And I can't not believe in blood. - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: And I can't not believe in blood. (/showthread.php?tid=6496) |
- Gabriel de le Poer - 06-16-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... able_2.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Backdated to June 11th, early morning. Assuming the weather is overcast. It had been far too long. Gabriel had been unable to find any trace of the man that had nearly killed his son, and become frustrated by such a thing. Kaena had put him on the path of revenge again. With her voice ringing in his head, with the vicious and needy demand to see blood, the Aquila had left Inferni and begun his hunt. For the past two days he had been searching for any trail, and until an hour ago, he had been without luck. Then the scent had rushed up from the earth as if it was being expunged. The air had filled his lungs and he had begun to move with a new sense of urgency. Gabriel had not realized he was shifting forms until his scarred shoulder let out a twinge of pain. As the scent had grown more powerful the lupus form had been abandoned for the stronger, larger Secui body. He might have been a monster for the size and power his blood granted him—and despite this he was silent, walking over the pine-needles to dampen his sound. The scent became overwhelming. It became maddening. Gabriel saw the black and white wolf before him and everything else fell away. Without a sound the hybrid rushed forward, ears flat against his head, fur on end, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl, and aware of nothing but the need to kill. - Corvus Vendetta - 06-16-2009 [html] style="padding: 2px; position: relative; left: 120px; top: 9px; width: 244px; height: 433px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;"> I’d like it if Corvus didn’t get too roughed up, since I need him to have been able to play in his last thread; did you have a particular outcome in mind? Corvus will have a personality that will counter with that of Gabriel’s, since he is calm and also trained—he’d be the equivalent of a martial arts master.
- Gabriel de le Poer - 06-17-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... able_2.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> I intended for Gabriel to go into a frenzy, which would turn him basically into a chainsaw with teeth. Maybe once he does that Corvus can be all ">:|" and take off? Gabriel could lose him in the rain/whatever? That way neither of them are super roughed up? There was only the fire, and that lit his feet and detached them from his body. Gabriel’s world was made of blood and fire, and this night he intended to see both. If he could kill the demon, he would. His goal was to make the pied brute suffer as his son had suffered—an eye for an eye, so to say. Even if he did not succeed in breaking the man in half, he would leave his mark. That would be enough. Ezekiel was stronger then Talitha, and what had been done to him was not half so horrible. Andrezej had to die; this man only needed to suffer for his sins. Gabriel rushed past the man, and felt his teeth graze against thick fur. He turned and lowered his head wolfishly, ears raised in his own crown, tail level with his spine and claws buried in the earth. There were no words; he did not intend to hold council with the demon, nor speak to him. This was a more primeval language, one that had existed since the first wolf had turned against his brother. It did not matter if Gabriel was seeking revenge for his son, or if he had come with only blood on his mind. Either way they would engage in this dance because it had been so demanded of the charcoal-brushed hybrid. His snarl caused his face not simply to twist, but to crack and break. Except it was not simply a snarl; Gabriel was grinning. Though this battle had to occur for terrible reasons, it still filled the need for battle and bloodshed. It excited him. It made him feel complete. All four feet dug into the earth and uncoiled like steel springs, sending him towards the other man. Even if he gained bruises or wounds by doing this, he would learn how the stranger fought, and then he would use that knowledge to slay him. - Corvus Vendetta - 06-17-2009 [html] style="padding: 2px; position: relative; left: 120px; top: 9px; width: 244px; height: 433px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;"> That’s cool~ Do you think that it would be somehow possible for Corvus to just walk away? He’s not really the running type >__>
- Gabriel de le Poer - 07-04-2009 [html] http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee19 ... able_2.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> I intended for Gabriel to go into a frenzy, which would turn him basically into a chainsaw with teeth. Maybe once he does that Corvus can be all ">:|" and take off? Gabriel could lose him in the rain/whatever? That way neither of them are super roughed up? Between the blows and the exchange of fur and blood, there was tactic and impulse. The pied wolf fought with the detachment that Gabriel himself valued in combat. He was, however, losing himself. Rushing through his ears was the singular sound of his own blood, and it deafened everything—the wounds, the wind, the peculiar silence that his opponent fought with. Amber eyes remained fixed on the pools of black, shark’s eyes, snake eyes, and he knew that this wolf was truly a demon. Something snapped in his consciousness, as suddenly as breaking glass. Gabriel was not aware of the rising storm, or the change in the air. Electricity crackled through the sky. A bolt of lightning broke across the ebony-indigo storm clouds. None of this did Gabriel see. His singular focus was the pied wolf, even that vision was turning hazy. Their battle might have gone on for five or ten minutes before he was aware of the stranger’s presence fading. Blindly, Gabriel charged through the trees, finding nothing but fading scents and a mix-match trail that the rain was quickly erasing. The amount of water was staggering—Gabriel could not see but one foot in-front of him, and his own coat was soaking up the water desperately. Furious, bruised, bleeding, the Aquila snarled and staggered through the sheets of water. He had not managed to kill the beast. Still, he had done something. Eventually, the doggish male found a semi-dry overhang and rested there, staring ahead into the pouring rain. He felt nothing. That, perhaps, was the most peculiar thing of all. |