Carnasaur
Carnikang
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Call of the Stars
(Original Text)
(Edited Version)
It was warm where it floated, much like he remembered from his first days. It was good, simple, and sublime. The feeling seemed to last an eternity, yet also an instant something jerked on the world, or was it his being? The warm surroundings disappeared, every light and feeling around him seeming to fall into a whirlpool of color.
The world stopped with a jarring thud, and was black. Something tickled the senses, his nose? A rough surface, his scales? Gingerly the being opened his eyes, the golden orbs watery as they caught light and darkness for the first time, or was it the last? A rumble followed from a broad chest, a growl of both frustration and pain. Claws reached for his throbbing skull, and felt something warm yet hard like stone, touch his crested temple. Looking to the object, eyes saw an ornate claw, or one within a stone gauntlet. Jerking at a sudden pain in it's mind, voices filled his skull. Dozens of them penetrating and worming around within.
It moves. It lives. It thinks and reasons with its surroundings.
Is he as he was?
We shall see. We must test it.
As the others were?
Our hopes lie with him. The test must be administered.
Will we remember this one correctly?
Focus, we cannot try again.
The Anathema must fall, we will try again.
Standing slowly, the being stood and surveyed his surroundings through bleary eyes. A chamber tall and round, a single shaft of light piercing the apex. Many shadowy forms resided in the darkness outside of the light, though he could not tell if their were a dozen or a thousand. His mind was invaded again, as a bestial roar suddenly split the chamber.
Fight, prove yourself, were the thundering thoughts from more powerful minds that rocked his own; you are the last, the only one who may find our hope.
Moments later a massive reptilian beast exploded from the shadows, scales of fiery red, with eyes of hunger and claws of obsidian. Something awoke within, the awoken one charging the beast and striking at it with his stone gauntlet before breaking away and moving to strike again and again.
Snapping jaws, scything claws, and a crushing tail whipped about in a whirlwind melee, the two beings vying for the upper-hand. The beast roared and hissed, using it's greater bulk and muscular body to bully the smaller scaled biped. A silent and grim figure was a stark contrast, ducking beneath death laced claws, and leaping over a whipping tail of fury. All the while his mind raced as a feeling crept into it. This creature was his, it was one with him.
The feeling persisted, niggling at the back of consciousness, while the two continued their deadly dance. The Slann looked on, impassive but for their eyes. Here and there a widening eye, a nervous twitch, or a hopeful glance to another shadowy observer.
The battle came to a head in an instant. One of the tree-trunk legs shot out as the awoken ducked beneath the beast, and the combatant was sent flying. The room inhaled sharply.
The floor met his scaled side hard, and he slid on something wet. Moments turned into an eternity as golden orbs snapped open to see a gaping maw mere inches away. Slann clenched their webbed hands on stone seats, the sudden emotional turmoil surging about the room. Yet unable to touch the two in the light.
The beast's jaws would have clamped shut and torn him apart had they not been stopped by his own strength. One claw held the crushing bottom of the monster's jaw, while the stone-gauntlet held the huge fangs of the top at bay. The titanic forces between the two surged and muscles bulged. Reaching within, the warrior felt for a reserve of strength, a last reservoir of might. A name sprung forth instead, and his mind focused on it.
Grymloq
A mighty heave and the beast was thrown to it's side, stunned by the impact. Assaulted by a sudden mental calling, it scrabbled on the stone-floor. The one that had bested it glared down into it's orbs of fire with those of molten gold, wills doing battle as fiercely as their physical struggle had been. It relaxed slowly after a short time, recognizing the greater predator. A relieved wave of emotion settled throughout the chamber as the beast was cowed.
Good. You are worthy, unlike the other iterations. Only now did the smell of rent flesh and an odd ozone flavor tickle the tongue. Skin, scales, bones even, littered the floor, some glittering oddly in the light. Remains of those who could not conquer part of themselves, mere fragments. One caught his eye, a stone piece that looked as if it had come from his left arm.
His gauntlet was whole.
"What is this?" the voice came from his own throat, raspy and unused for what might have been millennia. There was a cold feeling deep in his belly, something truly alien amid all of this unfamiliarity. Was it fear?
The beginning of the Old One's vengeance, the beginning of Hope for their shattered Great Plan.This string of thoughts echoed more powerfully, coming from one mind in particular. It was shrouded, but it was familiar and ancient all at once.
"And I?" the words echoed in the chamber, the memories and being of the one who asked confused and jumbled in his own mind. He knew, but also did not know himself. What was he, and what was his purpose? The thought was plucked from his mind, the same 'voice' responding among others.
The Slayer of Anathema.
Lord of Beasts.
Herald of the First.
You are the Last Defender of Xhotl, and the First Spear of the Starmasters. You are "Kroq-Gar" the words rolled off the lips of every Slann in the chamber, and even the saurus himself spoke, his being and purpose suddenly clear. His mind unclouded now, the Old-Blood hefted a spear that materialized in his hand, ornate and shimmering with power, while the gauntlet that covered his left claw flared with the light of a million suns.
"I am the First Spear of the Starmasters, the Vengeance of the Old Ones. I will not fail in my task." His voice was cold and hard, filled with conviction as the massive Carnosaur roared along side it's eternal rider.
(Original Text)
It was warm where it floated, much like he remembered from his first days. It was good, simple, and sublime. The feeling seemed to last an eternity, yet also an instant something jerked on the world, or was it his being? The warm surroundings disappeared, every light and feeling around him seeming to fall into a whirlpool of color.
The world stopped with a jarring thud, and was black. Something tickled the senses, his nose? A rough surface, his scales? Gingerly the being opened his eyes, the golden orbs watery as they caught light and darkness for the first time, or was it the last? A rumble followed from a broad chest, a growl of both frustration and pain. Claws reached for his throbbing skull, and felt something warm yet hard like stone, touch his crested temple. Looking to the object, eyes saw an ornate claw, or one within a stone gauntlet. Jerking at a sudden pain in it's mind, voices filled his skull. Dozens of them penetrating and worming around within.
It moves. It lives. It thinks and reasons with its surroundings.
Is he as he was?
We shall see. We must test it.
As the others were?
Our hopes lie with him. The test must be administered.
Will we remember this one correctly?
Focus, we cannot try again.
The Anathema must fall, we will try again.
Standing slowly, the being stood and surveyed his surroundings through bleary eyes. A chamber tall and round, a single shaft of light piercing the apex. Many shadowy forms resided in the darkness outside of the light, though he could not tell if their were a dozen or a thousand. His mind was invaded again, as a bestial roar suddenly split the chamber.
Fight, prove yourself, was the thundering thought from more powerful minds that rocked his own; you are the last, the only one who may find our hope.
Moments later a massive reptilian beast exploded from the shadows, scales of fiery red, with eyes of hunger and claws of obsidian. Something awoke within, the awoken one charging the beast and striking at it with his stone gauntlet before breaking away and moving to strike again and again.
Snapping jaws, scything claws, and a crushing tail whipped about in a whirlwind melee, the two beings vying for the upper-hand. The beast roared and hissed, using it's greater bulk and muscular body to bully the smaller scaled biped. A silent and grim figure was a stark contrast, ducking beneath death laced claws, and leaping over a whipping tail of fury. All the while his mind raced as a feeling crept into it. This creature was his, it was one with him.
The feeling persisted, niggling at the back of consciousness, while the two continued their deadly dance. The Slann looked on, impassive but for their eyes. Here and there a widening eye, a nervous twitch, or a hopeful glance to another shadowy observer.
The battle came to a head in an instant. One of the tree-trunk legs shot out as the awoken ducked around it, and the combatant was sent flying. The room inhaled sharply.
The floor met his scaled side hard, and he slid on something wet. Moments turned into an eternity as golden orbs snapped open to see a gaping maw mere inches away. Slann clenched their webbed hands on stone seats, the sudden emotional turmoil surging about the room. Yet unable to touch the two in the light.
The beast's jaws would have clamped shut and torn him apart had they not been stopped by his own strength. One claw held the top of the monster's jaw, while the stone-gauntlet ground against the huge fangs of the top. The titanic forces between the two surged and muscles bulged. Reaching within, the warrior felt for a reserve of strength, a last reservoir of might. A name sprung forth instead, and his mind focused on it.
Grymloc
A mighty heave and the beast was thrown to it's side, stunned by the impact. Assaulted by a sudden mental calling, it scrabbled on the stone-floor. The one that had bested it glared down into it's orbs of fire with those of molten gold, wills doing battle as fiercely as their physical struggle had been. It relaxed slowly after a short time, recognizing the greater predator. A relieved wave of emotion settled throughout the chamber as the beast was cowed.
Good. You are worthy, unlike the other iterations. Only now did the smell of rent flesh and an odd ozone flavor tickle the tongue. Skin, scales, bones even, littered the floor, some glittering oddly in the light. Remains of those who could not conquer part of themselves, mere fragments. One caught his eye, a stone piece that looked as if it had come from his left arm.
His gauntlet was whole.
"What is this?" the voice came from his throat, raspy and unused for what might have been millennia. There was a cold feeling deep in his belly, something truly alien amid all of this unfamiliarity. Was it fear?
The beginning of the Old One's vengeance, the beginning of Hope for their shattered Great Plan.This string of thoughts echoed more powerfully, coming from one mind in particular. It was shrouded, but it was familiar and ancient all at once.
"And I?" the words echoed in the chamber, the memories and being of the one who asked confused and jumbled in his own mind. He knew, but also did not know himself. What was he, and what was his purpose? The thought was plucked from his mind, the same 'voice' responding among others.
The Slayer of Anathema.
Lord of Beasts.
Herald of the First.
You are the Last Defender of Xhotl, and the First Spear of the Starmasters. You are "Kroq-Gar" the words rolled off the lips of every Slann in the chamber, and even the saurus himself spoke, his being and purpose suddenly clear. His mind unclouded now, the Old-Blood hefted a spear that materialized in his hand, ornate and shimmering with power, while the gauntlet that covered his left claw flared with the light of a million suns.
"I am the First Spear of the Starmasters, the Vengeance of the Old Ones. I will not fail in my task." His voice was cold and hard, filled with conviction as the massive Carnosaur roared along side it's eternal rider.
The world stopped with a jarring thud, and was black. Something tickled the senses, his nose? A rough surface, his scales? Gingerly the being opened his eyes, the golden orbs watery as they caught light and darkness for the first time, or was it the last? A rumble followed from a broad chest, a growl of both frustration and pain. Claws reached for his throbbing skull, and felt something warm yet hard like stone, touch his crested temple. Looking to the object, eyes saw an ornate claw, or one within a stone gauntlet. Jerking at a sudden pain in it's mind, voices filled his skull. Dozens of them penetrating and worming around within.
It moves. It lives. It thinks and reasons with its surroundings.
Is he as he was?
We shall see. We must test it.
As the others were?
Our hopes lie with him. The test must be administered.
Will we remember this one correctly?
Focus, we cannot try again.
The Anathema must fall, we will try again.
Standing slowly, the being stood and surveyed his surroundings through bleary eyes. A chamber tall and round, a single shaft of light piercing the apex. Many shadowy forms resided in the darkness outside of the light, though he could not tell if their were a dozen or a thousand. His mind was invaded again, as a bestial roar suddenly split the chamber.
Fight, prove yourself, was the thundering thought from more powerful minds that rocked his own; you are the last, the only one who may find our hope.
Moments later a massive reptilian beast exploded from the shadows, scales of fiery red, with eyes of hunger and claws of obsidian. Something awoke within, the awoken one charging the beast and striking at it with his stone gauntlet before breaking away and moving to strike again and again.
Snapping jaws, scything claws, and a crushing tail whipped about in a whirlwind melee, the two beings vying for the upper-hand. The beast roared and hissed, using it's greater bulk and muscular body to bully the smaller scaled biped. A silent and grim figure was a stark contrast, ducking beneath death laced claws, and leaping over a whipping tail of fury. All the while his mind raced as a feeling crept into it. This creature was his, it was one with him.
The feeling persisted, niggling at the back of consciousness, while the two continued their deadly dance. The Slann looked on, impassive but for their eyes. Here and there a widening eye, a nervous twitch, or a hopeful glance to another shadowy observer.
The battle came to a head in an instant. One of the tree-trunk legs shot out as the awoken ducked around it, and the combatant was sent flying. The room inhaled sharply.
The floor met his scaled side hard, and he slid on something wet. Moments turned into an eternity as golden orbs snapped open to see a gaping maw mere inches away. Slann clenched their webbed hands on stone seats, the sudden emotional turmoil surging about the room. Yet unable to touch the two in the light.
The beast's jaws would have clamped shut and torn him apart had they not been stopped by his own strength. One claw held the top of the monster's jaw, while the stone-gauntlet ground against the huge fangs of the top. The titanic forces between the two surged and muscles bulged. Reaching within, the warrior felt for a reserve of strength, a last reservoir of might. A name sprung forth instead, and his mind focused on it.
Grymloc
A mighty heave and the beast was thrown to it's side, stunned by the impact. Assaulted by a sudden mental calling, it scrabbled on the stone-floor. The one that had bested it glared down into it's orbs of fire with those of molten gold, wills doing battle as fiercely as their physical struggle had been. It relaxed slowly after a short time, recognizing the greater predator. A relieved wave of emotion settled throughout the chamber as the beast was cowed.
Good. You are worthy, unlike the other iterations. Only now did the smell of rent flesh and an odd ozone flavor tickle the tongue. Skin, scales, bones even, littered the floor, some glittering oddly in the light. Remains of those who could not conquer part of themselves, mere fragments. One caught his eye, a stone piece that looked as if it had come from his left arm.
His gauntlet was whole.
"What is this?" the voice came from his throat, raspy and unused for what might have been millennia. There was a cold feeling deep in his belly, something truly alien amid all of this unfamiliarity. Was it fear?
The beginning of the Old One's vengeance, the beginning of Hope for their shattered Great Plan.This string of thoughts echoed more powerfully, coming from one mind in particular. It was shrouded, but it was familiar and ancient all at once.
"And I?" the words echoed in the chamber, the memories and being of the one who asked confused and jumbled in his own mind. He knew, but also did not know himself. What was he, and what was his purpose? The thought was plucked from his mind, the same 'voice' responding among others.
The Slayer of Anathema.
Lord of Beasts.
Herald of the First.
You are the Last Defender of Xhotl, and the First Spear of the Starmasters. You are "Kroq-Gar" the words rolled off the lips of every Slann in the chamber, and even the saurus himself spoke, his being and purpose suddenly clear. His mind unclouded now, the Old-Blood hefted a spear that materialized in his hand, ornate and shimmering with power, while the gauntlet that covered his left claw flared with the light of a million suns.
"I am the First Spear of the Starmasters, the Vengeance of the Old Ones. I will not fail in my task." His voice was cold and hard, filled with conviction as the massive Carnosaur roared along side it's eternal rider.
(Edited Version)
It was warm where it floated, much like he remembered from his first days. It was good, simple, and sublime. The feeling seemed to last an eternity, yet also an instant something jerked on the world, or was it his being? The warm surroundings disappeared, every light and feeling around him seeming to fall into a whirlpool of color.
The world stopped with a jarring thud, and was black. Something tickled the senses, his nose? A rough surface, his scales? Gingerly the being opened his eyes, the golden orbs watery as they caught light and darkness for the first time, or was it the last? A rumble followed from a broad chest, a growl of both frustration and pain. Claws reached for his throbbing skull, and felt something warm yet hard like stone, touch his crested temple. Looking to the object, eyes saw an ornate claw, or one within a stone gauntlet. Jerking at a sudden pain in it's mind, voices filled his skull. Dozens of them penetrating and worming around within.
It moves. It lives. It thinks and reasons with its surroundings.
Is he as he was?
We shall see. We must test it.
As the others were?
Our hopes lie with him. The test must be administered.
Will we remember this one correctly?
Focus, we cannot try again.
The Anathema must fall, we will try again.
Standing slowly, the being stood and surveyed his surroundings through bleary eyes. A chamber tall and round, a single shaft of light piercing the apex. Many shadowy forms resided in the darkness outside of the light, though he could not tell if their were a dozen or a thousand. His mind was invaded again, as a bestial roar suddenly split the chamber.
Fight, prove yourself, were the thundering thoughts from more powerful minds that rocked his own; you are the last, the only one who may find our hope.
Moments later a massive reptilian beast exploded from the shadows, scales of fiery red, with eyes of hunger and claws of obsidian. Something awoke within, the awoken one charging the beast and striking at it with his stone gauntlet before breaking away and moving to strike again and again.
Snapping jaws, scything claws, and a crushing tail whipped about in a whirlwind melee, the two beings vying for the upper-hand. The beast roared and hissed, using it's greater bulk and muscular body to bully the smaller scaled biped. A silent and grim figure was a stark contrast, ducking beneath death laced claws, and leaping over a whipping tail of fury. All the while his mind raced as a feeling crept into it. This creature was his, it was one with him.
The feeling persisted, niggling at the back of consciousness, while the two continued their deadly dance. The Slann looked on, impassive but for their eyes. Here and there a widening eye, a nervous twitch, or a hopeful glance to another shadowy observer.
The battle came to a head in an instant. One of the tree-trunk legs shot out as the awoken ducked beneath the beast, and the combatant was sent flying. The room inhaled sharply.
The floor met his scaled side hard, and he slid on something wet. Moments turned into an eternity as golden orbs snapped open to see a gaping maw mere inches away. Slann clenched their webbed hands on stone seats, the sudden emotional turmoil surging about the room. Yet unable to touch the two in the light.
The beast's jaws would have clamped shut and torn him apart had they not been stopped by his own strength. One claw held the crushing bottom of the monster's jaw, while the stone-gauntlet held the huge fangs of the top at bay. The titanic forces between the two surged and muscles bulged. Reaching within, the warrior felt for a reserve of strength, a last reservoir of might. A name sprung forth instead, and his mind focused on it.
Grymloq
A mighty heave and the beast was thrown to it's side, stunned by the impact. Assaulted by a sudden mental calling, it scrabbled on the stone-floor. The one that had bested it glared down into it's orbs of fire with those of molten gold, wills doing battle as fiercely as their physical struggle had been. It relaxed slowly after a short time, recognizing the greater predator. A relieved wave of emotion settled throughout the chamber as the beast was cowed.
Good. You are worthy, unlike the other iterations. Only now did the smell of rent flesh and an odd ozone flavor tickle the tongue. Skin, scales, bones even, littered the floor, some glittering oddly in the light. Remains of those who could not conquer part of themselves, mere fragments. One caught his eye, a stone piece that looked as if it had come from his left arm.
His gauntlet was whole.
"What is this?" the voice came from his own throat, raspy and unused for what might have been millennia. There was a cold feeling deep in his belly, something truly alien amid all of this unfamiliarity. Was it fear?
The beginning of the Old One's vengeance, the beginning of Hope for their shattered Great Plan.This string of thoughts echoed more powerfully, coming from one mind in particular. It was shrouded, but it was familiar and ancient all at once.
"And I?" the words echoed in the chamber, the memories and being of the one who asked confused and jumbled in his own mind. He knew, but also did not know himself. What was he, and what was his purpose? The thought was plucked from his mind, the same 'voice' responding among others.
The Slayer of Anathema.
Lord of Beasts.
Herald of the First.
You are the Last Defender of Xhotl, and the First Spear of the Starmasters. You are "Kroq-Gar" the words rolled off the lips of every Slann in the chamber, and even the saurus himself spoke, his being and purpose suddenly clear. His mind unclouded now, the Old-Blood hefted a spear that materialized in his hand, ornate and shimmering with power, while the gauntlet that covered his left claw flared with the light of a million suns.
"I am the First Spear of the Starmasters, the Vengeance of the Old Ones. I will not fail in my task." His voice was cold and hard, filled with conviction as the massive Carnosaur roared along side it's eternal rider.
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