04-30-2016, 09:31 PM
The air of Death Mountain was alive with the screams of dying beasts, and the glittering of the ever present embers which eddied and twirled through the tumultuous winds. Perhaps a requiem fitting for the countless souls devoured by the fiery hearts of Volvagia's brood, and even the twisting dregs themselves which called that violent mountain home. The heady apértif of adrenaline had long given way to the hearty main course of pain and bloodshed on that fated morning, and what a bitter stew that had been brewed.
The beasts, fell though they were, were slain by the dozens at the hands of the four assembled primes and their geologic patrons. Miranda Frost, the Woman Incomplete, who was wreathed in her own scintillating flames streaked through air and soot, violently sundering the iron bones of the clamoring horde. Harry Dresden, the Winter Knight, who fought fire with its oldest foe. His cold sorceries offered no balm against the indignant flares of the mountain's own host of dreaded hellspawn, but in turn, showed that same flock that they were no alpha predators. Not here. Colonel, silent and driven, had heretofore been resolutely composed in keeping with his august nature. Such vestiges of the civilized ways of man had been abandoned by this point, and all that remained were the destructive lines of code that flowed through his own body as did the blood of his compatriots. Finally, there was The Hound. A simple man by any other measure, Connor was the rock of this band of heroes, the grounding in sanity that kept them all from losing themselves to unmitigated rage. What then might one ponder of the fact that he himself was beginning to lose the battle against his own primal nature? At what point along the path of rage does one cease to be truly sentient?
It was this thin line that served as the only separation between dragon and Prime, and fragile though it was, it was still weighty enough to give the opposing sides more than enough incentive to brutalize one another. Colonel uttered a heavy grunt as he was dashed to the ground by a wingless ground wyrm, who immediately pounced upon the Navi with predatory reverie. It was a misplaced joy, as not a moment later, Connor Hound crashed into the side of the screaming lizard and emptied his current clip into the fleshy underside of the monster's neck. Colonel may have considered thanking the human, if it wasn't for the fact that they had no time for such pleasantries.
There was only a job to be done, and there was still a long way to go.
The beasts, fell though they were, were slain by the dozens at the hands of the four assembled primes and their geologic patrons. Miranda Frost, the Woman Incomplete, who was wreathed in her own scintillating flames streaked through air and soot, violently sundering the iron bones of the clamoring horde. Harry Dresden, the Winter Knight, who fought fire with its oldest foe. His cold sorceries offered no balm against the indignant flares of the mountain's own host of dreaded hellspawn, but in turn, showed that same flock that they were no alpha predators. Not here. Colonel, silent and driven, had heretofore been resolutely composed in keeping with his august nature. Such vestiges of the civilized ways of man had been abandoned by this point, and all that remained were the destructive lines of code that flowed through his own body as did the blood of his compatriots. Finally, there was The Hound. A simple man by any other measure, Connor was the rock of this band of heroes, the grounding in sanity that kept them all from losing themselves to unmitigated rage. What then might one ponder of the fact that he himself was beginning to lose the battle against his own primal nature? At what point along the path of rage does one cease to be truly sentient?
It was this thin line that served as the only separation between dragon and Prime, and fragile though it was, it was still weighty enough to give the opposing sides more than enough incentive to brutalize one another. Colonel uttered a heavy grunt as he was dashed to the ground by a wingless ground wyrm, who immediately pounced upon the Navi with predatory reverie. It was a misplaced joy, as not a moment later, Connor Hound crashed into the side of the screaming lizard and emptied his current clip into the fleshy underside of the monster's neck. Colonel may have considered thanking the human, if it wasn't for the fact that they had no time for such pleasantries.
There was only a job to be done, and there was still a long way to go.
And, we dream of home I dream of life out of here Their dreams are small My dreams don't know fear I got my heart full of hope I will change everything No matter what I'm told How impossible it seems We did it before And we'll do it again We're indestructible Even when we're tired And we've been here before Just you and I
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued