fury and blades

The cave reeked like a wet, red grave and he, the Metus, strode blindly forward through the simmering humidity of his repugnant sanctuary to meet the sound of a familiar, crooning voice. Though his thoughts very briefly hesitated, recalling the moment of their previous encounter, his powerful legs did not and the talons on his naked, grey hand lunged forward to strike the space between them - they would not escape him this time…

The tail behind him licked sharply against his pointed, bony hocks angling his legs and the guttural sound in his throat roared once more. Paper-thin skin pulled tight across his extended arm and so too his forward moving gait as it stomped again ambitiously, pursuing their riling scent for the sake of his twisted, ravenous gut.

Though the method of his hunt greatly preferred the art of ambush, the fools had arrived upon his doorstep like sitting ducks and his primitive, predatory mindset could not deny the convenience or the opportunity there presented. Half rotten limbs slumped, squelched and squashed as his heavy feet slid forward among them; his long, powerful snout lifted into the open, exposing the horror of grinding, turning teeth at its end.

It wasn’t the light of the flames dancing upon her that forced the sudden balk of his hideous figure, though. Magic emanated from her revoltingly, and it deterred the focus of his attack, if only for a moment. He remembered well the blinding bubble of the same which had accompanied the familiar before and his throat growled aloud for her, warningly. His interest shifted then, naturally, to the modest potential of the sickly, lesser prize; his faceless head turned sharply, honing in hungrily on her position.

damnation prayer

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@Kiada @Eira