fury and blades

There are voices, and his faceless profile shifts that way, pinpointing their position amid the muffled stir of shuffling footsteps. Bones clatter softly aside the large naked foot as it slides forward slowly, stalking perhaps, though there is something hesitant about the sway of the sinewy, hunched figure above. Still, the magic coursing through their veins puts him off, deters the savage monster from his hunt—as flames flare and flicker along the spine of the larger, his trunked soul dips as though to shield his eyeless face from the glare.

The Metus hisses angrily, tongue, long and whip-like, striking the putrid air between them.

And then there was a shout, loud and defiant, a challenge, and the sound resonated like wild bells against the cold walls of his lair; he answers with a low, loud growl, a warning, that swiftly devours the mare’s bright tone. Clawed fingers descend upon a rotten, severed limb, squeezing the festering fluid from within, and the sensation—the rising stench of decay—excites his ravenous gut. He is readying himself, coiling pale thighs in preparation to pounce…

Unexpectedly though, and he is taken quite by surprise, there is a scrambling of hooves, fading as one of them flees. The flavour of her presence, the power ripe within her, vanishes as the air swirls wildly in her wake. The Metus seems uncertain now, his frame looks less inclined. The Metus recoils then, sliding with a furious roar, into the shadowed recess of his cave; for the magic glowing, radiating, from the one who remains—he remembers her—sours his desire to feed.

damnation prayer

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Congratulations! Kiada has successfully challenged the Metus, though the Metus has retreated into the depths of his cave.