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 Posted: Tue Oct 28, 2008 9:46 pm
(it should be noted this rp takes place at the borders))  Dark talons slashed into the sands, the eerie sound of clicking bones with each step she took, red eyes glowing beneath her ram skull helm, like a demon peering from the depths of hell. In the harsh sunlight, her white pelt stood stark against the desert sands, an ominous vision of the monster, or perhaps a demon, the bloody general of war.
A dark smirk touched her maw, fangs showing in the shadow of her skull. Such a glorious day, harsh and unforgiving in the desert heat. The hell of the desert suited her, the burning heat, the harsh sand, it was vicious as she was, like the land to the far north, the land of War, the life she had once known was hers again.
Now she prowled the lands, a stalk in her step, bloodlust in her eyes, searching for what foolish creature would dare cross her path. Would she find what she sought, a creature worthy of meeting or claws, or would she only find disappointment unworthy of even her gaze?
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 3:38 pm
 Unlike the bone-demon currently prowling the same fine borders of warring lands, the deep red Lord of the Safi was prowling them for other reasons.
Gehenda never took his title of 'lord' all that seriously. It always felt it had been bestowed upon him because of his sister's assumption of leadership. And to a degree, it had been. He couldn't stand to just sit about and relish in a title though. So, he often looked very un-lordly as he patrolled the borders every now and then, went for a wander, hunted. His efforts seemed useful moreso now that cubs had appeared. Life was emerging in the decimated purists.
It gave him a little hope, followed swiftly by that sharp, stabbing pain in the chest everytime he thought about leaving these lands. Its where he was born but not where he wanted to stay.
Atop a shifting dune, Gehenda was in one of these musing moments when he saw it. That brilliance of light close to the borders. He knew every member of the pride. And this wasn't one of them.
Fur bristling and roar bubbling from his mouth, he tore down the silky sands with no regard for his own safety.
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Posted: Sun Nov 09, 2008 1:47 pm
Her head snapped with a snarl, bone armor clicking with a sickening crack. Always ready for battle, the lioness reacted in a flash, talons extended, fangs barred, her own roar echoing across the sands.
Mahakali was no fool, vicious though she was, the general of Mrost was as clever as she was cruel. Though large in size, as large as any firekin, Kali knew she was not all-powerful, that there were those lions who were stronger than her, and that even she could make a fatal mistake. She was not one to charge into battle without thought or start a fight simply because she could. However she was confident, prepared for whatever mortal dared challenge her, to rend through her opponent until his life drained at her talons to quench the desert beneath her paws.
She met the lion head on, her powerful ducking beneath the lion's charge, talons seeking to strike low, to tear at his soft underside, fangs snapping at a limb. It was a quick surgical strike, cripple him first, than attack at her leisure, to extend the torment, that was her goal.
Two things motivated a lion to attack blindly, arrogance or foolishness, which was his?
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 2:35 pm
Gehenda probably suffered from both. The arrogance of his family, and their beliefs, had festered inside him, never quite leaving him, but never quite a part of him either. Like a parasite to his very being. If he could get rid of it, he could be a very different lion. And his foolishness? A silent by-product of his arrogance. Quite often, he would not realise how foolish he was being, rushing headlong into a situation.
A situation like this.
He could not shift his bulk quick enough to avoid any of her strikes (the absence of a mane was a clue) and felt the searing burn of split flesh. She caught the tendon of his emblazoned right fore-leg and he felt it give beneath him.
But rather than topple...he used the limb as an anchor point and quickly wheeled himself about in a surprise attack!
He kept low, to avoid exposing his already damaged underside, and barrelled into her, using weight and size to his advantage.
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Posted: Wed Nov 12, 2008 1:23 pm
As fangs met flesh, her jaws fell closed with a sickening snap, the full strength of her bite tearing into flesh and hide like an iron vise. Talons curled as daggers, rending, tearing with her strike, a cruel blow meant to inflict the maximum punishment, to torture and maim.
But he was more clever than she an anticipated, excellent, she had grown wearing of fighting idiots. As his full weight struck her, she stumbled backward, refusing to relinquish her bite without a final, vicious thrash of her neck, a final tear before she released, rolling away from his bulk to land on her feet but a paw strike away.
"You have some skill, I will grant you that, but do you know how to use it?"
Her words were ending with another lunge, this time striking high, leaping at his back, talons slashing at shoulder, jaws aiming to strike where neck met back, where his mane did not protect. Vicious, a murderer, Kali fought to torture then kill. But more than that, she sought equals, those who made her fight for her own life, who truly madae her feel her true strength, that she was truly the bloody general of War.
She had met one such opponent before, would she find another?
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Posted: Wed Nov 12, 2008 1:57 pm
Gehenda wasn't about to waste precious time, and breath, on responding to her verabl taunt. He was now sporting a very impressive injury, one that stung with every breeze, little particles of sand burying themselves in, like daggers themselves.
As she moved, so did he and he galloped forward. He didn't expect her aim however and found himself grinding to a halt, her weight on his back and her claws grabbing purchase. His instinct was to rear up immediately, limbs like pistons driving him vertical.
But he didn't reach behind him. That would have been futile. She had the advantage and could merely swat away his attempts to grab her.
No. Gehenda had something else in mind.
He purposefully thrust himself up and backwards too fast, his weight shifting dramatically to make him, and her, top-heavy.
He planned to smother her in the sands.
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2008 6:39 pm
A liftetime of battle had taught her all too well to never cling to a bucking opponent, no matter how great the advantage may seem at the moment. It was a foolish act that more often than not was not worth the price. A furious snarl tearing from her chest, she lept from the lion's back, using his moment to carry her a lunge away.
As paws touched the sand she reeled to face him again, her back turned for but an instant. Her stance a low crouch, she stalked one way, then the other, circling her opponent, reading him, judging his strength, weakness, watching before her next strike.
He was smart, clever, not quite the foolish beast the first impression may have implied, or perhaps it was just luck. No, it wasn't luck, there had been a definite purpose to his actions, and she knew had she hesitated even a moment, it could have meant her death.
A slow smirk spread across her maw, fangs bared in a demonic grin. Yes, it was what she had hungered for, glorious, a true opponent.
A forepaw planted on the earth, the other scooping the sand to fling at her opponent's eyes, hoping to blind him, however briefly as she circled to attack from behind. Unlike her father, Mahakali did not hold to any sense of 'honor', fighting dirty was fair game.
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2008 3:07 pm
He felt the weight leave him, but all too late to save himself from crashing into the soft sand. Appearances did not matter at this point, as long as he could keep himself guarded. And so he had to flail a moment or two in his attempts to right himself. But it worked, and he was once more staring down his demon-faced opponent.
Again, Gehenda uttered not a word. He let his eyes do the talking - focused, intent, and sharp, the colour of yellow fire.
Just in time, he caught the movement of her paw. Looking away to avoid the sand, it still left him a few vulnerable moments, but at least he was not fighting blind. He knew she'd be circling for another surprise attack, but had no way to know which direction she'd be in.
So he had to guess. Rather than go unguarded, he wheeled to one side, paws and claws outstretched in the hopes of catching that elusive white flesh.
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 3:37 pm
A blind strike was an act of foolish desperation, wasted energy better spent on the remaining senses, on defending against the oncoming attack. And yet even such a strike was deadly, and luck was far too fickle.
A snarl tore from her jaws as talons caught her hide, blood flowing from her side and down one hind leg. But there was no cry of pain in her snarl, only demonic fury, delicious evil glee. The taste of blood, the sting in her side, it was glorious, how the thrill of battle excited her.
Even as talons tore her hide, Mahakali did not surrender, did not yield in her attack. Her charge continued, full fury unleashed in her strike, talons lashing at his precious hind end, fangs snapping at his thigh, hoping to drag him down, to cripple the beast.
She was firekin, a general of war, she would not yield, she would not flee from the battle she so craved, the bloodshed she lusted for.
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Posted: Wed Nov 19, 2008 2:25 pm
The elation of a hit was short-lived but buried itself within him, at least telling him that this battle wasn't totally one-sided. Blood, from both snarling demons, seeped into the sand, was kicked back up again, spattered. A little homage to their battle, ever changing as the sands.
He felt teeth meet sinewy flesh and his body curled instinctively toward her. He made for the same ploy - talons out, paws spread as wide as he could get them so as to grasp wherever he could, and jaws open. He felt the definition of her spine in his mouth and found his jaws clamping on her lower back.
And so they were locked in this savage circle.
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Posted: Thu Nov 20, 2008 5:45 pm
Dark talons curled, tearing, rending through flesh even as the sting of fangs pierced her own. Snarls echoed in her ears, the hard sand beneath her paws, blood flowed to quench the earth. Battle, conflict, War, it was as it should be, the mortal struggle of beast and demon, never was there a moment so full of life, or so close to death.
Brief as the struggle had been, the time that passed seemed an eternity, a lifetime lived and spent in but a few moments, a vicious battle locked in stalemate, or so it may have seemed.
It was a sudden movement, her tail snapped, bone armor wielded as a weapon, lashing at her opponent's eyes, her intent to force him to release his grip. In the instant of the wing, she released her own bit, her body suddenly reeling, turning on him, her muscled form arching to slash at shoulders, jaws reaching for his neck. Had she reached any further, she may have snapped in half.
No, it would not end yet, she hungered for the battle still. It would not end until she could no longer fight.
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Posted: Wed Nov 26, 2008 12:59 pm
With a sound like rock-on-rock, her bone armour smashed into his face. He flinched, he released his grip, that vital grip that could have meant a victory. Somewhat dazed and shaken, he had no choice but to look down, to blink away the dizziness....and leave himself open for her attack.
The first Gehenda knew of her onslaught was the sting of her claws across his shoulders, and then that dread weight about his neck. He'd never been so thankful at that point to be male - he knew her jaws had not reached that crucial flesh and those blood vessels beneath his thick inky mass of fur.
Rearing up again and throwing his weight about, he tried to shake her loose, taking the chance to rake at her stomach whenever it was exposed in his thrashing about.
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Posted: Fri Nov 28, 2008 3:38 pm
A dangerous move, had she missed it could have meant her life. It had been a risk she was willing to take, one she had been certain she would win.
Her snarl was vicious, demonic, echoing through her massive frame, through jaws that snapped at the lion beneath her talons, through talons and into red hide, a cry of pure bloodlust. Her paws curled, raking talons through his hide, the full strength of her shoulders leaning into the vicious blow, tearing as deep into muscle and flesh as her talons would reach. Though her fangs were blocked by his mane, she would be certain he felt her strike.
His weight shifted under her, talons raking, slashing into her own underside. She would not relinquish her grip just yet, an extra moment spent of attack that had cost her.
Muscled legs coiled, leaping from her opponent, his momentum added to hers to push her clear, landing on four paws barely out of talons' reach. Her eyes burned beneath the skull, lips twisted in her snarl, circling. Blood dripped into the sands from deep wounds, white pelt stained red. How much longer could the beasts go on?
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Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2008 2:19 pm
Gehenda was left as battered as his opponent, the red seeping from his body harder to see against the red of his pelt. Perhaps a good thing, he might not appear as wounded to her. Whereas her precious white pelt was smattered with blood.
Beneath her bone armour and skull mask, he tried to peer at her eyes. To see what was there. He had learned some time ago that quite often, you can see the fires inside shining in the eyes. His own embery yellow focused and narrowed.
Both were physically and mentally tired. The aches were starting to sweep in over his body and the stinging crawled over his skin. His face had to remain steely though.
In a slow movement, so that his intentions were clear, he straightened himself and puffed himself as proud as he could. He looked at her for the first time with unclouded eyes. She was a lithe lioness, beautiful in a haunting way and disturbing in her ferocity.
Gehenda closed his eyes and bowed to her.
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Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 12:43 pm
Her own eyes narrowed, watching, reading each movement, searching for a moment's weakness, for the strength that remained. Exhausted, battered, there was little left in either of them. One last strike, it was all that remained until one or both of them lay collapsed on the sand, unable to rise or fight any further.
It would not come to that, not this day. The lion had chosen to end it, on his terms, she would respect that. Yes, a strong and proud opponent, he was worthy of such respect. Her claws retracted, her own posture tall, proud, her head lowered, returning the gesture.
A demonic grin spread across her maw, red eyes studying the beast. Yes, he was strong, bold, quiet, glorious. He was even handsome now that she looked at him, perhaps moreso with his hide stained by his own blood, surrounded by the sweet scent of that precious red fluid.
She did not speak, there was no need. Only a roar, bellowing, echoing through her parted jaws, her own call of respect. For here there had been a great battle, oh such a glorious day.
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