|
|
|
|
|
Orpheus Solon rolled 5 100-sided dice:
21, 50, 42, 56, 36
Total: 205 (5-500)
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Nov 30, 2013 1:56 pm
Character: Eyphah
Stage: Drakein
Luck: 41 + 0 Luk exp
Dragon: Gaili x 5
Failure Rate: 1-80
Success Rate: 81-100
Exp gained:
30(60/60) = 30 x 5 (( number of dragons )) = 150 x 2 (( Blood Moon Effect)) = 300
300 + 58 (from last battle) = 60/60 61/61 62/62 63/63 64/64 with 48 left over
~ +5 Levels
~ +5 Luk Exp = 3/3 = 1 Luk Point + 2/3 Left over
Word Count Needed: 1500
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 30, 2013 2:32 pm
Eyphah was more then certain that he was exactly where he shouldn't be at the moment... but could anyone blame him? The Diabi was in the most horrible of moods that one could possibly be in. There was a moment, one bright and shining moment, where he'd had everything he ever wanted in his hands... only to have it ripped away by some pink haired broad who obviously thought far too highly of herself. To go from feeling on top of the world at having just attained the status of Drakeinian to nearly being killed by her... it was more then frustrating, it was just... humiliating. He was so angry at himself for losing in such a manner, he should have done more, tried harder, hit harder, made that woman suffer in the manner that he was suffering now. She was an awful creature, one that declared territory as her own when a worthless two legs had no real claim to it. She wasn't like the Drakein, she was just a nobody two-legs, nothing worth his time... and yet she'd beaten him. No, not even beaten him, she had been out to slaughter him in the same manner that he did dragons and without any sort of remorse either. She was probably gleeful over cutting him down.
Lifting a hand up to one of his wounds that was still aching he gave a snarling sound in his throat, continuing to move forward toward where he could smell the Gaili. He needed to hunt, needed to get stronger, needed to prove it to himself and the world that he wasn't weak! He wouldn't allow anyone else to look down on him, wouldn't let anyone treat him like an invalid child that was in need to constant babysitting. He was no Keinling, he didn't need his mother and Tallulah constantly hovering around him! What he needed was for them to understand that he was going to do this, he was going to fight, train, kill, and feast! He was going to find his way back to the path that he had been forging, and when he did he would make that woman suffer. He would tear things away from her that meant so much he thought to himself darkly, wanting nothing more then for her to be brought as low and she had brought him. The problem being that she was strong, very strong, and merciless... and he would merely have to be the same. How he hated that woman. Almost as much as he hated himself when he came to and realized how badly he'd lost, to the point that were it not for Tallulah that he would have been dead.
It really was a chilling thought. To think that he would have been dead were it not for the chance meeting that caused him to take Tallulah under his wing so that he could teach the strange Merkein. Had he not stopped that day, had he not saved him from the Kiandri dragon, had he not trained him he would be dead... a thought he didn't want to think about. Damn it! He was supposed to have been so much more powerful upon becoming a Drakeinian! What was it about that pink haired wench that made her so strong? What was she? How did she train? How often did she kill that she would just cut him down without even blinking? She was a monster of the highest caliber and were it not for the fact that she'd stabbed him in the back before trying to murder him outright he'd of found her quite attractive. Instead he wanted nothing more then to end her existence and toss her in his stew pot. He wouldn't be able to do so though, not until he got stronger... and stronger and stronger, until he could stand toe to toe with any beast on land, in the air, or under the sea, only then would he able to stand up against that monstrous woman... and when he was at that point he'd be sure to make her hurt.
Snarling again he came over the top of the dune he was climbing, looking down at the group of Gaili there and his eyes flashed red. Yes, there they were, the first step in climb back to the top he thought to himself as he charged forward toward them, releasing a battle cry as he went, throwing himself into the fray against the lot of them. There was nothing about the way he threw himself against them that was elegant. If anything it was far from it. He kicked, snarled, stabbed, bit, and otherwise made a huge, bloody mess of everything. There were five of the dragons, more then he'd ever taken on alone, and yet he just didn't care at this particular moment in time. Not about their numbers, not about his wounds paining him, not about the fact that he wasn't up to snuff at the moment. Nothing mattered other then him releasing all the pent up emotions he was feeling. It was all being held back for too long and he just needed this, to let it all out, to make a mess, and to try to make himself feel better.
It was a good feeling, the way his claws rent through dragon flesh, the wonderful scent of blood that wasn't his. He couldn't help but to revel in it, it was what he'd been missing in his down time, and it helped to ease the roiling emotions, helping him to regain a bit of himself. Along with losing the battle he really felt as though he'd lost himself. Sure, he'd lost to dragons in the past, they had injured him or they had escaped before he could make a meal of him, but at least he'd been on top of things then. There was just something about that woman that irked him in the worst possible way. Likely the fact that she looked down on him in such a manner, as though he were some mere beast. She declared the territory hers, territory that belonged to his mother, and then just used her magic to cut him down. Bah! Magic! Weak woman, couldn't even fight him like a... erm... well, man.
He had always preferred the physical side of life, the physical side of battling, being right up in his opponent's face, feeling his claws sink in, tasting their blood... but perhaps he was missing something? Would magic in fact aid him? Would it help him to become that much stronger? An interesting idea, one he would pose to Tallulah. The Merkein was a magic user as well as a fighter, he would make his student aid him in the magical arts just as Eyphah had aided Tallulah with the physical side of things. That would aid him in his quest to become stronger, of that he was more then certain!
Another long, angry roar erupted from him as he too a swipe at another of the dragons... and realized that it was retreating and the rest had gone before it. It would appear as though the idea of standing up against him, likely what appeared to be a rather deranged creature that wasn't out to kill but instead just out to cause mayhem, didn't appeal to the Gaili. Instead they had all just bolted, leaving Eyphah standing there all alone once more. His eyes flickered from side to side, going a bit wide, before he gave off a string of colorful curses, angry that they had left so soon. Damn it! He was trying to let off some steam, stupid, worthless, dragons! They were supposed to stick around until he was either feeling better, feeling bored, feeling exhausted, or they were dead... they weren't supposed to run away like the scaly cowards that they were appearing to be in this moment.
Giving a rumbling sound under his breath the Diabi lifted a bloody hand to rub the heel of it against his aching wound, "Damn it... I am too sore to deal with this disappointment." He muttered to himself. He didn't want to deal with this, he just wanted to... to... well, he wasn't sure. All he knew for certain was that he wanted to keep going! He didn't want to slow down, didn't want to stop, he really felt as though he had been sitting still for too long, being coddled by Tallulah, his mother, and the clan. Sure, their attention had been nice, it made him feel wanted he supposed, but he didn't want to deal with it any longer. He wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't inept, that he could still hunt, still fight, and still kill even if that woman made him look so bad. He would prove himself and once he had he would feel once more as though he was worthy of the power that he'd attained. He was Drakeinian now, he wasn't meant to fail, he had to pick himself up, dust himself off, and prove himself as one. He didn't care if he had to attack and kill every Gaili in Eowyn to make himself feel better, if it worked then he would be more then happy to do it. With that thought in mind the Diabi went charging forward once more, determined to catch up with the dragons that had escaped from him, wanting to make lunch of them...
(( Word Count: 1573 ))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
