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Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2016 12:45 am
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Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 12:42 pm
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Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 7:53 pm
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Dragging the fresh corpse of a howlbeast behind him, Kursha trudged through the snow back to his hive. After a full night of tracking, he had finally caught up with one of the pesky beasts and put an end to it. The others had gotten away, but no matter. If he had yet not struck fear into them already, by the time he finished making an example of his this one they would not dare to come within ten miles of his hive. Still, it was slow going. The beast was nearly as big as he was, and after hauling it for several miles, he was exhausted. He would have to put aside the rest of the work for tomorrow.
When the silhouette of his hive appeared against the rocky mountainside, it came as a huge relief. He increased his pace, eager to be out of the cold and relax. He was not in so much of a hurry to cross directly to it however. Skirting around to the east, Kursha approached his hive from the side to avoid the mine field. It had been too long since he had planted the explosives, and he had no idea where they were or if they were still active. It seemed wiser not to tempt fate.
He had opened the gate and was just about to pass through into the courtyard when something made him pause. On the ground there was a small, barely noticeable spatter of yellow in the snow. Someone had come visiting. Suddenly cautious, Kursha peered around the courtyard. It was as barren and dreary as it ever was. He pulled the dead howlbeast inside and closed the door as quietly.
As he made his way across the courtyard, he spotted a few more traces of blood. Gold. A lot like...
“Eli-bug?” Kursha called, entering the main hall. Inside it was dark and quiet.
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Posted: Tue Jan 02, 2018 3:59 am
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“What the fu—oof!” As a pair of pronged horns caught him in the ribs, Kursha felt the air rush out from his lungs. He staggered, knees buckling. The tiny, yellow bundle wrapped around his torso like a vicious (and decidedly uncute), baby slothbeast, continuing to scream with vindictive rage as it scrabbled for his gun. Gasping for air, Kursha tried to wiggle free. It had a grip like a vice. So he did the only thing he could think of: he fell forward.
With his assailant pinned beneath him, the greenblood had a moment to catch his breath. He ignored the struggling demon trapped under his weight, as sweet air filled his lungs. Then their grip around his arms began to loosen. Kursha wrenched his shoulders free, and lifting himself off his captive, reached for something slender enough to throttle, ideally a throat.
Doutei Made some assumptions. Lemme know if it's not okay!
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