Post by Jet on Jul 27, 2012 18:13:41 GMT -5
Once this barren land was lush and vivid. Once the river rana deepblue and tasted cool and refreshing. Once the dusty sky was a vast parchment of fluffy, white couds. But now everything was desolate and dead. Dead like the ripped entrails of a monster. Dead like the howl of a demon. Dead like the forgotten memory of a nightmare. Dead. The word was so terribly common amongst the savage beasts that lurked the searing desert, but only few can be described as much. Undead. Was it true that there was a walking zombie from hell amongst the desert population? Was ittrue that the thing was the spawn of Satan, perhaps Satan himself? And of course, was he the reaping skythe of Death, or was he just a petrifying underling sent to this burning land to spread fears upon mortals?
Massive, murky paws struck the ground, pressing into the hot grit with every step, razor sharp claws forged upon a midnight anvil sinking into the dry soil to score it with miniscule canyons, a small cloud of dust rising into the lung burning air to taint the particles with choking brown smoke as each step was made, forming a thick trail that slowly dispersed as the massive, terrifying creature moved on. A white tipped tail dropped towards the ground,with no emotions the satanic monster wished to display other then the constant, burning hatred in those gates to oblivion he called eyes, the hellish gaze scanning the dying, cracked land for prey, crooked nose twitchig to test the foul air for foreign scents, ravaged, torn ears perked up and swivling around like radars.
As usual, the horrific feline demon was on a lone patrol of his self proclaimed desert home, his ivory belly and chest darkened by dust that rose from heavy paws, black pelt sleek with sweat that rolled off his back and moistoned the ground, though only for a moment before the heat claimed even the slightest bit of salty presperation. Muscles rippled with every small movement, large frame laced with ragged scars that should have killed him, but the Prince of Blood had survived, gifted by the minions of Death to walk this Earth forever, spreading chaos wherever his paws struck.
Jetstream snorted dust from his nostrils and shook his pelt to rid it of clingy residue.No doubt his horrid, decaying scent would alert others of his appearance, but if they recognized it, they were sure to flee before the devil himself. This new smell that tickled his nose was of something strange, something undecernable. Rogue. His long legs brought him into a steady gallop, the cloud around him thickening and rising higher towards the sky as Jetstream sprinted toward the western border with ivory incisors bared, blood trimmed gums displayed and gleaming crimson. The scent of spilled body fluids was tantalizing, the metallic taste fresh on his tongue. Blood, free of the veins that imprisoned it, and attracting the worst of creatures that could have come.
Massive, murky paws struck the ground, pressing into the hot grit with every step, razor sharp claws forged upon a midnight anvil sinking into the dry soil to score it with miniscule canyons, a small cloud of dust rising into the lung burning air to taint the particles with choking brown smoke as each step was made, forming a thick trail that slowly dispersed as the massive, terrifying creature moved on. A white tipped tail dropped towards the ground,with no emotions the satanic monster wished to display other then the constant, burning hatred in those gates to oblivion he called eyes, the hellish gaze scanning the dying, cracked land for prey, crooked nose twitchig to test the foul air for foreign scents, ravaged, torn ears perked up and swivling around like radars.
As usual, the horrific feline demon was on a lone patrol of his self proclaimed desert home, his ivory belly and chest darkened by dust that rose from heavy paws, black pelt sleek with sweat that rolled off his back and moistoned the ground, though only for a moment before the heat claimed even the slightest bit of salty presperation. Muscles rippled with every small movement, large frame laced with ragged scars that should have killed him, but the Prince of Blood had survived, gifted by the minions of Death to walk this Earth forever, spreading chaos wherever his paws struck.
Jetstream snorted dust from his nostrils and shook his pelt to rid it of clingy residue.No doubt his horrid, decaying scent would alert others of his appearance, but if they recognized it, they were sure to flee before the devil himself. This new smell that tickled his nose was of something strange, something undecernable. Rogue. His long legs brought him into a steady gallop, the cloud around him thickening and rising higher towards the sky as Jetstream sprinted toward the western border with ivory incisors bared, blood trimmed gums displayed and gleaming crimson. The scent of spilled body fluids was tantalizing, the metallic taste fresh on his tongue. Blood, free of the veins that imprisoned it, and attracting the worst of creatures that could have come.
