towards him. At first he was confused since they were supposed to be allies, had Chris not have time to think the impulsive nature of this form might have mistaken Sander for prey instantly. Chris tried to speak, try to ask his fellow mage why the hell he was charging at him, but he could not, only let out a rather monstrous growl chippered with different pitches, as if the beast was trying to make a complicated sound. Realizing the futility of communication, Chris looked off to Allison who was being constricted by noodles. His attention now drawn anyway from the charging vampire as he was thinking about how fast he could get there to save her.

Taking advantage of the monster's inaction, Sander closed in on its left flank, throwing a punch toward the bleeding spot on its armor.

Chris's thoughts were broken when a sudden rush of agonizing pain banged through his ribcage, causing him to release a screech of shock. The barely scratched injuries from the bullets had now somehow transformed into a great wave of a wound. Sander's punch had shattered a section of scales making a bleeding bruise twice the size of his fist. Dozens of fragmented scales fell to the ground like broken glass or metal. This was the first time Chris, or at least, His draconic body has ever felt such pain. Even the previous boulder could inflict actual damage to him. It took him a moment to register that the seismic pain was dealt by the mage that had rushed him. It was that betraying punched that allowed his creeping, predatory conscience to indudge Chris once again. With His red orbs locked onto Sander, He would spin the other way, slamming his mighty tail against Sander's side of his torso with great force as he rotated fully to face Sander again, letting out another screech though this one was laced in primal rage.

Sander turned just in time to watch the massive pillar of scales and muscles barrelling toward him. There was no saving it anymore, so he dived backward, letting the sheer force of the blow propelled him away from the fight. The creature’s attack caught his right arm though, and from the way it cracked earlier, something broke. He grimaced, breaths turned ragged, but he stood his ground. A red glow engulfed as he tried to absorb the creature’s red blood. However, it was like grasping air; his power searched and searched but found nothing. Dark rage bubbled in his chest, and a part of his mind began to falter, searching for a new source of heat. He clamped down on said urge hard, fighting to focus on the fight at hand. But it was not so easy, when the tempting aroma of blood was closer than ever. He managed, still.

Staring down the monster’s massive maw, he began circling, baiting the creature while biding time for his right arm to be functional again.

Chris stared Down Sander as he began to move around. Though the pain had awakened instinct, the ill air dampened it. He could think clearly, despite blood was drawn, granted had he not have been so ill there was no question that Chris would outright try to murder his fellow mage. Not wanting more blood on his hand, Chris bowed his head so that his two back-facing horns were pointed towards Sander, his eyes still locked with him. In a sudden charge, he would aim to pin Sander to the ground between his two horns. His movements were sluggish due to his shattered side of his body, likely having a broken rib, and the illness still in his system. However he was still pushing through and gave off a fast sudden sprint.

Sander lowered his stance, waiting for the right moment. Just as the dragon neared, he sidestepped out of its path, then grabbed onto its horn with his left hand. Using the creature’s momentum, he flung himself onto its back, fingers finding purchase in the gaps between the scales. The spikes dug into him, but they were a mild discomfort at most.

Chris's eyes centered to the ground, he would hope his next action wouldn't kill his comrade. With Sander ontop, Chris would stand on his hind legs in an abrupt jerk, letting out a triumphant roar and quickly began to fall over on his back, hoping to crush Sander asasuming he didn't already fall off and roll out of the way.

The beast’s sudden lurch gave away its intention. Once the thing was upright, Sander hastily leapt off, escaping the situation by a hair breadth. He landed awkwardly on his back, unable to position his fall. However, the knowledge that the monster was just steps away from him pumped another surge of adrenaline into his system as he scrambled to his feet. With eyes still on the beast, he backed away quickly, racking his brain for a better approach. The creature was far more dangerous than the doll he fought, and it unnerved him. He would need to find away, and he needed to it fast. Really, there was only one way. He turned his head toward the tempting scent, eyes searching for the patch of red in landscape until he found. There, beneath a broken body. He would have cared, in a different time and different place. But now was not it, not when blood roared in his ears and fire pulsed in his chest. Turning his back toward the monster, he made a mad dash toward the body.

Chris would get back up, he could feel blood leak from the massive wound in his chest that Sander left him. As he turned over and stood up, he saw Sander retreat, his eyes followed his direction to a dead body. Eyes wide, a comrade was already dead beyond his notice. His thoughts raced with anxiety, he had let someone down, someone died because he wasn't fast enough. His eyes followed back to his comrades, seeing another unfamiliar magi being attacked by another noodle monster, and what appeared to be blood on its plate, Chris immediately charged after it, hoping Sander had given up on attacking him.[

She was dead. Very much so. The congealing blood did not have the same pull as its flowing counterpart, but it would do. Once reached his destination, Sander dropped to his knees, hands dipping into the pool of crimson fluid. There was a bit of hesitation, there always had, but soon enough, he glowed red, his mind closed to the world around him.

As Chris got into range, he'd leap at the noodles reaching for Siena, biting down on a few while tackling the rest out of the way. Severing the noodles with maw and claw, he would turn to the monster with another monstrous roar. Blood was still welling up from the massive wound in his side Sander had left him.
That is one sick dragon


As Chris just recovered and was about to move, his eyes caught to his teammates. Seeing such helpless mortal flesh seemed to have triggered a response like that of a chameleon spotting a fly. There was a growing sensation to direct his destructive and predatory nature to his teammates, eyes drawn to them like magnets. But this focus was broken when the volley of earth fell around him. Back in reality, the sound was enough for Chris to grip on his senses. With swift motions akin to a feline or wolf, he was able to avoid the first volley. However when the toxic smog hit, he would suddenly grow very groggy.

The dragon's urge to feed was overshadowed by a growing sickness. He felt nausea, like he was going to vomit. His movements were wobbly and he felt a tab numb. More over, somewhat weak. The first wave of inhaling this chemical left Chris vulnerable for a few moments, such moments would have gotten Chris crushed had Angel not stopped the monster's advances. She bought time for Chris to resist the illness upon him and charge forward, though even in his mad sprint, the gas clearly made him more exhausted and lethargic in comparison to his previous movements. Less alert, and his limbs moved sluggishly. That wasn't to say he wasn't moving slow, but it was definitely a downgrade from his previous charge.

Still, Chris would leap onto the exposed mass of animate food since it was turned towards Angel. All the while, the illness induced by the toxic air continued to make Chris's movements sluggish. He could feel his stomach grow sick as the dragon clung to the spagetti's side, trying to will himself to bite into the delicious creature, but instead his stomach had other plans. The Dragon, still gripping onto the mass of spaghetti, would vomit, due to the toxic air. His stomach juices would splatter all onto the mass in front of his maw.

The stomach acid of the dragon devastated the monster, its noodle-y flesh rapidly deteriorating upon exposure to the bile. Chris would fall from the lumbering mass as it would scream in pain, struggling to move and holding onto its plate as its mass was being eaten away. Chris's victory was not well celebrated, the dragon was still gravely ill from the gas and while the vomiting had some numb-like relief, it was temporary. The moment Chris got up after falling from the spaghetti monster, his feet would wobble this way and that. There was still trickles of stomach content dripping from his lips. The only benefit of this toxic gas, aside from accidentally using his own ill-stricken vomit as a weapon, allowed him to dampen his thirst for destruction and other feral tendencies his inhuman form seemed to hex him to do. Through this, he was able to pay attention to his allies without the tempting urge to maul them, at least for the moment.
Merry Christmas my fellow shitlords, good memes and a happy new year.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet