Woods of Decay

N/A · 07-15-2013, 05:25 PM

The ice beneath enormous paws, cracked and shook. The creaking of something sinister accompanying the bitter cold of winters icy grip. Her breath fogged up into the air as claws scraped into the frozen water, keeping her balanced and mobile. Ivory teeth were barred against the bitter ice of winter, as if her presence alone would be able to stave off the bitter cold. Her nostrils flared, her bones crunched and grinded against one another. Her breath wafted into the air in the form of a gentle fog. Hatred, chaos and something entirely sinister, burned within the massive beast. Thrumming with power, brimming with evil... the cold did not phase the demon.

Legs propelled her forward at a purposely slum pace. Preserving her energy, preserving her strength, she awaited the coming storm, the coming battle, knew a challenge lay on the horizon, everyone it seemed, wished for the beasts head, but none would claim it, none would claim her, because Banshee belonged to the deepest, lowest layer of hell, a clawing, scream soul among the damned, picking at the carcasses of the less fortunate and basking in the screams of utter agony.

Shoulder blades were defined against scaly flesh as the woman heaved her massive bodice up and over a rotting tree. The drowning woods, or perhaps the woods of decay was a more accurate term, they suited the monstrosity just fine. She leapt down to the other side, the ice cracking and groaning beneath the sudden weight. The dames pulled back over ivory fangs, stained pink with blood of the damned, a crooked smile with rows of jagged teeth. Perfect.

Speech,

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