Gliscor had found Orre a particularly troublesome stain in his new empire, the region a hot spot for the vermin continuing to mar his vision of perfection. The Harbinger had returned again, flying on leathery wings as he began the extermination process once more – slaughtering anything and everything with a pulse until his looming form was painted red.
His hunt had brought him to Phenac City, the smell of death lingering heavy on the morning air. The Harbinger could sense his brethren in the vicinity and yet the scent of survivors was present too. Gliscor could practically hear their fragile little hearts. Snarling, he descended, slicing through the sky as he crashed through a roof of a building - the same building in which a small blue form had slipped into moments prior.
Plaster went flying, the Harbinger’s gory form emerging through a cloud of dust as the ceiling began to creak and groan in protest. It would hold only so long. Landing agilely, the bat’s attention fell to a steel bird, drowsed from a recent awakening. Pathetic… Gliscor would make quick work of one who thought he had the right to make himself comfortable in the new world. The bird’s miserable kind didn’t belong, didn’t fit into the picture of the kingdom that Gliscor strived to preserve. There would be no survivors.
Lunging forward, Gliscor emitted a deadly hiss as his pincers sought out the bird’s feet. Snapping the creature’s legs clean off, the metal clattering against the floor, the avian broke into an agonized wail. The Harbinger hardly acknowledged its cries for mercy, knocking his victim to the floor, left helplessly writhing as it was held down by a single, heavy foot. His pincers clamping down on the creature’s wings, Gliscor bent the appendages painfully slowly into unnatural shapes – the dreadful screaming music to his ears. But it soon became boring. Content with the torture, the Harbinger tore them off altogether with one brutal tug.
The skarmory was left as a sobbing, heavily bleeding wreck – cawing desperately for mercy as its life drained relentlessly from its recent dismemberment. Gliscor watched on coldly, conscious of the slow falling ceiling. It continued to groan in protest, threatening to cave in. The Harbinger, preferring to avoid the building’s collapse, grasped the dying bird’s throat. Lifting the limp avian to eye level, Gliscor smiled before snapping his pincer together, hard. The head fell with a wet clatter, blood and steel, as the bat slung the headless, wingless and legless corpse to one side.
His work done, Gliscor cast a fierce glare at the vaporeon. He had half a mind to slaughter her too, but it seemed the building would do the dirty work for him.
“Vermin,” He growled, pushing himself into the air. Dodging the falling debris, the Harbinger disappeared through the hole of light in which he’d arrived, flying out into the sky and continuing his work as an exterminator.
His hunt had brought him to Phenac City, the smell of death lingering heavy on the morning air. The Harbinger could sense his brethren in the vicinity and yet the scent of survivors was present too. Gliscor could practically hear their fragile little hearts. Snarling, he descended, slicing through the sky as he crashed through a roof of a building - the same building in which a small blue form had slipped into moments prior.
Plaster went flying, the Harbinger’s gory form emerging through a cloud of dust as the ceiling began to creak and groan in protest. It would hold only so long. Landing agilely, the bat’s attention fell to a steel bird, drowsed from a recent awakening. Pathetic… Gliscor would make quick work of one who thought he had the right to make himself comfortable in the new world. The bird’s miserable kind didn’t belong, didn’t fit into the picture of the kingdom that Gliscor strived to preserve. There would be no survivors.
Lunging forward, Gliscor emitted a deadly hiss as his pincers sought out the bird’s feet. Snapping the creature’s legs clean off, the metal clattering against the floor, the avian broke into an agonized wail. The Harbinger hardly acknowledged its cries for mercy, knocking his victim to the floor, left helplessly writhing as it was held down by a single, heavy foot. His pincers clamping down on the creature’s wings, Gliscor bent the appendages painfully slowly into unnatural shapes – the dreadful screaming music to his ears. But it soon became boring. Content with the torture, the Harbinger tore them off altogether with one brutal tug.
The skarmory was left as a sobbing, heavily bleeding wreck – cawing desperately for mercy as its life drained relentlessly from its recent dismemberment. Gliscor watched on coldly, conscious of the slow falling ceiling. It continued to groan in protest, threatening to cave in. The Harbinger, preferring to avoid the building’s collapse, grasped the dying bird’s throat. Lifting the limp avian to eye level, Gliscor smiled before snapping his pincer together, hard. The head fell with a wet clatter, blood and steel, as the bat slung the headless, wingless and legless corpse to one side.
His work done, Gliscor cast a fierce glare at the vaporeon. He had half a mind to slaughter her too, but it seemed the building would do the dirty work for him.
“Vermin,” He growled, pushing himself into the air. Dodging the falling debris, the Harbinger disappeared through the hole of light in which he’d arrived, flying out into the sky and continuing his work as an exterminator.
