Post by Fainis the Sadistic Pansexual on Jul 14, 2013 17:30:18 GMT -5
(Continued from: ucarena.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=wasteland&thread=1192&page=2)
... Drakia opened her eyes.
The old monster expected to see the sickening familiar corners of her glum living space, but was instead greeted by a wide, open expanse of bare stone and sparse vegetation. The charred killer widened her wild yellow orbs and lifted her head, titling her fanged skull back towards the sky. The mad orbs glinted. No roof. This was the outside. She was free. Or at least in another match. With a low huff, the aged beast jumped to her feet and gazed around, looking if she could find a new opponent to maul. The battle with Suchodon had left her with a linger thirty for blood.
With a hissing burst of air, the black brute discovered that she was not quite as free as she thought. There were energy barriers all around her stretching north, south, east, and west- each no more than mile from her- pinning her into a square area. The hateful thing also considered now that this barren landscape resembled her old quarters so closely, certainly to ensure that her ember-embedded body did not start fires. This was the clear work of the UCA. She was here because they wanted her to be. But why? The old monster sneered, wondering if this was some sort of forced exile.
There was a flash, and a distressed bellowed reached Drakia's ears.
The blackened monster turned her head and beheld the back of a huge hoofed animal, a Gigabeast from the Savanna portion of the Natural Zone. The startled creature was turned away from her, and upwind as well. It did not know she was here. As the excited killer looked closer, her lips curled over hungry fangs, she noted that there were blinders over its eyes and that its hooves hit the ground with a dulled clop, the sharp edges of the hard toes ground smooth. Even its great curled horns were reduced to circular knobs on its brow. It had been crippled, stripped of its defenses.
And Drakia could guess why.
Not bothering to slink or creep towards the handicapped animal, Drakia hurled herself at her prey. The Gigabeast, hearing the soul-splitting yowl, turned it head just in time to receive two serrated fangs to the face. In a flurry of violence more gruesome that anything ever seen in a UCA match, Drakia ripped into the helpless herbivore, tearing out chunks of its living flesh and swallowing them on the spot. The quadruped's pained yowls rang for miles as it was torn apart. At the end of three minutes, the Gigabeast flopped to the ground, all but one leg broken, its throat hollowed and ragged, and its head rolling from its shoulders, completely severed. Drakia licked her lips and hissed in glee, her black form drenched in crimson. Her nostrils and eyes were dilated to their fullest, and the mad yellow orbs of the reptile rolled in pleasure. That. Was. Perfection.
The ghastly form of the lizard was silhouetted suddenly as a second beam scoured the earth, delivering anew Gigabeast to the blood-soaked field. The fresh animal, its eyes wide and its hooves sharp, spotted Drakia immediately, and it took off running in the opposite direction. Drakia practically purred as she realized the game afoot. This was not a prison, it was an amphitheater, a dead and black Colosseum of cold earth. And she was a lion, placed here only to maim and kill. The crippled beast before had not been the main event, it had merely been-
Practice.
Slinging her bloody body down low, Drakia bound after the panicked Gigabeast, splattering blood and tissue with each pounding step.
---
That night, in the grimmest hours of the evening, a new program was aired on UCA: Wild, one aimed towards a much different audience than the peace-lovers and nature-watching that earlier slots and weekly documentaries pandered to.
It was called The Slaughter Hour.
Record viewing were reached that evening, and every evening since, with Drakia's sixty-minute horror show becoming the channel's new most popular program. Its uncensored violence and unabashed brutality attracted millions of viewers from the UCA's main channel, while the natural hunting behavior displayed did earn it the loyalty of normal Wild viewers too.
Although it did not gain the UCA as much popularity as its central attractions- the gladiatorial duels- it quickly found a cement spot in the hearts of those looking for a more one-sided clash, as well as put quite a bit of money in the pockets of UCA higher-ups. And more than anything, its success earned Drakia a place outside of the UCA's active roster- one soaked knee-deep in blood and entrails.
Exactly where she wished to be.
... Drakia opened her eyes.
The old monster expected to see the sickening familiar corners of her glum living space, but was instead greeted by a wide, open expanse of bare stone and sparse vegetation. The charred killer widened her wild yellow orbs and lifted her head, titling her fanged skull back towards the sky. The mad orbs glinted. No roof. This was the outside. She was free. Or at least in another match. With a low huff, the aged beast jumped to her feet and gazed around, looking if she could find a new opponent to maul. The battle with Suchodon had left her with a linger thirty for blood.
With a hissing burst of air, the black brute discovered that she was not quite as free as she thought. There were energy barriers all around her stretching north, south, east, and west- each no more than mile from her- pinning her into a square area. The hateful thing also considered now that this barren landscape resembled her old quarters so closely, certainly to ensure that her ember-embedded body did not start fires. This was the clear work of the UCA. She was here because they wanted her to be. But why? The old monster sneered, wondering if this was some sort of forced exile.
There was a flash, and a distressed bellowed reached Drakia's ears.
The blackened monster turned her head and beheld the back of a huge hoofed animal, a Gigabeast from the Savanna portion of the Natural Zone. The startled creature was turned away from her, and upwind as well. It did not know she was here. As the excited killer looked closer, her lips curled over hungry fangs, she noted that there were blinders over its eyes and that its hooves hit the ground with a dulled clop, the sharp edges of the hard toes ground smooth. Even its great curled horns were reduced to circular knobs on its brow. It had been crippled, stripped of its defenses.
And Drakia could guess why.
Not bothering to slink or creep towards the handicapped animal, Drakia hurled herself at her prey. The Gigabeast, hearing the soul-splitting yowl, turned it head just in time to receive two serrated fangs to the face. In a flurry of violence more gruesome that anything ever seen in a UCA match, Drakia ripped into the helpless herbivore, tearing out chunks of its living flesh and swallowing them on the spot. The quadruped's pained yowls rang for miles as it was torn apart. At the end of three minutes, the Gigabeast flopped to the ground, all but one leg broken, its throat hollowed and ragged, and its head rolling from its shoulders, completely severed. Drakia licked her lips and hissed in glee, her black form drenched in crimson. Her nostrils and eyes were dilated to their fullest, and the mad yellow orbs of the reptile rolled in pleasure. That. Was. Perfection.
The ghastly form of the lizard was silhouetted suddenly as a second beam scoured the earth, delivering anew Gigabeast to the blood-soaked field. The fresh animal, its eyes wide and its hooves sharp, spotted Drakia immediately, and it took off running in the opposite direction. Drakia practically purred as she realized the game afoot. This was not a prison, it was an amphitheater, a dead and black Colosseum of cold earth. And she was a lion, placed here only to maim and kill. The crippled beast before had not been the main event, it had merely been-
Practice.
Slinging her bloody body down low, Drakia bound after the panicked Gigabeast, splattering blood and tissue with each pounding step.
---
That night, in the grimmest hours of the evening, a new program was aired on UCA: Wild, one aimed towards a much different audience than the peace-lovers and nature-watching that earlier slots and weekly documentaries pandered to.
It was called The Slaughter Hour.
Record viewing were reached that evening, and every evening since, with Drakia's sixty-minute horror show becoming the channel's new most popular program. Its uncensored violence and unabashed brutality attracted millions of viewers from the UCA's main channel, while the natural hunting behavior displayed did earn it the loyalty of normal Wild viewers too.
Although it did not gain the UCA as much popularity as its central attractions- the gladiatorial duels- it quickly found a cement spot in the hearts of those looking for a more one-sided clash, as well as put quite a bit of money in the pockets of UCA higher-ups. And more than anything, its success earned Drakia a place outside of the UCA's active roster- one soaked knee-deep in blood and entrails.
Exactly where she wished to be.