ORIGIN

BARATHEON

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The blast hit the creature in the shoulder and sent it flying. Baratheon's lips curled into a smile of satisfaction as he moved forward to close the distance between the two. Had he won? Had it been that easy? Nope! The little lamb was back up on his paws and claiming that he could do the same thing. Baratheon paused in his advance, afraid of getting hit full in the face with a blast. To protect himself he turned his head away and covered it with a tiny wing, waiting on the blast.

However... It never came. He peeked out from behind his wing to see the lamb standing there. It looked like it was trying to imitate his move but instead of a powerful blast, he emitted a lame little burp. The little dragon came fully from behind his wing and began to laugh, pointing with one claw at the younger creature's mishap. "Fail!" He said mockingly before giggling a little more. He wasn't being very nice but he figured that fair since the lamb hadn't been nice by accusing him of being food.

After that he started to advance again. He thought about launching another blast at the lamb but figured that would be less than satisfying. For some reason he wanted to charge in, to use his claws and his fangs. To get right up close and feel the effects of his attacks. He didn't know where this feeling was coming from but for some reason he liked it... The thought of blood and the flesh of his enemies.

His eyes narrowed and he curled his little muzzle up in a snarl as he charged right for the lamb. Needle teeth bared and claws prone, ready to lunge at the beast and bite and claw wherever he could.

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BARATHEON

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His teeth met their mark and dug into the lamb's scruff while his claws scratched at its chest. He normally would have felt satisfaction but now he only felt an urge. An urge that had been building even before he'd made his charge. It was one that he had yet to feel and now was foreign but would become like an old itch to him whenever he got into a fight. His vision on the creature had started off pinkish due to his strange eyes but now everything was starting to cloud over, to get a reddish haze. He blinked his eyes a few times, uncertain of what was happening.

The blood that he could now taste with his fangs... It tasted... Good. It was something that excited him. Made him crave this fight even more. Made him crave what would come afterwards if he won. The smell in his nose, that metallic tang coupled with that salty taste. For a while he wondered what he was supposed to eat. Was it things like this? Things that had blood? Everything had blood... He had blood. His sister had blood. This lamb had blood. He should have been horrified by the fact that he wanted now to kill and eat this thing but he couldn't be. He was becoming too far gone, giving into the instinct within him that said to disembowel this creature so he could feast.

The reddish haze deepened until everything was completely crimson. Everything was one color but he could still see and could taste even more vividly the blood in his mouth. His growling became deeper, more feral as he willed his fangs to go deeper and dug his claws in as hard as they would go. Before he had only wanted to prove a point but now he wanted to-- "Kill!" His voice was hardly recognizable now as it was more of a growl than a word. A singular urge that he needed to quench.

That was the last word he would speak as his mind completely left him, replaced by that feral need to hunt and kill. The need he had been born to fulfill. He renewed his efforts but first he unlatched his fangs from the creature's scruff and attempted to lock them elsewhere... Somewhere that would do more damage like the jugular. Baratheon's eyes, no longer pink but a terrifying shade of red, turned to the lamb's throat as he lunged in an attempt to sink his fangs into the middle hound's throat to bite and rip it out.

Blood soaked his white fur, staining it the color of the life giving liquid as he attempted to carry out his deed.

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BARATHEON

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Kill.

That's all his brain and mind understood. That was all he wanted, all he needed in this world. His lunge would have assured that but he missed. Or rather, the creature under him dodged the attack, rolling to throw him off course. The dragon hissed his frustration but doggedly clung on. His instincts, what he was purely led at the moment, told him exactly what to do and how he should kill his prey. Jugular or rip apart.

Kill.

He wasn't expecting the retaliation that the hound offered. As such he felt teeth dig into his fur, three sets of mouths latching on. He could feel the sharp pain, feel his own blood leaking out but he didn't care. Pain didn't matter. Only the destruction of his opponent did. Pain and wounds were to worry about later.

Kill.

He was pulled away and thrown to the side but within seconds he was back on his feet. His fangs were bared with those red eyes narrowed, ears were pinned so far back you could hardly see them. The opponent spoke words but words didn't matter. Words weren't action. Words didn't kill. Baratheon opened his mouth and gave a savage, full-throated hiss. He dug his claws into the ground as he glared at his opponent. After a moment or two he used the grip he had on the ground to power himself forward and at the attack again.

Kill.

Through the red haze he could see his target, the throat of the left hound. As he ran forward he kept slightly turned to try and bully his weight into the hound's chest while lunging. He was smaller but he still had power, more power than any other creature his size.

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BARATHEON

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He got a grip but not nearly strong enough to do any real damage before the hound was backing away. He tried lunging again but missed as the other kept moving. Crying for him to stop. Stop was not kill. Stop would not satisfy him. Only blood would sate his thirst for death. He bit and snapped but never found any purchase while his opponent snapped at his back and wings. The left head seemed like a lost cause but in his maddened state he could hardly think, all he wanted was to taste more blood. He only aimed for the left head but gave up his efforts when he realized it was pointless.

The dragon turned his head towards the creature, teeth bared as he hissed and snarled at it. The red color of his eyes tilted hadn't lifted as he hadn't been properly sated. What would kill the Bloodlust in his eyes. Surely death but death was not what would be welcome here, not with two creatures as young as they. What else could end the Bloodlust? Surely there was more than one way to make it dissipate? But what?

The dragon gave a screeching roar, one that was rather shrill now but would certainly grow in power once he got bigger and older. For now it would do. In retaliation for the dragon daring to bite at his wings and back and fortunately missing the dragon violently slammed his tail and rear at the hound. His attempt was to hopefully knock the creature on the ground and off balance him to hopefully leave some bruises or open him to attack.

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BARATHEON

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The thing danced away from his hip slam and Bara hissed with frustration. He released another young roar, more in anger than anything else as he turned to face the hound. Both of them were covered in blood but now the blood on Bara wasn't just the other creature's there was a mixture of his own running down his body. The pain stung and hurt but still that singular instinct pulsed throughout him, urging him forward to kill and disembowel. He could not ignore it. Could not give into his pain and stop until that red haze had lifted. Until his brain fully functioned again and he wasn't a husk driven by instinct.

Still, there was a distinct tug on his body... The tug of weakness and fatigue. He urged himself onwards to try and ignore it but it was getting harder and harder. As much as his body wanted to be a killing machine he was still young and still had his limits.

He put one foot forward, slowly advancing with his fangs bared, red eyes narrowed. There was a visible shaking to his limbs as he came forward. He could hardly ignore it, hardly go forward but he had to. Had to obey those instincts. He saw the hound setting something up. Preparing to launch something at him via its mouth. In his state the dragon didn't know what it was but he was prepared. Embedded in his instincts he knew he had other things to attack with, like his sonic blasts. A rumble sounded in his throat as he growled and prepared his magic for the blast.

He didn't square his legs off as he had done in his saner state he simply stopped and opened his mouth. He felt the blast rumble from his stomach, through his throat, and out of his mouth in a silent blast. It collided with the other middair and he could feel a rush of air as the invisible but still tangible things collided. He would not stop, not until the other's blast had been eliminated and the creature itself blown back. Then he would be there to finish it off.

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