by The Mighty Tarrasque » Sun Aug 13, 2023 1:13 am
Round 4: The Finale
The market is in complete disarray. Carts and stalls lay scattered, broken into numerous pieces and scorched into ash; the front facade of buildings burn and, in some few, the flames grow, threatning to burn further into the city. Bodies of citizens - injured by the slaad or the panic and further hurt by the fireball - lay around the once bustling market. Amidst this chaos, two slaadi lay dead and one stands locked in a single battle by a flying planar. An enraged green slaad tears an animated cart to pieces and the other two remaining slaadi find themselves surrounded by enemies.
The grey slaad barks in its tongue, an impossible to mistake command to fight on - and then the front of one of the buildings collapse, the fire surging up around the entrance. From within the flames emerges a tall, impossibly thin form, silhouetted by the flames within. A crown of thorns circles an otherwise bald head. The eyes of every being still in the marketplace are drawn to the unmistakable form of the dabu emerging from the destroyed building.
The grey barks again, this time its sound less sure, carried with a psychic communication to all within range, "It's one of the Her dogs!" The remaining slaadi glance around at the devastation, suddenly realizing what has been happening. The green, in particular, roars, it's voice psychically pushed, "We'll be mazed for this! Flee!"
Suddenly, there is panic - the slaadi, those capable of it, anyways, flee every which way, no longer concerned with the fight. The green shrinks smashes a nearby window, shrinking down suddenly and jumping into the building and out of sight. The others - sans the white who continues to dance and sing - make a break for it. Within moments, the slaadi are gone and the market is quiet aside from the crackling of fire and the barking of the white slaad's song.
The dabu continues to emerge from the fire, the sound of its feet rustling through debris joining the few other sounds and followed - a moment later - by a long slurping sound. The tall creature sips from a clear container filled with a brownish liquid with small black balls suspended in it. It glances around, eyes hidden behind darkened glasses. On its feet, a pair of now-burned crocs. All in all, it simply looks... annoyed at being disturbed. Behind it, a sign crashes down from the building it left:
Fell's Tattoo Parlour
It turns around to the ruins of the building as the rest of it collapses, its shoulders slumping as it seems to sigh.
[b]Round 4: The Finale[/b]
The market is in complete disarray. Carts and stalls lay scattered, broken into numerous pieces and scorched into ash; the front facade of buildings burn and, in some few, the flames grow, threatning to burn further into the city. Bodies of citizens - injured by the slaad or the panic and further hurt by the fireball - lay around the once bustling market. Amidst this chaos, two slaadi lay dead and one stands locked in a single battle by a flying planar. An enraged green slaad tears an animated cart to pieces and the other two remaining slaadi find themselves surrounded by enemies.
The grey slaad barks in its tongue, an impossible to mistake command to fight on - and then the front of one of the buildings collapse, the fire surging up around the entrance. From within the flames emerges a tall, impossibly thin form, silhouetted by the flames within. A crown of thorns circles an otherwise bald head. The eyes of every being still in the marketplace are drawn to the unmistakable form of the dabu emerging from the destroyed building.
The grey barks again, this time its sound less sure, carried with a psychic communication to all within range, [i][b]"It's one of the Her dogs!"[/b][/i] The remaining slaadi glance around at the devastation, suddenly realizing what has been happening. The green, in particular, roars, it's voice psychically pushed, [i][b]"We'll be mazed for this! Flee!"[/b][/i]
Suddenly, there is panic - the slaadi, those capable of it, anyways, flee every which way, no longer concerned with the fight. The green shrinks smashes a nearby window, shrinking down suddenly and jumping into the building and out of sight. The others - sans the white who continues to dance and sing - make a break for it. Within moments, the slaadi are gone and the market is quiet aside from the crackling of fire and the barking of the white slaad's song.
The dabu continues to emerge from the fire, the sound of its feet rustling through debris joining the few other sounds and followed - a moment later - by a long slurping sound. The tall creature sips from a clear container filled with a brownish liquid with small black balls suspended in it. It glances around, eyes hidden behind darkened glasses. On its feet, a pair of now-burned crocs. All in all, it simply looks... annoyed at being disturbed. Behind it, a sign crashes down from the building it left:
[b]Fell's Tattoo Parlour[/b]
It turns around to the ruins of the building as the rest of it collapses, its shoulders slumping as it seems to sigh.