04-28-2016, 10:43 PM
All around the battling primes the air moved like dense, sluggish oil. Blast after blast of fire was split into wide-ranging forks by Volvagia’s fangs, the long, curling tongs turning the ground to ash wherever they struck. Lava ran in searing rivulets throughout its corded veins, teeth and talons as viciously sharp as the spearheads of arrows tearing into its challengers.
Sulfur and odious bile the color of ink spilled out from the dragon’s jaws, its crescent teeth illuminated still in a faint, pulsing crimson light as a smudged tapestry of cracked earth flowed behind it. A terrible, piercing explosion of magical energies flared up alongside the side of its fanged maw, the vehemently powerful burst called upon by some spellcaster that the dragon had begun to dislike very much. In the eye of its mind, Volvagia could see them all burning in one immense funeral pyre already.
A shriek as thin and sharp as a blade cut through the air, giving the massive wyrm reason to pause in its relentless onslaught. Its head turned towards the volcanic mound that rested behind it, rippling tattoos of firelight coasting along its long, winding body. A brightly spinning cinder fluttered off from its tongue as it replied with a cavernously deep thrum, a curious sound which seemed to emanate from within the verse itself.
Phoom! A column of fire burst from the twinned pools of lava laying on either side of the gathered warriors, spitting jeweled beads of flame and blistering smoke into the air. Clefts of disjointed rock riddled with sharp abrasions and roughly the size of sacrificial slabs rose up below the stumbling feet of each Prime, raising them up onto waves of simmering molten fluid.
The beast had called and Death Mountain had graciously answered. Through the joint efforts of the volcano and Volvagia’s magic, each Prime found themselves suddenly adrift upon squarish vessels of stone, at the mercy of whichever course the lava chose to flow. While the immense lake of fiery sludge was relatively shallow, just deep enough for the dragon to dive below and sieve through, it would assuredly be enough to melt flesh down to a measly, shriveled gristle if one were daring enough to step into it.
If they were so inclined, stepping stones of earthen crust led towards the greater area of solid plain so that they could evade a swift and viciously fiery death.
Tongues of orange-gold flame lapped eagerly at the edges of Thor’s piece of teetering stone, the only thing standing between him and certain incineration. The golden-maned Thunderer grimaced, the hammer in his sweaty grip shifting as he turned to see how the others were faring. It was unfortunate that they could not achieve perfect flight as he could, but not all were endowed with the magnificent abilities of the Aesir, though from what Thor had seen of their many talents he was sure that his current companions might have come close.
The thunder god’s tattered cape flapped wildly as he then turned to observe the dragon’s wide, curving flight, seemingly no rhyme or rhythm to be found in its intermittently turning madness. Fire scrolled about Volvagia’s throat in a thick, smoky cobra’s cowl as it swept violently into the sky overhead, helical flares warping about its retreating frame. To all appearances, it looked to be soaring back towards its home, having decided that its unwanted interlopers were no longer a menace.
“Ha! Watch as the foul beast slinks back into its den, naught but a lowly mongrel with its tail caught between its legs!” Thor boomed, a wide grin on his ash-smeared face.
Predictably, the dragon chose that exact moment to reel back around, a positively terrifying screech barreling through the air towards them, almost as if it were personally offended by the god’s boasting.
Get you hence, horrid fools, or I'll spurn thine eyes like balls before me; Thou shalt be whipp'd with flame, and stew'd'in brine, smarting in lingering pickle.
Reptilian, slitted pupils moved like archaic machinery, locking onto the insignificant walking steaks which had yet to be cooked. Such an unsightly problem would be fixed posthaste. Body coiling for a divebomb, jaw unhinging like a bear-trap, the malicious wyrm then decided that it would be the time to commit to the ”Roast These Impudent Fucks Alive” charity organization. Donations were accepted, but it didn’t matter because it was going to simply roast the surly urchin-snouted talon-hooks alive.
Like the misguided mortal Prometheus, the battalion of primes was going to receive the fire of the gods, whether they liked the gift or not. Complex, primordial organs were sent into overdrive through the power of ancient magicks. A thick, palpable cloud of flammable, combustive gas began to bubble and overflow in the beast’s mouth. The giant mass of scales and leathery lizard skin began to spike ever downwards towards the lava adrift primes.
Five hundred meters.
Four hundred.
Three.
Two.
Like a flint striking stone, a glorious biologically engineered spark developed from millennia of evolution ignited the wall of gas as the dragon exhaled nonchalantly, eyes fixated not-so-nonchalantly on the whelps it sought to grill.
Ironically, the resulting stream of fire and death was not unlike a high-powered water hose, flame erupting with enough force and velocity to slow the dragon’s descent.
Hellfire would reign. Primes would roast.
Mmm… Steak.
Sulfur and odious bile the color of ink spilled out from the dragon’s jaws, its crescent teeth illuminated still in a faint, pulsing crimson light as a smudged tapestry of cracked earth flowed behind it. A terrible, piercing explosion of magical energies flared up alongside the side of its fanged maw, the vehemently powerful burst called upon by some spellcaster that the dragon had begun to dislike very much. In the eye of its mind, Volvagia could see them all burning in one immense funeral pyre already.
A shriek as thin and sharp as a blade cut through the air, giving the massive wyrm reason to pause in its relentless onslaught. Its head turned towards the volcanic mound that rested behind it, rippling tattoos of firelight coasting along its long, winding body. A brightly spinning cinder fluttered off from its tongue as it replied with a cavernously deep thrum, a curious sound which seemed to emanate from within the verse itself.
Phoom! A column of fire burst from the twinned pools of lava laying on either side of the gathered warriors, spitting jeweled beads of flame and blistering smoke into the air. Clefts of disjointed rock riddled with sharp abrasions and roughly the size of sacrificial slabs rose up below the stumbling feet of each Prime, raising them up onto waves of simmering molten fluid.
The beast had called and Death Mountain had graciously answered. Through the joint efforts of the volcano and Volvagia’s magic, each Prime found themselves suddenly adrift upon squarish vessels of stone, at the mercy of whichever course the lava chose to flow. While the immense lake of fiery sludge was relatively shallow, just deep enough for the dragon to dive below and sieve through, it would assuredly be enough to melt flesh down to a measly, shriveled gristle if one were daring enough to step into it.
If they were so inclined, stepping stones of earthen crust led towards the greater area of solid plain so that they could evade a swift and viciously fiery death.
Tongues of orange-gold flame lapped eagerly at the edges of Thor’s piece of teetering stone, the only thing standing between him and certain incineration. The golden-maned Thunderer grimaced, the hammer in his sweaty grip shifting as he turned to see how the others were faring. It was unfortunate that they could not achieve perfect flight as he could, but not all were endowed with the magnificent abilities of the Aesir, though from what Thor had seen of their many talents he was sure that his current companions might have come close.
The thunder god’s tattered cape flapped wildly as he then turned to observe the dragon’s wide, curving flight, seemingly no rhyme or rhythm to be found in its intermittently turning madness. Fire scrolled about Volvagia’s throat in a thick, smoky cobra’s cowl as it swept violently into the sky overhead, helical flares warping about its retreating frame. To all appearances, it looked to be soaring back towards its home, having decided that its unwanted interlopers were no longer a menace.
“Ha! Watch as the foul beast slinks back into its den, naught but a lowly mongrel with its tail caught between its legs!” Thor boomed, a wide grin on his ash-smeared face.
Predictably, the dragon chose that exact moment to reel back around, a positively terrifying screech barreling through the air towards them, almost as if it were personally offended by the god’s boasting.
Get you hence, horrid fools, or I'll spurn thine eyes like balls before me; Thou shalt be whipp'd with flame, and stew'd'in brine, smarting in lingering pickle.
Reptilian, slitted pupils moved like archaic machinery, locking onto the insignificant walking steaks which had yet to be cooked. Such an unsightly problem would be fixed posthaste. Body coiling for a divebomb, jaw unhinging like a bear-trap, the malicious wyrm then decided that it would be the time to commit to the ”Roast These Impudent Fucks Alive” charity organization. Donations were accepted, but it didn’t matter because it was going to simply roast the surly urchin-snouted talon-hooks alive.
Like the misguided mortal Prometheus, the battalion of primes was going to receive the fire of the gods, whether they liked the gift or not. Complex, primordial organs were sent into overdrive through the power of ancient magicks. A thick, palpable cloud of flammable, combustive gas began to bubble and overflow in the beast’s mouth. The giant mass of scales and leathery lizard skin began to spike ever downwards towards the lava adrift primes.
Five hundred meters.
Four hundred.
Three.
Two.
Like a flint striking stone, a glorious biologically engineered spark developed from millennia of evolution ignited the wall of gas as the dragon exhaled nonchalantly, eyes fixated not-so-nonchalantly on the whelps it sought to grill.
Ironically, the resulting stream of fire and death was not unlike a high-powered water hose, flame erupting with enough force and velocity to slow the dragon’s descent.
Hellfire would reign. Primes would roast.
Mmm… Steak.
Quote:928 words - Site.
You guys are now drifting upon a huge lake of lava with stepping stones all across it. Good luck!