if I time it right, the thunder breaks

The journey had been quite something for the ambitious old noodle, but with the protection of a long time friend and the wisdom of a hyena's treasures, his wide paws found their home once more among the ice. A shiver ran up his spine as he stepped on to slick surface leading out of Eridanus, belly full of food. Cetus was just around the corner, and he knew this tunnel from whisker to tail.

An echo of a yowl reached the far edge of the tunnel, making the small brown mustelid perk up. His muscles spasming along his scarred flank, he let loose a small whine and cast a glance to Black. There were others with him, friends who he had found on the way, but he had grown inclusively dependent on the mastiff.

Like lightning, the bushy gembound raced off, ears coned forward to catch any more sounds that came ricocheting off of the pink and purples of the slick tunnel. The ice didn't bother him, it never had. His grooved paws stuck and propelled him forward with ease. Yet no noise came, except for the scratching of claws on ice.

When Fisher burst forth from the branching tunnel into the main walkway, his head swung to catch the flash of bright white fur and blood. Cycles ago, he had hardly understood what blood was. Now, it made his stomach drop and his heart stop. Before him was what looked like the King of Shadows, but made of pure, white light and vibrant splashes of color-- and longer. More like a noodle.

That was not his main concern, however. In the clutches of the assured King was none other than a sack of limp, brown fur and huge paws. The smell hit him-- sharp, coppery, like when he had almost killed himself, with undertones of the one he had been trying to track for days. There was only a moment of distraught and panic, and then it was gone.

Furious rage filled him in that instant, spurring him forward. "Fallah!" Was she already dead? The mustelid had no idea of knowing, but he knew his paws wouldn't-- couldn't-- reach her in time. He felt a stab of pain in his first bound and crumpled to the floor almost immediately, but even as his eyes shut reflexively he knew one thing for certain:

Fisher knew this tunnel best of any other area in all of the great Origin Caves. This was the path he traveled in his youth, in his desperation to find Pisces-- every where he went, he always found his paws on the cold, slippery forks of this icy wonderland. Even as he flinched, struggling to fight back to his paws, he could imagine the world before him.

The King of Blood, his pure white fur stained with scarlet, laid just beyond the ice. For an instant, he could feel the slick surface extend before him-- and then his gem grew white hot on his back. Fallah... He had to protect her. He couldn't lose her. She and Black... She were his only true friends, the ones he had known since childhood and never had any reason to doubt.

And more so, Fallah was the only one he couldn't imagine his home without.

The ice under his paws cracked, snapping at the heat of his lightning, but didn't reach his target. He hissed, pain surging down his spine. He had to draw the King's attention and save his friend-- even if it meant putting Black and the others in danger.

"Hey! King of Blood!" His voice rang out, pushing himself back to his paws, trembling. "Come get me!!"

@Black @Baratheon @Bones (if you want?) (and anyone else who's w/ Fisher)

Black lifted his head, every nerve in his body singing, muscles tensing and mind's slow workings shooting into impossible rapidity as his veins coursed with adrenaline.

The scent of blood. A cry of pain. Fisher bolted forward, and Black surged into motion at once, heavy body picking up speed until the black velvet fur was a blur in the tunnel. He nearly lost his footing, skidding, as they rounded the turn: and there he saw it, confirmed with Fisher's cry.

Fallah.

The cat was under his protection as much as Fisher was; to him, nothing else mattered. Never mind the fact that the massive white beast made Black's bulk almost inconsequential--he didn't expect to win. He didn't expect anything--he didn't think. He only ran faster, plowing straight for the white dragon with every intention of slamming into it at full speed, knocking it away from snatching Fallah down into its jaws.

Every fiber of his being and every bit of his mind was focused on this task: his vision narrowed until he could only see his target, its pale fur a wall he intended to throw himself against. He could hear only the roar of his own heartbeat and his own inhaling breaths as he braced himself for impact, and the quiet slap of his paws and scratch of his claws on the stone.

He made no other sound.

________________

@Baratheon

He heard the approach of the others but hardly gave them a second thought. At the brown thing's words he only lifted a lip and gave a snarl, a warning to keep back and leave him to his meal. He reached down again and was prepared to pull another morsel of flesh from the belly of his victim but he felt a large force to his side. One that knocked him away from the bleeding lynx and down, down, down to the ground.

He landed with a huff of air leaving his lungs but other than that he was unharmed. His wing had cushioned his fall and when he landed, he sat stunned for a moment before immediately whipping back into action. This was now a threat to his catch. As far as he was concerned this black thing wanted to steal his prey and challenge him. He would not have that.

So, he whipped his head towards the canine with his mouth opened and bloodied fangs bared. He wanted to sink those deadly weapons into the dog's neck if he could and get a grip. If he got a hold he would try to keep a hold of the dog's neck.

---

words: 228
tagged: Fallah, Black, Fisher
ooc: ---
muse: 8/10

Round VI of V
Baratheon vs Black for Dominance

Attacks: Lunge and hold on the neck.
Defenses: Ears pinned, wing cushioned fall
Injuries: Gash on right side (old and scabbed over), Gash on right side of head (old and scabbed over), Cold face, Cold gem, Light scratches on the front of his muzzle

"Speech"
Thoughts

@Black
@Fisher

if I time it right, the thunder breaks

Fisher felt his stomach drop as the blur of black fur flew past him, lunging forward with absolute determination and not so much as a snarl. Black was the bravest, strongest gembound that the small brown noodle knew, but strength did not win battles. Not when your opponent was bigger, with sharper teeth and a twisting body... Who knew what else that monster was capable of.

As Black collided with the white beast, he flinched, the snarl of the King tearing through the air. The furred snake seemed to twist and turn, whipping out of Black's hold to sink his teeth into his friend's throat. "Black! Run!" He cried out, hoping that Black would hear and get away. Even together, Fisher was afraid they wouldn't be able to take him down without getting hurt or worse. The mustelid pressed forward, cursing his injured body, his damaged magic... If only he only fought battles that mattered and swallowed his pride. It was too late for those worries now though...

Fisher struggled to reach Fallah's side, summoning his magic. Whatever he had tried to do was dangerous and didn't work, but he had another type of magic that he knew he could do. Summon a storm. It had scared the King of Shadows, so surely it would at least distract the King of Blood. He had to hope, at least.

The clouds did not form as he expected, as though his magic had grown wild and feral in his injured state. Instead, he felt the air grow thick with static, the kind that made his fur stand on end. This warmonger was going to regret messing with Fallah, one way or another. The air crackled for a moment, and he realized what his magic wanted. What his gem was trying to do.

And Fisher thought it might just work. He put all his strength into the magic, creating a sharp burst of sound just behind the dragon's head.

fssHCRRRRKKKKKKKKK!

The tunnel roared with the thunder, making him jolt in surprise even though he had been expecting it-- and finally his paws fell in front of Fallah and he practically collapsed at her size. "... F-Ffallah, Fallah.. Please don't be dead, Fallah; I'm here. It's me, Fish'! I'm gonna get you out of here. You're gonna be okay?" He whined, keeping his voice to avoid catching the King's attention. Hopefully the sound was enough to deafen him. It left Fisher's own ears ringing after all. He pawed at the lynx, hoping for signs of life. The blood... There was so much blood.

@Black @Fallah

Black let out a strangled, choking yelp of pain despite himself as the fangs closed in on his neck, twisting and thrashing at the dragon, kicking out and snapping his jaws. He fell briefly silent, after his single yelp, struggling to bite down on anything, but the creature held his neck and it was out of reach.

Fisher's cry didn't even register, to him; instead he fought, letting out a guttural, growling roar, frustrated and feeling nothing but feral determination. He had to kill this thing. Nothing else mattered, not his hot blood spurting out to coat his black fur and fill the dragon's mouth, not the biting, screaming pain in his neck muscles. Only this fight.

Only Fallah. Only the one under his protection.

He felt the black stone at his heart tighten and then darken, felt himself instinctively drawing the shadows around him like a shroud. He felt them slip from the cavern walls, coming to his aid, sweeping toward him and growing larger--it was difficult, hard to concentrate while struggling in the enemy's fanged grip--and possibly Baratheon would not even notice.

But it worked, in the end, and a great shadowy beast seemed to rise over Black, looming and leering even as the dog let out another strangled, deep-voiced growl, the darkness flickering with tendrils and flashing eerily as Black struggled to control his magic. The thing lurched toward Baratheon, as if preparing to fall on him and rip him to pieces--though in the end, it was only shadow, with no power to truly harm him.

As a bluff, it might have been effective, were the dragon not in the midst of a bloodlust rage. As it was, Black might not be so lucky.

________________

@Fallah @Baratheon

He could feel his fangs sink into the opponent's neck, blood bubbled up from around his fangs which worked him into even more of a fury. He sank his fangs in deeper, wanting to do as much damage as he could and to taste as much as he could. It tasted good, better than any sort of drug and he was hooked on it. The bleeding lynx had been his prey at first but now with the blood bubbling from this dogs neck he had a new target. This was no longer a challenger but prey as well, prey that he wanted to take down and destroy so he could rip it into a thousand pieces and play in the blood.

He heard the thunderclap, like a rolling storm but he only gave the slightest of twitches from his ears. It was a pointless sound. It wasn't challenging him, it wasn't hurting him. It did not matter. Next he could see something large in front of him, advancing, but it was slow and it had no smell. It was not touching him nor did it even have a sound. It did not matter either. What mattered was the blood in this canine's neck and how much he wanted it. He wanted to rip further into the neck, into the jugular or some other vein to make the flow larger. To do this he began to jerk his head from side to side in an attempt to rip and tear the dog's neck open in the same manner that a canine might play with a toy. Except this was not play, this was a matter of life and death. Perhaps the dog could escape in the overzelous shaking of the dragon's head or perhaps he could not.

Feral growls and snarls erupted from Baratheon's throat as he went on with his grisly task like the warmonger he was.

---

"Speech"
Thoughts

words: 317
tagged: Fallah, Black, Fisher
ooc: ---
muse: 8/10

Round VII of V
Baratheon vs Black for Dominance

Attacks: Ripping and tearing at Black's neck.
Defenses: Ears pinned
Injuries: Gash on right side (old and scabbed over), Gash on right side of head (old and scabbed over), Cold face, Cold gem, Light scratches on the front of his muzzle

if I time it right, the thunder breaks

The winding King of Blood twisted around his best friend, teeth sinking into the ebony throat, blood oozing and spraying in the struggle. Fisher saw it in the corner of his vision, the shifting of Black's shadows, a magic that the earthy noodle had never witnessed before. It would not be enough. The ivory beast, muzzle stained crimson, had tasted blood and it wanted more, more, more.

There would be no escape from death. One of them would die. Fallah struggled to breath under his paws, a horrified trembling crawling through his pelt. Even with explicit instruction to run, the loyal mastiff would not back down until they were safe. Fisher didn't know what to do, what he could do. There was a distant thought of fleeing to Cetus, to find the father of noodles, and beg for help, but how could he carry Fallah all the way?

He couldn't. Fisher needed Black's help-- without his friend, they would all die. Sure, he could drag Fallah, if the monster of white and red was suitably distracted by a carcass... But Fisher couldn't think like that. He couldn't be responsible for another death of a Barkfriend. He would be lost without his companion.

They were supposed to be a family.

Fisher gave Fallah a gentle lick on her cheek, twisting away from her to stand down the larger noodle, the King of Blood as he had been dubbed. "Black!" He screeched, his vision blurring with tears. They couldn't die now. They had finally found each other. "GET OFF OF HIM!" The mustelid bolted, going for Baratheon's tail, hoping to climb up on the dragon's back. There was only one other time he had tried this magic-- and to be fair, it would likely hurt Black, too... But he had to do something. He was out of options. It was either them, or the King.

He felt the energy build up in his body as he surged forward. His gem glowed a hot, blinding white as lightning cracked off of it in arcs, singing his pelt in the heat. The electricity ran through his veins, his heart stumbling in the flush of static, but he didn't hesitate. He built up as much as he could, and threw himself at the dragon. His mouth filled with the taste of tinfoil, like blood bubbling into his throat but worse, sharper and tangier in sensation, and each of his teeth lit brightly in seething pain. His claws didn't feel much better, as he jammed his eyes shut and let the electricity surge from his body to the dragon's as he tried to make contact.

The pain sizzled out as he stumbled into the fluff of white. His magic... No matter how hard he pushed it, refused to come out. His head spun, his senses numbed, and he found himself struggling to find Black. Run, his thoughts desperately begged, run. Get out. Save yourself.

His thunderclap hadn't done it. Black's shadows hadn't even slightly bothered the beast. And even giving it everything he had, Fisher couldn't do it.

His friends were going to die because of him.

He didn't deserve his friends.

He was weak.

@Black @Fallah

Black continued to struggle, barely hearing Fisher's cries or noticing anything beyond the fight, beyond the press of weight against weight and the agonizing burn of teeth tearing through the flesh of his throat. The creature was thrashing, Black's nostrils filled with the odor of furry dragon, and even in his thrashing, he sneezed.

He was fighting to stay upright, feeling his paws and claws scraping and sliding back across the rock despite every muscle in his body braced against it. This monster had to weigh at least three times what he did, and it had little trouble shoving him about.

If I die, they die with me. Therefore, I cannot die.

A spike of ferocity raged through the dog, a rumbling, roaring growl erupting from him, rage flashing in his pale eyes as he turned, wheeling. His velvet-black muzzle wrinkled up in an ugly snarl, his white fangs fully bared past the pink gumline. The dragon was ripping back and forth, teeth biting, burrowing, looking for vein and jugular, and Black took the opportunity to try and jerk free, to rip away and turn to face Baratheon head-on.

Teeth tore through flesh, blood spraying out as muscle and skin tore, but his veins were intact, his carotid untouched. With a bellowing roar more suited to a tiger than a dog he leapt back and spun, squaring off and facing the dragon, tensing for another clash as the fur of his neck began to stain red.

Perhaps if he were one to give orders he'd have directed an attack, or shouted for Fisher to retrieve Fallah and flee, but Black's mind and adrenaline-flushed body was focused only on Baratheon, his vision narrowed until he could see nothing else.

Another hideous growl rolled from his chest, followed by a series of echoing, ferocious barks, fangs flashing at the dragon as Black prepared for another impact.

________________

@Baratheon

He could barely feel the clutch of tiny claws as the brown tried to go for him. His fur was too thick and the hold of the creature was not enough to distract him from his task of choking and ripping. He wanted the dog, he wanted all of the blood he had. He would rip and tear until he could no more. He clenched his jaws tighter and tighter until... He broke free! Bara didn't make it easy and he could feel his needle-like fangs tear through the flesh and bring even more blood and skin with with as the dog pulled away. With a hungry snap of his fangs he snapped up the bits of flesh he managed to pull away and snarled.

The nuisance, as he would of thought of it if he had any conscious thought, was still near his legs. He slowly began to stalk forward towards black, predatory in his actions, while his long tail swept once side to side possibly knocking the brown one away. But again, he was not paying attention to the non-bleeding one that was hardly attacking him... He wanted the one who's flesh and blood he had tasted. He wanted The Black Dog.

He crouched, red eyes narrowed as he snarled, crimson jaws slavering while he hungrily glared at the dog. Then, quick as a flash, he acted. The dragon lunged again with his mouth open and fangs bared while he aimed to charge full tilt into Black. His jaws were hoping for another grasp on that throat to taste his blood again.

---

words: 228
tagged: Fallah, Black, Fisher
ooc: ---
muse: 8/10

Round VIII of V
Baratheon vs Black for almost Death

Attacks: Tackle and lunge for throat!
Defenses: NONE! I'M A MOTHERFUCKING DRAGON!
Injuries: Gash on right side (old and scabbed over), Gash on right side of head (old and scabbed over), Cold face, Cold gem, Light scratches on the front of his muzzle

"Speech"
Thoughts

@Black
@Fisher

The blood seeping from his wounds seeped out, coating his muscular neck and shoulders, splattering a fine mist of droplets as he barked and feinted, mock-lunging. He knew the blood loss would become too great, that he would bleed and grow weak and cold, but it would take some time. He had a few moments, at least, and by then his body would be exhausted from this battle, regardless.

The dragon came again, charging, slamming toward him, and Black with all the instincts instilled him him leapt to one side--and immediately lunged forward, trying to catch the monster as its jaws whistled past, its glistening blood-streaked fangs bared.

Its eyes hold madness. It is mad.

The thought was vague and fleeting, flying away into the emptiness of nothing as the Black Dog's body lurched, muscles bunching and shoving, aiming to nail his fangs and jaws around Baratheon's snout in an attempt to grip on, in the manner of any bull- or bear-baiting dog fighting a much larger opponent. The instinctive logic is that if he was latched onto the monster's jaws, then surely it couldn't bite him.

But the white and sinuous creature was swift, and the dog was weakened, and missed his mark. Jaws snapped shut on empty air and instead he quickly tried to scramble back--still roaring a threatening litany of barks--out of range, his short hackles stood on end.

________________

@Fisher