𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫

Last Login:
September 27th, 2022




Gender: Female

Age: 13
Signup Date:
March 14, 2022


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08/10/2022 05:13 PM 

𝙈 𝙖 𝙣 𝙣 𝙚 𝙦 𝙪 𝙞 𝙣



 

03/27/2022 07:03 PM 

Nourish Itself.

 
 

   Arms are raised in a sharp bend. Curled palms with clutching fingers are not too far together from a pair of pursed lips. Light moans and crisp crunching are sung. The ongoing feat is quite slow, perhaps savoring every second. Who knows when this next pause for something delightful will be had? Days? months? Beyond a year?

   Before the one with busy arms and lips and at a few yards away, widened eyes and other pairs of open lips are trembling. Backsides and hands of men and a woman veiled in leather, cotton and iron are inseparable from the grassy earth. Dirt and bruises are garnishing their faces, fewer with a streak or two of blood running down from above their heads to the jaw.

   The feat is an earful for them who remain on the sea of soft green blades with white and yellow flowers every yard or so. It would be wisest to leave; leave and be somewhere far from this very spot as possible. Alas, the will to rise and move even their toes within boots is just out of reach. Most nerves in this gathering are dedicated towards one thing, perhaps haunted by a formless blight. Dread. Inconsolable dread.

   She was a friend, an ally in battle. Past exploits of hers came with salvation for this once merry band of warriors and mages. The sword she once held and flaunted with enough power to make hefty chunks out of a spirited boar had been forsaken. She no longer needs it. Her current role provides a great burden for the petrified audience. With each moan and crunching, a part of her is gone, repurposed into ration.

   They should all flee. This is just foolish at this point, wasting their time at the sight of something ghastly. But their arms, shoulders and toes would not budge. Something is in the air. Something they cannot see, smell and taste perverted their senses into submission. It did not happen when they first engaged with the creature. It was barely putting up a fight; its swings and stabs are easy to get away from with enough time. They even scored a few marks of swordplay and sinister spells on it, peppering it with wounds.

   But then the battle endured and the creature had yet to be toppled. It later planted its long blade to the ground. After an ear-piercing shriek lasting five seconds, it revealed two pairs of large wings akin to tree branches with glowing milky red flower petals, their spans can each fully wrap around the tall thing they burst out from. A mighty cool wind had also blasted away from the transformed creature, flocking in all directions.

   The air became different after that. In truth, the combatants felt a great sense of ease as the fight went on. It was terribly strange. But that embrace of peace came with a cruel caveat: their guards were lowered and what good sense for battle they have become harder to grasp, harder to flaunt. The worse then came. It became faster and more ferocious. Their attacks were at the mercy of its parries. Spells were swatted away. It was like fighting a strong gust with a long single-edged sword that moved like flowing water and they and their weapons were petty brittle leaves in the current.

   As time passed and the conflict persisted, each succumbed to this silly scene: an audience in agony. The shock of the sudden sharp change in the tide of battle left them with only the will to watch when their bruises and wounds take better hold of their comfort. Stand and swing a weapon, speak and cast a spell, those feats became insurmountable hardships that only their earliest times as pure novices would know of. Not who they are and what they are capable of these days. It left them be as its foes, all imbued with sheer incompetence to engage in battle with it.

   Now, they are forced to watch something mortifying. The price of their defeat is their undivided attention as their eyes and ears grasp upon the unsettling moment of their friend dangling helplessly before the creature. Her lightest moans are of a woman being ravaged. The crunching is the creature getting rid of more flesh and bone, nothing more than tasty tributes to its nourishment. It opens its horrid red-stained mouth widely like a serpent every now and then to partake a bigger bite at its leisure.

   However, the worst has yet to come. It is so close. It will be nigh when their friend is nothing more than forsaken cloth and steel stained well by blood. When the creature shows even the slightest hint that is far from satisfied, doom shall cater to them with a toothy grin. No longer will they be mere audience to this godawful scene, no. They are next.

 


 

03/23/2022 10:48 PM 

Stand. Slay or Be Slain.

 

    All who are left converge upon it. The limping beast is struggling to raise the blade on its trembling left hand. Anger in their hearts and fear in their nerves, this tired company of iron and steel are surrounding it. The steps are taken forward with care. Lifeless allies must be avoided for respect and to keep stances intact.

    The creature had cut through their ranks, once by a few hundred and now by the tens. They have put up a fight judging from its adornment with cuts and bruises on its cheeks and arms. Black blood is seething from its lips and staining the cloth concealing its tall womanly form. However, the trauma in both flesh and bone is nothing compared to those who can no longer do battle with it. Most, if not all, their incomplete corpses have been a gruesome garnish on this once beautiful forest at the foot of a holy mountain.

    Swords, spears and warhammers are at the ready to exact the next strike. With each breath, every abled body is regaining a semblance of peace before a combined assault all must commit to and keep doubt set aside. Use the remaining strength not to give in to dread, but to welcome the sweet possibility that is the downfall of this murderous thing. They may win this horror of a bout, after all.

    The lot surrounding it yell loudly, more than twenty soon galloping forward. Their armaments are held high enough for a swing and stab once their hasty advancement ends. The towering creature limps to its forward left, pitiful strides of barefoot with as much glamour of an ugly hag. Its bruised fingers are clutching harder on the shaft above the long widely-curved blade. The small band stops at enough to give it a fierce wallop or a jab of their weapons.

    It stops on its tracks. Answer back to their aggression. Faster than it takes any of these warriors to blink, the creature twirls from foot to helm. Its long blade dances with it in a wide spiral swing until its partner returns to where it was facing before it stopped. However, this spinning feat comes with an ungodly gift: a flurry of five to six slashes that can cleave cleanly through bone and iron, let alone exposed flesh. Steel may survive but will sustain a pronounced cut. The reach of the blade is beyond any of the spears found during this battle. Worse, the creature pirouettes the other way, soon doubling the disaster all who advanced to simply be tormented by.

    Confetti of bodily chunks and a thicket of blood surrounds the dancer. The lighter bits fall sooner, soiling the forest ground before the heavier ones do. The eyes of those who did not join the latest charge are left widened. Breaths shudder as they keep their weapons before them. How is this wounded creature able to still move so inhumanly fast?!

    Their lonesome foe marches again, this time to its front right, inching closer to the nearest row of the armored company. More than twenty of them were alive seconds ago, then gone in a flash. Who is next? All are welcome to tempt fate and persevere to defeat this monster. Either abandon duty or pursue it knowing that death is just waiting to have a lovely embrace in a blink of an eye.

    Go ahead, dutiful leftovers. Keep making its day.


 

03/14/2022 10:57 PM 

Sand and Sorrow. ~Sample.~

 
 

   Stroll bears slowness and sorrow. Each second is a lifetime for one sauntering a great garden of dunes. Whispers of a hunched beast denied of comfort for too long are lazily sung past wrinkled lips yearning for even a lick of water. The drag of this hummed howl ends and starts again with each burdened step.

   The leering red sky hovers high above these barren plains that could look a trifle better even by just the presence of a puddle to cool the tongue. This mumbling drifter now struggles up a shallow hill of sand. A knee plummets with a soft thud upon the slanted mound. Strain is swimming in its nerves. The will does persist but the flesh may desist.

   Upon the fiery horizon past the sandy peak, the kneeling beast looks ahead with a sluggish rise of the slim chin. The tarnished bowl masking its eyes is plagued with scratches as well as streaks and strokes of blood and rust. Growl becomes of the laborious breath before a single gulp down the throat. Arms feel limp, one of them clutching in its gripping end something slender, sharp and stained a muddy scarlet.

   Left forsaken or itself forsaking company, it waits for a miracle out of this purgatory of painful promenade. What kindness or malice was committed before the long languishing march, this wasteland does not judge it. Still, a semblance of an outskirt into somewhere lush would be ever so fine to wrap its hidden eyes on. Mark the coming end of just seeing this spacious city of sand before and ahead.

   Pray for comfort in lashed tongue beyond one, though this pitiful piece in pause may fail to flail anything sane for thought. Pray that it comes truest to the touch and not the madness of mirage. Aspire the advent of an angel to deliver this demon in despair. To what gods that has yet to loathe it, pray the sorrow away, lone beast.
 


 

03/14/2022 10:56 PM 

H ar k e n .


1. Boredom and buffoonery my way will not be tolerated. Pester me with productivity, not rubbish. You are welcome to stay mute without so much as a squawk until fitting to say something of constructive note.

2. My character will not understand your character in the beginning. Communication is one of several hardships that they must overcome throughout the continuity we will put them in to live and interact.

3. Action, fantasy, science fiction, horror and psychological themes in a fine blend are what I aim to write.

4. No discord until further notice.


More will be declared in due time.

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