The sounds of mortal struggle are distinct and unexpected; what sort of human could have survived so long here, at the heart of the carnage and not at the fringes like all the others?
The noise gives Illyria pause; only briefly, however, as she has not yet completed her beheading of her latest foe. The task takes longer than she expects, possibly due to the overabundance of heads. Finally she eliminates it by crushing the body to jelly, flinging it into one of the many infernal chasms opening up around her, and pinpoints the sound of human struggle. It appears to be fighting in whatever way it is able, though how something so unskilled and so obviously terrified survived for so long is unknown.
Angel tacitly requested she get as many of them to safety as possible. The small slippery creatures are unaccustomed to such battle, she thinks scornfully. This theorem has yet to be unproven in any grand scope. In fact, she believes she is about to see it proven once more, taking note of the large, vicious colossus of a beast that does not seem to be approaching the human with an intent to destroy it, but doubtless will succeed in doing so by trampling it. Fragile things, these vermin. Breakable.
All too eager to intervene for the sake of violence, Illyria cheerfully slings the disembodied head of her last challenger to strike the creature between the eyes.
It roars, rears back on its legs, massive jaws opening in a tearing scream of displeasure, tiny eyes blazing. Illyria lunges at it. When its great maw dips to snap at her, she drives one fist into the side of its head and sends it rolling away from the unintended human target.
Illyria's shell smiles as she plants herself between the monster and its potential prey. She will enjoy this fight. And a mortal capable of lasting this long is worthy of preserving.
no subject
The noise gives Illyria pause; only briefly, however, as she has not yet completed her beheading of her latest foe. The task takes longer than she expects, possibly due to the overabundance of heads. Finally she eliminates it by crushing the body to jelly, flinging it into one of the many infernal chasms opening up around her, and pinpoints the sound of human struggle. It appears to be fighting in whatever way it is able, though how something so unskilled and so obviously terrified survived for so long is unknown.
Angel tacitly requested she get as many of them to safety as possible. The small slippery creatures are unaccustomed to such battle, she thinks scornfully. This theorem has yet to be unproven in any grand scope. In fact, she believes she is about to see it proven once more, taking note of the large, vicious colossus of a beast that does not seem to be approaching the human with an intent to destroy it, but doubtless will succeed in doing so by trampling it. Fragile things, these vermin. Breakable.
All too eager to intervene for the sake of violence, Illyria
cheerfullyslings the disembodied head of her last challenger to strike the creature between the eyes.It roars, rears back on its legs, massive jaws opening in a tearing scream of displeasure, tiny eyes blazing. Illyria lunges at it. When its great maw dips to snap at her, she drives one fist into the side of its head and sends it rolling away from the unintended human target.
Illyria's shell smiles as she plants herself between the monster and its potential prey. She will enjoy this fight. And a mortal capable of lasting this long is worthy of preserving.