The Bomb Dot Com

The youth would make course for a place he had heard of in tales. The place where the legend of the War from before he was born waged. Bi-colored gaze swept the lands, lips curled at the stench of blood old and new. White calcium seemed to strive for the sunlight, clawing with brittle fingers at the sky. Teeth flashed, a grin pinning itself to his pristine white maw. He wanted excitement today, and he would do what he must to attain it. A fight, a dominant challenge, hauling home a new slave. He practically drooled at the idea. However, he knew too that due to his inexperience, this would also be a learning matter. Glaciem lacked in their training, and so he had been training elsewhere in solitude, his body numb to pain whenever it inflicted upon his form. The cold had numbed his bones, he was cold to the core.

The behemoth, who currently stood at thirty eight inches in height; and still growing, stopped in the center of a clearing where he would easily be seen. Visage angled towards the sky, lips forming the perfect form as he released a summons, a howl, a call towards those who might be nearby. He was a ticking bomb, the blood of a famed knight within his veins. He wanted to get a taste of what it meant to be a true warrior, and perhaps today he would get his chance. Form would stand tall, tail flagged over his back, the russet and black draped banner streaming like a flag, beckoning to him the challenger that would arrive today, if any. His mind was hopeful, for he truly wanted a taste of blood. He was no stranger to it, after all. And hopefully it would be someone worth his time. Else he take a different approach, and prey upon the weak.

"Speech"