ORIGIN

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The beast began to vomit, blood and bile pooling at his feet. He began to crack out a suffering bellow. Vicktor stood his ground, watching, waiting for the beast to charge. Only the boar seemed confused, panicked even. Czernobog had unleashed another scream, fueled by rage and fear. What was wrong? Had the beast gone deaf? Vicktor felt a twang of pity wash over his heart. He didn't want this, for either of them.

Slowly the boar turned, blood pooling from his mouth. With another scream ripping through the air Vicktor focused on the boar's stained teeth. His mind focused elsewhere. Licking his own stained maw, focused on the heavy iron alone. The smell of the thick ichor, the lingering scent of burnt flesh in his nostrils. As if returning from a slumber he blinked once, twice. The beast was before him, charging, bellowing.

He couldn't dodge it, not this time. Red flashed his vision as a deafening scream erupted from his throat. Crimson flung from his own mouth. The taste of his own blood mixed with the boar's. Was he screaming? Was the boar screaming too? If so he couldn't hear it, at least not over the pain. It was all pain. Even the sight that lay before him. That accursed beast of a pig. He could barely even make it out now. His eyes swollen and wet, loud sobs morphing into screams of agony. Their tusks had ripped through his side, colliding with his lower ribs. He was finished now, he was practically a meal on a stick.

Unrelenting yowling, screaming that tore his own throat raw. He loathed this boar, wished he had done something to stop it earlier. If it meant not being gored, he would have killed. Vicktor spat his own ichor onto the beast's face. Bearing fangs as he screeched in agony. He would not go down, not without a final fight. Fur standing on edge he began to focus. All of it. The pain and fear pooling together in the very pit of his stomach. He wouldn't care if this electricity bit his own hide for the foul thoughts he wished upon this monster. He wanted this to be over, and with the crackling shimmer of his bared fangs it would be soon. A final yowl scraped through his esophagus as the painful light ripped from his hide, dancing straight into the boar's own.

He only hoped it was enough.

ROUND: 5 / 5
ATTEMPT: Shock him a final time
DEFENSE: Nothing but screaming
INJURIES:
- Broken Tail
- Large hole under and near his lower rib(s)

"Clover Speech"
"Vicktor Speech"

@Czernobog

Red, delicious red dotted the air, and Czernobog felt his tusks delve into meat, bump against bone, and he wrenched his head, squealing in victory. The scent of blood filled his nose, his own mixing with the jaguar's, and he felt a vicious satisfaction as the cat screamed loud enough to be heard, like a soft buzzing, like a bee pinned by a needle, wings still beating frantically. Spittle and blood hit his face, and the boar let out heavy grunts, grating, a mimic of a cackle. He had the intruder now, would wrench his tusks free and gorge himself on its meat, strip its pretty lean muscle from bone and swallow those fangs whole.

No, he would drop and stomp, shatter its ribcage in, eat its organs while it screamed; no, he would kill it then drag it back to the grandfather, watch the massive serpent feast on such large prey - but the cat's fur buzzed again, and the boar could only jerk back before another round of excruciating pain ripped through him, traveled from tusks to mouth to throat and across skin, and his last thought before the white noise came was to aim the rest of his vomit into the wound. He couldn't tell if his aim hit before he ripped his head back, dropped the foe, stumbling, collapsed onto his side and screamed, body jerking uncontrollably, limbs flailing, hooves hitting the ground as his eyes rolled.

"Youuuuuuuu," he groaned, foam building in his mouth, stained pink with blood. "Chuuuuurn. Wiiiiiill. Kiiiiiiiill," the hog promised.

And then he lay still, sides heaving, pupils jerking from side to side wildly.

ROUND: 5 / 5
ATTEMPT: Buck him off of his tusks!
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES:
- Hole in chest leading to inner chest cavity [previous]
- Severe electricity burns to side and down throat
- Bite wounds to snout
- Momentary deafness from neurological injury
- Minor paralysis

Character: Vicktor
Age: +5 (5 Cycles)
Magic Level: +3 (Pupils)

ROUND 1
Attempt: +14
Penalties: -0

ROUND 2
Attempt: +17
Penalties: -0

ROUND 3
Attempt: +12
Penalties: -0

ROUND 4
Attempt: +6
Penalties: -0

ROUND 5
Attempt: +19
Penalties: -0

Total: 76

Character: Czernobog
Age: +5 (5 Cycles)
Magic Level: +1 (Fledgling)

ROUND 1
Attempt: +7
Penalties: -0

ROUND 2
Attempt: +13
Penalties: -0

ROUND 3
Attempt: +4
Penalties: -0

ROUND 4
Attempt: +19
Penalties: -0

ROUND 5
Attempt: +5
Penalties: -0

Total: 54

WINNER: Vicktor

The boar had jerked back from the light, bouncing Vicktor up and off his tusk. He had been in the air for a few moments, panic setting in as he thrashed. Thick ichor flowing generously from his flailing form. Much to his misfortune, he did not land on his feet. Instead he came to a bone cracking halt, landing haphazardly on his wound. Both of his lower ribs had cracked, one broke seemingly in half. As he laid there, yowling from the impact he noticed the boar. They were vomiting? At him!? Lips curled he tried to evade the projectiles, but again he was too late. His abdomen all too quickly became coated in not just blood but the contents of the boar's stomach.

They began to stumble towards him, collapsing to their side and unleashing another scream. Both laying in the center of the perfect circle of death from the start. Only now it was generously splattered with blood and bile alike. They were still talking. Repeating the same words they had all throughout the battle. Churn? Churn will kill? Was that this boar's name?

It didn't matter, he had survived. That was a win in Vicktor's book. Now all he had to do was stop crying, gain his footing and leave before the boar recovered. He would tend to his wounds later...somehow...

"Clover Speech"
"Vicktor Speech"

Finally, the buzzing pain receded, left him stuck on his side, gurgling out a groan, blood and swamp water flooding his chest. Red dripped from his nostrils, from his open jaws, and Czernobog grunted, maliciously hoped that the intruder stayed down long enough for him to get up, mount one final attack - but the moment he tried to rise he fell back, crying out in pain, the sheer amount of burnt flesh and bruised muscle driving him back to the ground. The noise in his ears hadn't faded, felt like a thousand wasps rattling around in his skull, and the boar coughed, lungs rattling.

He faded, for a moment, retreated, floating in a haze. This was not his Purpose, he had failed, so spectacularly - what was he if not a Guardian? If he couldn't protect, what could he do? He was Czernobog. This was not his way. He was the predator, not the prey. Teeth made to rip and tear, but even that imagined image was wobbly, electricity running circles through his brain until every neuron sang hurt.

Help, he needed help, he was drowning, could feel the water constricting around his lungs, and Czernobog panicked, yelps spilling from his lips. "Daaad, daaaad, C-Caaaaaaayenne, Haaaat, Tiiiiiiinyyyyy!" There was a word, a word he could use, he just needed to remember, and he thrashed in place, struggled against the black edging its way into the corners of his vision. There was a word, he was not alone, he needed help, he needed -

"Roooooooooooooooooooooooooot!"

The scream was loud enough to make him shake with it, shuddering, breaking down into whimpers as the pain did nothing but intensify, muscles twitching at random, constricting and relaxing, even his heart thumping out of rhythm.

Help. Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Help.

She was gathering herbs along this new path she was making in Cetus when she thought she heard her name being called. Cayenne frowned, her small ears perked, her eyes gazing into the mist, and she heard other names that she didn't recognize; whose voice was that? It was so far away, she couldn't really-

Then she heard the word, the long, drawn out word full of pain, and she knew whose voice it was. She dropped whatever herbs she was gathering and bolted as fast as she could, climbing up the nearest tree, her limbs rushing and grabbing branches and tree limbs as quickly as she was able. She was fast, and she was desperate.

"BOG!" She cried at the top of her lungs, searching the murky waters below for her friend. "BOG, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

When she came close enough to hear the giant's shallow and bloody breathing, she dropped haphazardly down from the tree and down to the ground, gaining a few scratches on her hands and cheeks. She saw them, bloody and bleeding in the circle of dead growth, and the smell of it all and the sight of them lying there dying made her want to cry and throw up. She held it back with a sick wretching motion in her throat and stomach, and tears sprung to her eyes as she hurried over to them. She had eyes for no one else but her friend, and if anyone else was around in the aura of death and despair, she didn't see them.

She looked them over, her eyes blind with tears, and she touched their damaged snout softly. "B-Bog?" She asked shakily. Her shoulders were starting to shake, acerbated beyond belief. Who would do this to them?! This peaceful, wonderful, simple beast! "Bog, you hear?"

@Czernobog

Sleep was not so much a precious commodity now that Dragon had returned and Netil was large enough to take care of himself. Then again, Netil had been able to fend for himself the day after he'd hatched. He was already massive, nearly Ghanyarah's size, with powerful snapping jaws and great wings that made him fast. He admired his son, despite the fact that he shared half of his genetics with the Pisces owl. Yet in a way, Ghanyarah admired him too - the gift of flight and warm blood was a well revered one. In any case, the komodo had been catching up on his well deserved sleep when the call rang out. Extended across the length of his favored branch, Ghanyarah had only woken at the first call. The next caused him to open his eyes, listening as a gritty voice summoned members of the Children of Rot one by one, save for him.

Then, of course, the catch-all: a great roar summoning the Rots, and Ghanyarah knew by then that he was needed. The reptile couldn't tell much from the call, but it sounded urgent. He dropped down from the branch into the loamy substrate below and scampered off towards the voice, sunset eyes seeking its cause. Through the undergrowth he had spotted what looked like signs of a struggle. A circle of wilted vegetation, and there lay Czernobog in his sphere of death. And another, a black mammal who cried, shook, fretting over the fallen boar. Then a third. Larger, black, feline. Reeking of blood. Covered in it.

Ghanyarah needn't even guess as to who was the cause of this mayhem. His eyes darkened, or maybe they flashed with fury - the lizard braced himself in the mud and cracked open his jaws, emitting a guttural hiss as tendrils of frigid, anger-charged magic jumped from his skin. The surge was too powerful and all at once - spines of ice burst from the mud all around them, but none of them were concentrated enough to reach the fleeing jaguar. Ghanyarah didn't care. He just wanted the beast gone.

table and code © chelsea of ORIGIN

@tag

The Big Bog called, and Tal'at leaped up with a start from his nap. His wings spread and he was off, sweeping through the forest. He raced towards the call of the Bog, knowing precisely how to pinpoint the beast...

But in his panic, his senses went numb. Even reaching out with his magic, he couldn't tear apart one shade of green from the rest-- it was a vibrant, blinding blur that left his whole body feeling as though his nerves had been pulled out his body.

The Bog's voice brought him to the spot regardless, but the bat clipped a branch, and then hit a trunk, and flailing his sense-blinded wings, he tumbled through the air and came crashing to the ground.

!!! ...

going out a different path lead by a beating heart

The scream had jerked the crow up - in fact she nearly fell out her nest. Her eyes widened, stomach filling with fear as she fluttered out of her nest, feathers thin and clinging loosely to her chest, as she made her way towards the source of the screaming.

She knew the thing that had attacked Czernobog. It was the white deer's child, the black electric cat. She wasn't particularly disappointed in Vicktor, or at least, in the end, it didn't particularly matter. Her attempts to help Czernobog didn't work out however, and all Eve could think to do was land in front of Vicktor and begin croaking and screaming wordlessly at him.

table code © rasta 2015

The owl had to admit she had a certain soft spot for Czernobog. The boar had surprised her during their hunt with his intelligence, and it was pleasant, to an extent, to speak with someone else. When he began screaming, there was a cold shrill that shot down her spine as she twisted her head around before she flew off the branch she was perched on.

When she arrived at the scene, her focus was only on the jaguar. With talons bared she came down as if she were attacking just another senseless prey animal, moving to bring the sharp raptor-feet down on Vicktor's shoulder.

All the time she was completely silent, one eye watching the boar as her talons sank into the jaguar's skin and ripped downwards.

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Vicktor

Czernobog

Game Master Madison

Vicktor

Czernobog

Cayenne

Ghanyarah

Talat

Eve

Willow