Kruluk let out yet another screech of agony, as well as wrath. The Draconic Race suffered its consequences. The abomination that was once otherwise continued its slow and painful death. As the rifts became unstable, Kruluk lifted his hand. He ripped the rifts that the abomination was creating open. He was met with darkness from each rift, as they waited to fully unravel on the other side.
"Hesente.. Chen.. Kalist..." echoed from the core of the dying world. No longer was Kruluk masked by the anima. The dragons of the world flocked to him. "Kruluk... Lith...". His words carried like smoke. He faced the dragons around him. Beneath a metal cast helmet, his eyes burnt red. The staff, crafted from the bones of the Draconic Race and the earth of the realm he stood upon, powered by anima. On his chest, a bleeding scar, which bled like a dying fire. His fists molten, he grabbed his weapon, ripping a Runite Dragon from the floor. Kruluk then positioned his staff into its spear end, tearing through the servant he deemed "Kath." As it let out its final fiery breath, he absorbed it into his molten fist.
The lifeless body fell. Kruluk walked forward, looking at the empty realm above him. The remaining Dragons bowed before him, not daring to move. From the rocks in front of him, he grabbed a cape of hardened obsidian. As he set it onto his back, and it touched his skin, it ignited into a molten form.
Grabbing his staff, he awaited the rifts opening. As he spoke, it was as if darkness itself echoed into the world. "Crasortius... Gielinor..." left the metallic head guard. He was burning with anger. Ortha Drakkerkin Kruluk Kreath placed his hand against the largest rift, planting his staff into the ground. He channeled the dying world, and the fire around him rose, pouring into the rift. On Gielinor, the connecting crack in the world set aflame.
A silent laughed echoed throughout the hollow realm. Kruluk was finally to come.
14-Apr-2017 02:23:13
- Last edited on
14-Apr-2017 02:46:18
by
Darius Verus