• Solo • The Etzori Chupacabra

Chupacabra translates to Goatsucker, FYI.

With the escalation of hostilities between Etzos and Rhakros, a series of small walled towns is being established as a network of early warnings and defenses against Rhakros' reprisals. Only the very bravest and most formidable of characters should risk themselves on the Witches' Wilds frontier.

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• Solo • The Etzori Chupacabra

Postby Kovic » Sat Jan 27, 2018 9:19 pm

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15th of Zida, 717

Now that his woman was fast asleep, Kovic’s eyes opened. The female snored as if old age had clogged her breathing channels, spread out across the bed as if she owned it whole. She did, technically, for they were yet to be married, but it wa still quite selfish of her. Kovic slowly scooted out of it, the noise of his popping joints masked by Tatania’s racket. Moonlight filtered through the badly closed curtains, shining directly into the glass of water where the female’s denture laid, smiling at him with a sinister gleam. Thankfully she removed them before she suctioned him in their constant sexual encounters, for given the sound of her congested inhales, she would’ve been perfectly capable of swallowing those dentures whole. Slowly, Kovic began creeping into the darkness of her home. The two-story home was very warm, for the fire in the fireplace roared still, having been fed before both cougar and mortalborn had moved on to sexual affairs.

Unlike that fire, Kovic hadn’t been fed. The female was a good cook, and she cooked in great quantities, but never quite enough to satisfy him. Nothing could satisfy him. The wooden floors whined and complained as Kovic’s steps woke them from their restless slumber, and so his steps became slower, walking on his toes. Unfortunately, he wasn’t much of a ballerina, although the creaking of the wood was reduced - somewhat. The bedroom door was open, and Kovic managed to get out into the hallway. The wood here was older, and almost complained no matter how slothish his movement was. As such, he pressed himself against the wall, his feet walking as close to it as they could. Barely any sound. He advanced in such fashion until he reached the small study, saturated with books he couldn’t decipher, a large desk and a comfortable chair standing with their back on the window. When he married, this would be his. Surely the female and him would coat it whole with their fluids, all in due time.

The study was not his destination. Instead, it was the guest room what he was after. It stood opposite of the study. The chamber itself was small, far smaller than any other room in the house. It only had a single bed, a wardrobe filled with sexual toys of all sorts - the female could open her own torture dungeon if she wished - and a simplistic chair. It didn’t even have curtains, but it did have a balcony, despite the Middlecleft’s wall standing right after it. Such a depressive sight was… well. Proper for a guest. A bed was enough for them. Slowly, Kovic made his way inside the guest room. He pondered for a minute whether he should dress up or simply venture out into the night with his manhood flailing through the airs. In all truth, he didn’t think about it, but perhaps for the sake of comedy, fate chose the second option.Halfway into the room, he realized something. He’d turn around and with utmost slothness, he’d gently close the door. No need to wake up his woman. Returning his attention to the balcony, Kovic opened the door.

It was cold. Obviously.

The balcony’s railing and Kovic’s height would not be sufficient to even reach the top of the wall, but the rooftop could be accessed without much trouble. Before setting out into the night, Kovic looked back towards the door. He needed to make sure his woman wasn’t about to burst in. A bit. A second one. A third. Nothing came but the gusts of wind. Kovic focused, and his head began morphing. From his pate grew a bone, which spread out to a full face skull mask - Mammon’s face. It would be good enough to hide his identity were anyone to find him in the night. Helping himself with his hands, Kovic climbed on top of the railing’s end, where it connected to the building’s stone façade. His bare feet offered him enough balance to avoid being taken away by a gust of wind. With how empty and hungry he felt, the mortalborn believed it could happen. His arms stretched out and held onto the roof, and with a jump, he’d press himself up there.

The stone scraped his manhood. It was too cold. As such, his gonads was no more, now suctioned by his own body. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about those swinging body parts compromising his balance anymore.

Thanks to Sabine for this amazing template!
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Kovic
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The Etzori Chupacabra

Postby Kovic » Thu Feb 01, 2018 2:00 pm

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The wind was as cold stone in Zi’da, which was a bit redundant since Middlecleft was made of stone and it was Zi’da. It was cold, and that’s all that matters. For Kovic, cold didn’t quite affect him. In fact, he appreciated it. His metabolism was so accelerated that he often found himself sweating, feeling restless and out of place. That had been corrected long ago. It was only when he ventured into the world like a newborn child that he truly felt connected with his nature. Suits and cloaks were made for weaker beings. The outlying town was moonlit by a full moon that came and went depending on the surfing clouds above, thin and ghostly, that came and went at great speeds. From the Spur, the highest point in the port town, Kovic was able to look upon the whole Middlecleft. The ocean waters still slammed against the coast, and they had ever since they had existed, and yet the rock still stood, unmoved. Ships waited in the docks, perhaps deserted or perhaps not, rocking within the waters and restrained by ropes.

When he looked closely enough, he’d spot the torches of the militia, and how they spread through town, not quite looking for danger but, instead, looking for sensationalism and puny details with which to fabricate a tale. How he despised these people! Even he, who despised the whole world and every creature that inhabited it,, found himself harboring special resentment towards his new home. His masked features moved on, and looked towards the northwestern part of town. His orphanage stood there, unfinished, made of little else than beams and rafters, an exposed ribcage in the stoney graveyard. From his height, the monster seemed to be the only living creature, a sole survivor of a war in ages past, standing tall and proud in a forgotten township. One day, said metaphor would become a reality.

Kovic returned to his priority, and his only need; feeding. His eyes scanned the city wall. It was still too tall to climb, and risking mutations was out of the question. Instead, he laid eyes on a three story house maybe two houses from Tatanias’. From its rooftop, he’d be able to climb over the wall. The gates would be closed and guarded, but the wall itself was considered ‘sleeping duty’, as far as he had heard. With his objective set, Kovic began moving. The rooftops were made of ceramic tiles, which clicked and clacked with every step the mortalborn took. As he reached the end of Tatania’s home, Kovic was greeted with quite the wide gap between houses. Middlecleft was not as narrow as Etzos. The gap had a length of, maybe, four yards. The next rooftop was slightly lower than the current one, and that meant he could leap with far better results. Regardless, he would need to make a run for it. Kovic backed away from the edge, gaining enough distance for his run up.

Two deep breaths, and Kovic ran forth. Sprinted, more like. The tiles below him were shot out, becoming disorganized now that such a brute ran where he shouldn’t. Right before the edge, he’d lunge, arms clawing the air as if trying to hold on to it. Four yards. Three yards. Two yards. One yard. Ouch yard; despite his landing on the opposite rooftop being successful, some tiles fell down into the house’s yard. Not optimal, but acceptable. Kovic quickly moved behind the chimney, hiding behind it, exposing himself to the wall. He remained there for a while, without peeking, waiting. Meanwhile, he’d inspect the following house. The gap seemed to be much smaller, maybe two yards between house and house, but the neighbouring home was higher, and required technique - which the naked, gonad-lacking, skull-masked teacher lacked.

A cloud covered the moonlight, and Kovic jumped out of his hiding place. With a quick run, he’d lunge towards the opposite building, a foot coming to stomp on the wall just enough to impulse him slightly up. His hands managed to grab onto the tiles, but his woes had not yet finished. The tile held with his right hand slipped from its brethren, and Kovic was left dangling on one hand. He’d quickly attempt to recover, right hand swinging to hold onto something once again. Now it was the left hand what lost hold, and Kovic almost fell. Desperate, the adrenaline rush helped him rush his hand for yet another hold, and this time, no tiles slipped. With the help of his back, Kovic pulled himself up, clawing his ways up the rooftop.

This would’ve failed if his gonads were hanging in the air. Instinct told him so.

Thanks to Sabine for this amazing template!
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The Etzori Chupacabra

Postby Kovic » Wed Feb 14, 2018 6:18 pm

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It became extremely obvious that doing these stunts on a regular basis would either require extreme skill progression, or the naked creature’s brain to figure an alternative. Once atop the roof, Kovic moved to hide behind the chimney, afraid of being seen. The ruckus caused by his lack of stealth could prove fatal if he was discovered. A few bits were enough to calm himself down; not that he was overcome by emotion of any kind, of course, but merely doing so for the sake of improving his chances at stealth. As time passed, Kovics’ eyes scanned the wall. Jumping on the chimney and hopping towards the wall would be enough to hold the edge and rising above. Smoke rose from the chimney, so it was obvious someone was sleeping very warm tonight. Lucky them. Kovic often dreamed of living a comfortable life, having so much coin that he’d be able to afford the finest meals in disproportionate quantities. Roasted duck with spices, salads of lettuce tomatoes and onions, bathed in oil…

The hungry stomach complained like thunder, and Kovic stopped daydreaming - noun that did not fit with the darkness of the night. Rising up, he’d climb atop the chimney. The smoke struck him where his gonads would be, and the warmth was extremely well received. Someone needed to invent something similar. From the chimney he’d jump towards the wall, and the palm of his hands took a hold of the stone. Finally something done properly. He’d pull up, hiding behind the width of the merlon. His head peeked out, looking about. No movement on the left, nothing on the right. Kovic moved like a drunk breeze, not as graceful nor as stealthy as he believed himself to be. He chose going to his right, which would eventually take him to the north side of town. Looking over the outside of MIddlecleft, the fall distance wasn’t as steep as it was on the inside. Maybe he could jump down.

He chose against it. Instead, the prowler kept advancing through the battlements, swift and silent as a sneaky rat. Every so often he’d stop and listen, looking back and forth, in search of movement. Nothing. It was almost at the north gate when he spotted a torch in the wall, handled by one of Etzori’s finest, an army man who had gulped down two or three bottles of Middlecleft Red. The intoxicated male struggled between handling his manhood, aiming the stream of warm urine, not burning his face with the torch, and not falling over the wall. Kovic hid behind a merlon, hoping a gust of air would blow the man. The drunk soldier wished so too, considering he felt extremely lonely atop the wall. When the messy deed was completed, the drunk resumed his patrol down the wall. Kovic panicked. Hunger, however, made a creature smarter when present in viable doses. The mortalborn opened his maws, and with a few chokes, the whip coiled within his stomach was regurgitated, the handle crawling up his esophagus. The leather reeked of gastric acids. Peeking again, the drunk had found himself something to babble about whilst looking off somewhere outside town. Kovic seized the opportunity, wrapping the whip around the merlon, a hand holding the handle as the other wrapped itself around the opposite end. He jumped off in the inner side of the town’s wall, and hung there, holding on to his whip.

The uneven metallic footsteps of the drunken soldier approached, banging against the stone, heard only when the wind did not bother to muffle the sound. His drunken mumbles made themselves known. They spoke curses about an itch somewhere in his groin, the fact that making such a man patrol a damned wall was insanely stupid, and how aggravated he felt about it all. Most of these gists were made up by Kovic, of course, given that not even the soldier’s mother would understand that distorted and intoxicated speech. It took the soldier a while to move far enough for his metallic steps to be lost in the cold night, but Kovic, always on the side of caution, waited a bit more. Only then his hands joined grip on both ends of the whip, and climbed up. The soldier was nothing but a shade in the length of the stone wall by then.

Like a feline, Kovic moved quickly and quietly, keeping down. There seemed to be no other guards atop the wall, which was strange. Wasn’t Middlecleft built and protected like a fortress? It was suspicious, although he’d seldom neglect his hunger for the sake of paranoia. The North Gate was nearby. It was closed and deserted. Kovic kept watch on it, in search of movement of any sort, but other than the single torch that flickered in the gate’s inner side, there was nothing. Choosing to remain in the darkness rather than approach the light, Kovic wagered jumping off the wall was the safest bet. There were seven yards between the top of the wall and the outside of Middlecleft. Reentry would happen somewhere else. A bunch of bushes would serve as a nice landing platform for the hungry creature. Before this happened, however, Kovic took the time to swallow his whip once more, his stomach being the only place properly fit to carry it. With a last look left and right, Kovic jumped down, aiming for the bushes.

Thanks to Sabine for this amazing template!
User avatar
Kovic
Devour life itself.
 
Posts: 356
Joined: Fri Jun 03, 2016 9:16 pm
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Medals: 13
Character of the Month (1) Peer Reviewer (1) Artíst (1) Painting With Words (1)
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Murderer (1) Scandalous (1) Legend In Waiting (1) Lol Worthy (2)

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