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DraconicFeline rolled 2 100-sided dice:
26, 32
Total: 58 (2-200)
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 Posted: Fri Nov 22, 2013 5:52 pm
Character || Ruelash
Stage || Swordsman
Battling || Nehredile x2
Battle Stat || 16
Defense || 12
Roll Needed || 80-100
Rolled || 26, 32
Outcome || Lose x2
Experience earned ||
Difficulty: 13
2 (13x 2 ) / 2= 36
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Posted: Thu Nov 28, 2013 6:47 pm
Ruelash, covered in snow, waited, muscles tense, for his prey. It was the prey that kept eluding him, the prey he wanted to take down and tear apart for the frustration it was giving him. He wanted to feel its struggles and hear its dying screams and take its gods damned horn. He was sure it was the same one every time he tried. It was that glint in it's eye, that smirk on its face (if nehredile could smirk). It had laughed at him, Ruelash could swear that it had, and so he not only wanted its horn, he was angry and he wanted it.
So he waited, trying not to grind his teeth too much. He saw it, finally, popping out of an ice hole not too far away. Its markings were distinctive- it was the one, the one that he wanted dead. Ruelash tensed like a tautened bow. He'd wait until it was closer: no more falls on the ice, no more stupid trip ups: he would launch through the air and slash hard and fast with his blades and wrestle it to its doom. That was the plan, such as it was. It whumphed across the ice, pushing its girth along with its fins and tail languidly. It was not in a hurry.
Ruelash's heartbeat sped up. He could feel his blood whooshing past his ears. He could taste the bitter tang of adrenaline as it raced through his system. He ran his tongue against his teeth, set between a grimace and a grin.
C'mon you fat lug, just a little closer... he thought to himself, his wild eyes impatient to see a fight and blood and death, Just a bit more... thats it..." it was so close now, so tantalizingly close, but he forced himself to sit still. Not yet. Not yet.
It slid closer, its belly gliding smoothly against the ice.
NOW.
Ruelash leapt with a yell from his makeshift blind like a streak of murderous blue, his eyes on his prize and only on his prize. It looked at him, and for a moment, midair, their eyes met. It had that amused glitter in its eye. It was laughing at him. AT HIM. Ruelash's rage flared and he prepared to bring his swords down in a sweeping slash. How dare it laugh at him, the ferocious hunter? How dare it laugh in the face of it's death? How dare...
Ruelash's enraged leap was cut short when something massive and heavy hit him from behind. He tumbled, off course, dropping his swords to protect himself from their sharpness and from the ice that came rushing up to meet his head.
His arm hit the ground, his shoulder following, and he scrambled to his feet.
There were two of the fat horned bastards harrumphing at him with that uncanny laughter sound. One was his, and the other was not. It must have popped up from another Gorgorum hole, he realized. He scanned the ice for his swords, though he was mad enough to try to take on two nehrediles with his bare hands. When he saw where they were, he graduated from mad to enraged: they were under the flippers of one of the Nehredile. He leapt at them with an inarticulate cry- how dare they mock him?! How dare they trick him! He'd kill them both and rip out their horns and cut them to pieces and eat them!
The nehredile simply moved back, poked at his feet with their horn, and unbalanced him, sending him tumbling, face first, to the ice with a thud. He heard them leave, harrumphing with their laughter, and by the time he could unplant his face from the lake, they were gone. He retrieved his swords and stalked off, fuming. He'd get them someday.
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