The smell of ash was heavy within the air, and it clung to him like his own fur did. He had rolled in a pile as he traveled, covering his scent with that of scorched earth. He didn’t wish for others to know that he was on the prowl.

Eskel moved silently, carefully among the ash and the debris of the burned up wood, his paws shifted the ground beneath his massive form only minimally as he moved. For a massive creature, he moved silently when he wished too- when he wished to gain an appraisal of the world around him... he could be quiet as a shadow.

Satisfied that he had gained knowledge, he let out a low chuff to announce himself to anyone else who may be out exploring the wilds- wondering if anyone around sought any company- because in his mind, company brought with it information.

_{BG — CODE}

i am god
and i need to be destroyed

The carnivorous desire began to run dry after the monster had taken his last fix for the evening. With a content stomach, the predator would naturally move on, and the cycle would replay till death came upon him. However, the roguish creature would gather himself in a rather sluggish fashion to retain as much energy as the corpse would do for him until he found his nearest destination. For the taste of fresh desire still clung unto his teeth, and lined the crooks of his gums. Vághan would become restless; a being captivated unto the cells of this mortal realm and pressed deeply between the mosaic fossils of their world. He is not of here, and coming to learn how to navigate such a place has proven to be all the more difficult as purging the voices inside.

They laughed and wept, and played and moped, and lived and died - all within seconds of his complex imagination in the darkness he sought to find himself staring at it, while remaining still in the open space to what surrounded him. The tiny black spheres accompanied by rum colored irises seemed to of dialed back down to their original size, no longer as thick, but now tamed. His mouth drew hot breathes as his lungs unfortunately could not find the effort to calm, his nostrils flaring in the attempt to fume some of his confusion and nostalgia from what all he had seen. Where am I? With frantic turns of his head, champagne colored orbs analyzed his current location, the sounds of birds being his guide to reality as he blinked hard and squinted beneath the evening's shine. Trees of all sorts and sizes acted as a circular barrier around him, as if trapping him in his most vulnerable state in his own dark world of hallucinations. He wondered as to where the children had gone to, or how they had even arrived in the first place of his visions alone. He had gone days, weeks, months without the taste of flesh upon his tongue, and as so, the voices were becoming too hard of a thing to tame as they demanded blood to be brought forth.

For they call to him in shrill tones, reaching forth the ravenous mountains before plummeting back downwards unto the darkest depths of the ocean. Sometimes, even he cannot discern truth from lie as they beg for sanctification by teeth. He is drowning, pulled deep unto the undertow of temptation as they poke and prod upon the corners of his cranium. Foraging through forests of madness and ripping any seam of reality from is grasp. It becomes nearly unbearable as they forge unto the fault lines of the ashen wasteland, phasing in between the phantom tree's as poltergeists would do. He follows, silently, engaging in the games of darkness as the milky whites of his eyes phase over unto the figure before him. He cannot distinguish fault from reality in these moments as the voices inside call for blood. Igazi Vagy? Vagrant, the hounds howl fades, drawing unto the horizon as they dissipate long enough for the black hole son to press towards @Eskel's figure between the trees. Mutasd magad He demands, cold cut and hard as hot breathes of air puff from his chops. Salmon tongue snaking outwards to clean the dryness from his chin. Please don't.

am i god?
i may destroy myself

@lory

The smoke here swirled around him still, clinging to his fur like some sort of adornment. He moved among the shadows of charred trees, and the swirls of ashes looking, seeking another to occupy his time with. He finds it useless to be alone in moments like these. How else will he learn things of value of this place?

Perhaps he is not ready for the figure who appears from the ash?

Words that he does not understand leaves the strange males lips. Eskel cannot help the furrow of his brow, paired with the frown of confusion upon his jaws. What?

Is it an instinct within him that sets him on guard before the male? Or is it simply that another male has appeared and speaks in words that he does not understand? Perhaps the latter makes more sense.

“I do not speak that tongue.” Words are careful, neutral, giving the stranger a chance to switch to the common tongue. “Who are you?” This time it is more of a demand of him- wanting to know who he is. Eskel turns, facing the male and drawing up to his massive size as he stares him down, his expression remaining neutral for now- at least until he could gain a better measurement of the stranger before him.

A source of information or a threat?

@Vághan

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

i am god
and i need to be destroyed

Obnoxious were the words that lingered among his presence. An unfair symphony that seemed to be the only common tongue that they could utter within this world, such as a broken record dawning on repeat. Vághan is forced to succumb to the conformities of their world, brows furrowing in a cupids arch as a hiss expels from snake lips. He slithers amongst the grotesque scene, trading secrets for lies as the voices call in the distance. For a few times, he finds himself peering over @Eskel's shoulders to observe the hued orbs that frolic behind. They are unreal - and yet, within his complex imagination the man seems to make his own reality in their multi-verse. Pulling at the pieces of his conscious mind as sickness pulls him closer to the clay creatures frame, it is only within these moments he is allowed the time to observe. Map and carve every crevice and dip within his skin, and pick what pieces of him would taste so divine between his teeth.

Do it.

Neín, he will not. Even as the voices become a heavy mantra unto his psyche. They stick and poke, prodding upon his cranium and peeling his sanity from the depths of hell. Vághan's lips twitch, an unfathomable chaos waiting to happen as the plague refuses to die. They do not like his tone...It is too harsh, brash for their innocence. They command, harsh and heavy as their words fall upon deaf ears of those that wallow in the ashes of the past. What about us? What about us? The darkness consumes in heavy swallows of cruel defects, it becomes too much. Too much, too much! Go away. Get out...They do not move, they do not leave - yet, instead multiply. Infest like a disease multiplying and infecting whatever cell that they can grasp.

Szellem, Vághan. Blood for the Blood God

It is the only warning that is given, and while it is not much of a warning. It is all that the brute can mutter before falling victim to the voices urges. They wish for blood, and he cannot deny. For their reasons, their agreements were settled upon the dust of frozen parchment papers and woven unto the governments burning pillars. It had been so long since violence had been the answer, since flesh had grazed his tongue and poured it's soul unto his bosom. It is sinful and glorious as their war cries rally deep within his mind. Pushing, urging - pressing unto his figurine as Vághan hisses. They rally in vast numbers, their cries of delight reverberating unto his skull. Pounding unto the bone wildly as they tease and taunt.

You know you want to.

Yes, he wants to. He cannot purge them any longer. Yes. He will.

The sound barrier breaks between them as the darkness swallows the beast whole. He does not whisper or cry or scream, but advances forth. Body moving throughout the silt with incomprehensible thoughts as the beast kicks dust in his ways. Vághan soars, attempting to ram straight into the larger creatures chest as his arms stretch outwards. Splayed, and ready - the brute would attempt to wrap his forefronts around Eskel's neck in the process. This is not how this was supposed to go.

They weep and cry and rally in joyous mantras. Some scatter in the corners of his eyes, retreating to the sidelines as dilute black orbs as where others retain their place within his palace of broken glass. The first taste of flesh has never felt so invigorating than now. He wonders what he will taste like...sweet and delectable or bitter and disgusting between his teeth. Either way, the brute would make a good meal for the mad king. Surely this would be so.

Vághan vs. @Eskel
to purge the voices
Dominance
Round 1 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 16 + 17 + 1 + 18 + 6 + 9 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 14 + 10 + 5 + 2

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 2 + 7 + 5 + 4 + 18

am i god?
i may destroy myself

@lory

Something was off.

Something was just different about him. He looked at Eskel.... no past him. That made the hair along his spine rise in apprehension. Something was wrong. His words hung in the air- a demand for who the creature before him was had left him.

He was answered.

Szellem, Vághan

{“Who?”} The words were hardly choked out before the beast flung himself forward- slamming into Eskel, causing him to be forced back a couple of steps. Instinct saves him, because as the impact comes- he rears upwards some, and so the claws of the other male catch in his mane— and maybe his upper shoulders feel the burn of claws. Something stings- but he pays it little mind yet, as his mind whirls trying to keep himself moving-- and though he can feel the throb in him from the collision of bodies- he still has it within him to fight. Eskel attempts, should the male allow it, to rear back with his left forepaw to slap at the other male’s face, tries to attempt to push forward at the same time- anything to force him backwards and away.

Eskel vs. @ Vághan
Dominance/ what the hell, man?
Round 1 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 20 + 18 + 1 + 15 + 7 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 2d20: 13 + 5

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 8 + 15 + 12 + 1

i am god
and i need to be destroyed

There is no stopping the force of a thousand years war. Brewing and bubbling over until it consumes them whole. Pulling unfathomable figures down unto the burning depths of their own hell - he dines with his devils in holy matrimony. Feasting on the drinks of their desires, and falling victim unto the way their inky hands weave unto his ribs. Pulling, pushing, ripping and tearing against the skin that holds him together. They are persistent. Their cries hellfire and holy water all at once. He - They are not of this world, and yet the one common tongue that seems to be spoken amongst them all is the actions of violence. Granted, he had been the one to put forth the initiative. But, was it truly a sin to succumb to the whims of the devil when his voice was so...soothing? No. Damning.. Vághan had sold his soul centuries ago, and to ask for such a thing back now. Well - it would be blasphemy against the Church. He is their puppet, and they are his master.

Strike Quick, Think Last.

One does not have to be told twice to bend to the conformities of their plated cries. It is joyous, and celebratory. Static white noise and the laughter of thousands of faces, names, death that coil amongst his cranium. Thrumming wildly within the pumping of his heart, rampant and wild as it threatens to burst clean from his ribcage. It is the first feeling of flesh upon flesh that drowns the beast in the baptism of blood and desire. Heavy is the tell-tale heart that beats beneath the floor-boards of their bloodshed. Heinous, and hideous is the crime to leave such a thing beating for too long. However, now is not the time for penance. For they will answer his call for flesh when they see fit. For now, the voice demand sacrifice for their blessing.

The viper recoils, stuttering backwards on uneven feet - knives dipping unto the curvature of the lambs shoulder blades. Victory! Victory! It has never seemed so sweet as they coil him unto the webs of their innate lies, tricking the beast unto false security as widened jowls hinge open to strike. It is almost too easy, a target that would surely be a delectable meal for their desires. Vághan nearly salivates at the thought. Yet - they are not generous. Surely, surely they would make him work for the pound of flesh that he wishes to take. How unfair.

He is drunk, high on the feeling of crimson that peels from his claws and the thoughts of his next meal. Vághan does not even register the hands that come upwards to swat wildly at his crown, it is not until knives lacerate peeling skin that Vághan stumbles. Pulling his face backwards with force, a pained yowl soars unto the ashen skies, followed therefore after with a cruel and unforgiving grin stitching upon the lips of the devils advocate as he laughs at such acquisition. He relinquishes control, peeling from Eskel's body only to bend downwards in a cryptid stance. Vághan would then attempt to snap wildly at the remaining limb upon the sooten grounds, hoping to clasp sharpened incisors upon his ankle in some manner. If successful, the beast would attempt to yank the appendage from beneath the male to watch him fall, or at the very least stumble long enough for him to gain the upper-hand.

Vághan vs. @Eskel
to purge the voices
Dominance
Round 2 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 10 + 1 + 18 + 2 + 20 + 6 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 15 + 20 + 13 + 11

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 2 + 3 + 15 + 13

am i god?
i may destroy myself

@lory

This battle is nothing like a dance, nothing like anything Eskel has experienced. Granted, he has always been a purveyor of information, and not much of a gladiator. It’s the inherent will to win, to not be dismissed as a creature of weakness- that drives him.

He can’t help the snarl of pain and rage as claws slice into his shoulder. The pain is a blinding burning sensation. It forces him to focus on his movements, and as he swats wildly at the other a yowl tears through his opponent as his claws meets the opponents crown. He let out a snarl of rage, as the other yowled his pain, as his swinging paw came back to earth.

The other male suddenly dipped and Eskel let out another snarl as he felt teeth rip into his leg, and at the same moment he lunged his own neck forward, his jaws splaying as he attempted to bite into the top of the other male’s shoulders/ base of his neck area with a deep vicious bite. Suddenly the other male tried to jerk up, and Eskel’s right paw’s claws dug into the earth as he slightly stumbled forward, attempting to push his jaws into the other male’s shoulders downwards, to remain above him- even if they do go to the ground. He’s trying to counter the males attack, with his own massive weight so he isn’t pulled to the earth, without bringing the male down with him.

Eskel vs. @Vághan
Dominance/ What the hell, man?
Round 2 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 17 + 4 + 10 + 6 + 20 + 1

Dodges:

Rolling 2d20: 5 + 17

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 7 + 1 + 2 + 14

code by dee, art by spu

i am god
and i need to be destroyed

He is the righteous hand of judgement unto his own sinners pray. Hell fire high upon his heels as he thrusts himself forth unto the mouth of the devil, clawing his way unto the depths of an unhealthy creation of damaged psyche. He is sick. Perhaps, not physically but mentally. For the desire to taste flesh between the teeth of lying tongues is far more of a motivator than one can purge, and the satisfaction of his opponent giving into his desires. Well - it's more than delightful to know how much more delectable the victory, or loss would feel afterwards. Was there truly ever loss when either way he could dine within the pores of his flesh? No. At least, not in Vághan's damned mind. Win or lose, he is given exactly what he wants, maybe not in it's entirety but a simple taste of flesh of commoners upon his tongue would be enough to purge their urges for the times being.

But he will grow hungry again, and there will be no other way to purge that hunger without the violence that follows. Creeping and steady in the darkness, they loom with their reminders even as carnivorous teeth tear unto the shackled anklets of the creature. Crimson peels unto the corners of his lips, dripping outwards unto the ashen dance floor as fatigue begins to settle in his bones. He is growing tired, for a meal has never been so hard to court and take down. He however, proves to be more than the challenge that the beast of hell had been up for. They have come too far to put a pause to their sinful dance though, there is no turning back. Even if their had ever been a sliver of regret to play dirty games in the corners of his mind. Regret does not dwell here, and the tiredness only acts as a motivator to push harder unto his opponent.

As daggers peel unto his back, the beast stumbles backwards. Uneven feet shifting against the ground as he moves backwards - the refusal to let the other brutes flesh leave from his lips evident even as he digs unto his back. If Vághan goes down, he will come with him. The ground is unforgiving and warm as his stomach falls flush unto the soot, a salivating snarl ripping passed clasped lips as the creature takes his initiative. Releasing Eskel's ankle, Vághan attempts to jerk his head upward, jowls splayed open and wild as he attempts to use his position in the advantage to grasp ahold of the massive creatures jugular - or at least, the side of his neck. Checkmate. Game over sunshine.

Vághan vs. @Eskel
to purge the voices
Dominance
Round 3 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 10 + 4 + 7 + 2 + 18 + 15 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 12 + 18 + 14 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 7 + 5 + 17 + 6

---

ooc: thanks so much for the great first fight!
it really helped me get acquainted with the system <3

am i god?
i may destroy myself

@lory

It is both a blessing and a curse- his size. If he were lucky enough he could sit on most opponents he’s met here so far and they would struggle, but this male isn’t that much smaller than he. Eskel has never been much of a fighter, despite his burly size- but he has never shied away from a fight that brings itself to his proverbial door-step.

It is pain and exhaustion that wears him down, that brings the prodigious male to the point of a near whimper. He is tired. Exhaustion begins to weigh his bones down, the initial adrenaline rush slowing.

As the other male bites into his leg, the pain is sharp and agonizing. But slowly, he feels like he’s gained some sort of control as the male sinks to the sooty earth, and Eskel wonders if this is winning?

He doesn’t expect the flash of teeth to go for his throat, and it is pure instinct that makes him jerk back, as he feels the teeth of the male latch into the side of his neck now, instead of his jugular.

From his upwards position, he aims to use his right leg to raise and land on the male’s shoulder or back, to press him down into the earth, while his jaws splay open seeking to grab hold of whatever exposed neck or face of the male that he may be able to reach- his attempt is a blind and desperate grab to see if he can get some kind of control of this movement again.

And here he thought fights would always be easy- just because he was big.

Eskel VS @ Vághan
For Dominance/ What the hell, man?
Round 3/3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 12 + 4 + 18 + 2 + 20 + 16

Dodge:

Rolling 2d20: 13 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 19 + 3 + 16 + 7 + 1

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

@Vághan VS. @Eskel FOR dominance
— RESULTS —

Vaghan Hits: 3 + 2 + 3 = 8
Vaghan Dodges: 1 + 4 + 3 = 8

Eskel Hits: 4 + 2 + 4 = 10
Eskel Dodges: 1 + 1 + 1 = 3

Vaghan Successful Hits: 5
Eskel Successful Hits: 2

VAGHAN HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR DOMINANCE!

Please allow the challengers to respond to the fight results first. As per the site rules, if 3 days go by without a post from the challenger(s), they can be skipped. Whichever comes first! Any posts made before this will be removed, unless you are posting to another fight.