He was too far in the give up now. As scarlet blood rose up to stain his claws, his focus narrowed until all he saw was the prey beneath him. The danger of staying on his target was ignored- he could not bring himself to leave, not when he was this close. Callum hoped Rue knew what they were doing, because he was certainly not going to up and abandon this opportunity. Calling for the magic within his stone, he hoped it would be enough to shield him from the deadly antlers pressing in from all sides, or at the very least from a permanent death.

He would be taken to the inch before death--or chrysalis.

The world around him turned into a cacophony of thundering hooves and lowing bellows; his sight was filled by billowing dust and flashes of brown, woolly flanks. The sense of touch was the worst of all: perhaps adrenaline would damp it, but he was thrown bodily from his catch by the surge of the herd, slammed between thrusting shoulders and trampling hooves. Horns and antlers swept by him, their attempts at goring barely avoiding anything fatal; the spill of his own blood would perfume the air.

The odor would join the smell of burning. Black flames licked through the herd more prominently, and the bellows grew frantic. Their cries became those of rage and pain, with black patches searing their way across several beasts.

At last, one of the Meadow Deer spotted the attacker: Rue, distant but tainted with the stench of Corruption. This creature swerved, roaring a frantic, frightened challenge, an attempt to intimidate them away. They turned Rue's way, a mad rush of massive bodies--still distant, though; still easily escaped, their dust plumes half-blinding even them so that they plunged this way and that in the open field in a winding charge.

Callum would be left on death's door, but alive: able to retreat without his chrysalis taking him, by virtue of Rue's black-burning rescue. The calf, however, had been swept up in the stampede with the rest of them, lost to the churn of hooves and smoke.

______

Rue can easily avoid the herd, and does not need to roll: the herd is disorganized and half-blinded by smoke, fire and dust.

@Rue

Blood and smoke and choking flame are the scents that grow thick in the air. A cacophony of deer calls fills Rue's ears, drowning out the sound of Callum's shrieks of pain.

Then the deer turn, scattering in a wayward charge in Rue's general direction. The chaos is obvious - there is no wall of bodies, only wild confusion. Rue weaves between them, Callum forgotten as they howl wildly. Chaos is what they live for!

Either way, they aren't coming out of this empty handed. Calling magic, they try to have inky coils lash around one of the straggling deer... but nothing happens.

@Callum

The spell failed, leaving him vulnerable to the onslaught. Callum could do nothing as he was flung about ruthlessly by the meadow deer, all his senses overwhelmed by the sheer pain. Flashes of brown and red- was it his blood? But the thought was quickly lost as soon he could not even think. He had never felt this before, he had never been caught up in any situation where he could not even fight back. All he could do was take the blows and pray for it to be over.
And then it was.
The scent of burning fur soon overtook the tang of blood, and he was left alone on the ground. Was this it? Was it the end? He cracked open an eye, catching sight of the deer-wolf who had saved him. Again. Him! A part-dragon! Needed to be saved by that thing? God what an embarrassment he was. Callum hoped he would never see them in the future because he would not be living this one down.
But for now, he knew he had to leave before the meadow deer came for him again. Mustering his strength, he dragged himself to his paws and limped off, leaving a trail of blood behind him. It would take a while to recover, but at least he was alive. And had learned a very valuable lesson: maybe don't mess with meadow deer. For now at least. He would be back. He would be stronger. Then he would be the one shredding them to pieces.

"Exit Callum"

"Nothing happened" was, in the end, an integral part of chaos--for what would chaos be but simply "destruction" if it were only ever that?

The meadow deer could not predict such chaos--indeed they had not predicted the beast charging straight into their ranks, weaving with deft agility through the churning dust, avoiding the thunder of their hooves and the crush of massive bodies.

They plowed onward, an irresistable stampede now guiding them in blind (and dust-blinded) rush for the treeline. Whether Rue ran with them, or through them--past them, beyond them--they would not see; Rue was too small, too nimble, too lost to the smoke and cloud of the charge.

The thin scent of blood was tangled in the odor of manure and woolly bodies, the cow-stink magnified by the rancid stench of burning wool. Flashes of the whites of rolling eyes, tendrils of saliva flinging from panting jaws, surged past the Chaos monster to either side.

What almost felt a touch of approval flickered through Rue--a brush, a barest whisper, as if something--somewhere--had noticed their glee in Chaos, and thought it worthy. A kindred soul, perhaps.

That did not help with the Meadow Deer, but such things never did.

@Rue

The pounding of hooves eclipses Callum's panting, and the dust blurs his form as he limps away. The deer are what take up the forefront of Rue's mind, instead.

"Run! Run! Scatter like cowards!" they laugh and hackle, as the deer flee into the distance. The touch of something sends them in a cackling fit, as they revel in the chaos. Running in circles, they howl and roar, sending the last stragglers off with laughter.

Sure, they may have come up with nothing to show, thanks to a certain someone, but they had fun! That's what matters, right?

Eventually, the dust settles, and Rue calms down. They're alone again, the only sound the burbling brook, andd surrounded by blood and ash. In the new silence, they slink away, purpose renewed.

They'd find easier prey elsewhere.

Exit Rue