Post by Viper on Aug 12, 2016 20:40:15 GMT 1
It was an unusually quiet day, and not the type that most were fond of. You see, there were two types of quiet; the good kind and the bad kind. This was not the usual merry and peaceful silence that signified all was well with the world. No, this time not even a single dragon dared to make a sound. This kind of silence rendered both man and dragon speechless, for fear of the danger that was lurking in the shadows beyond.
Now, usually the dragon in question could care less about such things; he was not your typical night strike. While most travelled in packs, he travelled with a few close allies. But something made him stop dead in his tracks. A boy. A boys scream. Of course it wasn’t just any boy; it was that wretched boy that always followed around his new friend, that little hobblegrunt. The thought of her made his tail twitch and he glared back at the village, wasting no time in heading in that direction. From the brush he could clearly make out the scene; a girl, a man, and that boy. Each had their respective dragons except…. One was missing. And that one was none other than that little hobblegrunt the night strike had befriended what seemed like so long ago.
A quick analysis of the behavior and growls of the nadder told him all he needed to know. Trappers. A deep throated growl raised up from the depths of his chest, and he turned, swiftly starting to dart between trees and over fallen branches.
His raptor like body made it easy for him to run, sharp hand like claws nestled against his chest as he went. He knew his dark color was of no advantage to him at this hour. He came to the edge of the island, peering out at the ocean beyond. Although he couldn’t see them, he had caught their scent. Rather, the hobblegrunts scent.
“Hatchling…” He growled under his breathe, before unveiling his wingspan and taking to the skies. He climbed higher, and higher, until he was under a veil of clouds. It didn’t take long before he saw the ships below, as he circled slowly from a high vantage point. Without any hesitation, he dove downwards, slicing the nets with the poison tip of his tail as they came at him. He knew well the games of man. This was not his first battle, nor would it be his last.
Finally, his mark was set, he landed on the sail of the ship, before jumping down, tail thrashing angrily. He kept it aimed at the humans. If it was a war they wanted, a war they would get.
OOC: If you’re confused, look up the night strike in the dragon pedia. Basically like a raptor with wings and a poison tipped tail.
Now, usually the dragon in question could care less about such things; he was not your typical night strike. While most travelled in packs, he travelled with a few close allies. But something made him stop dead in his tracks. A boy. A boys scream. Of course it wasn’t just any boy; it was that wretched boy that always followed around his new friend, that little hobblegrunt. The thought of her made his tail twitch and he glared back at the village, wasting no time in heading in that direction. From the brush he could clearly make out the scene; a girl, a man, and that boy. Each had their respective dragons except…. One was missing. And that one was none other than that little hobblegrunt the night strike had befriended what seemed like so long ago.
A quick analysis of the behavior and growls of the nadder told him all he needed to know. Trappers. A deep throated growl raised up from the depths of his chest, and he turned, swiftly starting to dart between trees and over fallen branches.
His raptor like body made it easy for him to run, sharp hand like claws nestled against his chest as he went. He knew his dark color was of no advantage to him at this hour. He came to the edge of the island, peering out at the ocean beyond. Although he couldn’t see them, he had caught their scent. Rather, the hobblegrunts scent.
“Hatchling…” He growled under his breathe, before unveiling his wingspan and taking to the skies. He climbed higher, and higher, until he was under a veil of clouds. It didn’t take long before he saw the ships below, as he circled slowly from a high vantage point. Without any hesitation, he dove downwards, slicing the nets with the poison tip of his tail as they came at him. He knew well the games of man. This was not his first battle, nor would it be his last.
Finally, his mark was set, he landed on the sail of the ship, before jumping down, tail thrashing angrily. He kept it aimed at the humans. If it was a war they wanted, a war they would get.
OOC: If you’re confused, look up the night strike in the dragon pedia. Basically like a raptor with wings and a poison tipped tail.
