ORIGIN

Her words had not been idly spoken. She'd had their leader towering above her, threatening her life in his demand for servitude. The brutes were no friends of theirs--but she had no time to explain that now, to speak of how the Orthoclase was lost and alone and seemed abused, how the rest of them slinked and threatened... No. The Bonebound were good people. They couldn't rely on that sort.

They could, however, rely on one another. On the bones.

As she turned to go, the sudden flood of magic between them shocked her into silence. She turned, dark eyes wide, staring up at Kerberos.

Is that-... You, Kerberos? she thought, with shock and wonder, the war around her abruptly (for the moment) forgotten.

In the back of her mind ran that siren screech--her familiar flitting from cave to cave en route to Draco, guided by Giggle, calling out her garbled warnings. Besides that, Giggle's own fear was palpable through that link, her shock at this new link. But-... it wasn't an unwelcome surprise. In fact, a flood of a different emotion--joy, love--cascaded through her then, and she pushed forward, attempting to press her head briefly into Kerberos's thick fur. It was a hug, of sorts--as best a hyena could manage--and then she was turning, a new lightness to her, making her way at a lopsided gallop for the bone pit.

She had never shared such a connection with anyone bar her familiar, before, and it was... wonderful.

exit Giggle

@Bone @Orthus @Ace @Juggernaut @Alcina @Elysium @Scorn @Rena @Siren @Elayne @Ultraviolet @Temperantia

@Temperantia (Bone is attempting to return Temperantia to the chrysalis, and cover said chrysalis with some spicy dust)

@Ultraviolet

@Ultraviolet

Mild Violence and Body Horror

He was HERE, doing what he was MEANT FOR, and the joy of purpose was a war drum that sung through his very veins. He did not have to look to others- with his eyes nor the glorious threads of mother's touch that connected them all. He trusted their place in Mother's vision, as he did their siblings in Eridanus. So perfect was the plan, slotting together like the bricks with they would build Mother's fortress. His attention remained focused on his personal part of the puzzle, although he replied to Juggernaut with a joyous and heartfelt 'YES! KILL!'

The WRETCHED BEAST whom he sought to demolish was of a size more fitting to be stomped by hooves than gored by tusks. [Although he did feel a smear on one tusk which glistened with oiled blood]

Then two things happened in quick succession.

His target, who had been wisely fleeing, foolishly turned around to face his wrath head on. Shadows solidified, buzzing into a swarm of hideous flies. This flimsy shroud could not hide his quarry from JUSTICE. Biting of flies against his bristled hide was easily ignored. Was THIS the strength of chaos? Pathetic.

Then pain exploded through him. Bundles of wrongness- lumps of mutated cells and disease- knotted into muscles and pushed up from under armored plating. This was NOT of mother's grand design, and the marring of that expertly crafted and purposeful design nearly hurt as much as what was destroying that design. But a mangled tool was a tool all the same, and Scorn would serve until broken beyond repair.

Before he could recover from the shock of what ravaged his body, a new challenger appeared.

A literal twisted shadow of himself, exaggerating every horrid difference Chaos corrupted into it's victims. He did not have time to fully, because it was soon barreling into his side in a BRUTISH and TRULY UNACCEPTABLE manner. Unstoppable force met unstoppable force, and hooves struggled for purchase on hellishly uneven and shifting ground. He could not fight gravity.

Fortunately, when you're absolutely MASSIVE and covered in armor and spikes, your whole body is a weapon. A weapon he fully intended to use to crush this IMPOSTER into the oil it crawled out of.

All of the momentum of the fall and the weight of Scorn's two foot larger frame would come crashing towards Edric, If he did not scramble out of the way. Sharp armor would cut where Edric lacked his own, and the force of the fall would surely fracture if not break bone. Corrupted tumors nearly burst within Scorn's own body as the force hit him in equal turn. He let out a squealing, yelling battle cry that was equal parts pain and rage.

Pain is temporary. Mother's reign will be eternal.

@Edric

every muscle in ultraviolet's thin frame burned with effort. he ran, full on sprinting, as the creatures of Order moved to intercept him. one came from behind, the sound of a wood-chipper at full blast coming closer and closer to his dead leg and lashing tail.

mandibles did reach his limp leg, but that did not stop him from running. flesh was shorn from bone, blood-oil splattering in his wake. but he continued to run with his five of seven good legs. there was no air left in his lungs. he was drowning.

if he could just reach the tunnel, he could escape.

more venom-barbed tendrils lashed out for his legs. he was barely aware of them, his senses burning. teeth bared, his leg muscles bunched and he tried to leap, to spring out of the way of them.

he had to survive. he simply couldn't perish to Order, not after everything he had been given. the opportunity to seek perfection. their flawed world would not contain and destroy him. he had been reborn for more than this.

somehow, he hit the ground running without becoming skewered a second time. his limbs did not given in, and he continued to tear his way toward freedom.