Upperclass onion-blood is too much for night-beasties to handle, apparently; must be one of the side-effects of that all-meat diet.
Virgil
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- Virgil 9 yrs ago
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Going to be a little while before I whip something up. I'm having a hard time focusing due to a very recent break-up. I'll see what I can have up by the end of the week.
No rush - take your time and: youtu.be/Re3VTMIlpbA?t=16s
Like lightning, the revenant was back on its feet - surprising even placid-faced Ifor with its apparent tolerance for pain. It lunged, STREAKING across the moonlit beach...before abruptly faceplanting itself onto......was that the 'Captain's' sword? Ifor blinked his eyes in confusion; though sputtering and scrambling at first entry into the fray, the boy recovered quickly, keeping his blade aimed true at the recoiling monstrosity as he shouted: "Get behind... get behind me!"
...Well, it was a nice moment while it lasted.
Plagued by the inexperience of youth, Chapt'n Thomus made the sudden mistake of taking his focus *off of the task at hand, and instead misplaced it on...something in the distance; Ifor didn't really know, and he didn't particularly care to know right now - instead planting his feet firmly apart and w i n d i n g up his left in preparation for the inevitable. Like clockwork, the beast lunged again, seeking the favor of opportunity...and once more, failed to find her: With a stout "BHOOM" Ifor's knuckles cannonballed face-first into their game, sending its momentum rippling off along the shifting white as it tumbled once...twice...before growling even more rancorously than before. Again it rose...- to the rhythm of fists as their host tagged the bloodied monster's eyesocket, nose and jaw with a quick 1-2-3 combo. It lurched forward blindly, but Ifor pressed his advantage; with a quick backstep he pulled himself out of its path and, following this up in time with its speed, yanked it by the arm into the humiliating embrace of the sands below. Even so, the man had to wince at his current victory - the slightest scrape of the beast's claws against his forearm bespeckled the arena floor with a hail of scintillating crimson...and with sudden realization, Ifor understood just how outmatched he was in going toe-to-toe against this slate-faced menace.
Wheezing and snarling, it spit grit and scrambled madly towards its now singular focus, gnashing shark's-teeth and clawing the shallow dunes under a brooding scowl; yet even now it found no success, hurling hoarse screams at its slippery prey.
...That was, unless "Success" could be defined as "An aggravating game of ring-around-the-rosie..."
......
"...pockett, full-uh-posies..."
...Well, it was a nice moment while it lasted.
Plagued by the inexperience of youth, Chapt'n Thomus made the sudden mistake of taking his focus *off of the task at hand, and instead misplaced it on...something in the distance; Ifor didn't really know, and he didn't particularly care to know right now - instead planting his feet firmly apart and w i n d i n g up his left in preparation for the inevitable. Like clockwork, the beast lunged again, seeking the favor of opportunity...and once more, failed to find her: With a stout "BHOOM" Ifor's knuckles cannonballed face-first into their game, sending its momentum rippling off along the shifting white as it tumbled once...twice...before growling even more rancorously than before. Again it rose...- to the rhythm of fists as their host tagged the bloodied monster's eyesocket, nose and jaw with a quick 1-2-3 combo. It lurched forward blindly, but Ifor pressed his advantage; with a quick backstep he pulled himself out of its path and, following this up in time with its speed, yanked it by the arm into the humiliating embrace of the sands below. Even so, the man had to wince at his current victory - the slightest scrape of the beast's claws against his forearm bespeckled the arena floor with a hail of scintillating crimson...and with sudden realization, Ifor understood just how outmatched he was in going toe-to-toe against this slate-faced menace.
Wheezing and snarling, it spit grit and scrambled madly towards its now singular focus, gnashing shark's-teeth and clawing the shallow dunes under a brooding scowl; yet even now it found no success, hurling hoarse screams at its slippery prey.
...That was, unless "Success" could be defined as "An aggravating game of ring-around-the-rosie..."
......
"...pockett, full-uh-posies..."
Looks like I'm off to bed - night all.
Didn't know to what extent we could interact (kick its teeth in) with the creature yet, so I just left it on a cliffhanger; Let's see how everyone else reacts to this sudden intrusion upon our "Moonlight Sonata".
"...If Ih hahd words...to make uh day for you; Ih'd sihng you uh morn'ng, golden ahn' true..."
A dozen rays bespeckled the forest floor through its leafy thatch, lighting up the woods in a dazzling display of light and shadow seen only rarely outside of the realms of fairytails; and as the morning softly tarried on, all around could be heard the sounds of the green: of clever fox skulking quietly from shallows to shade, of the multifarious insectoid choir in their joyous accompaniment to the robin's sweet serenades or, oppositely, of the snake's subtle whispers rustling underfoot. In the warmth of every stone and branch and contented ripple of the brook could be felt the presence of the Great Mother, and softly did she speak. She spoke of the mouse abound 'neath thicket's edge, of the minute ant scaling the hedge...the fair wildcat peering its head out from atop the grassy ledge. With his six eyes, Ifor took it all in - two forward and two down, with two adjacent either side of his curly-haired crown; the unparalleled beauty of the grove lost nothing upon him - and as he took a final bite from the cob's stalk, the hunchbacked boy felt the miracle of song flow through him once more...
"...Ih wuld make, thihs day lahst, for all time...by fihll'ng the nihhhgt, deep ihmmm...moo-oommshymme."
With a bounce and several further pratfalls the cob rolled to a halt, just short of its haplessly piled brethren in their equally ravaged states. Ifor picked the final traces of his vandalism clean of his digits - he could already hear the distant calls of Father across the way, and it wasn't wise to leave traces of the evidence; Speaking of which...
He quickly turned, squatting down into the leafshed and hastily chucking the vegetable carcasses into the stream. A gleeful smile crept up between his cheeks as they fell in one by one: "....Plop...Plunk...Ca-Ploop..."
"...Ooh-un iht.........WHO DUD IHT - WHO STOLE 'UHM?! IFOR, LAD, IFHOR ONE MORE TIME IH FIND OUT 'TWUHS YOU 'GAHN...!&%*"
...Hmm...time to go.
.........
"...who dud it..."
The words rang like a mockingbird in the man's ears, causing him to turn in bewilderment upon that odd figure looming beneath the lustrous cobalt light. Its skin was pallid and thin - more like a sheet of parchment than any substance of flesh; and those...eyes - a fair few times had he seen that look; the look of a beast, of a sentient and hollow cruelty keen to sick its misfortune upon whatever happened to be unfortunate enough to pass astride of it. No sense of emotion or empathy would ever escape those forsaken orbs...no, only hunger sat on its brow, in the twitch of its flared nostrils and the starkly gaunt grin it kept plastered between its ears. Such a repulsive Thing was unworthy of the Great Mother's gifts, or of even the Old Lord's sand-dial; such a Thing could not be respected, could not be reasoned with...such a Burden upon the grieving air would not be Well Missed.
With a sudden lurch, Ifor's short legs ploughed him head-first into the mockery of flesh and bone - colliding with a hefty "WHUMP!" as skull met ribcage in a muted, turbulent clash of mettle.
A dozen rays bespeckled the forest floor through its leafy thatch, lighting up the woods in a dazzling display of light and shadow seen only rarely outside of the realms of fairytails; and as the morning softly tarried on, all around could be heard the sounds of the green: of clever fox skulking quietly from shallows to shade, of the multifarious insectoid choir in their joyous accompaniment to the robin's sweet serenades or, oppositely, of the snake's subtle whispers rustling underfoot. In the warmth of every stone and branch and contented ripple of the brook could be felt the presence of the Great Mother, and softly did she speak. She spoke of the mouse abound 'neath thicket's edge, of the minute ant scaling the hedge...the fair wildcat peering its head out from atop the grassy ledge. With his six eyes, Ifor took it all in - two forward and two down, with two adjacent either side of his curly-haired crown; the unparalleled beauty of the grove lost nothing upon him - and as he took a final bite from the cob's stalk, the hunchbacked boy felt the miracle of song flow through him once more...
"...Ih wuld make, thihs day lahst, for all time...by fihll'ng the nihhhgt, deep ihmmm...moo-oommshymme."
With a bounce and several further pratfalls the cob rolled to a halt, just short of its haplessly piled brethren in their equally ravaged states. Ifor picked the final traces of his vandalism clean of his digits - he could already hear the distant calls of Father across the way, and it wasn't wise to leave traces of the evidence; Speaking of which...
He quickly turned, squatting down into the leafshed and hastily chucking the vegetable carcasses into the stream. A gleeful smile crept up between his cheeks as they fell in one by one: "....Plop...Plunk...Ca-Ploop..."
"...Ooh-un iht.........WHO DUD IHT - WHO STOLE 'UHM?! IFOR, LAD, IFHOR ONE MORE TIME IH FIND OUT 'TWUHS YOU 'GAHN...!&%*"
...Hmm...time to go.
.........
"...who dud it..."
The words rang like a mockingbird in the man's ears, causing him to turn in bewilderment upon that odd figure looming beneath the lustrous cobalt light. Its skin was pallid and thin - more like a sheet of parchment than any substance of flesh; and those...eyes - a fair few times had he seen that look; the look of a beast, of a sentient and hollow cruelty keen to sick its misfortune upon whatever happened to be unfortunate enough to pass astride of it. No sense of emotion or empathy would ever escape those forsaken orbs...no, only hunger sat on its brow, in the twitch of its flared nostrils and the starkly gaunt grin it kept plastered between its ears. Such a repulsive Thing was unworthy of the Great Mother's gifts, or of even the Old Lord's sand-dial; such a Thing could not be respected, could not be reasoned with...such a Burden upon the grieving air would not be Well Missed.
With a sudden lurch, Ifor's short legs ploughed him head-first into the mockery of flesh and bone - colliding with a hefty "WHUMP!" as skull met ribcage in a muted, turbulent clash of mettle.
@YungTweak +1000 points for using "Lackadaisical" - the type of word you'd be lucky to hear ONCE in the entirety of a lifetime!
Lucky us ^_^).
Lucky us ^_^).
Ifor noted the powerful finger pointed by an equally powerful woman at a distant, flickering beacon that was -by all appearances- perhaps just a bit more nude than its accuser. And even before her hand could guide him that way, he noted the faint bleating carried down by the rustling sea air; something resembling a sheep or a goat could be marked out near the crag's peak, idly calling down to what few passengers had survived the harsh expulsion by the waves. He thought "few" because of the circumstances at that time, but it soon appeared that some vile force of necromancy appeared to be at work - like the reeking stench of alcohol possessed some dark power to rejuvenate the dead from their apparent slumber. First rose one to the vixen's moderate abuse, then came another haunt from out of the distance...something about orders happened to be on his ocean-addled brain.
Speaking of random haunts, it seemed the blood-haired one was strutting off into the distance herself - swinging her legs and hips around as if to invoke some profane erotica with the moon. This thought disturbed Ifor. Off went the short-haired vixen after her, or perhaps after some fleeting hope of salvation...or maybe just to get away from...whatever it was that seemed to be upsetting her.
...Upset; he wondered if he'd actually get a response to his question. Judging by the way everyone was talking to everyone else *but him, the halfwit had half a mind to assume the answer was "No"...but where did assumptions ever get anyone? He'd look to the past instead, and conjuring up his faculties, Ifor hastily sought out an answer:
Sand and sea, ocean's breeze - looming black, turbulent attack, and eyes of horror confounded him. Deeper he strove to depths untold, past albatross, ship's candle and grey-sky's endless fountain; through floorboard cracks, whip's crack, sailor's back and STILL no answer found him.
...Hmm.
....Under blue skies of day, light sea's spray, rig's re-tarring and a nervous captain's say - idle passengers, scurvy-sway, dimwitted livestock and Shark's Way; past the inebriating ebb and flow of time, through this curving, twisting, pulsating labyrinthine mind of mine - back into the ocean blue, into the torrent horrid and cruel, up onto the first deck of yore, docked once more upon unfriendly shores; tell the tale of experience not actually learnt, feel the flesh in irons burnt - backandforthandbackagain, stillnowordonwhereorhoworwhatorwhen - fumblingthroughthisblackagain - DAMNEDIFITWON'TGIVEMETHEANSWERSISEEKAGA--
Ifor stood, constipated, eyes glued to the ground as if planning murderous intent for the sand below. Silent. Concentrating...c o n c e n t r a t i n g...20% done...21% done...WAIT...
...
...22% done.
Speaking of random haunts, it seemed the blood-haired one was strutting off into the distance herself - swinging her legs and hips around as if to invoke some profane erotica with the moon. This thought disturbed Ifor. Off went the short-haired vixen after her, or perhaps after some fleeting hope of salvation...or maybe just to get away from...whatever it was that seemed to be upsetting her.
...Upset; he wondered if he'd actually get a response to his question. Judging by the way everyone was talking to everyone else *but him, the halfwit had half a mind to assume the answer was "No"...but where did assumptions ever get anyone? He'd look to the past instead, and conjuring up his faculties, Ifor hastily sought out an answer:
Sand and sea, ocean's breeze - looming black, turbulent attack, and eyes of horror confounded him. Deeper he strove to depths untold, past albatross, ship's candle and grey-sky's endless fountain; through floorboard cracks, whip's crack, sailor's back and STILL no answer found him.
...Hmm.
....Under blue skies of day, light sea's spray, rig's re-tarring and a nervous captain's say - idle passengers, scurvy-sway, dimwitted livestock and Shark's Way; past the inebriating ebb and flow of time, through this curving, twisting, pulsating labyrinthine mind of mine - back into the ocean blue, into the torrent horrid and cruel, up onto the first deck of yore, docked once more upon unfriendly shores; tell the tale of experience not actually learnt, feel the flesh in irons burnt - backandforthandbackagain, stillnowordonwhereorhoworwhatorwhen - fumblingthroughthisblackagain - DAMNEDIFITWON'TGIVEMETHEANSWERSISEEKAGA--
Ifor stood, constipated, eyes glued to the ground as if planning murderous intent for the sand below. Silent. Concentrating...c o n c e n t r a t i n g...20% done...21% done...WAIT...
...
...22% done.
@TheFirst Congratulations! Now you can never post again lest you break the subtle vow which your name implies *^*)...
...For the forums are dark and full of terror.
...For the forums are dark and full of terror.
“Yo ho. A pirate’s life for me…” sung out her melodic voice, in part mockery, in part consolation of her decision to sit here until either she was out of wine or until the others approached her."
I really kind of wish Izzy had stuck to Plan A. After all, doesn't the universe center around HER?! XD)
I really kind of wish Izzy had stuck to Plan A. After all, doesn't the universe center around HER?! XD)
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