ForgottenCerberus

Romana closed her eyes and relished in the calmness of nature around her as her feet carried her deeper into the forest, her mind and quest clear. Behind her, another two rexals steps echoed on the crunchy, stick and branch-littered pavement made out of leaves and weeds, following her with obedience that was unlikely for both characters. Deimos and Volseviir walked at a fair distance between each other, with Deimos in the middle and Volseviir in the far back. The way they both tracked along was almost telling the story of who they were with purely sound. Deimos' steps were heavy and strong - one that an inexperienced rexal could easily confuse with a bear, while Volseviir's were silent and measured. While Deimos did not bother to try not to step on loud branches that could give away their location, Volseviir avoided making a sound. He carefully watched each of his steps, his eyes scanning the ground with care as he was enjoying nature as much as Romana did, and examined for any sort

[WARNING FOR MURDER, MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND MILD GORE] The thunder roared with bloodlust above as Deimos kept a steady foothold on the ship. He left the cabin and continued to walk unbothered as if it was a sunny day. He had his fair share of storms in his life, and he knew how to stand - and so did the crew. However, unlike the living beings on the ship, the cargo lacked consciousness and, therefore, the need to stand still. His nose wrinkled in frustration as he noticed how the crates containing valuable materials began to slide left and right, and he bared his teeth as he saw one of them take a tumble and fall into the gaping mouth of the raging waves. He had no idea what that one in particular contained, but it was already a loss that he did not intend to suffer. "Secure the cargo! I don't care what it takes; keep it on the bloody ship!" He ordered with a voice just as terrifying as the thunder above them as he jumped into action, his eyes scanning for a rope or anything

Ghillie has heard plenty of tales about the Depths of the Posian Trench as a child, which has resulted in his creative mind creating images that he yearned to discover if they were real or not. He did not hesitate when the time finally came for him to tackle the task of descending into the darkest pits of the Trench. He was eager to see if the tales were true, and there was no Elder or other higher being that could stop him. From the moment he left the Dome, he could feel the pressure of the water gnawing at his skin, muscles and bones, and the coldness of it proved to be a curse that was inflicted upon him as he descended further into the abyss. The soft, safe light of the Dome became more and more distant as he swam, the darkness engulfing his body and soul as he swam straight down, using his senses to guide him. His crimson red halo provided light that was for nought, as it was faint, as a dream of a child. It existed, but its presence did not bring comfort or fear. Perhaps if his

Rhem did not expect to hear the screams of his former childhood bully coming from the river today. If anything, it was a miracle that he had heard them at all, as the sound of water flowing was almost overpowering everything around it, muffling the cries of the rexal in need of help with murderous intent, as if it was hellbent on taking a life today. The persha rexal immediately ran towards the direction of the sound out of reflex, but his mind was not clearly made up about what kind of action he should take yet. "Today was meant to be a calm day, god damnit!" he cursed under his breath as his eyes began to scan the river, trying to find any signs of the rexal whose weak screams still echoed in his mind - and then he spotted them. The inky coat of Athena was like a single dust of coal amongst the white, foamy waves as she struggled to hold onto one of the protruding rocks, her hand constantly slipping as she tried to regain any sort of control over her situation. Rhem just stood

Grygori woke up with a groan that was half a moan, half a muffled curse. The fake sun of the Dome was still not out, leaving Nyctimene's darkness to shine as the rexal pushed himself out of bed, his bones cracking as he did so. Grygori grimaced at the sound of his joints as he began to stretch, first by extending his arms above his head and reaching as high as he could and then by leaning to the left and right, his body giving out sounds that were mimicking one of a falling tree. "I am not getting any younger", he told himself after he shook down his hands, feeling how much easier the blood was now flowing now in his limbs. These little morning exercises were the result of his age, for sure. When he was younger, he would never do these activities, but by now, he has matured and learned their benefits. He could not imagine starting the day off without them. Then, he walked to his room's window, curiously looking outside, checking on the nest that was carefully built by one of the

Bearohn jolted awake with the force of a thousand oxes, the violence and fight of his dream still forcing his body to be at the ready. He gasped for air as if he was being choked, and he could still feel the burning sensation of fire eating away at his skin and senses, and it took them several seconds to completely abandon him. He always woke up like this from nightmares - jolting up, ready to fight the whole world barehanded. And yet, his surroundings were peaceful. The only noises he could hear were the gentle pitter patter of the rain outside and the loud snores of his partner, Nikolai, who, despite all the ruckus, was still sleeping soundly next to Bearohn, smiling to himself as he dreamt of something pleasant. Bearohn sighed as he rubbed his face with both of his hands, using the contact to try and scrub off whatever adrenaline remained from his dreamscape. He noticed how his hands were shaking still, so he gently placed them upon Nikolai's upper arm to try and calm his nerves

Malus snarled under her nose as she spotted a jetwash marked rexal ahead of her on the mountain pass. She was just about to reach the very tip of the mountain, a place where she came to reflect a bit and enjoy some nice peace and quiet away from the slowpokes of her home. However, the giant emerald rexal in front of her was stopping her right in her tracks. The mountain pass' final stretch was narrow - dangerously slow as the two mountains almost touched each other, leaving only the narrowest of walkable alley between each other. It meant one thing, particularly in her case - she was stuck behind one really slow-walking asshole. At first, she decided to try to gently usher the rexal in front of her by walking closer and closer, but it only resulted in the rex in front of her stopping and looking back at her from over their shoulder. Patroklosz's eyes looked the other rexal up and down with the hunger of a wolf, sizing her up before speaking in their deep tone that chimed with both