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Thread: Inanimation Station

  1. #1
    Junior Member

    EXP: 20,586, Level: 6
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    Level completed: 9%,
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    Ebivoulya's Avatar

    Nyadir D'Var

    Inanimation Station

    "The life of a tree is peaceful for the most part, but every now and then even plants wage war."
    - Claudius Dogwood

    The straights were dire, the future grim; a nest of termites had taken up residence on the side of the tree, and in time could kill it completely. For months now it had formulated its plan, carefully observing the termites and occasionally testing their defenses. The moment for decisive action had come, so with the aid of a strong gust of wind a gnarled branch the length of a forearm managed to finally dislodge itself. After being nearly broken off in a storm years before the branch thought it had become useless, but that had actually prepared it for this cunning plan. With a wooden vengeance it sailed down onto the termite nest, sinking into the top of it close to the trunk.

    The nest did not dislodge, and the queen was swiftly pulled from her collapsed chambers; the termites breathed a collective sigh of relief. Little did they know, however, this was merely the first phase of the plan. With the structural stability of the nest below weakening, the branch began tilting outward, and finally toppled over onto the grass below, its thicker end covered in termites. It wasn't long before a large hawk nesting at the top of the tree spied the newly freed branch and thought it an excellent addition to its nest. The branch would've laughed if it could, and waited with glee as the bird descended to pick it up. Thanks to the expertly calculated angle, the branch had fallen in such a way that what looked like the middle to the hawk, was actually closer to the thin end.

    This imbalance forced the bird to correct its flight several times, giving the branch just enough time for the next phase to occur. As the hawk was nearing its nest in the top of the tree, the termites finally reached its feet. Fearing the fall, the fools had climbed up the branch, biting in their rage the whole way, and had mistaken the bird's feet for wood; a costly error. The hawk dropped it in surprise, and the timing was perfect. Like the wrath of an angry god the branch soared down from the skies to land a second crushing blow to the termite's nest. The strike killed the queen instantly, and even managed to dislodge the nest entirely. The leaves of the tree waved in the wind to celebrate, and the branch joyously bounced a few feet away. Flipping end over end, it managed to lodge itself into some soft ground in front of the tree. Pride was clear on its bark, and it eagerly took on its newfound role of guardian, waiting patiently to defeat any who would threaten its tree.

  2. #2
    Our Enemies Rest

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    Level completed: 73%,
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    Fezomorph's Avatar

    Azaranth Ubissad
    "What are men to rocks and mountains?"
    - Jane Austen

    Under the light of day hooves clicked against the jagged precipices of Qlasp Mountain. Corneous skulls crashed into one another, heads driven by a conjunction of bone and muscle. Two goats, their hides a layer of bone-white hair, slowly circled one another. One wheezed furiously, threatening to trample its rival as its horizontal pupil held the opposing stag in contempt. A few hundred paces above was the summit, a rocky outcropping thrust into the sunlit firmament. Thus, their horns clashed, for reasons unfound but in their animalistic conscience, and they rose with their graceful bodies. Supported by their hind feet, they exchanged another onslaught of head thrusts.

    The goats landed, stamping their hooves on the rock underneath. Their combined forces caused a young fracture, two arm spans long. Yet one lost its footing and found itself sliding down the mountain. With nothing to hold onto the minutely perfect surface, the animal reached a cliff and dove headlong into the woodland below. Stirred rocks and stones soon followed it its wake; a certain one, the biggest of the group, then emerged.

    A few-hundred-pace drop, the beast bleated on its descent and met the earth with a blood-spattering thud, staining the ground red. The boulder that followed landed on the animal’s head, giving it what many would call a second death. But the rock did not stop there, for it found itself traveling further down and into the thick wood. It entered the shade of the trees, its momentum driven by gravity and other unknown natural forces. Suddenly the rock stopped; a long, wide branch had fallen from its behemoth mother -- a towering wood-laden tree that seemed the center of this uncharted strip of forest.

    The remnant of the bough was a light-colored patch in the trunk’s natural rind. Something about the branch, the fracture of bark against stone, stirred something else within the rock, almost a voice that pestered it in its rocky mind: “You’ve found a new enemy. You’ve found a new enemy! - destroy it,” and thus, it hoped the gods would accept its plea to assist in its newfound mission.
    Last edited by Fezomorph; 01-08-2018 at 04:41 PM.
    "I'm not a sophisticated person - I don't think much. Hunters don't think. They act, and they do it without any hesitation whatsoever. It's a predominant principle among all trackers of beasts. We do most of the dirty work. Thinking? I say leave it to the philosophers."

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