DRETCH
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| ... and from your lips she drew your hallelujah |
| Lightning flashes again and I shift my body and head just enough to keep them both in sight. I can see the monster much better with the eyes of a great horned owl, even when the rumbling heavens randomly light up the mammoth oak and the surrounding clearing. The stranger snaps around to meet the creature head on, and I feel a bit of admiration when he twists his body and leaps agilely to the side. It is not very often that magic does not meet magic, not in the short seasons of my life at least. There are times that Set talks of when magic did not permeate Beqanna so thoroughly. When the kingdoms were fortresses of traited against traitless, even further divided by nature of character. He has raised me as he was raised – the only way he knows. While shapeshifting is a natural-born part of me, he often stymies it and forces me to rely only on my horse form. I bare my fangs in a silent growl as the stranger shouts, the coppery smell of mortal blood scenting the humid air, his maneless neck ducking briefly out of sight as he lands a solid blow on the winged arachnid. It reels, chittering and clacking, before setting off after its now retreating prey. Its large wings are cumbersome beneath the reaching branches of the oak that it had sought shelter beneath and it is scrambling and frantic as its bloodlust peaks. It is perhaps not the most intelligent of Afterlife devils I have come across and though fighting it is not what I had originally intended when I started out after it … I finally move, sprinting toward the combatants, the thrill of battle mixing with mortal trepidation in my blood. The depths of the Forest are ill-suited for a cheetah’s speed, so it is not a form I’ve used much, but out here in the open. I wince and grunt and hiss with the pain that comes with an especially unpracticed form, but it takes a back seat to the glorious speed with which I cover the ground. It either does not see me coming, or it doesn’t care. I retain the owl eyes until I am nearly on top of them before the farsightedness becomes too much to bear. I shift to full cheetah and now the two are only dark shapes on an even darker background, but I’m close enough to accomplish what I’ve set out to do. I duck underneath a hairy back leg, banking sharply to duck under the other and leap, reaching out to swat at the thing’s abdomen with wicked claws. Grasping past its thick fur, they find purchase in flesh and I clench my teeth tight against the wrenching of my shoulder as it anchors me. Quickly I reach up with my right paw, back legs scrabbling, climbing just behind where its wings pump furiously. It reeks, its fur matted with gods know what, sulphur and ichor spilling from the small wounds my summiting open up. I laugh as I reach the center of its back, the air stirred up from its wings whipping my mane into a frenzy, claws firmly entrenched in flesh. “Oi!” I shout to the stallion who stays just a few paces ahead of my nightmarish mount. I nearly slip as it skitters left and then right. “Evasive maneuvers!” I shout unhelpfully, laughter thick in my throat. Then the hell-beast comes to a skidding halt. Ejected, I flip ass over teakettle, crashing into his hocks just as he kicks out again. Thankfully I am close enough the blow doesn’t break anything, but the air leaves my lungs with a loud ooph and I’m flung back into the monster’s path. I scramble wildly to all four hooves – I’ve lost my cheetah’s form now, my pale grey eyes squinting in the darkness – and I turn to face the oncoming beastie, blood dripping from a dozen different injuries. I can smell its fetid breath as it bears down on me, and with a flick of my head, I disappear. It stops again, wings limp at its side, unsure as lightning flashes again. If one were watching really closely, they might see a small moth fluttering above it … the next flash of lightning brings with it a loud squelching sound as I crush it with my moth-turned-elephant’s body. “Ow, ow, ow, ow.” I’m laughing and groaning at the same time, horse once again, rolling about in the nauseating remains of the thing. |
@[Kaenros]