02-19-2017, 01:42 AM
This isn't going the way I'd hoped.
Dawnika Snow's desperate struggle to survive against the unparalleled peril of me has left my body battered and bruised. Countless scratches and fissures mar a countenance that was formerly sheer gilded perfection. She has pummeled me, mocked my winglessness with her mastery of the air, and dealt me an injury which makes movement a chore.
With her sudden change in appearance, nimbleness, and weaponry, the miserable mammal continues to reveal new and intriguing layers to her identity, but my fascination with her latest transformation is rapidly being outpaced by that cold, jangling thrill which has only recently joined my emotional repertoire.
I'm afraid. Afraid of this tiny, mad female, who by right should be scurrying from the very sight of my shadow!
' I refuse to lose', she says. I don't know if I'm more disgusted with myself, or offended at the sheer, unnatural hubris of such a claim! I want to run away, to return when I'm stronger and avenge this humiliation, but to flee from an inferior being... this mad changeling is no beast of legend, no walking apocalypse. Even as reduced as I am, the very thought of granting her even a hint of superiority makes me sick. This battle is rapidly becoming a matter of more than her destruction, or my gratification - my pride is on the line, and its only that which keeps me focused amid a rising tide of panic.
I roar my defiance!
"YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE!"
The winged harridan responds with a clattering explosion of sound and light, unleashing another storm of stinging metal pellets. They zip and zing, for the most part ineffective, but some strike flaws in my armored hide, shattering battle-scored scales or lodging in previous wounds. I answer with a far more elegant attack, sweeping twin bolts of astral charge into the sky. Tracing glowing fissures in the night, both arc wide, but Dawnika Snow is forced to swoop low in order to evade.
I take the opportunity to turn and run for the forest, just beyond the lip of the valley - or try to anyway. The pain in my damaged knee flares crimson, and I barely manage a sort of galloping limp, shuffling through the tall grass.
I'm not fleeing the fight - even if my pride would allow it, I'm not equipped to run very far. It's just that I recognize what the woman's doing: floating untouchably above while I, her earthbound opponent, am forced to contend with her every destructive whim! I should - I invented that tactic, and knowing how she must feel right now, the power and control, is infuriating. If I can get to the forest, I can force her to come to me...
Another hail of tiny projectiles strikes the ground around me, but few find their mark, and those bounce harmlessly off my back. I increase my pace, ignoring the jolt of agony that comes with every shuffling stride. Compared to the lethal lash of The Warrior's solar-bright balefire, seared forever in my memory, such pain is insignificant, and I won't allow it to stop me.
The report of Dawnika Snow's larger, more effective weapon echoes behind me. In the very same instant, a metal missile slams into my back, breaking through my skin and digging a shallow divot in my unyielding flesh! The blow breaks my stride, bringing my weight down too hard on the bad leg, and I stumble and fall at the top of the rise, just a few scant meters shy of my goal.
Still she thwarts me. Still she denies me!
Lying face-down on the dirt road, I gather my power, shuddering and gritting my teeth as one shot after another lodges in my back. When my stunted avenues of cosmic energy literally cannot take anymore, I roll over. Taking sight of my opponent, my throat burns and fingertips crackle as I rake the sky with lightning!
The mad changeling is occupied with reloading her weapon, but she reacts quickly, dodging the first bolt as I sweep it towards her in a wide, continuous arc - but two more follow it in quick succession, tracing an after-image of a jagged, six-pointed cross in the sky. The second blast she dodges, equally deft, but the third twists viciously, catching the end of one wing as she ducks from its path, and the girl screeches, tumbling from the skies!
I groan as I push myself to my knees. My head pounds dully, dizzy and distant, and the roar of my cosmic furnace seems muted and fuzzy. I think I've reached this body's limit for channeling astral energy, and I'm too tired to even be offended at how low that limit has turned out to be.
No weapons-fire crashes into my chest as I stand. I limp down the hill, leaving a trail of gold-flecked blood and silvery ichor, moving at as brisk a pace as I can manage. I keep my eyes focused as best I can upon the crumpled form lying charred and bleeding by the side of the road.
It's a simple calculus. If I reach her before she stands up again - and I'm confident that this uniquely obstinate creature will stand up if I let her - then I'm going to stomp on her neck as hard as I can!
In my vast and considerable experience, it's an excellent way to establish who's in charge.
Dawnika Snow's desperate struggle to survive against the unparalleled peril of me has left my body battered and bruised. Countless scratches and fissures mar a countenance that was formerly sheer gilded perfection. She has pummeled me, mocked my winglessness with her mastery of the air, and dealt me an injury which makes movement a chore.
With her sudden change in appearance, nimbleness, and weaponry, the miserable mammal continues to reveal new and intriguing layers to her identity, but my fascination with her latest transformation is rapidly being outpaced by that cold, jangling thrill which has only recently joined my emotional repertoire.
I'm afraid. Afraid of this tiny, mad female, who by right should be scurrying from the very sight of my shadow!
' I refuse to lose', she says. I don't know if I'm more disgusted with myself, or offended at the sheer, unnatural hubris of such a claim! I want to run away, to return when I'm stronger and avenge this humiliation, but to flee from an inferior being... this mad changeling is no beast of legend, no walking apocalypse. Even as reduced as I am, the very thought of granting her even a hint of superiority makes me sick. This battle is rapidly becoming a matter of more than her destruction, or my gratification - my pride is on the line, and its only that which keeps me focused amid a rising tide of panic.
I roar my defiance!
"YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE!"
The winged harridan responds with a clattering explosion of sound and light, unleashing another storm of stinging metal pellets. They zip and zing, for the most part ineffective, but some strike flaws in my armored hide, shattering battle-scored scales or lodging in previous wounds. I answer with a far more elegant attack, sweeping twin bolts of astral charge into the sky. Tracing glowing fissures in the night, both arc wide, but Dawnika Snow is forced to swoop low in order to evade.
I take the opportunity to turn and run for the forest, just beyond the lip of the valley - or try to anyway. The pain in my damaged knee flares crimson, and I barely manage a sort of galloping limp, shuffling through the tall grass.
I'm not fleeing the fight - even if my pride would allow it, I'm not equipped to run very far. It's just that I recognize what the woman's doing: floating untouchably above while I, her earthbound opponent, am forced to contend with her every destructive whim! I should - I invented that tactic, and knowing how she must feel right now, the power and control, is infuriating. If I can get to the forest, I can force her to come to me...
Another hail of tiny projectiles strikes the ground around me, but few find their mark, and those bounce harmlessly off my back. I increase my pace, ignoring the jolt of agony that comes with every shuffling stride. Compared to the lethal lash of The Warrior's solar-bright balefire, seared forever in my memory, such pain is insignificant, and I won't allow it to stop me.
The report of Dawnika Snow's larger, more effective weapon echoes behind me. In the very same instant, a metal missile slams into my back, breaking through my skin and digging a shallow divot in my unyielding flesh! The blow breaks my stride, bringing my weight down too hard on the bad leg, and I stumble and fall at the top of the rise, just a few scant meters shy of my goal.
Still she thwarts me. Still she denies me!
Lying face-down on the dirt road, I gather my power, shuddering and gritting my teeth as one shot after another lodges in my back. When my stunted avenues of cosmic energy literally cannot take anymore, I roll over. Taking sight of my opponent, my throat burns and fingertips crackle as I rake the sky with lightning!
The mad changeling is occupied with reloading her weapon, but she reacts quickly, dodging the first bolt as I sweep it towards her in a wide, continuous arc - but two more follow it in quick succession, tracing an after-image of a jagged, six-pointed cross in the sky. The second blast she dodges, equally deft, but the third twists viciously, catching the end of one wing as she ducks from its path, and the girl screeches, tumbling from the skies!
I groan as I push myself to my knees. My head pounds dully, dizzy and distant, and the roar of my cosmic furnace seems muted and fuzzy. I think I've reached this body's limit for channeling astral energy, and I'm too tired to even be offended at how low that limit has turned out to be.
No weapons-fire crashes into my chest as I stand. I limp down the hill, leaving a trail of gold-flecked blood and silvery ichor, moving at as brisk a pace as I can manage. I keep my eyes focused as best I can upon the crumpled form lying charred and bleeding by the side of the road.
It's a simple calculus. If I reach her before she stands up again - and I'm confident that this uniquely obstinate creature will stand up if I let her - then I'm going to stomp on her neck as hard as I can!
In my vast and considerable experience, it's an excellent way to establish who's in charge.
Quote:901 words according to Wordcounter.net
Ghidorah used Golden lightning, both fire modes.
Dawn used Flight
Dawn used Foresight
Dawn used Oscurita
Dawn used Epsilon Oriens