some SICK fanfiction (trust me on this, i went to school for fanfiction)

    • some SICK fanfiction (trust me on this, i went to school for fanfiction)

      The rune ear hierophant's armor was heavy, and he liked that. It reminded him of his strength as he surged forward, and if he shifted its weight to the forward half of his shoulders, he could better barrel down on those smaller than him, better smash them into the earth with his fists. He bore no weapons, but the metal gauntlets on his hands were studded at the knuckles, and they terminated in sharp metal claws. He was the most dangerous type of bully, one who used to be small. So he had learned to use his eyes and feet and words to their fullest.

      He spied the six coyotles in the woods ahead an instant before they spotted him. He broke into a run, taloned hands dangling at his sides. The force of his charge scattered them like tiny brown mice, and he strode among them, slashing through their robes and skin. Each stream of gore flying past, each crunch of surrendering bone filled him with more glee, and he found himself shouting without intending to. "Come at me, dogs! Bite at your master!" In seconds they all lay before him save one old, female coyotle standing at the edge of the glade. Two dying trees framed her on each side. She held a worn staff in both hands as if she meant to snap it in half in anger, but her face was expressionless.

      The hierophant charged again, punishing the dirt beneath his feet with the height of his bloodlust. But as he swung, he felt a quick pinch at his elbow, the coyotle turning him to smash into a rotting tree. Termites rushed to escape the exploded trunk.

      Winter Moon was old, and she had lived through the old wars. She had seen coyotles and shinhare charge into one another so hard that they gasped at the impact, recoiling off one another. Again and again, screaming. The ground churning with sweat and blood beneath their shuddering legs. Over and over, she had learned that force can never be defeated with force. As she redirected the rune ear into the tree, she resisted the urge to swat him with her staff. Such a blow would accomplish little except to give him a measure of her strength. She thought of the coyotles that had been under her protection, now massacred on the forest floor, and a distant place in her heart not yet calloused stung with pain. She would give the rune ear nothing.

      The hierophant arose in a fury, but he was also a most dangerous bully. He charged again, but as the coyotle reached for his elbow he ground himself to a halt and slashed, backhanded, at her head.

      Winter Moon ducked, and on the hierophant's second swing, an overhead, the end of her staff met his throat and his own strength drove him into it. As he gagged, she bent at her creaking knees to snatch dirt off the ground and fling it into his eyes. Winter Moon knew that some coyotles would not have approved of the tactic, but those coyotles were dead. She drove the butt of her staff into the rune ear's knee until it collapsed beneath him, and she struck with her staff, again and again, snaking it through the joints in the hierophant's armor.

      The rune ear's armor had grown too heavy, and he couldn't rise. Cold fear quenched his rage, and he cowered from the blows. All of a sudden he was small again, and the blood on his lip had been put there by the stronger rune ear elites. They pushed him back and forth like a doll and laughed. Oh Yazukan, the laughter... With a last burst of strength, the hierophant rose on his good leg, only to be tripped by the old coyotle. The light began to fade for him as the blows rained down. With his last breath he whispered, "I suppose we are all bullies."

      Winter Moon leaned on her staff, slick with blood, and gulped in equal amounts of air and horror. After a while, she had her fill, and she hung her head to grieve for both of them.
    • tartakower wrote:

      The rune ear hierophant's armor was heavy, and he liked that. It reminded him of his strength as he surged forward, and if he shifted its weight to the forward half of his shoulders, he could better barrel down on those smaller than him, better smash them into the earth with his fists.

      Nothing is smaller than a Shinhare, immersion broken.
    • I think this fits better in the "Fan Art" board. Just sayin'.
      Flair of Fortune
      Avatar of Luck
      Cost 3, 3/3, Unique, colorless
      When an opposing champion plays a card, there's a 33% chance to summon a Kismet's Omen.

      "Fortune favors all in equal measure. But perhaps not at the same time."