And so, the prince has defeated the dragon. How it happened was not as important as said dragon zooming through the air, blue blood flowing from the wound inflicted in between the seams of his neck armor. He plummeted towards the ground, which was probably very unfortunate, knowing how much he weighed. The earth trembled as he landed, skidding across the terrain and kicking up dust in his wake. A groaning roar sounded from behind the hill.

It wasn't long before the predacon raised his head, clacking his mandibles noisily as he tried to get used to the pain. The jets of his wings whirred loudly. His blood dotted the worn grass beneath him. Four glowing, yellow eyes landed upon Artemis, who stood some way from Thagomizer. How could this little meatlet have beaten him? The clicking of his titanium teeth against each other continued as he slowly made his way towards the man, his spiked tail and metallic wings dragging behind him. He refused to accept this loss, a beast as proud as him.

"You," he hissed, voice electronic but crackling, not unlike the sound of a dying radio, "You stupid--" He slammed his front talons against the ground, his claws digging into the earth as he dragged himself closer to Artemis. "weak--" A blue glow emitted from the back of his throat, but the flames stayed, as though he were unable to get them out. "fucking--" His breath smelled like garlic and gasoline. "You stupid, weak, fucking organic!"

And yet, as intimidating as he tried to portray himself, down he went. The predacon was taken over by fatigue. His body ached and the blood still oozed from his neck. He collapsed to the ground and the light in his eyes dimmed to black.

Time to take a long nap, old man.

i will probably write a follow-up post...

Aestrum

Doransui stood tall in the face of the threat, rolling off her beloved warhorse as it was hit, letting loose a pained and angered whinny as it was struck. The dragon masked uberhero grumbled angrily, standing with her lance, already slowly sparking with flame. A demon? Here? Pah...No matter the size, Doransui would take the creature down. She swore seeing this creature once before, in the distance as she fled from an unsuccessful scuffle with Kiushhu. The demoness had been tending to them. She growled with further anger.

"I'll cut you down..." She hissed, attempting to charge Peony.

...

Eventually, the dragoness sat defeated, huffing in pain from the battle. She attempted to call for her horse, but the poor creature had long since fled when the battle seemed far too dangerous. Her pride was in shambles as she tried to reach for her lance.

"You..." She half whispered.

---

The whinny of a warhorse, the stampeding of hooves... Doransui was on a target now, and if one was on her list of targets....lord help  them. She was known as 'merciless' for a reason.

Lance bursting with flames, she let out a battlecry and laugh as the fire crackled.

"You have made a grave mistake in getting in my way!"

--

(FGHKFHGKH rip Johnson man)

His breath ragged, Johnson could only pant as he looked at the flaming lance being pointed at him. Sure, it wasn't like he could just try picking up the other party and flinging her off that stupid horse of hers, but he was tired and the slightest bit bitter.

How the hell did someone like her beat me!? he thought under his breath while placing his hands on his knees. The middle-aged man's cloak was covered in burn marks where the lance had touched, and for a moment, he thought he could smell the pungent odor of blood, where the lance had broken through his protective layer of cloth and pierced his skin. One such wound was on his arm as he grabbed the area and looked over at the uberhero with a scowl.

She was definitely pissed at him for what happened to his wife, huh? That was likely the case anyway. Apparently, someone had been the little bird, spoke up about what he did; then, people started to whisper, call him all sorts of names. That'd never happen to him - back at home. There, he at least had the influence to silence any suspicion that went his way. Such unrelenting power was a luxury he was robbed of here, where people were aware that he was an aristocrat but didn't seem to consider its weightiness. What a shame.

It was also definite that she was known as "merciless," but... Even then, Johnson had a wonderful idea: try to worm his way out of what certainly seemed like a sticky situation. And so, the middle-aged man bit down on his lip and prepared for his inevitable monologue:

"I don't know about you," he hissed at the warrior, "but I think it'd help your reputation at least a little bit if you tried to be a little less... Merciless. Especially because you literally defeated an unarmed old man." (That was obviously a lie, given the creatures up in his arsenal, as well as his snakelike attitude.) "How about you spare me, hm? You can take the win, but you can't ever speak of this. Ever. Because listen, miss, you may not have killed me physically, but-"

Johnson coughed loudly into his sleeve while clenching his hands close to his chest. He let out several curses as he took another faltering step back. It seemed that the words were sapping at his already decreased strength, so he needed to come up with an aphorism, a warning. Fast. Lest he just fall unconscious from shock on the spot... Or, if he turned out to be exsanguinated by the lance, then he might as well prepare some famous last words so that he could die with dignity, or whatever the aristocrat considered that. 

"- You could've killed me in spirit, ma'am. So... Why not just... Be even, huh? You... I know you'd try using this for bragging rights, after all. I can see that desire through your stupid mask anyways." Sure.

*rolls in* time for... a follow-up... Johnson isn't a complete dick for once? surprising. still, potential rip for Jupiter though...

Jupiter somehow got into a battle with this old man. Whether was it a usual random wild battle, someone Jupiter picked up a fight with, or simply just bumped into each other and he attacked, it doesn't really matter. 

What does now is, he is getting demolished by 4 psychic-type pokemons. Psychic-type, something he's strong against! He should be able to sweep them all in one go...shouldn't he? Instead, he is getting two-hit KO attack by a Starmie and its Ice Beam. In theory, Starmie who is Water and Psychic should be the one who faint first in the battle with a Decidueye. But in this case, it doesn't seem like he'd survive for too long.

In hindsight, this was absolutely humiliating. However, in the moment, the youth didn't seem to care as he scoffed and brushed some dust off his clothes. The blood streaming from Fitzgerald's nose didn't seem to faze him at the moment, as he glowered at the foreign Pokemon standing victoriously before him.

"You know, I've never seen anything from Alola before," he commented with a raised brow, "Even though... Back at home, we've always been a little receptive towards other regions. It made me wonder whether Alolans happen to fear Unovans because of how selfish and greedy the latter are, which..." His words were broken off with a sharp laugh as he finally acknowledged the nosebleed, if only because the blood was starting to drip onto his clothes, and he didn't feel like cleaning that off anytime soon.

His voice then chimed, "... Which is real funny, because... This kind of makes me think that it should be the other way around. We fear the foreign, don't we? That's why we ended up fighting in the first place, and... Well..." Fitzgerald's eyes trailed over to his pocket as his fingers started to curl up oh-so delicately. "... When a fully evolved specimen like yourself ends up fighting a man with only a basic starter Pokemon, it's pretty obviosu who ends up winning." And for once, he meant it, and not to be an asshole!

For someone who was known to be a bit of a sore loser, Fitzgerald sure seemed too calm as he preened himself, eyed the avian with some sort of restrained respect. He knew that as an Unovan, he had to remain proud to be one, in spite of the loss. And so, a sense of indignation coexisted alongside the admiration, though it was idyllic, and there was no sign of an internal conflict as he blinked and continued cleaning his nose.

That was, after all, kind of what he deserved for trying to fist fight a giant owl.

"If you weren't so committed to that group of yours," Fitzgerald hummed, "I wouldn't mind asking you to join me in my little trek. It's one for research, of course, and I wouldn't want to treat you like some sort of test subject, but... At the same time, it'd be absolutely stupendous having such a powerful Pokemon on my team, hm?" Gee, didn't need to say that out loud. Now he was absolutely dreaming about gaining this fellow as some sort of status symbol, or at least contorting the encounter to make himself look better.

Besides, when it came to Fitzgerald, everything had to be in his favor. Or else.

fdrjhvrfugvrf ngl I do find it funny how a stick like Fitzgerald could beat up a panther shapeshifter, but such unpredictability is honestly one of my favorite parts of the forum games. :")))

*finger guns* time for... a follow-up... mans steals credit from his grass snake like the little bitch he is.

Wraith panted heavily, blood running from his nose and mouth; his panther forms leg shook from exhaustion. He let out an angered growl at the man in front of him; this was suppose to be easy, drive the person out of his territory and then go home, but no, this man had some sort of ability to summon strange creatures to his aid. Maybe it was his exhaustion from the day, or maybe the several fights he had gotten in before hand, but one thing was for sure, Wraith was not happy that he had lost. He back up slightly before shifting back to his human form; his hair now messed up and his skin being layered with a thin layer of sweat. Narrowing his eyes at the man he took a step back slightly, he wanted to back away into the shadows however his pride wasn't letting him run away from this stranger. The blind and scarred left eye stared unfocused and his other eye glared daggers at the man in front of him. It has been a long time since someone had bested him in a fight; the scars which covered his body burned at the memory, he growled and took another step back.

In a flash Wraith transformed back to his panther form, gave a hiss of anger at the man before jumping between the walls of two nearby buildings and leapt onto the roof and out of sight. With a sigh he transformed back to his human form and collapsed on the floor of the roof, he coughed a few times, speckles of blood falling to the ground as he did so. He decided to just lay where he was for a while to try and get some rest, blood was still flowing from his nose as he closed his eyes, he wouldn't be forgetting this man anytime soon, and he would get his revenge.

---------------------------------

Such a cool looking character ^.=.^

Follow Up:

I don’t know how to censor gore on Iphone yet, so gore warning for everyone reading; I’ll be putting brackets around gore.

Rowdy clasped his face in his claws, faltering back and stumbling on his hind legs, a screeching and clicking noise erupting from him, his jaws making many confused movements as he fell back into a wall. [Inky black liquid fell and dripped between his claws onto the ground.] Removing his claws from his face and fusing his arms back together, [his broken face, looking like a broken porcelain mask with pools and rivers of black blood flowing between the cracks], Rowdy quickly cleaned himself off, the bite mark upon his face still stinging quite a bit. He placed his hands and feet upon the wall behind him, and looked back at Wraith one last time before hissing and crawling up the side of a building, escaping somewhere unknown to rest and heal.

"Well, well, well..." muttered the middle-aged man to himself as he wrung his hands together. This ended badly, far worse than he could've ever intended. At the very least, his ego was severely bruised, for... His attempt at a mind game failed. Miserably, actually! It made him cough as he took a step back as he muttered almost shakily, "How... How? I studied psychology and everything! I know how both humans and animals work, and..." He clenched his teeth while giving the dragon a tense grin.

One could clearly see his teeth being bared like a chimpanzee's, just a little bit pissed but trying to be... Happy? Oh. Oh goodness.

In a way, it was like a rut he couldn't get himself out of. He had experienced this only once before, and that was with - unsurprisingly - his wife. Now, it was a bit cruel to directly compare his wife to what seemed like a beast that could eat him at any moment now, but... As he compared their temperaments, their willingness to play mind games in order to satisfy what seemed like their own individual agendas... They seemed remarkably similar. All because something couldn't go his way.

Skinned looked up at the creature, before taking a step back and shaking his head. Looks like someone was still in the first stage of grief, as he held his head to his temples, and his smile started to steadily dissipate in favor of a frown.

They shouldn't know about this. Not now, not now... They'd make my story too tragic, too sad. I'd become a warning, and that's not what I spent my life working to become-

It smelled metallic here, like iron. Skinner glanced off to the side while trying to avoid the reddish waters... If that was water in the first place. A clown shouldn't be here, pondered Skinner with a raised brow, before looking into the beast's menacing face once more. For some reason, the sight stirred up the faintest sense of deja vu... Still. It'd make more sense - years later - but by then, Skinner would be dead, and he'd never to that realization. His daughter, however, would - assuming that Skinner told this type of story to her in the first place.

"If you leave me alone," suggested Skinner as his voice nearly stammered, "Would... Would you mind me not coming back here again? I swear I only came here by accident. You know how old people are... Always prone to getting lost, ha..." He chuckled nervously and took a step back. Only for his shoe to start feeling just... A little bit damp. So much for that then.

Adieu, sweet Skinner? Guess it wouldn't be a wolf kicking his ass after all.

ahh hey there!! welcome to the writing games dude- your response was pretty engaging to read, and I'd love to interact with you in more writing games in time. ^^

here's a follow-up for you!! potential cw for gore/violence!!

This was new to him. Pain? Is that what it was? He hadn't felt anything like this in.... eons, he supposed. The concept of time had been lost to him. Sea King withdrew his tentacle from the blade that had sliced through it, more surprised than afraid. He glanced at the man before him, the knife quivering in his hand. Sea King's gaze went back to his half-severed tentacle, which had begun to leak a viscous fluid. It pooled around him as the seconds ticked by, and reeked like old metal. 

Sea King didn't move an inch, his gaze locked with Skinner's. He was unwilling to accept defeat, but equally unwilling to risk another involuntary amputation. He wasn't sure how fast the wound would heal, if it all. He knew he couldn't ever fully die, but his immortality was always a curse and never a blessing. He kept his face impassive, hiding the flurry of pain and confusion that was going on behind it. This man had appeared so nonthreatening and so easy to pick off. He wasn't used to this. He would have expected a fight from a revered warrior, or maybe a dragon, but he would have never thought to attack either of those things anyway. The throbbing sensation from the wound had begun to creep up his body. He tried to quickly retreat into the water before suffering another injury, but his lower body muscles had locked somehow and he found himself unable to move. His confusion grew with the pain. How could one injury have impacted him so badly? He really should have thought this through.

Sea King's heart- or whatever he had in place of one- pounded, and his vision was starting to cloud. The image of the elderly man he become blurry to the point Sea King questioned if he hadn't ran off. 

He should have. I could rip him to shreds at any moment.

He knew deep down that he was lying to himself.

He narrowed his pupils, bared his teeth and gave the most menacing growl he could muster, which wasn't much considering the pain he was in. He turned away from Skinner, hoping that it wasn't a stupid idea given the situation. He gripped the rock closest to him, dragging himself closer to the water inch by inch. After what could have been hours or mere minutes,  he finally reached the shore and disappeared into the waves, his black blood spreading through the water like oil.

h, tried to match effort. that took a while. my writing is a little rusty. this was my first writing game, it was fun. will probably do more?

might do a follow up too-

There was a loud ringing in his ears. He stared up at the dark sky, lit with stars. Not that he could really make them out, trying to focus on any one thing with his blurred vision only further contributed to his aching head. Iulius groans, he can faintly hear the soft crash of the waves against the beach he's lying on, the feeling of sand getting in his saltwater-matted hair--and everywhere else, for that matter. Why did he come here again? His thoughts feel all muddled. 

Oh...yes. He heard of this creature, one that would occasionally berserk and attack humans that may stray into its waters...Iulius couldn't have that, something so carelessly harming his precious people...But what he didn't expect was to encounter something that couldn't die. He didn't often meet others who were immortal like himself, and will admit that because of this, he didn't prepare himself nearly enough for this encounter. As a result, here he found himself: clothes torn, waterlogged, and staring up at the endless sky. 

He'll be fine, eventually. He's lived through, and recovered from, much, much, much worse. But the blow to his conscience will always be there: couldn't he have done more, done better? Iulius saw the tentacles retreat into the water moments before blacking out earlier, which means the creature remains. 

He'll heal, and he'll be back, better prepared this time. The humans here will be safe.

"Shit, shit, shit..." the woman hissed while holding her badly lacerated arm, as if she was trying to shield it from the other party. Coughing harshly - and thinking for the moment that it might produce something - Brown continued to curse under her breath as she glared at the lion-humanoid standing before her. Honestly, considering his towering form, the woman was just surprised that she managed to make it out of this brawl alive, though...

At what cost?

She bit down on her lip while steadily sheathing her iron dagger, but not before she growled, "I get your point. I knew that I should not have tried attacking you and your... Crew like that, but... Holy fucking shit..." Her eyes fluttered off to the side while finally lifting her hand away from her arm, if only so that she could move around in a less cumbersome manner. "I think you went a bit too far," groveled Brown as she bit back a pained grimace, "if only because... I am just a woman with a dagger, and you... You have that fucking fruit on your side. Or whatever that means." Way to ignore the existence of your entire team of creatures there, miss.

"It was never a fair fight, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt," the aristocrat grunting while leaning against a nearby wooden post, "Perhaps you were just acting out of self-defense. Besides, I was talking trash, then swung at you first with that dagger." With a harsh laugh that bordered upon a gull's guffaw, she sniffed before running her fingers through her matted, disorganized hair.

"And, besides, I have enough rationality to know when I am defeated. So go mind yourself, hm? Don't batter an innocent to death, especially when they have already relinquished their weapon." And with that, she showed off her empty hands, ignoring the blood that was obviously dripping from one.

It was always clear that Brown was trying to downplay the severity of her injuries, but... As long as she could worm her way out of this little mishap, she'd be fine... Or maybe she was just trying to come up with some famous last words like the melodramatic bitch she was. Who knows! All she knew for sure was that she was bested, and there was really no use succumbing to the arrogance that plagued her late husband - as well as her friend. Oh, and the fact that this wouldn't exactly look good for her, since now, the wolf wasn't an omnipresent, all-powerful creature that existed through fear.

"And no, sir, I will not try taking my weapon out just when you have your back turned. I think I have too many bones broken for that, you know. How about you at least show me the directions to the nearest clinic, to keep this civil? How about that?"

Haha... Civil and Brown... Really funny.

"in this house we have no choice but to fight fight fight to the death" - Brown probably

actual follow-up is below the spoiler as always. :")))