Tormented Tarns “Doin’ my Spooky Boopy dance, tonight.”
And who do you think made your demons?
14 Posts
Ooc — Sɪᴛʜ’ᴀʀɪ
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#1
All Welcome 
He couldn’t stop that chittering jitter that worked into his thin limbs. That usually still and jaunty body moves in erratic rhythms as he had only just finished chewing something that reminded him of ginger. It was kinda minty, and it meant he was gonna go for it, as he was told to. Who told him to do this?! 
Who knows?

But in these terrible tarns in which he lay, S’crow spasmed and spiraled into a wicked and wild flurry of dashes and scats. Nearly tangled himself in this mad masterpiece of movement in this crisp dusk as it fell. Reclused in a cliffy overhang, the bastard made a bang of bounces as he flopped over to stand and stood to fall. 
Damn that ginger tasted good. Minty ginger, gin her and mint the pores, close the dues and seclude her noose across the ruse of that tender nape. Oh, how that herb was great. 

Opening frostily dead blues, they were dialated beyond belief, suffocating that azure with the Void of delight in the coming night of this day. The spirits were at play and he stayed, but they didn’t take too kind to that. 

Nay,” they spit from his tongue, flecks of rusty red and gross green splattering across the granite bottom of his base. Hooray!!!

Another swig of the berry juice and he hooted his glee, another snatch of the green and off he was again! Shaking tail and jumping sail all over the rocky tomb he bided his expression in. A mausoleum of mystery as this Coy lost himself in a whirl of twirls and barks that made no sense to both wolf nor coyote. Limbs doubled over as his chest shook and seized in time to a beat that wasn’t his heart. 

Don’t you dare try to scare the mayor!” Or he’ll come swinging and cause terror! A blasphemous laugh sickled more green and garnet over the walls as his lungs began to stop his words. Well, stop them from being audible, but they hadn’t in the least stopped in his head. And that beat just kept going

Long after his limbs had nearly knotted themselves up, long after his eyes had rolled to face that corrupt brain, and long after his body landed in a mush of some decrepit paste that he had made from Festeroot and Bird Berries. 

And as the night passed through him, the eclipse closed his body from feeling anything until it chose to wake him again. How long would that be? 
Well how would I know?
“̴͍̞͈̋̌T̷̫̰̋̓͜e̶̳̙̅͐͝ḽ̸̡̗͝l̴͚̦̮̯͍͚͌̇̾ ̵̨̱̪̟͉̄̆m̵͎̬͙͎̹̋ȇ̴̘̜̅̓͗̓͘-̸͉̰͙̬̟̥̆͛̂̋͘͝ ̵͍̩͓̣̣̀̽̒D̴̩͎͎̔͋̎̐̕o̶̻̥͂͊̐̽̄͠ ̷̛͕͈͎͓͒̑̊͗̈ỹ̸͚̱̼̟̼̖ó̶̮͉̬̻̋͌ȕ̵̼͈͇͂̍ ̴͖̫̈͗̓̒͆͝h̴̢̛̙͇͋̎ë̷͓͔́ͅȃ̵̞͒r̷̮̜̀̇̋͗̕͝ ̴̰̬̭̩͉͎͆́t̵̛̬̣̜͉̤h̵͖͗̊e̸̡̬̱̤͈̣͑̅́͐̅̅m̸̨̡̩̗̲͛̐̂̎,̶̢̬̜͉̩̓̈ ̵͉̳̯͕̹̐͂̾̄̕ẗ̷̘ő̸̘̏͘o̵̭̰̠̎͆͠?̵̢̗̹͉̪͘”̵̨̘͉̯́̒͆ͅ
Tha gràin agam air an t-saoghal
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Ooc — Sofie
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#2

He stalked don from the mountains, looking for water to sip from. A place to rest. His adventure across the mountains had been enough, and he'd thought much about that Tundrian, oh the language didn't go amiss. Nae, the barbarian had kept to himself what he thought. And he'd keep it that way.

He stole down, body fluent and powerful yet elegant and lithe in its own way. No like hulking forms of warriors nor the petite forms many caregivers and naturalists own. Just right for him and his activities, exploration was a side hobby. He loved teaching, oh how that strange wolf had let him show that side. Teaching was his true passion.

But, back to reality, Der was now weaving through the best tufts of grass and tree roots to prevent his falling into the pools around him. They were deep, dirty and looked very cold. Nothing like the springs back north. Here was shrouded in the darkness of the mountains. Unforgiving.
A noise had him alert, wondering who was here, it sounded like strangled drowning...but there was no thrashing of water.
Moving quicker now, Derg kept his tail high and dark eyes on the ground and trying to keep an eye out for whoever was there. There was a soft thudding sound, skulking through the trees, Dergs eyes were met with a figure, turning and twisting in massive leaps with that strangled screaming. Derg kept hidden, not daring to go forward. Not, at least, until at last the strange creature lay down -- really, he crashed down and decided to stay there.

Derg waited, perhaps ten minutes, before revealing himself to the small clearing. The others feet had sunk deep into the soft ground for wells of water had filled and there were larger natural puddles. Derg didn't approach the stranger, that would be stupid. Instead, he moved to find out why he was so erratic. Looking for evidence, his nose caught the scents of spittle and plant. He found globs of it, sniffing curiously. He didn't know what it was or what it could do, but he sure did not want to eat any.

Derg realised his back was to the creature.

​​372 words
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And who do you think made your demons?
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Ooc — Sɪᴛʜ’ᴀʀɪ
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#3
It hadn’t been long before he was woken by those fading howls of something not quite natural. The world had began to come back as his soul returned back to a rewarming catalyst. But that heat rose with an extreme haste, and before he knew what was even in front of him, he was scorching! Everything in him was on fire, and he was extremely thirsty. Oh baby, they had taken him for a ride and left him on Empty! 
He’d kill to quench that thirst-

and his first victim lay just in front of him. 

Eyes rerolled back to face the damned ceiling of rock cave place, and neck snapped a returning silhouette of mocha crown to ‘up’ before the rest of that janky body got the message. Pupils remained dialated as the darkness had captivated his senses; most specifically his sense of smell. He breathed in this tantalizing scent of his meal, some healthy and able lupine who had wandered into his lair. And he was just before him. Just before S’Crow, and waiting to be added to the list of lost souls who wandered in his head. 

The warlock locked a dead dead gaze upon the unsuspecting food of a man, and threw his body forward, body unfurling in a tangled whirl of limbs and lethal intent. Jaws stood open to grip and body braced to yank and snatch meat - 

food!
“̴͍̞͈̋̌T̷̫̰̋̓͜e̶̳̙̅͐͝ḽ̸̡̗͝l̴͚̦̮̯͍͚͌̇̾ ̵̨̱̪̟͉̄̆m̵͎̬͙͎̹̋ȇ̴̘̜̅̓͗̓͘-̸͉̰͙̬̟̥̆͛̂̋͘͝ ̵͍̩͓̣̣̀̽̒D̴̩͎͎̔͋̎̐̕o̶̻̥͂͊̐̽̄͠ ̷̛͕͈͎͓͒̑̊͗̈ỹ̸͚̱̼̟̼̖ó̶̮͉̬̻̋͌ȕ̵̼͈͇͂̍ ̴͖̫̈͗̓̒͆͝h̴̢̛̙͇͋̎ë̷͓͔́ͅȃ̵̞͒r̷̮̜̀̇̋͗̕͝ ̴̰̬̭̩͉͎͆́t̵̛̬̣̜͉̤h̵͖͗̊e̸̡̬̱̤͈̣͑̅́͐̅̅m̸̨̡̩̗̲͛̐̂̎,̶̢̬̜͉̩̓̈ ̵͉̳̯͕̹̐͂̾̄̕ẗ̷̘ő̸̘̏͘o̵̭̰̠̎͆͠?̵̢̗̹͉̪͘”̵̨̘͉̯́̒͆ͅ
Tha gràin agam air an t-saoghal
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Ooc — Sofie
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#4

Time slowed down, he could hear the discreet sounds of a form dragging itself up. He was frozen like a rabbit in headlights.

His head was turning, but his body was too slow. The weight of the creature came crashing down on Derg and made his hinds buckle, and in his panic tried to scramble away but only made his front end come crashing down too. His head hit the floor and his tooth sliced into his lip, sending blood spraying across the floor.
A yelp of shock cut the tension and gave way to more frantic panic.

He struggled and writhed until the tang of iron urged the brute to collect his legs under himself and thrust his body up and forwards. He staggered with a snarl before turning his head to swipe at the creature -- who may or may not be attached to him. Either way, Derg would try to sink his teeth into the creature, if only to maim and cause sickening pain.

​​166 words
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And who do you think made your demons?
14 Posts
Ooc — Sɪᴛʜ’ᴀʀɪ
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#5
That splash of red caught the coy by the brain and wouldn’t let go. He fell upon the splatter of blood  left behind by the massive food, lapping at the delicious elixir. Nirnroot or maybe some more of that birdberry would go swell with this. It had a slight river of nuttiness to it-

Something gigantic smashed into his shoulder, and sent him careening into the walls of the cave-like mound of granite. But instead of him breaking free, those heavy trap jaws held him and the sack of twiggish limbs flailed as his right shoulder began under siege. As many terrible angles that he could muster, neck twisting to and fro, the awful warlock was possessed to shred whatever he could reach. 

He was being interrupted from his meal! Food was not meant to fight back! 
But he loved it. That agony that frosted through his seething body cooled him with love; the food loved him! It loved him, and it didn’t want to let him go! S’crow apppreciated the beastial caress, and even pushed his wiry body further into those wintry jaws. 

“Love me harder, he near rumbled a terrible crave to the savage in the lair with him. The ruin felt so good! It was a refresh to the mad heat the spirits had looped him with, and he wanted so much more. If attacking this man would make it so,

then so be it!

The Scarecrow wrenched his slender neck backwards again to snap a lovely series of pain to whatever they latched to, whether they be the tender cleft of ear, or the air right beside it. A nose or a gullet, a barrel or a bullet!
“̴͍̞͈̋̌T̷̫̰̋̓͜e̶̳̙̅͐͝ḽ̸̡̗͝l̴͚̦̮̯͍͚͌̇̾ ̵̨̱̪̟͉̄̆m̵͎̬͙͎̹̋ȇ̴̘̜̅̓͗̓͘-̸͉̰͙̬̟̥̆͛̂̋͘͝ ̵͍̩͓̣̣̀̽̒D̴̩͎͎̔͋̎̐̕o̶̻̥͂͊̐̽̄͠ ̷̛͕͈͎͓͒̑̊͗̈ỹ̸͚̱̼̟̼̖ó̶̮͉̬̻̋͌ȕ̵̼͈͇͂̍ ̴͖̫̈͗̓̒͆͝h̴̢̛̙͇͋̎ë̷͓͔́ͅȃ̵̞͒r̷̮̜̀̇̋͗̕͝ ̴̰̬̭̩͉͎͆́t̵̛̬̣̜͉̤h̵͖͗̊e̸̡̬̱̤͈̣͑̅́͐̅̅m̸̨̡̩̗̲͛̐̂̎,̶̢̬̜͉̩̓̈ ̵͉̳̯͕̹̐͂̾̄̕ẗ̷̘ő̸̘̏͘o̵̭̰̠̎͆͠?̵̢̗̹͉̪͘”̵̨̘͉̯́̒͆ͅ
Tha gràin agam air an t-saoghal
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725 Posts
Ooc — Sofie
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#6

He latched onto a shoulder and barreled them both against a wall, a guttural snarl ripped through his throat and chest as he clenched down tighter, starting to rip his head from side to side to make this bastard pay. Then, a flash of yellowed white in the darkness before pain sliced through his face, a shred down his cheek from ear to the bottom of his jawline. Fucking bastard.
Derg yanked back, letting go, with a roar of pain and anger. His legs wobbled and it stung like hell, worse than any other imaginable pain, but it was soon numbed. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it felt...
The barbarian latched back onto his prey, tighter and again slammed the creature against the wall whilst repeating the head-swiping action before he was again a subject to those teeth. This time was more serious for the creature had latched onto his neck.

Derg tried to retreat, a snarling, wild beast, with the deranged creature attached to his neck next to his ear. He pulled back, uncertain of the outcome of that action.

184 words
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And who do you think made your demons?
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Ooc — Sɪᴛʜ’ᴀʀɪ
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#7
Oh thank the Spirits the beast of a man was just as passionate in this tangle as he was! The bulk of his riveting rival slammed him into that warming granite, and S’crow felt the ecstasy escalate as he became airless and winded. The sick bastard almost moaned right then and there, but his jaws hadn’t been empty long enough for him to get it out! There they were, full of fur, but beneath it all, a pulse. It was slightly to the side, yet the heart called to the Warlock. With him upside-downedly grabbing this hunk of furry food, as the massive meal pulled back, it dragged him with it! Dislodging as his ass was dragged across the wet stone floor, he remained on his back, almost perfectly in the submission position. But his tail was not curled to his crotch, nor was he as flattened as a subordinate should be. 
There were no pleas from his lips, no whines in his cries... there was only laughter! 

The cackles broke the heaving silence of this terrible tarn, and like a mad lover, S’crow tilted a sweaty mocha head to peer at the lovely man. A wink glittered from one crystal glass blue eye before his head swiveled right, his body following second.
“̴͍̞͈̋̌T̷̫̰̋̓͜e̶̳̙̅͐͝ḽ̸̡̗͝l̴͚̦̮̯͍͚͌̇̾ ̵̨̱̪̟͉̄̆m̵͎̬͙͎̹̋ȇ̴̘̜̅̓͗̓͘-̸͉̰͙̬̟̥̆͛̂̋͘͝ ̵͍̩͓̣̣̀̽̒D̴̩͎͎̔͋̎̐̕o̶̻̥͂͊̐̽̄͠ ̷̛͕͈͎͓͒̑̊͗̈ỹ̸͚̱̼̟̼̖ó̶̮͉̬̻̋͌ȕ̵̼͈͇͂̍ ̴͖̫̈͗̓̒͆͝h̴̢̛̙͇͋̎ë̷͓͔́ͅȃ̵̞͒r̷̮̜̀̇̋͗̕͝ ̴̰̬̭̩͉͎͆́t̵̛̬̣̜͉̤h̵͖͗̊e̸̡̬̱̤͈̣͑̅́͐̅̅m̸̨̡̩̗̲͛̐̂̎,̶̢̬̜͉̩̓̈ ̵͉̳̯͕̹̐͂̾̄̕ẗ̷̘ő̸̘̏͘o̵̭̰̠̎͆͠?̵̢̗̹͉̪͘”̵̨̘͉̯́̒͆ͅ
Tha gràin agam air an t-saoghal
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Ooc — Sofie
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#8
It's up to you where he catches you, if at all!

He dislodged himself, thankfully, but he lay there...laughing?!
This angered the feral beast enough so to launch another attack on the demented creature, but he was already rising to meet the slashing jaws of the nameless monster, a body jaunty in a disfigured action that reflected the mind of the creature.
Derg snarled before emitting his war cry of twisted and strangled sounds one may believe to be a tortured soul; for it was. 

He charged at the creature, jaws wide and aiming for that sweet spot that would cut the life from the body and lay the puppeted animations to rest.
This, however, would not be the case.

In launching the attack, the barbarian slipped on a glob of the putrid mess that had drugged the creature, causing his leg to skid out under him. But he was still propelling forwards, jaws still wide and going for that kill, for the sweet nectar of the lunatic that tasted as foul in his mouth as dirt. Time was slowing, he was falling but moving forward, the psycho was there, perfectly in reach, but so far out of grasp.

189 words
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And who do you think made your demons?
14 Posts
Ooc — Sɪᴛʜ’ᴀʀɪ
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#9
Gonna be my last post for this one<3 thanks so much for this thread. I haven’t stopped laughing since it was made. XD


S’crow watched as the brute game barreling towards him again, instead this time choosing to dance for him! Doing some elegant slide thing that S’crow could only find to be just perfect in this new home of theirs. This food was obviously courting him. 
What an affair~

the Warlock welcomes this massive tumble with open forelimbs and a smile.

Well, hello, snackie!

But it seemed this was too easy! The Spirits screamed insults at him, wrenching his attention and body away from the next enamoured tangle. They threw his spidery limbs forward and directed his body to the opening of their love nest. A chase?! A run?! Who knows! But he flew out that cave mouth and kept going!
“̴͍̞͈̋̌T̷̫̰̋̓͜e̶̳̙̅͐͝ḽ̸̡̗͝l̴͚̦̮̯͍͚͌̇̾ ̵̨̱̪̟͉̄̆m̵͎̬͙͎̹̋ȇ̴̘̜̅̓͗̓͘-̸͉̰͙̬̟̥̆͛̂̋͘͝ ̵͍̩͓̣̣̀̽̒D̴̩͎͎̔͋̎̐̕o̶̻̥͂͊̐̽̄͠ ̷̛͕͈͎͓͒̑̊͗̈ỹ̸͚̱̼̟̼̖ó̶̮͉̬̻̋͌ȕ̵̼͈͇͂̍ ̴͖̫̈͗̓̒͆͝h̴̢̛̙͇͋̎ë̷͓͔́ͅȃ̵̞͒r̷̮̜̀̇̋͗̕͝ ̴̰̬̭̩͉͎͆́t̵̛̬̣̜͉̤h̵͖͗̊e̸̡̬̱̤͈̣͑̅́͐̅̅m̸̨̡̩̗̲͛̐̂̎,̶̢̬̜͉̩̓̈ ̵͉̳̯͕̹̐͂̾̄̕ẗ̷̘ő̸̘̏͘o̵̭̰̠̎͆͠?̵̢̗̹͉̪͘”̵̨̘͉̯́̒͆ͅ
Tha gràin agam air an t-saoghal
Health (100/100)
725 Posts
Ooc — Sofie
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Warrior
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#10

His jaws closed on empty air as his body tumbled. His jaw smacked the rock, the noise cracking in his head. The jeer fell on deaf ears, the scamper to freedom barely registered.
Derg had accepted his loss.

The man lay, his quarry escaped and gone. His blood pooled from the rip in his face. He lay prone for some time before, eventually, deciding to rise and leave the putrid hole.
His face stung and throbbed, his pride shattered; his very bones feeling the wear and tear of the battle.
He was no longer a warrior, and he accepted it. 
It would be a long time before he made it back to Grezig.

 
113 words
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