Post by Illinois on Mar 31, 2009 4:41:12 GMT -5
Strangely the foliage wasn't lush, over trodden or decayed. It was just, simply put plain. Suncracked and dusty.
The sythes of the brute sliced through the quigmere, large indents left imprinted within. The ebon bricks pounded upon the sod. An echooing sounded to the distance. Russet orbs searched the plains. Blankly they lit up his visage. The pinicles quivered upon the box and his the greyish labrums parted slightly as the nares breathed deeply.
The harsh squall ripped the sensitive flesh and his fangs emerged from within the confines of his velvets. His features changed to a look of distaste and his mug moulded to a snarl. Dreads hangingn limply from the nape blew softly in the roaring zephyr. Muscles contained beneath, taut pelt twitched as he moved. The savage had come for a reason. To a claim a wench.
From within the maw is enamels parted. The medolic chords of a flirt exited the jug. Allowing themselves to be caught by the breeze they flowd round the openess.
Come now minx, show yourself. Be mine
Should a temptess come fourth. Allow herself to be claimed. Want to be the belongings of a brute. The pitch bastard will take her. Back to the kingdom he rules. Allow her the freedom to act as she would wish but slowly break the spirit.
Death and destruction were things that came easy to him. like walking, he did them without thinking. He would never release the maiden, only keep her captive. To place on his shelf and watch. Keep her as a thing of beauty. oh yes, imagine the fun she will have.