<h4>Out of Character</h4>Hehe, my little furball is going to love watching this one die. I’d say you can start killing him off in your next few posts? Or as soon as you see fit. ;) <h4>In Character</h4> For a few moments, while everybody else was focused on Thoren’s impending reaction, Okkie was transfixed only on the professor whom she clung to. Though her words had been extremely odious and malicious in intent, she still embraced him as if really was her sweetheart, her dearest lover. Her single arm was wrapped around his neck, and she crooned devilish notes in his ear. They were soon knit quite tightly together, when he finally echoed the gestures of counterfeit affection, and, indeed, they began to dance. Okkie lead this nameless stranger in a short rumba about the bonfire (which he, impressively enough, muted with paranormal sorcery). The mismatched pair danced around the smokeless light, her muzzle pressed to his throat as she gave him a few sound bites against the throb of his jugular. This travesty went on for a few good moments, her all the while giving him little signals of her true intent — nasty little cuts with her claws on his shoulders, a pinch or two with her teeth on his jowls, and a whole bunch of slurring into his pricked ears. Then, abruptly, it stopped as Twelve grasped her partner and pushed away, twirling to a stop at Puanym’s flank, now facing the rest of the group… but mostly Thoren. The cessation of the little waltz brought a slew of course language from the brightly colored male, and Okkie cocked her head and paid close attention as the low blows streamed from his maw. He implied that she was in love with him, and went into a winded spiel about how they weren’t really lovers — as if she hadn’t known all along that they were simply toying with one another. She held back a sarcastic grin as she nodded along with Thoren’s ruthless words, predicting what came next… direct strikes upon her character. Alas, she was right on the money; as soon as the male had finished ‘convincing’ those gathered that he was not, and had never been, in love with Okkie, he continued to plow onwards with insults, now calling her dirty and easy. Hand found itself on curved right hip as the banded femme drank in every one of his words, musing over how easy it was to get beneath this one’s papery, yellow skin. Though, of course, his lexis struck bitterness in her heart, she knew how audacious and supercilious Thoren was being. She knew she only did drugs sparingly, she knew she had only made love to one pendragon a single time, and she knew she was not ‘used’ in any way (though she may have, exaggeratingly, made it seem otherwise, in order to make herself seem tougher, as Thoren had correctly alleged). But let him go ahead and think every little embellishment of his is the truth. It makes no difference. And the ones really worthy of being here know the truth… know it almost instinctively. He lacks that finery, and I have no doubts that he will meet his death tonight. This satisfies and squelches any urge to reciprocate his insults, and so I will give him silence — when all he wants is a retort, I will make him suffer with absolute quietude. And that was exactly what she did. When Thoren had finally expelled every slur he had to offer, Twelve gave him a look as if to say, “Are you quite done yet?” She then held out her right arm towards the pond, inviting him to go ahead if he so desired. She had nothing to say to him… she wouldn’t acknowledge his juvenile behavior. All Okkie wanted was to see him drown like a weedy rat.
<span style='color:gray'> Both words and actions appeared to be getting vicious, and far more complicated - the soft footsteps of dancing, then the slurred and cruel words of a jealous male. It seemed Thoren didn't take Okkie's news of her lover too well, just as the petite feline had predicted in her mind. When delicate hearing picks up the sound of a bottle being broken, the one in which Thoren had so nastily flung at Okkie and the male, polar pelted feline slips silently, a little closer to Puanym. He seemed sane enough compared to the others residing around the flames and the madness. Words a spoken of a swim - Thoren was first to take on the lake, hm? Perhaps this was a good omen. She and Puanym would have a rough idea of how nasty the lake was when Thoren emerged from the other side.. Maybe he would tell them what to expect. If, that is - he actually made it out alive.. Until then though, feline would stay quiet, and stick near Puanym. Safety in numbers, after all.</span>
Twelve was dancing--how quaint. She and her professor seemed enthralled with one another, waltzing in their own little world before Okkie finally halted them, now stilling her form just shy a few feet from the ebon-blue pendragon. Puanym's eyes shifted, but not his body. His ears were perked, listening to the rain of insults Thoren had to offer now that his dignity seemed to have taken a blow. Romantic interest, no, but the sable-winged 'dragon had a feeling that the cocky male wasn't used to being the one so suddenly rejected. Puanym had the sudden urge to follow Thoren into the lake, to strangle him, hold his head beneath the water until he breathed. Twelve had said they were to recieve no assistance in swimming the lake, she'd said nothing about helping someone else die. Of course, he withstood this temptation, as he had done to many others so very similar to that. Had not Twelve said that she did not believe Thoren would have a later? Perhaps she had concocted something out on the lake that would ensure his demise. That would be something he'd pay to see. Gray eyes shifted again, now to the silent female who had taken up a spot beside him. What had Okkie called her? Xestri, that was it. This one had been silent throughout most of their little meeting, and the look in her eyes made him wonder. The pale blue orbs seemed to stare off into nothingness, and it took a moment for Puanym to realize that she was blind. She acted well enough, and moved easily enough that it seemed she had made up for the disability somehow. Even so, Puanym couldn't help but wonder if he'd be the only pendragon besides Okkie to walk away with his life that night. Sighing softly, his eyes flickered back to Thoren, souless orbs rippling with a savage crimson of spiteful glee, hoping against all else that the yellow dragon would not make it back out of the lake. He was prepared to go next, simply awaiting to see the fate of the loathsom jackass who had graced their presence that night.
<font color=darkred>Kjetta let Twelve lead him in a rumba around the fire but knew by her aggressiveness in her biting and clawing that he was not trusted, but wanted to make him play along. He felt her bite against his vein and growled with passion and his tail flame turned the brightest yellow signalling his undying love for the beautiful girl. He still held her around the waist with one hand but the other was wandering from her face to down to grip her lone upper arm, possessively. He was enjoying this closeness. The intimacy. But then she pulled away. A glimmer of sadness washed over his facial features as twirled off to face Thoren. His audits twisted as he walked slowly over to Twelve, listening to the rude boy and his orbs flashed warningly as did his tail flame, switching from the brightest yellow to a burnt orange. His lion-like tail swished about behind him as he stopped to be just behind Twelve but to her side a little. He watched as she calmly dealt with Thoren in a unique and yet powerful way and of how Thoren walked over to the dark pool. Kjetta slyly wrapped his arms around Twelve's middle, but not tightly and whispered into her ear You are a fine dancer and how you, beautiful and amazing woman, doesn't loose her temper at comments made like that directly at you is astonishing.. He said before nipping at her ear quite gently but firmly and then resting his head on her shoulder, watching what would happen next to Thoren. He couldn't really care if Thoren drowned after those comments he made to his love...Well, at least who he loved...</font>
Thoren cared little what they all thought - everyone was entitled to their own opinion. Whether they believed he really cared for XII as more than a live sex toy, or that his enormous ego was really bruised by her leaping from one male to the next, was their own problem. This god among mortals wasn't going to play petty games with the filth left by the fire. Yet. No, he was going to swim the lake. Her booby trapped pond. He'd show her he was worthy, show her what she missed out on. Grinning impishly to himself, he crosses his arms, standing tall. His bi-colored eyes survey the lake, looking at the still water for any sign of movement; ripples on the surface. Any bubbles. Any eyes of vicious creatures. This lake had no real tributaries, so there was no strong current. No, if she'd laid traps they were underwater. So, he'd butterfly his way across, rather than doggy paddle. No time wasted, maybe he could set a record or something. The brilliantly yellow male looks back at the sorry group, who were all watching him, he found. Ah. He had an audience. The poor, stupid professor. Did he not realize he would be discarded twice as fast as himself? Puanym looked fit to kill - let him try. Thoren wasn't unused to fighting - and winning. And the little blind femme, Xestri, well she looked as if she were garnering protection from Puanym. She'd better learn to care for herself: the only one you can trust is yourself. And sometimes, not even that! Grinning broadly, he scoffs at the four, displaying his muscled structure to those with vision, but the obvious air of superiority and arrogance wouldn't go unnoticed by the blind. Taking three quick steps, the yellow male dives into the lake, with amazing grace, not something one would expect from a self-centered conman such as himself. Retaining his biped form, he swiftly butterfly-strokes across the surface of the water, reaching the other side of the so-called "booby-trapped" lake in mere seconds. Heaving himself out of the lake seemed a tad difficult.. He blamed it on the haste he'd just used to cross the water, rather than his drunken state. Afterall, nor he nor the others were wise to the fact she'd doctored the concoction. But still, he made the exit look easy. He wouldn't betray any weakness now. Shaking himself dry was also arduous, but was also done with ease and style. Running his fingers through his damp hair, he turns around and snarls a savage grin at the pitiful four. A grin of triumph. And that aformentioned air of superiority and arrogance just got stronger when joined by self-worth. His blue and red eyes then rest on Twelve. He'd taunt the doubting witch first. Shouting across to her, his tone takes on one of drippingly false sympathy, "Oh, dear, dove! I'm so sorry to dissapoint! Look at that. I live. There is a later. I suppose you'll have to deal with me now, won't you? Poor, poor, you.." he snickers. Then he turns his taunt to the other two he'd begun with, "Come on in! Water's fine! Just watch out for the sinks on the lake floor, and the kuenum lying in wait. I suggest you don't dawdle." He snaps his jaws, mimicking the act of the huge crocodillian-like creatures making a snack of the other two pendragons. He then looks to the love-blinded professor, "And you, old man, grab yourself a drink if you think you can stomach it, and prove your 'love' by defying death and injury!" Thoren starts to turn away, then looks back and adds a sweetly childish taunt, "Or are you scared if you do, the one arm'd gimp'll will turn her slutty self to Puanym in your absence? Or maybe even Xestri? You never know.. Maybe you'll be able to get in on that threesome - if you're lucky. Absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder with that one." He thought himself quite clever. Not for the taunts and teasings and low blows he'd just delivered. But he'd proven his worth. He passed her test. And what a wimpy test it was! Just to show her, once more, after the others had thrown their retorts back, or just simmered in anger if they thought themselves too high and mighty to be above a bit of mud-throwing, he'd swim back to the other side, and throw them all in to be eaten alive by the monsters of the deep. Yes, that's exactly what he'd do.. now, to await their replies. \\ OOC: If you all haven't already guessed (Kattle already knows), he'll drown (& possibly be eaten, I haven't decided. I think I will though. Nice'n'bloody end. mwahaha!!) on the return trip. ;) So I'd advise against swimming just yet. Besides, once the hunger of the kuenym is satisfied, your trips will be a bit safer. *cackles*
“My ability to disregard his comments has nothing to do with beauty or amazement. It has everything to do with common sense, and the ability to control oneself against negatory emotions. He may not be able to keep his tongue from wagging, but I can. And that is where I have him. That mouth of his is his Achilles heel.” Okkie shook her head as she spoke softly, her words directed at her dance partner, as well as Xestri and Puanym. She folded her single arm across supple chest as she glared after Thoren, watching his every cocky move with glowing eyes. She wanted so badly to offer her own acidic retorts, to tear into his flesh with vocal barbs, and saw at his over-inflated ego. But she had self control, and she also dared not push herself to his level. She would simply not all the canary-colored jerk to get under her skin that way, and she would not let his actions influence her own. Okkie was a solid spirit; it would take more than cursed missiles to get a reaction from her. In complete contrast, Thoren seemed to be letting the banded female get to him, and then some. He threw out jeers as quickly as his sluggish, moronic mind could make them up. This surprised Okkie, and also disgusted her… Had she really almost touched this rat’s most sensitive spots, had she actually almost dirtied her hand on his manhood? She shuddered involuntarily, and watched as the arrogant male turned and dove into the icy pond. She found herself loathing him more and more as each moment passed, with each stroke he took across the surface of the shiny black water. In fact, when he reached the other bank and hoisted himself onto the shore, proclaiming victory, the gimp almost leaned forward and vomited. This utter creep reviled her; she found herself loathing him with a passion. “I hate him,” Twelve spoke softly, shiftering her weight and giving Puanym a sideways glance. “I hate him, and I would love nothing more than to see his innards ripped from his urethra in a bloody, piss-slathered mess. And you know what? I would love nothing more than to see you, Xestri, and Teacher over here do that job… But I have a feeling the end is even closer to him than we are, rearing up even as I speak, bladed teeth bared and ready to pierce his weak, sallow flesh.”
<span style='color:gray'> Thoren's words seemed to grow more and more spiteful, his lashing tongue now directing at all members of the group, no longer just the dancing pair. Azure scythed feline kept mouth shut at these words, as in the long run, it would probably be a safer move. By the sounds of things, not only had the cocky male already conquered the pond once, but he was on his way back - and in his mood, the small one wouldn't have been suprised if he'd thrown the rest of them in after him, especially if further nasty comments were made. No, the safest thing to do here, was keep quiet. Although, the mere thought of letting out all steam and yelling at the cruel swimmer was quite appealing. Xestri found her hatred growing for this angered male, which is greatly unlike her, as she is usually always calm, and taking note of the best in people. But, with this beast, there was nothing to take note of. Overall, he appeared nothing more to the polar hued feline as a sore loser. I hate him. Okkie's words reached her hearing, and pupil-less optics, although they would see nothing but blurred images etched into the mind, glanced in the direction of her voice. One ear too, swivelled in that direction, the other staying focused towards the pond, and any sounds emitting from Thoren. Remaining silent still, Xestri nods gently in agreement, after Okkie's preminition of Throen's end. They could hope, couldn't they? </span>
Puanym's tail and eyes now had a constant flicker of that blood-red hue, a sure sign that Thoren's jabs were inavoidably hitting their mark. His hands were clenching, the muffled crunch of popping joints telling just how much he'd like to kill the yellow male right now. Turning his head in one, suddenly swift movement, he grinned at Okkie. A wide, snarling grin, filled with sadistic pleasure at her oh-so-decriptive wording of Thoren's death at his hands. "If Twelve says Thoren will not make it back out of the lake, then Puanym is inclined to believe her..." came his half-snarled reply. "But even if Thoren does climb out of the water, he will not be leaving this clearing." No, he would not. If Thoren did happen to haul his sorry carcass from the lake, Puanym had every intention of carrying out Okkie's plan to a T. He was perched on the edge of one of his rare, homicidal rages, fueled mostly by Thoren's spouting insults, and no doubt enhanced by whatever drink Okkie had supplied them with. He would wait, wait and see if Okkie's prediction of death would come true. It would anyway, but whether it happened in the lake, or by Puanym's hand, depended entirely on how well Thoren coped with whatever horrors Okkie had placed in the water. He would go next...yes, he would. If Thoren was taken as food, then whatever happened to eat him would be too preoccupied with its meal to go after Puanym. Unless there was more than one, of course.
<font color=darkred>Kjetta kept his ebony arms wrapped around her waist since Twelve didn't seem to mind, and his brown orbs always focusing on that creature in the water. His firey-coloured hair fell in front of his eyes for a moment but with a swift movement, Kjetta brushed it back into place with his long claws, and returned his hand to her waist. I happen to agree with Puanym.. if that nasty piece of work gets out of the lake, he'll have not only Thoren but me to deal with. I'll burn his fur off before freezing his skin and then burning him again 'till the fur has at least no chance of growing back. Then I'll tear him limb from limb... He said snarling slightly, his large teeth glistening in the dim light as he did so. But of course, watching him being ripped to shreds by a kuenum, would be almost just as entertaining... and call me by my name my love. You know it's Kjetta don't you? He said grinning before nipping Twelve's audit once more. He knew that she didn't know his name but they were still playing along in this game of hers, so he worded things carefully. Kjetta silently wished that he could call deamons to his side to kill off Thoren and just pull him apart and then he could give his love that swine's head on a platter to do with as she wished....</font>
\\ OOC: Let it be known that I am damned exhausted, and lacking creative spirit.. but this is Thoren's swan song, and I don't want to hold y'all up from the remainder of the RP. (Which I'm incredibly interested in now, so I'm gonna be staaaalkinnnng youuuuu.. X} ) So here 'tis, quite relatively unimaginative. Thoren dies. *DBZ-ish scream for 40 years* Urrrg!!!1one11!!one!!!11one! The end. *grins* I'm so sarcastic when I'm overtired! lmao! ^^; \\ IC Thoren grins, almost giddily. He was excited beyond belief, and yet somehow felt weighed down. Tired, almost. But he would swim his victory lap, kick Puanym's ass, maybe the annoying Kjetta's as well. Both males were edging in on his nerves, mostly just for existing. Not anything such as being territorial, nor mourning the loss of the caramel gimp, but just because. The alchohol was messing with his head more than usual. What did she put in that shit? ... The bitch.. he mentally slurrs. If they were listening, they would've heard. He wasn't lucid enough to protect his thoughts, and, afterall, pendragons were telepathic beings. His buzz was likely the source of all his rantings and ravings - it had, at very least, spurred his anger. Which was odd all the same, because he really felt no reason to be angry - he just was. But then, that's what made him Thoren. He didn't need a reason to do whatever he pleased. He just did. Without fear of retribution. If anyone attacked them, he faught back. And won. His physique wasn't just for show, you know. A bully with brains - a conman with the best of them. And with a lop-sided grin he looks across at the four. Just by the pissed aura he could feel with that ellusive sixth sense, he knew he'd gotten under their skin. They desired to harm him - kill him - dismember him - destroy him. He couldn't have hoped for better. He'd done his job. Pissed them off beyond belief. But he'd passed the test. He'd won. They couldn't say anything against him. Let them try! Blinking his bi-colored eyes, the brilliantly colored male dives once more into the pond, a smidge less graceful than before - he splashed more this time on his entry. This splashing awoke and caught the interest of a pair of glowing eyes hidden in the reeds to the far south side. Lines of glistening teeth in hungry jaws are shown as the maw of the giant kuenym opens just slightly, scenting it's prey. The noisy Thoren. The yellow pendragon found this second crossing harder. He felt heavy. Tired. And his movements were sluggish at best. But he was still making way, and had crossed a third of the lake already, even through the darkness. But his hind quarters refused to float, and he was resigned to dog paddling, rather than stroking. As such, he morphs to his quadropedal form - which increases his speed enough to satisfy him. Sinking into the depths with the slightest hint of rustle and bubble, the creature, easily twenty feet long or more, the razor sharp jaws, and night-vision eyes hunt their prey. A violently kicking creature, brightly colored. The flame at the tip of it's tail was slightly disconcerting, but, he was hungry. He would not be put off his meal by the flame. He would just.. avoid it. Thoren refuses to pause, though he was pissed now at himself more than at the motley crew on the other bank, for making such horrible time, given his first record-setting adventure. He'd fight all the way to the other side. Food. He was close now. Kicking limbs were easy enough to avoid. The giant easily swims beneath the failing yellow arms and legs of the male pendragon. He would turn and take him. Thoren felt the current - which was heading in the wrong direction. Widened eyes reveal not fear but astonishment - what he'd said had been in jest. There couldn't be a kuenym in this little spit of a lake! Heavier than before, the cocky male pushes onward with renewed energy. He had to get out of the lake if what he'd felt was what he thought it was. Now. He turns, and pushing up from the lake floor, comes at a fourty-five degree angle toward the flailing 'dragon. Jaws wide, the creature crests the surface of the water at amazing speed for such muscled bulk. It's mouth alone was great enough to fit both above and underneath the large pendragon - the yellow male looked like a wriggling fish in the mouth of a 'dragon. Eat. Thoren knew all to soon what was happening. With a rage-filled snarl, he tries to roll, and uses dagger claws to slice at the creature. His talons bounce harmlessly off the scales of the monster, but find their mark in the softer tongue. Pain! Hurt and sore, bleeding most likely. But he would not offer up such a meal. A growl was all that was offered in return for the wound it recieved, and the enormous jaws slam shut. His back was broken than instant, and pain shut through his entire body - unfortunately, now he could not feel his feet. Or any part of his lower half. His tail flame was starting to dim. Under. Drowning. Rolling. All thoughts of the hungry creature. It tasted blood now. He knew his hunger would be satiated by this meal. Pendragon or not, it was alive. But wouldn't be for long. Underneath he dives, this whole ordeal lasting a blink of an eye. He would drown the yellow creature, and eat his fill. Pulled under the water in the jaws of the kuenym, Thoren struggles. It would be his last act on Ramath, he knew that. But everyone had a survival instinct. Adrenaline pumps through his system, his brain pushes him harder, wills him to live. But it was a lost cause. He shakes his catch back and forth underwater, thick neck powering the movements, above, ripples and froth mark the place where he'd taken his prey under. His jaws open, and he releases his now unmoving prey. Thoren's bi-colored eyes were closed under the blackness of the lake, and his lowerhalf was mangled beyond recognition. His tail flame had not yet ceased to light his position beneath the inky water. His body was motionless, but his mind was screaming. Wanting to live. Wanting revenge. Wanting to escape. Wanting oxygen. As his swan song anger was the only thing left in his dying mind. If he couldn't have oxygen, the one who'd done this to him wouldn't have it either. A last spell. On land, the bonfire, it's smoke waifting high and mighty out of the forest canopy, suddenly started burning hotter. Crackling revealed the action a second before it occured. And then with a snap, the flame grew twice as high and flashed out twice as wide. The dying spell was not strong enough to keep it at this strength, but even from the flash, singed fur would be the result if the four were close enough to the blaze. Leave above would not be exempt from kindling, and as a dying revengful note, Thoren may just have started a forest fire, as was his wish. Beneath the water, Thoren gives up. His heart ceases to beat, his brain function slows, and his motionless body relaxes. Mouth opened, the last bit of air from his lungs, carbon dioxide - as he was devoid of any usable oxygen by then, floats up from the surface. And finally, the beam of light marking his existance on the tip of his tail, is extinguished. He had died. Finally.. The flame had gone. The water put it out? The creature would remember this. But now, it began to feed. Increasing the blood in the water by tearing off pieces of the yellow male's body and ingesting them - hair, skin, muscle, bone and all. Nothing would be wasted. Not far off, eyes of two smaller kuenym stare at the meal being made by the larger male. These were his females. His small harem. And they, though half the size of this leviathan, were hungry, as well. Gurgling spouts from their lips. They wouldn't share in their king's meal, no, but maybe, they could convince him to let them catch their own... \\ OOC: .... I did better than I expected! O_o; LOL! Enjoy. ;}
<h4>Out of Character</h4>*Goes from writing a sickeningly romantic post to a sickeningly violent post. Yay!* Fwee, crappy post, I post! <h4>In Character</h4>The feel of the arm around her waist was something Okkatteiru was oblivious to. There were far more fetching things to pay attention to than sneaky hands — like the pending death of their dear friend, Thoren. Every ounce of her attention was focused on the dandelion (haha) coloured male, whom was now attempting to swim back across the channel of water. The banded female watched with predatory pleasure, her eyes flashing as she noted the male’s struggling. So the elixir was finally coming into effect. As she watched him paddle harder and harder, trying to defy the heaviness instilled in his body, Okkie tried to imagine what it must feel like. Did Thoren link the sinking sensation in his muscles to the poison the Shadowlack leader had offered him? She so desperately hoped so, hoped that as the panic alarms started going off in his head, he would associate his struggling and his last, suffering moments of life with her name. But she knew the best was yet to come. Thoren perhaps would have accomplished the feat, despite the concoction’s mean side effects, except that there was no way in hell Okkie was going to let that happen. Reluctantly (how she did not want to miss any minute of this), she closed her mismatched eyes, and focused. She had many spy tricks up her sleeve, and one of them was the ability to scan the areas around her with a sort of echo-sonar. For a brief instant, she saw a sort of X-ray of the forest around the lake, and even saw into the deeps. Ah! The beast was stirring! Already he was just below the thrashing Thoren, flourishing upwards on his way to a violent kill. When Okkie opened her eyes once more, a satanic grin curled over her maw. Now was that moment they had all been waiting for. It only took a few seconds (but she found she would replay it in graphic detail many times in the future). The hulking kuenym broke the surface of the glassy black lake, jaws snapping open like a steel trap. Thoren, having realized just seconds earlier that he was going to be assailed, struggled comically. From the shore, the Shadowlackian watched, her head now tilting as the white hot teeth clenched downwards, spilling pulp and carnage into the lake. Streaks of it flew over the water, dying it red, and then the whole violent party was dragged underwater, leaving behind bloody froth and saccharine spray. “Well, I guess we all got our wish, eh? Never underestimate Shadowlack, or those within its hold. We always get our way, with the most violent of means. Now, if none of you has anything to add to this happy event, all I have is one questio-” Okkie’s cold voice broke out as the bonfire suddenly burst high into the air, and she felt a blast of heat surge over her. She swore quite loudly as the cursed fire singed the tips of her cinnamon coat, and in that moment she damned Thoren to the deepest pits of hell. Then the flames died down, back to their normal size, and the femme glared darkly across the pond, where the water was already calm again. “I guess he always did have to have the last laugh, eh? I just hope he’s enjoying having his shrivel-dick feasted upon. Ah, and back to my question. I have just two words to address to you, Puanym and Xestri, and perhaps you, too, Kjetta, love, if you would like to participate? And they are: Who’s next?”
<span style='color:gray'> ooc| Oooh, I didn't realize how long this was getting until it was too late. Sorry ^^; ic| And so he was gone. Unable to clearly see the vicious and what sounded like extremely painful death of Thoren, the small one could feel it. Feel the death lingering in the air. Sensitive sense of smell soon picked up on the unmistakeable scent of blood, Thoren's blood. Something had gotten to him, a deadly creature. Most likely a kuenym. An advantage, Xestri had spent most of her waking days in some water or other, for it was her life. When unable to see quick, clear and vivid images, which others most likely take advantage of, she had found solitude within lake's and ponds. They were quiet, and soothing. A source of happiness and comfort to the petite scythed feline. Gills made life underwater frightfully easy for her, needing never to go back up for air. If it pleased her, she could've taken to the ocean's years ago and resided there, ne'er returning to land. But, in all of her years spent within the various cool liquids of Ramath, she'd only come across a few kuenym. And, they had never been awake.. Always in a deep sleep, having most probably already eaten. To meet one not trapped in slumber? Not an event the small one was looking forward to on her venture across the lake. And 'twas likely that she would, as where there was one, others would probably follow. And the drifting scent of Thoren's blood in the water would most likely attract them. Heeding Okkie's words, polar hued feline takes a small step forward - having luckily been too far back from the fire to get singed by Thoren's firery revenge. She would take to the water's next, in the small hopes of there only being one nasty beast within the lake, too busy with Thoren's carcass to worry about her. Besides, she'd never feed a whole kuenym.. Too small, surely? She could only hope so. Turning silently towards Okkie, another small footstep is taken towards the blackened lake. Tingling sences could already feel the ice cold water, flowing over her figure.. The exciting cool liquid providing easy chance for movement. Water always provided some sence of pleasure for the stripey one, even when as deathly black as this. When in the water, Xestri could almost blend with it's movement - appearing like a blurry white light, hopefully in the eyes of a dangerous kuenym, especially within this glassy black pond water. "I'll go." With that, she continued silently forward, until reaching the bank of the cruel, dominating pond, filled with all kinds of unknown and nasty things. Stepping onto the bank, blue padded paws are greeted by slimy mud and silt, just inches before the water.. An idea. Though the smell was putrid, this mud may hold her life. Eyes closed silently in concentration, Xestri then shift back to her original quadraped form. She'd approuch the whole situation in a differnt way to Thoren, hopefully with better results than him, too. All four paws were soon in the dark, black-brown mud. She took a few steps forward timidly, originally white paws entered the water with near-no movement, no ripples cascading across the black glass. Efortlessly she lowered herself down, and lay in the mud on her front, the blackened substance clinging to ice-white fur. Smallest of childish grins could be seen playing about her maw, as front was covered, along with the lengths of her legs and tail. The rest of her body soon followed. Grinning, she rolled onto her back like a pig wallowing in it's own filth, scythed feline covering herself in darkest of mud. Her whole form, including her face, now a deep shade of black-brown, all except small rings around her eyes, and patches on her neck, so gills could take on their job freely. Camouflage. The mud was thick, and as feline slipped silently into the water, still it clung to her form. Most likely, it would take forever to clean it out of her fur - but that was a sacrifice the small one was willing to make, as long as she wasn't eaten. Her figure stayed crouched low to the bed of the pond - she wasn't going to swim, she would walk. Or, run, if needed be. Pupil-less optics focused forward, all she needed to do was walk in a straight line, her new, black fur concealing her form almost completely. This blackened mask, she had hoped, would also hide her thermal energy. Any kuenym would simply pass her by, not sensing the warmth of potential prey. It was then that she saw them. Xestri had been walking at quite a quick pace, and had stuck to the edge of the pond. She was somewhere near the middle, when gleaming eyes stood out in the black darkness. The two kuenym females appeared to have spotted her, their shining, beady eyes focused forward. Large scaley hides head swiftly towards the small black feline, pressed flat with fear against the bed of the lake. Stay still.. Slowly they continued in their adpated, watery movements edging closer and closer. Jaws filled with rows of vicious teeth were open slightly. Surely, it was the end. They'de draw closer, find her, and rip her in two. Argue and fight over her small, stringy form, until there was nothing left. Closer and closer. Eyes shut tightly, having previously been focused hard on the kuenym, wide with fear, and only gathering a clearer mind image of those whom where sure to be her death. Think of happier thoughts, if they are to be your last. Don't think about the cruel lashings of tongue you've heard tonight. Don't think about the bloody smell in the water, or the layer of filthy mud caked to your fur. And don't think about the awful feeling in the pit of your stomach, like you've eating a lead weight.. Think about the tantalizing elixer you drank earlier.. Eyes flash open, something having triggered in her mind. The cruel feeling that had grown in her stomach? Could the elixer have been spite? Not something to put past Okkie. But, was it to kill them all off, or just make the task harder? That was something she'd have to find an answer to. The will to survive grew inside her, gaze directed at the pair of kuenym, growing ever closer. Tails had begun to sway vicously, lashing, to get closer to the prey. First come, first serve.. A snarl smeared angrily across once peaceful maw, a quadraped paws lifting to scrape a heap of mud from under one pupil-less eye. One kuenym was coming at a faster speed, cutting out in front of the other, rows of gleaming teeth bared at her prey. Closer she came in, soon only a foot or so away from the blackened one. It was then that Xestri made her move. With a paw full of mud, she leapt forward at the creature, springing off of coiled haunches. Without a second thought, the putrid lump of mud was flung into the creatures eyes, blinding it temporarily. Claws paws hit the back of the beast's neck, followed closely by hind paws. Xestri had cleared the kuenym's snapping jaws, and landed on it's back, though having not planned on staying there long. Leaping up once more from this scaley platform, she emerges from the surface in a shift jump, much like that expected to be seen by as Earth-based dolphin. Mid-air, she shifts into bipedal form quickly, hitting the water in a stream-lined motion. Quickly though, she began to sink again. Damn elixer. Not worth all that pleasure earlier, clearly. Forcing her limbs to move, feline's speed increased somewhat. She may have been sinking, but she was still going to get across this lake. Having blinded the kuenym, she stood a chance. Though, she of course had no idea where the other two where. Wisely choosing not to find out, she continued to swim, hurrying across the surface, struggling not to be pulled under by the ever-growing weight in her stomach. Eyes closed, limbs aching, but still ever ploughing through the water. Storking and stroking, forcing her body upwards. Never in her life had the water been so terrifying. Her tows soon scraped mud, reeds lightly brushing her stomach from below. She'd reach the edge of the lake.. She was alive. Struggling a little, she climbed out, heaving heavy body. Bipedal form too, was covered in putrid mud, which afterall hadn't really helped. Where there were patches of white fur though, were blood stains, curtosy of the ripped up Thoren. Xestri fell to her knees, panting. You'll never see her get back in that pond with those things. </span>
OOC: Ugh, crap post. o@ I'm braindead, but I don't want to hold this up too long. ---- There was a kuenym in the lake. Huh. Thoren was dead, and the surge of fire that marked his passing had cause Puanym to simply step backwards. A feral, snarling grin covered his face, and in a moment of insane glee, the dark 'dragon tossed his head back, howling with laughter. The air was redolent with blood, and he'd greatly enjoyed seeing Thoren become a part of the food chain. Though...he was a bit disappointed that he didn't get to kill him. "Dead, dead, he's dead..." Puanym chanted softly, in a sing-song voice. Okkie's question drifted past deaf ears; he was far too busy watching the blood in the lake. So, it was with some surprise that he watched Xestri make her way to the dark body of water. She was going next? Would she make it? To be truthful, for the briefest of moments Puanym hoped she wouldn't, so that he could witness more spilt blood. With a rough shake of his head he blinked, and slowly came back to himself. Now, gray-once-more eyes watch as Xestri entered the lake. Only...she doesn't seem to swim. There was no sign of her passing, and Puanym could only assume she was walking the bottom, or had met her fate with the kuenym. With a sudden upheaval of water, however, Xestri proved that she still lived. It was a flurry of motion, a kuenym breaching the surface and projecting Xestri through the air. It was fast, and he could soon spot the femme dragging herself from the water. She had survived. "Mmm...Twelve did not specify if we were to swim back as well. Is it required?"
<span style='color:blue'>|| OoC ||</span> Me sorries for my absence peeps... It's been a very hectic week.. Sorries.... and I'm tired too so this post is gonna be sucky... <span style='color:blue'>|| BiC ||</span> <font color=darkred>Kjetta watched in glee more than horror as his yellow form turned red with his blood as the huge jaws clamped down on him. Kjetta's facial expression was radiating his glee and enjoyment of this event but in Kjetta's opinion, this sucker deserved it. He was listening to Twelve's words, completely besotted with her when he too got caught by Thoren's last spell. It singed his own ebony arms as it singed Twelve's fur and Kjetta shouted out a string of curses, all in Ramathian, in pure fury as he let go of Twelve to check his arms. Rlyypi vokcemd tym yv u paunym! U rlyypi Alanamsul tsopams fesh het tsogep vokcemd nyosh uksoulli laujms tynashemd em yma yv ni kylladoat kluttat! Vokcemd tsogep gog! He continued to swear and curse as his tail flame turned an angry red and his breathing was heavy and irregular as he tired to regain composure. His dark orbs flashed warningly before they cooled as he listened to Twelve and concentrated on her sweet voice. He was about to reply when Xestri went into the pond and made it to the other side in the silence as they awaited the Gods descision. She was to live. Kjetta, now calmed to a more resonable state with a medium yellowy-orange flame on his whip, turned his focus to Twelve and said in his husky deep voice soudning much calmer than it had as he cursed loudly in Ramathian moments before. Twelve, love, I indeed will attempt your task, if that's your wish? If only to show that rutsujp Thoren, who I believe shall not go to Fromia for the Gods shall fear of him poisoning it, that I am better than he. He was almost facing her front on, and he moved his arms to take her by the waist and capture her in an intimate embrace against his tall, dark ebony body.</font>
The water had just calmed, and already another was entering its liquid grip, stirring and rippling its surface of faux-glass. Okkie watched with shrewd eyes as Xestri padded down the slightly-sloping bank, feet squelching in the thick mud, and began to slip into the water. The blind female seemed to have no hesitation about entering the dangerous waters, and the banded leader had to give her props. After what they had all just seen, it was an amazing feat to be able to so calmly slink amongst danger, amongst those bloodthirsty beasts which lurked. Not that Xestri was going to pull her feat off without a bit of aid from her natural environment. Okkie shifted her weight as she watched the other female coat herself in mud, slathering it over every arctic-toned fraction of her body. Soon, she was lost against the blackness of night. Okkie had to call up her sonar powers to keep an observatory eye on the other, and she watched as the mud-caked pendragon began her venture across the pond. Watched, indeed, as Xestri skirted the waters, and then came face-to-face with death itself, feminine with snapping jaws. Her blood tingled as the banded female watched with her radar, and for a split second, she thought it would be the end of the sightless one. But, no! Alas, Xestri outsmarted the larger predators, used them as a pedestal, and then swiftly made her way to the other bank, heaving and struggling even as she pulled herself from the clutches of the black lake. “Impressive stunts," Okkie called, truly meaning her words, though they were laced with sarcasm. “Though, if we were keeping any sort of score, I would deduct points for skirting. As it were, we have no points, and you did survive, and so you win. But fear not," And she turned to Puanym and Kjetta, her ears suddenly folded back against her nape as she tried to portray herself as cunning and enigmatic. “There’s room for one or two more. But each of you must prove yourselves, by swimming, as I’ve said. And, Puanym, the answer to your inquiry is no. I am here to test you, not to kill you by such petty means as exhaustion. I am a challenger, not a slave-driver." Her mismatched oculars skipped betwixt the two males, and with her arching eyebrows, she queried once more. Who’s next? She knew that Puanym had almost no fear, could sense that was clean of it, and knew he probably wanted to go. But what of Teacher? She turned her cranium towards him, and as Okkie did so, she felt his arms wrap around and enfold her in an intimate embrace. Her first reaction was to push him away, shove him to the ground, and then lay into him, scathing him for his audacity. But he was her “lover", and so she bit her tongue and played along, stroking a digit along his bicep as if testing his strength. This move alone spoke volumes; indeed, she required that he, too, cross the lake with only his prowess and his wits to aid him. Not to mention his stroke of luck — whereas the others had consumed a drink that would impede their voyage across the waters, he had nothing but his own flaws to stop him.
<span style='color:gray'> Silently the sightless feline stood, pushing off of her hands, to rise from her kneeling position. Black images, of swirling liquid and snapping jaws filled her head, the events that had just passed forever scaring her mind. But, she had done it. And so what if she had skirted? Okkie could direct saracasm-laced tones at her all she wanted, but it wouldn't bother the small one. She'd just faced death, and survived. She had used her wit, kept to darker edges, and as a result, she was not now half-way to the pit of a hungry kuenym's stomach. Speaking of which, she'd distracted yet another of the kuenym in the lake, for the next to venture into it's depths. Perhaps it would help the male about to enter the pond, whichever it was to be, but then again, it could've just enraged both female kuenym to the extent that nothing was to leave the waters alive. No matter. She'd done her bit. Water droplets rolled from the feline's polar-white fur and deep azure tresses, slipping down her now naked bipedal form, like water off of a duck's back. Fur did not absorb the water, did not cling to her form like it would most others. With the aid of some Elemental Sorcery training, and her love of the liquid, Xestri had become one with the water. It was an ability she had taken a long while to develop, but now, and liquid form would just roll around her body, as though becoming part of her. Keeping quiet, silent padded feet start there way walking back to the other three. She was dry, yes, but the fire's warmth would be greatly appreciated. Dried mud had caked around many parts of her form, breaking and crumbling here and there, and the odd patch of Thoren's once proud blood had stained bits and pieces of polar white fur. It seemed that water would not cling to her fur, but the blood of one who's life had been taken by the water would. </span>
Well, Xestri had lived. And now, Okkie's lover expressed his willingness to swim with the kuenym. He would have to wait, however. "Puanym will go now." One hand reached up, unclasping the hoop that held the literal key to his pants. It slipped carefully into the padlock, which unlocked with a resounding clank of tumblers. He'd already made the fur around his nether regions grow, so when he slipped the leather pants from about his waist, it wasn't to reveal any sort of an indecent view. Stepping from the discarded article, he walked quickly and quietly to the lake's edge, staring out over the deceptively calm, glass-like surface. What to do to get across safely? Thoren had proved that bravado wouldn't do it; Xestri's stealth and camoflauge hadn't worked for long. Raising his hands to the dark, Puanym eyed his fingers carefully as he gave the command for his body to change. Webbing grew, lacing together his fingers and toes, a means to propel himself quickly through the water. Next, his fur; each single strand widened, flattened, securing themselves tightly against his flesh. Waterproof scales, making his form more aerodynamic. He would be able to slip like an arrow through the water, with less hinderance. The thick plating also provided him with an armor of sorts, though it wouldn't stand up to the bite of the bull male kuenym. Puanym's long, thin tail thickened, broadened, a propellor to make him fly through the water. His wings remained unchanged, their broad sails helpful enough as they were. All in all, he resembled much the kuenym, or Earth's ancient crocodile. As a final touch, he added gills; air would be scarce, for he didn't dare plan on staying near the water's surface. He'd prove an easy meal if he stayed in such an open position. Now, slowly, he slips into the water, dropping down to the lakebed to keep a low profile. Puanym's new gills kick in immediately, and with a strong shove of his hind legs, he propells himself into the deep of the lake. No time is wasted, his paddle-like tail slucing through the water, his hands and feet providing extra speed. Even so, the kuenym notice this intruder into their territory. The smallest of the females is the first to react, closing in on his left flank. He doesn't stray from his path, waiting instead until she is nearly upon him. Just as her jaws open to deliver the crushing death bite, he lunges. Muscles twist, pulling at unnatural angles, warping his body downward so that her jaws pass overhead, chin skimming along his back. With a whirl, he twists and rolls, digging his sharp, dagger-like claws into her soft underbelly. It's far from a life-threatening wound, but her blood clouds the water. The other, larger female, sensing a potentially easy meal, closes in. Puanym doesn't linger. He's beginning to feel like he swallowed a lump of lead, the heavy metal swirling through his veins. The night-blue male gradually sinks closer to the lake floor, though he never halts his forward movement. Weariness creeps over him, arms and legs having to strive to keep his overly-weighted body moving. Risking a rest, he takes a glance backwards. The small female is defending herself against the larger, and seems to be holding her own. The bull intervenes, looking as if he will protect his smaller mate. Her saviour is more hungry than helpful, though, and soon turns his own massive jaws on her. Two against one, she doesn't stand a chance, and her blood roils through the lakewater, floating idly to the surface. With the predators occupied, he slows a bit, feeling cramps trying to claim his aching limbs. Rather than keep swimming, he walks along the bottom, his wings flapping at short intervals to give him a great leap forward. It seems forever before Puanym can sense the slight incline of the lakebed, and he hurries forward. With a final lunge, he slides forward onto the bank, dragging himself furthur upward in a flail of limbs. His gills vanish quickly, to allow his oxygen breathing nature to kick back in, but the rest remains unchanged while he catches his breath. To those watching from the opposite shore, he might seem dead. However slowly, his body hearkins back to his natural form, and remains unmoving. Puanym can still feel the lead pulsing through his body, though it does seem to be diminishing now that he's out of the water. With a muffled groan, he heaves himself to his feet, wobbling a bit uncertainly. He remains there, not yet ready to make the journey around and back to the fire.
<font color=darkred>Kjetta smiled coyly as he saw depp within her orbs that she didn't like him touching her. She's so pretty when she's angry...not that she's not pretty anyway He though silently as he continued to gaze into her orbs. Not letting her go, he tears his chocolate orbs from her mismatched ones as Puanym spoke and answered her question before Kjetta could. He watched as the student transformed, and thought it very fascinating. Then he dived in once the tranformation was complete. The pond was still and silent from movement as Kjetta, and no doubt Twelve too, watched. Kjetta though he saw a movement after a long while, not far from the surface or the end of the pond. Kjetta squinted as he tried to see beyound the murky surface but alas, he couldn't. Then he saw the blood on the surface of the pond. He immediately thought that Puanym was dead as he watched the blood float on top of the pond and begin to cover it completely. But then over the other side, in one huge leap and sending water everywhere, he appeared. Kjetta's slight frown that he'd worn when he saw the blood vanished immediately but he watched the boy for any sign of life as he seemed to not be moving. But slowly the boy trnaformed again back into his former self. Kjetta let out a small sigh of relief and turned his focus back to Twelve. So Twelve, the one who holds the key to my heart, tell me what will be my reward from crossing that pond which I shall do so as you request once you've answered my question..?</font>
A single flicker of the left ear was Okkie’s response to Puanym’s soft-lipped declaration. She watched as he slunk towards the rippling water, and her cranium tilted a bit as she observed his mini-evolution. It seemed that everybody had little tricks up their sleeves, abnormal abilities that would help them excel. Not that she minded too much. After all, she had chosen these pendragons, had, in some form or another, desired their presence in the ranks of Shadowlack. All the better if they could prove themselves worthy of her standards. And the banded female had a feeling this particular male would not have a hard time doing such — as he prowled forth, now aquatic in build and structure, she sensed that his passage would not be as difficult as the others’. Laced with danger, of course, but he had some distinct advantages that would heighten his chances for survival. In mere seconds, Puanym had disappeared, and the surface of the pond was still. Okkie glanced coldly at Kjetta, then slipped from his grip, sidling down the bank to stand at the water’s edge. She watched with her mismatched orbs, glanced at the glassy mirror that reflected the pinpricks of light in the sky. She then closed these corporeal oculars and opened her sonar, panning through the fathoms and plucking Puanym from the darkness. His progress was startingly fast, all things considered, and Okkie fleetingly wondered if he had cheated somehow. But, ah, in this game, cheating was not punished, and the she-pendragon simply stayed quiet and watched. A sharp intake of breath hissed on her lips when the small female kuenym pitched after him, but she saw the male roll and thrust away, still alive, at least for now. But his chances were slowly fading, Okkie noted, and she watched the other two kuenym, another female and the bull, closing in. Except — they weren’t going for Puanym? She opened her normal eyes again, and watched as a cloud of carmine liquid sprang to the surface, and she idly wondered, Whose? The answer came when the smallest of the kuenym, the adolescent female, rushed to the surface, sounding her anger and her pain in a clamoring roar. Then the other two swiftly swung in from the sides, their teeth grinding down on their kin, and the whole party was dragged beneath the waves again. The pond became still, tainted with red, but still peaceful. “What a show.” It was not long after that when Puanym emerged on the other side, intact but tired. Okkie watched, and even from this distance, she could tell that the elixir had taken its toll. He was exhausted. A conniving grin spun over her face, and then immediately losing her interest in swimmer number three, she turned to the last, tail switching. “Your turn, Kjetta. Reward, reward?” On soft caramel feet, she moved back towards him, her movements graceful and lithe. A satanic flash glowed bright in her gaze. “Your reward will be your life, Teacher. Perhaps something more, from me, but do not count on it. Just swim. Your chances are the best, so you will only fail if you are truly weak. Now, go. Let’s see if we can end the night with a little bloodshed.”
<span style='color:gray'> After long moments of near-silence, the cruel sounds of a body heaving out of the pond had indicated Puanym's survival to the blind feline. Another of them had made it, and now it appeared that it was the Teacher's turn. Xestri had little faith in him, as she was beginning to think that she, and Puanym at least, were chosen in a select manner. This Shadowlack gathering was not just for any old pendragon - you had to be invited. And the Teacher wasn't. He was just a nosey elder, out to yell at some students. Though apparently, Okkie's 'lover'. So, perhaps he was invited? Something within the mind of the polar-coloured femme doubted this, as she could sense the cruel hostility between the two after Puanym had entered murky waters. Okkie had swiftly moved away from her 'lover's' grasp. Maybe it was all for show? Maybe not. Xestri wasn't on to interfere. For now, she'd help a fellow 'dragon, whom had just entered the jet black liquid death trap. Silently she walked, heading towards the end of the lake, blurred images of a wobbling Puanym just ahead filling her mind in scribbled sketches. When a little closer, she coughed gently, making her presence known, as not to startle the male. Just incase. She debated on whether or not to hold out on of her arms, to help steady the male, and lead him back to the fire. But, incase he were to feel offended by such an act of help, she decided against the idea, keeping her hands to herself. "..Are you alright?"</span>
