Post by Solomon Moon on Sept 8, 2019 20:24:27 GMT -5
Solomon
His mouth tasted like copper, iron. His heart was like thunder in his head, the ceaseless crashing of a waterfall rumbling in his ears. His pulse bounded, dropping dangerously low as the cardiac muscle relaxed and then spiking suicidally high with each deafening contraction, the organ straining to perfuse the vital tissues that were the only thing keeping him moving, keeping him alive. He couldn't keep this up. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been running for, keeping a pace set by the small horde of slavering monsters stalking his every step. It had to be more than an hour by now, and no matter how many times he turned and reduced one of his pursuers to a smoking ruin, there was always more. His strength wouldn't last, and he could not afford to spend anything but what was absolutely necessary to protect himself. A frontal assault would have been suicide.
Black hair slick with sweat, disparate strands that had pulled free of the tight ponytail he kept them in, were plastered against his forehead. Almond shaped golden eye, wide, wild, usually tanned flesh an almost luminescent with the color of the blood rushing beneath it's surface, his breath came in sharp gasping inhalations, and grunting percussive exhalations, as he tried to maintain enough positive pressure in his lungs to keep the exhausted sacs of tissue from collapsing beneath the strain. His combat jacket was pulled half open, the plain white cotton undershirt beneath stained to near translucency with sweat. Streamers of heat tailed of of his exposed flesh, condensing into steam as it struck the chilled air. His camouflage tactical pants were streaked with mud and leaf stains, boots that had been polished that morning now caked to the ankle with mud that splattered across the trunks around him with each bounding stride.
Movement on his right, a nearly imperceptible instant of a black, shaggy pelt glimpsed through the brush as legs he couldn't seem to feel anymore pumped beneath him. That momentary glance probably saved his life, because he was ready an instant later when the alabastor visage, the gruesome sculpture of an insane and malicious god, crashed through the foliage on his right, flattening a barrier that would have been nearly impassable to Sol with the mindless ease of a wild monster. The armored skull of the massive lupine mutant bared a jaw lined with too many stained yellow fangs, the red eyes sunken deep into it's sockets blazing with the light of savage insanity, was followed closely by a swiping paw as black as midnight, sporting claws as long each as Sol's entire hand. It unleashed an ululating roar of mindless violence, and Sol responded in turn with a yell of shock and horror of his own.
The five claws, so white as to seem to glow against the monster's black pelt, scythed in at chest level, and Sol responded without even an instant of thought. A thin whistling shriek pierced the air as his right arm pistonned towards the incoming paw, fingers snapping shut like a bear trap around the beast's malformed wrist. Bone and sinew crunched beneath the iron grip, the monster's roar abruptly shifted into a strangled and drawn out keening, as Sol deflected the captured limb wide, exposing the beast's core. With the ruthless efficiency and speed of a striking cobra he unleashed a palm strike with his free hand, and felt the lowest of the beowulf's ribs give under the blow. The monster's pelt seemed to glow around the impact as a point of blinding light filtered through the dense shaggy fur. The beast's howl of agony was swallowed an instant later as an earsplitting boom ripped through the forest, simultaneously with the beast being swallowed from the waist up by a column of living fire that briefly blotted out it's body from rib-cage to hip in a single thunderous detonation.
Sol pushed off against the thrust of the blast that fired out of his palm, vaulting off of the forest floor and propelling himself parallel to the earth, feet first.
The second beowulf emitted a breathy huff as Sol's boots punched it center mass and drove it back. It keened and snarled as it thrashed beneath him, too stunned to understand the details of what had happened, and clawing senselessly at the air, while Sol did his best to avoid the two fistfuls of sabres. Sol collected his legs beneath him, absorbing the impact only slightly better than the Grimm had. As the beast tried to heave him off, finally becoming aware of it's unwelcome passenger, back arching, Sol stomped down hard and drove himself off the beast's chest. The fur around his boots glimmered briefly for the slightest of an imperceptible instant, as Sol projected a second blast down through his feet and into the creature's chest. The beast buckled, and heaved around him, as the blast muted out into a dull and earthy thud, propelling Sol, springing through the air back into a pitched flight on par with that of an Olympic sprinter.
Sol collapsed head first into a roll, bouncing painfully off of the tangled floor of roots and coming up running. He half wondered how well his aura was holding out, and half regretted throwing away his scroll at the beginning of the test.
Black hair slick with sweat, disparate strands that had pulled free of the tight ponytail he kept them in, were plastered against his forehead. Almond shaped golden eye, wide, wild, usually tanned flesh an almost luminescent with the color of the blood rushing beneath it's surface, his breath came in sharp gasping inhalations, and grunting percussive exhalations, as he tried to maintain enough positive pressure in his lungs to keep the exhausted sacs of tissue from collapsing beneath the strain. His combat jacket was pulled half open, the plain white cotton undershirt beneath stained to near translucency with sweat. Streamers of heat tailed of of his exposed flesh, condensing into steam as it struck the chilled air. His camouflage tactical pants were streaked with mud and leaf stains, boots that had been polished that morning now caked to the ankle with mud that splattered across the trunks around him with each bounding stride.
Movement on his right, a nearly imperceptible instant of a black, shaggy pelt glimpsed through the brush as legs he couldn't seem to feel anymore pumped beneath him. That momentary glance probably saved his life, because he was ready an instant later when the alabastor visage, the gruesome sculpture of an insane and malicious god, crashed through the foliage on his right, flattening a barrier that would have been nearly impassable to Sol with the mindless ease of a wild monster. The armored skull of the massive lupine mutant bared a jaw lined with too many stained yellow fangs, the red eyes sunken deep into it's sockets blazing with the light of savage insanity, was followed closely by a swiping paw as black as midnight, sporting claws as long each as Sol's entire hand. It unleashed an ululating roar of mindless violence, and Sol responded in turn with a yell of shock and horror of his own.
The five claws, so white as to seem to glow against the monster's black pelt, scythed in at chest level, and Sol responded without even an instant of thought. A thin whistling shriek pierced the air as his right arm pistonned towards the incoming paw, fingers snapping shut like a bear trap around the beast's malformed wrist. Bone and sinew crunched beneath the iron grip, the monster's roar abruptly shifted into a strangled and drawn out keening, as Sol deflected the captured limb wide, exposing the beast's core. With the ruthless efficiency and speed of a striking cobra he unleashed a palm strike with his free hand, and felt the lowest of the beowulf's ribs give under the blow. The monster's pelt seemed to glow around the impact as a point of blinding light filtered through the dense shaggy fur. The beast's howl of agony was swallowed an instant later as an earsplitting boom ripped through the forest, simultaneously with the beast being swallowed from the waist up by a column of living fire that briefly blotted out it's body from rib-cage to hip in a single thunderous detonation.
Sol pushed off against the thrust of the blast that fired out of his palm, vaulting off of the forest floor and propelling himself parallel to the earth, feet first.
The second beowulf emitted a breathy huff as Sol's boots punched it center mass and drove it back. It keened and snarled as it thrashed beneath him, too stunned to understand the details of what had happened, and clawing senselessly at the air, while Sol did his best to avoid the two fistfuls of sabres. Sol collected his legs beneath him, absorbing the impact only slightly better than the Grimm had. As the beast tried to heave him off, finally becoming aware of it's unwelcome passenger, back arching, Sol stomped down hard and drove himself off the beast's chest. The fur around his boots glimmered briefly for the slightest of an imperceptible instant, as Sol projected a second blast down through his feet and into the creature's chest. The beast buckled, and heaved around him, as the blast muted out into a dull and earthy thud, propelling Sol, springing through the air back into a pitched flight on par with that of an Olympic sprinter.
Sol collapsed head first into a roll, bouncing painfully off of the tangled floor of roots and coming up running. He half wondered how well his aura was holding out, and half regretted throwing away his scroll at the beginning of the test.
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Velvet of WW
