10-20-2018, 01:02 PM
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A tranquil calm was bleeding into him, dimming his eagerly hateful attitude and replacing it with a weary quiet. He was still gradually spilling blood, liquid beryllium over midnight indigo skin, and his wings were drooping and nearly dragging along the earth.
Suddenly, the shadow wolf at his back froze, its dark face upturned to the sky. Decimate paused to watch it over his shoulder warily with a slow blink. The blood on his coat began to itch as it was drying, but he didn't feel much pain anymore. At the beast's continued silence, he spared a glance at the sky too. He still felt no fear; he seemed incapable of such an emotion. Tired, he could feel. And did.
He was still just a child, after all.
As he watched, the clouds swept before the moon swiftly, gathering together and blocking the light further. Somehow, the fog thickened more than it already had been. He frowned indifferently, dropping his eyes to the giant wolf of shadow again just as it grew anxious, paced nervously, and dissipated with a haunting howl that lingered long after its disappearance. The melancholy sound sank into Decimate's skin, deep into his young bones with a vibrating chill. There was finally a subtle sense of foreboding.
A creature he could only assume was this <i>Jack</i> rose from the ground to his left, neatly demanding Decimate’s level gaze as he turned his little body to face the mage. The fog cleared with a rush of wind, gently stripping his costume along with it, taking his weaponed claws and powerful wings, his dragon fangs. His hip still bore the mark of panther claws, but the rest was returned to his natural state. He was just a boy again on little hooves. Just a terrible boy. And it was just the two of them now.
Finally.
Decimate just wanted to end this so he could sleep. He didn’t have the energy to care that he was left defenseless now, a child without teeth to bite with. He ached and he hurt, and he wanted to go home and curl against his mother’s side. He wanted to feel her horns massage his lanky neck as she nuzzled him. He supposed he'd even allow his twin sister to wedge in against him. She would help keep him warm as he napped.
As mirrors of this creature came to life, Decimate realized he'd been wrong. It wasn't just the two of them. There were many of this Jack, all echoes of a single entity. They even looked just the same, moved in sync with one another as each one reached up to grab a blade lodged into their heads. Their glow shifted to bright blue, and the tip of that weapon turned to point at him behind angry faces.
Decimate was <i>not</i> too tired to enjoy <i>this</i>. He barked out a laugh, a single chuckle that swiftly turned to many, his small shoulders shaking. Oh, god. Really? He was so exhausted and he was laughing, mirthful tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. This couldn't be real. This had to be the biggest joke of them all.
<i>“The games are done, we’ve had our fun. Now it’s time for you to run.”</i>
Hah! He doubled over with laughter, crying out helplessly and sniffling, wiping the moisture from his cheeks with a rub of his shoulder. This guy was seriously going to try to look tough now? No, this was a joke. That would be impossible to do when thus far all Jack had done was stutter and fumble, nervously botch his own games. Now, suddenly, he was something to fear?
Oh, no. Sorry.
Decimate couldn't manage that one.
This was definitely a joke. A trick, rather than treat.
With each wild giggle, he could feel his energy returning a little at a time. At every glance around he took, he could only laugh harder, sounding more and more like the little boy that he was. Each small copy of Jack was desperately trying to raise their scare factor, grabbing knives or twisting lights around their fists like knuckle guards.
"Okay, stop," Decimate pleaded between breaths, his abdomen hurting from so much laughing. He sucked in a big gulp of air to settle them, held his breath until it burst from his lips regardless with another round of giggles. "Stop. I can't take it!" Oh god, this was hilarious! What a treat, after all.
The ground suddenly shook under him. He spread his slender legs for balance, his amusement snatched away and his eyes on the earth. Large, golden spikes thrust up in rows beginning from Jack and lining straight to Decimate. Another threatening rumble introduced another row, and another, as they came closer and closer to him with clear purpose.
He turned and ran.
He was a fighter, but how could he fight a magician? He was only a small child. He didn't have any magic. For a demigod, he was not at all powerful like his sire. Not even like his mother with her regenerative healing and dangerous horns. He was nothing, and it burned his defiant eyes with bitter frustration and fresh tears. For that brief moment only minutes ago, he'd almost felt a sense of power.
But he was nothing.
He must have been making too much progress, gaining too much distance towards safety, because without warning there was a wild, hurricane-level torrent of wind. It threw him back towards the spikes, his scream drowned out by the roar of it. By luck alone, he landed between two stabbing shards, immediately curling his neck and foreleg around one to hold on and keep from being shoved into another gleaming spike. He was too safe again, though. Too fearless.
The gusty storm faded away to make the next attack possible. He could hear his ragged breathing in the eerie silence, very cautiously releasing the spike he'd been desperately clinging to and looking around. There wasn't a single sound, a single movement. There wasn't anything but him and the darkness.
A blinding explosion erupted a few feet in front of him, sod and debris flying from impact and pelting into his face and across his chest. He startled back a few paces, blinking through tears and the flash that wouldn't leave his vision. His heart raced, then nearly jumped out of his chest when another explosion struck nearby. There was no warning, no sounds to this new threat.
He took off running again, little mouth gaping and eyes scanning the sky for the next fireball, or meteor. The speed in which they appeared made it impossible to know for certain where and when they would strike, twisting his intent to dodge them into a fatal gamble, a blind man through a minefield.
All he could do was run.
All he had were his tired legs and this silver blood still trailing from open wounds.
Because he was nothing.<p class="decimate_quote">can the killer in me tame the fire in you?</p> <p class="decimate_quotetwo">I am sick of the chase but I'm hungry for blood</p> </div> </div> </center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00000000', endColorstr='#0c1e22',GradientType=0 ); } .decimate_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 580px; background-color: #0C1E22; padding-top: 10px; margin-top: -90px; border-radius: 20% 20% 0 0; border-top: solid 5px #2e4348; } .decimate_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #707e82; padding: 20px 35px; } .decimate_name { position: relative; text-align: center; color: #5b686c; width: 55%; font: 55px 'Open Sans Condensed', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 15px; opacity: 0.2; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px #000; border-bottom: dotted 1px #fff; } .decimate_quote { position: relative; text-align: center; width: 56%; color: #5b686c; font: 13px 'Open Sans Condensed', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 3px; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px; border-bottom: dotted 1px; } .decimate_quotetwo { position: relative; text-align: center; color: #5b686c; font: 13px 'Open Sans Condensed', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 2px; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; } </style> <center> <div class="decimate_container"> <img class="decimate_image" src="https://s15.postimg.cc/x3xm4wdff/59ede2be29ba92615d11e07470b5934d.jpg"> <div class="decimate_gradient"></div> <div class="decimate_text"> <p class="decimate_name">Decimate</p> <p class="decimate_message"> A tranquil calm was bleeding into him, dimming his eagerly hateful attitude and replacing it with a weary quiet. He was still gradually spilling blood, liquid beryllium over midnight indigo skin, and his wings were drooping and nearly dragging along the earth.
Suddenly, the shadow wolf at his back froze, its dark face upturned to the sky. Decimate paused to watch it over his shoulder warily with a slow blink. The blood on his coat began to itch as it was drying, but he didn't feel much pain anymore. At the beast's continued silence, he spared a glance at the sky too. He still felt no fear; he seemed incapable of such an emotion. Tired, he could feel. And did.
He was still just a child, after all.
As he watched, the clouds swept before the moon swiftly, gathering together and blocking the light further. Somehow, the fog thickened more than it already had been. He frowned indifferently, dropping his eyes to the giant wolf of shadow again just as it grew anxious, paced nervously, and dissipated with a haunting howl that lingered long after its disappearance. The melancholy sound sank into Decimate's skin, deep into his young bones with a vibrating chill. There was finally a subtle sense of foreboding.
A creature he could only assume was this <i>Jack</i> rose from the ground to his left, neatly demanding Decimate’s level gaze as he turned his little body to face the mage. The fog cleared with a rush of wind, gently stripping his costume along with it, taking his weaponed claws and powerful wings, his dragon fangs. His hip still bore the mark of panther claws, but the rest was returned to his natural state. He was just a boy again on little hooves. Just a terrible boy. And it was just the two of them now.
Finally.
Decimate just wanted to end this so he could sleep. He didn’t have the energy to care that he was left defenseless now, a child without teeth to bite with. He ached and he hurt, and he wanted to go home and curl against his mother’s side. He wanted to feel her horns massage his lanky neck as she nuzzled him. He supposed he'd even allow his twin sister to wedge in against him. She would help keep him warm as he napped.
As mirrors of this creature came to life, Decimate realized he'd been wrong. It wasn't just the two of them. There were many of this Jack, all echoes of a single entity. They even looked just the same, moved in sync with one another as each one reached up to grab a blade lodged into their heads. Their glow shifted to bright blue, and the tip of that weapon turned to point at him behind angry faces.
Decimate was <i>not</i> too tired to enjoy <i>this</i>. He barked out a laugh, a single chuckle that swiftly turned to many, his small shoulders shaking. Oh, god. Really? He was so exhausted and he was laughing, mirthful tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. This couldn't be real. This had to be the biggest joke of them all.
<i>“The games are done, we’ve had our fun. Now it’s time for you to run.”</i>
Hah! He doubled over with laughter, crying out helplessly and sniffling, wiping the moisture from his cheeks with a rub of his shoulder. This guy was seriously going to try to look tough now? No, this was a joke. That would be impossible to do when thus far all Jack had done was stutter and fumble, nervously botch his own games. Now, suddenly, he was something to fear?
Oh, no. Sorry.
Decimate couldn't manage that one.
This was definitely a joke. A trick, rather than treat.
With each wild giggle, he could feel his energy returning a little at a time. At every glance around he took, he could only laugh harder, sounding more and more like the little boy that he was. Each small copy of Jack was desperately trying to raise their scare factor, grabbing knives or twisting lights around their fists like knuckle guards.
"Okay, stop," Decimate pleaded between breaths, his abdomen hurting from so much laughing. He sucked in a big gulp of air to settle them, held his breath until it burst from his lips regardless with another round of giggles. "Stop. I can't take it!" Oh god, this was hilarious! What a treat, after all.
The ground suddenly shook under him. He spread his slender legs for balance, his amusement snatched away and his eyes on the earth. Large, golden spikes thrust up in rows beginning from Jack and lining straight to Decimate. Another threatening rumble introduced another row, and another, as they came closer and closer to him with clear purpose.
He turned and ran.
He was a fighter, but how could he fight a magician? He was only a small child. He didn't have any magic. For a demigod, he was not at all powerful like his sire. Not even like his mother with her regenerative healing and dangerous horns. He was nothing, and it burned his defiant eyes with bitter frustration and fresh tears. For that brief moment only minutes ago, he'd almost felt a sense of power.
But he was nothing.
He must have been making too much progress, gaining too much distance towards safety, because without warning there was a wild, hurricane-level torrent of wind. It threw him back towards the spikes, his scream drowned out by the roar of it. By luck alone, he landed between two stabbing shards, immediately curling his neck and foreleg around one to hold on and keep from being shoved into another gleaming spike. He was too safe again, though. Too fearless.
The gusty storm faded away to make the next attack possible. He could hear his ragged breathing in the eerie silence, very cautiously releasing the spike he'd been desperately clinging to and looking around. There wasn't a single sound, a single movement. There wasn't anything but him and the darkness.
A blinding explosion erupted a few feet in front of him, sod and debris flying from impact and pelting into his face and across his chest. He startled back a few paces, blinking through tears and the flash that wouldn't leave his vision. His heart raced, then nearly jumped out of his chest when another explosion struck nearby. There was no warning, no sounds to this new threat.
He took off running again, little mouth gaping and eyes scanning the sky for the next fireball, or meteor. The speed in which they appeared made it impossible to know for certain where and when they would strike, twisting his intent to dodge them into a fatal gamble, a blind man through a minefield.
All he could do was run.
All he had were his tired legs and this silver blood still trailing from open wounds.
Because he was nothing.<p class="decimate_quote">can the killer in me tame the fire in you?</p> <p class="decimate_quotetwo">I am sick of the chase but I'm hungry for blood</p> </div> </div> </center>