06-23-2017, 11:11 PM
“What is that?” Gildarts spoke to his ally as they peered through the bushes together.
“Whatever it is, it’s gross.” Illidan grimaced.
In the coming light of day, shaded by the canopy above, a creature was hobbling around in its own greasy, green slime. The stagnant stench of death wafted over the scent of pine.
It had a stature that was almost human, but not quite. It was crippled, with a leg pinned under a freshly fallen tree, cut by a lumberjack who’d ditched his job likely the second he saw the thing.
The monster was suffering from severe emaciation, its skin was dull gray, it had a gaunt face to the point where you could see the pearly ivory of its cheekbones. It gurgled saliva which poured out from the canals of its frowning mouth and its eyes were black.
The nude being was balled up in the fetal position, it had given up on trying to escape, though it had used its inch-long yellow fingertips in an attempt to dig itself out. Only problem was it hadn't dug directly underneath the tree and its own leg, rather, it had tried to claw its torso away from its leg, causing muscle tear and a pool of stagnant blood. But no matter how much it gnawed at the earth around it, it would never live free again.
Unless Gildarts lifted the tree, because let's face it, Illidan wasn't the type. He'd just sit there and let it grovel until it starved to death.
Ick! Disgusting let it rot, you don't need to save every little thing that breathes, oh great and powerful prime! The Malefactor complained, sickened by the way his stomach had churned in protest to watching this helpless creature die alone.
"Do you...." Gildarts began to the Scourge of Darkshire.
"Oh don't even dream of it. You save the thing and I'll slay you myself, mage." The threat was heavy, but that was just the way Illidan spoke. With power and confidence mixed with a little haughty arrogance on the side.
"Should I... At least put it out of its misery?" Gildarts asked to both the voice in his head and the dark elf.
"Tch. Do what you want." The fel sorcerer scoffed.
Gildarts gulped and took a step closer, hearing the humanoid monster's sulking cries fill his ears.
"Do you think this is what became of the people who evacuated?" Gildarts asked again, procrastinating the slaying of what appeared to be an innocent creature, or human-turned monster. Even still. It didn't feel right. And the thought of killing it churned his stomach. To his left, Illidan stood waiting for death to strike it by might of Gildarts. And within Gildarts' heart, he grappled with the weight of a lost life. Putting it out of its misery seemed like the only choice. But was he man enough?
“Whatever it is, it’s gross.” Illidan grimaced.
In the coming light of day, shaded by the canopy above, a creature was hobbling around in its own greasy, green slime. The stagnant stench of death wafted over the scent of pine.
It had a stature that was almost human, but not quite. It was crippled, with a leg pinned under a freshly fallen tree, cut by a lumberjack who’d ditched his job likely the second he saw the thing.
The monster was suffering from severe emaciation, its skin was dull gray, it had a gaunt face to the point where you could see the pearly ivory of its cheekbones. It gurgled saliva which poured out from the canals of its frowning mouth and its eyes were black.
The nude being was balled up in the fetal position, it had given up on trying to escape, though it had used its inch-long yellow fingertips in an attempt to dig itself out. Only problem was it hadn't dug directly underneath the tree and its own leg, rather, it had tried to claw its torso away from its leg, causing muscle tear and a pool of stagnant blood. But no matter how much it gnawed at the earth around it, it would never live free again.
Unless Gildarts lifted the tree, because let's face it, Illidan wasn't the type. He'd just sit there and let it grovel until it starved to death.
Ick! Disgusting let it rot, you don't need to save every little thing that breathes, oh great and powerful prime! The Malefactor complained, sickened by the way his stomach had churned in protest to watching this helpless creature die alone.
"Do you...." Gildarts began to the Scourge of Darkshire.
"Oh don't even dream of it. You save the thing and I'll slay you myself, mage." The threat was heavy, but that was just the way Illidan spoke. With power and confidence mixed with a little haughty arrogance on the side.
"Should I... At least put it out of its misery?" Gildarts asked to both the voice in his head and the dark elf.
"Tch. Do what you want." The fel sorcerer scoffed.
Gildarts gulped and took a step closer, hearing the humanoid monster's sulking cries fill his ears.
"Do you think this is what became of the people who evacuated?" Gildarts asked again, procrastinating the slaying of what appeared to be an innocent creature, or human-turned monster. Even still. It didn't feel right. And the thought of killing it churned his stomach. To his left, Illidan stood waiting for death to strike it by might of Gildarts. And within Gildarts' heart, he grappled with the weight of a lost life. Putting it out of its misery seemed like the only choice. But was he man enough?
Quote:Gillidan B12-> B13 awaiting item drop and searchin’
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus