RP:Gheneroc's Intruder

From HollowWiki

Practice duel between Gheneroc and Crisien


Gheneroc growled to himself as he smelled an intruder. Not that Gheneroc was much better, having killed this cave's previous owner in spectacular fashion. The old stone dragon had purpose with which to move. Every movement he made, every syllable, carried its own purpose for to do anything without such was pointless to the dragon. He lumbered into action, not welcoming to strangers simply wandering in. The massive cave dragon's scales glinted in the dim light, showing like plates of stone layered upon his body but the small flecks of light were reflected by gem stones actually pressed into Gheneroc's particularly thick hide. As the dragon was a wingless one, born that way, he bore more natural armor than even his winged cousin sported - for he did not need to sacrifice weight for flight. The dragon spotted the intruder - a small human to his eye. Another insect, but something was off about the scent. That didn't stop the dragon from roaring and crashing directly at Crisien, charging for her. He lifted his massive fore-hand and sought to simply squish Crisien beneath his palm. Regardless if the strike would actually make contact with Crisien, Gheneroc put enough force to crush the earth beneath his hand, to cause a claw-sized crater to form beneath the dragon's massive attack. The earth would part as though Gheneroc were part of it as he'd retract the claw. He kept his eye on Crisien as best he could. His current position was about twenty to thirty feet away from Crisien, having reached with the full length of his arm in order to attempt his crushing attack. He roared, shaking the cave with an induced earthquake as both a warning and a method to intimidate.

Crisien was, as ever, disobeying direct orders. Gualon was nice – hell, her quarters in the Governor’s mansion were exquisite – but she needed her freedom. She needed to –roam-. So she’d snuck out and continued her exploration. On today’s list: Xalious, and north. And, lo and behold, she’d hit the jackpot. Treasure! Unfortunately, it didn’t come without strings attached. Giant, stone, wingless strings. “Bloody hell fire,” she breathed, mud-brown gaze latching itself to the oncoming threat. Crisien momentarily donned a typical rabbit-in-headlights expression; slack jaw, wide eyes and utterly immobile, until… well adrenaline kicked her back into action. A desperate dive leftwards, which resulted in the girl landing awkwardly on her elbow, and she was at least free of that massive hand that sought to crush her into dust. Her arm was smarting terribly, mind you, and that elicited a fair few unladylike curses from the dragon. Rage bubbled from the pit of her stomach and instinct took over; tongue flicked over a few, short syllables, and she was encouraging flames from nothing. Pyromancy was a natural progression for the girl, really, considering her sheer fascination with fire. It was obvious that Gheneroc’s armour would protect him from her comparatively-puny flames, but… she had aimed them for his eyes. Tiny, spitting balls of fire were heading at ridiculous speeds and seeking to burn their way through his eyeballs.

Gheneroc watched the small one throwing fire toward his head. A few of the fireballs snuffed out against Gheneroc's head as he turned away. The dragon, however, could fight blind - his eyes were not his primary sense of awareness having been born to utter darkness. But rather than directing a specific attack at the firecaster, Gheneroc roared again as he reared up, exposing his slightly softer underbelly - still formidably armored, but he didn't have a layer of older scales. This show would be the least of Crisien's problems as Gheneroc dug his forelimbs into the cave ceiling above. He cursed out a spell of his own and literally brought down the house. Earth moved with Gheneroc's will, as a rather large portion of the ceiling would start to fall for Crisien. The large section was about forty feet across, and ten feet deep, but earth would avalanche forth, pouring down on the offender. With the falling earth, Gheneroc would lurch forward, landing in his natural standing position once more, ready to pursue Crisien again. The massive dragon would wait until the fireballs stopped before he'd dare open an eye.

Crisien had walked into utter chaos, apparently. This realm was mental. From her position (read: lying against the rocky floor), she watched her attack unfurl… poorly. This, of course, elicited more curses from the girl, and those mud-brown eyes watched as Gheneroc made it rain rocks. The exposed underbelly was an interesting development, but Crisien didn’t have time to utilise –that- just yet. Instead, she resorted to shifting; bones cracked, form expanded, and, where the wiry girl had previously been standing was a black dragon surrounded by tattered, ripped clothes. She wasn’t huge by any means (at least, not by Gheneroc’s standards), but she felt as though the playing field had been levelled a little. Plus, she had wings. Scaled, black, studded wings which beat the air beneath them and granted her flight, allowing her to escape (for the most part) from the falling ceiling. It nicked her tail on the way down, but the barbs that trailed from its tip to her neck made relatively short work of it; it shattered and fell, in a score of pieces, to come crashing against the floor. Said tail was utilised in attempts to cause damage to Gheneroc, then; she spun, still in flight, and whipped it toward him. If it met its mark, it’d wedge itself between his legs and those barbs would bury themselves within the softer flesh of his underbelly.

Gheneroc watched as Crisien changed. As the last of the rocks fell - he had attempted to bury the black - he saw the attack coming. Because he had his guard, the dragon rolled against the attack. The spines of Crisien's tail would strike Gheneroc's thick upper hide, managing to penetrate the first layer of older scales, but as the dragon's armor was layered the barps perhaps were likely to get stuck, requiring more force to remove Crisien's tail if they dug in deep enough. Couple this with Gheneroc's attempt to grab the tail with his clawed hand. Regardless if he managed to hold Crisien in place, Gheneroc would counter with his breath attack. Caustic poison gas in certainly lethal concentration jetted forth toward the black dragon, threatening to melt her scales almost like a black dragon's acidic breath but Gheneroc's was gasious. It wouldn't stay in one spot, but spread as a miasma. The massive stone dragon was only just beginning to warm up, now enlivened by the fight he was having with the black. A challenge!

Crisien was almost phobic of being trapped. Confinement and imprisonment were her biggest fears, in actual fact, but she wasn’t about to announce that to the crazed, giant stone dragon. Instead, she’d wriggle desperately to avoid his grasp and, with some twists and turns (presumably gouging those barbs around into his wounds), she was free. Knowing first-hand what dragon breath could harbour, those wings once again came into play; she flapped them ferociously and, when she’d gathered enough momentum to move at speed, she pressed them to her body and shot back toward the exit. Some treasure wasn’t worth the hassle. Okay, that’s a lie; she’d just come back when she was sure Gheneroc wasn’t sat atop his hoard.