Thankfully the whole "run blindly at them" tactic worked, given that it was about the only one the boar had ever relied on. The feel of skin tearing under his unbroken tusk was met with a satisfied snort, the sight of two of the does shoved off their course getting another chuckle. The third was fleeing, a weakling like her leader, but the other two - they were more to his liking. The strong should feed the strong, and Aquarian was the strongest of them.

Czernobog grunted, dancing back on shaky, adrenaline-fueled legs from the still-fighting doe, grinning at her toothily, tail wagging with glee. The downed deer was a fight already won, in his eyes - no honor in it. But the other insect... she was fair game. Ducking down and darting forward, the boar aimed to barrel into the deer, puncturing soft skin and muscle with his intact tusk.

Proud. He would make his father so proud.

@Dragon

[MATURE]

The third doe had now fled into the trees, her instincts driving her to survival above all else.

Her sisters were not so lucky--or smart. The one foolish enough to kick out at the boar three times her size or more found herself suddenly flung skyward, dizzying, the boar's physical power a total shock. Following that came a horrible, lancing pain, as if she were simply being torn in half. And... in many senses, she was. Shock came quickly--by the time she hit the ground she was dazed, half-collapsing, half pawing at the ground to try and drag herself away, bleating frantically. Blood spilled out over the ground, pink flesh glinting where it poked through the deer's torn hide.

The third doe, the one who had fallen, flared her nostrils as the scent of even more blood filled her nose--and turned, trying to flee over the river and through the trees, behind her sister.

The downed doe probably wasn't going anywhere. It would be up to the boar whether he wished to finish this one off, and take his two trophies home... or risk losing them to a scavenger while in pursuit of a third.

@Czernobog

The hit landed, sending the boar's blood singing once more, taking vicious satisfaction in the brutality of the doe's injury. No spells, no magic, no fancy tongue-talking - just him and his teeth and his hooves and the maggots. The downed doe was scrambling up and away, but Czernobog's vision had tunneled to the one he'd split open, like a perfectly presented gift.

A gift for Aquarian - he wondered, chest puffing out in pride as he pranced over to stop at the edge of the dying deer's body, if any of the others would bring back not one, but two bodies for the Grandnoodle's satisfaction? Grin gentling into an almost calm and pleasant smile at the thought of gaining Aquarian's favor, Czernobog circled the downed meat, idly tapping at it in a strange parody of affectionate gestures.

And then he began to speed up.

It seemed the boar did play with his food.

Before long taps became hits became downright stabs, the sharp edges of his hooves digging past pelt into skin, until finally the monster seemed to tire of the game, and simply moved to drive his gemstone tusk through its eye socket and into its brain.

He shook it off, bone rattling against crystal, and hummed the tune he remembered by heart - a monotone, droning thing, but it was his father's, which was the part that mattered. Satisfaction oozing from every disgusting, grime-encrusted pore, Czernobog eyed the meat curiously. He would have to take them both now - too much risk in leaving one, not with other predators always willing to take free meals.

With a grunt, he used his tusks to leverage the doe up by increments, the work slow and making his chest ache, finally rolling it to rest on his neck, then his back after a few shakes. Turning, he made his way back to the stag and winced in preparation. This would be... harder. Already the weight of the first meal on his back was making him tremble.

Slowly, his tusks slipped under the beast, but the pig attempted no slow process. With one mighty push up and over, Czernobog let out a strained bellow, and up and over the stag went, ragdolling in the air and managing to smack a hoof into the pig's forehead. Ow. Pouting, the pig resumed his humming, moving slow as a snail - but a very proud snail, indeed. Snout pointed to the sky, every step met with a happy snort or grunt, Czernobog trundled back to Willow, practically splitting his face with a grin, and began the long, slow, completely satisfying journey home.

Boy, he couldn't wait to tell Tiny about this.

[ exit Czernobog ]