Donkere the Invincible

[Ghost]

Recently the Donkere has been seen outside of the Valley of Lost Souls. Multiple deaths have been recorded from across the universe at the hands of this powerful creature. This phenomenon may have been the cause of the rumour pertaining to the Donkere's ability to teleport*.
How has it escaped the netherworld? Is it traveling across time and space, or are there multiple creature's to the Donkere population? Is it on a ruthless tyrannical prey-hunt or is it being employed by a higher power?
Can it be stopped?
You may just have to face it yourself to find out....

Do you think you can put a stop to the Donkeres madness?
You can try..

*As mentioned in the character profile.
----

You choose the setting and circumstance that you run into the Donkere.
It's profile will be linked here.

[Anomaly]

It freezes, one paw raised, both ears moving together, trying to find the source of the sound.

Fear flickers like summer lightning, leaping from synapsis to synapsis in the creatures little brain. It's out there, hunting, tasting the air, tasting the earth, stealing a little bit of its essence form the world with each breath...taking a little of its sanity with each step.

A sudden sound and panic grips the furry little body, springing coiled muscles into action. Stubby little claws gouge out clumps of soft sod as he runs through the underbrush, trying to get as far away from the noise as possible...

And running right into the jaws of the very beast which the hare sought to flee. It's over in one snap of the beasts jaws, a soft spray of blood over brown fur, and a broken, twitching rag doll hangs from the larger creatures jaws. Blood washes the white mussel as clawed hand reach forward, tearing the fur from the fresh caught meat, allowing it to steam in the chill early morning air. It is a good breakfast, and will help fortify the beast for the hunt to come.

Above all, evergreen trees tower, their needles a poor standard to judge the season by. It could be early fall, a mild day in summer, or a warm day in the waning winter. It would be fitting if it were spring, given the mad march hare, but in these mountains the air is always crisp in the morning, and the wildlife is ever vibrant. The pale white figure hunched in the greenery is hardly the only predator on the prowl.

Yet there is something unique about him. As he moves, the eye has a hard time registering what it sees...a wild man, a beast? It's hard to say...perhaps one and the same. Regardless, a tail thrashes contentedly as it licks the quickly cooling blood from its lips and claws, an air of a good meal savored hangs about the creature.

The mountain breeze shifts, and suddenly the predator freezes as still as the carcass at his feet. Eyes like drops of moonlight suddenly flash about the forest, searching for something just beyond sight, but not beyond smell. A twitch of an ear as the hunter finds what he's looking for...or rather hears it...a patch of silence where sound should be.

It stands then, straight and tall. It is now very clearly a young human male, though one that has obviously been living in the woods for quiet a long time, bereft of even the slightest vestiges of civilization. When he speaks its as if after a long time unaccustomed to uttering words.

"Herausgekommener Troll. Ich teile meine Mahlzeit mit Ihnen, wenn Sie in Frieden kommen."
"Come out Troll. I shall share my meal with you if you come in peace."

A few scraps of meat only remain on the carcass, but there is good marrow left in a few of the bones. A fine prize for any of the scavenger kind. Still, this seems to be an obvious ploy...no creature would willingly call on one of the hill folk and not wish themselves misery, death, or both.

There is no movement.

"Vielleicht aßen Sie bereits. Zu Ihnen ist der Gestank des Todes. Wenn Sie kein Geschäft hier haben, schlage ich vor, dass Sie abreisen."
"Perhaps you already ate. Yours is the stench of Death. If you have no business here, I suggest you leave."

There comes the clink of chains and suddenly the young man is adorned for battle. Black spiked bangles drip blood in the pre-light of dawn. A thick black chain rests between the young mans hands, one end a sickle clutched in his right hand, the other end a mace at the end of a longer length of chain that the beast man begins to swing lazily back and forth with his left hand. It is an aggressive stance, but one that says 'your move' more than anything.

[Ghost]

As if a creature of that size could satisfy a trolls hunger, even when whole.

A voice rings out telepathically to the beast-man.

Do you mock me? My hunger is unending. I will always yearn for the taste of flesh.
Alas, It is much too late for you, my friend. I can already taste you in the air; a taste I have not yet experienced. Unique and peculiar; I must have it. There is no denying, my body requires I devour you!

The Donkere is done talking; he begins to approach his new prey with the utmost eagerness. This should prove an interesting encounter. It is always much better when they are gallant. That makes it feel all the more worthwhile when they scream...

It rushes through the woods with impeccable silence, not disturbing even one needle on the surrounding pines. He has finally reached the clearing. His target stands on the far edge looking over an edge into the forest below; searching. Has he escaped this beast-mans senses? Something that would not surprise the Donkere, he has never failed at this during previous engagements. Or.... Or was it a ruse?
The Donkere encroaches upon the mans position, slowly and quietly, remaining close to the ground. He stops when he is within striking range.

Sliding up into a standing position, he towers over the victim below, but casts no shadow to imply his presence. It seems the moonlight passes right through his physical self, although he does not seem transparent by any means. He takes a moment to smell the air and cannot bear to withhold himself any longer. The ecstasy of such a smell is far too great!
Opening his jaw to it's full extent he descends upon the man, diminishing the small remaining gap between the two.
It would be only moments before his latest meal hung from his sharp teeth, mutilated and embarrassed by his own ignorance.

[Anomaly]

The patch of silence rushes forward. In the gathering light of the waning moon and rising sun, the silence spreads, engulfing the woods for miles around. Nothing with an ounce of sense wants to be anywhere near the coming struggle. Dreizehn remains perfectly still as the strange presence arrives behind him. There is a subtle shift of the air as the beast pauses...and then another as it shifts its body, perhaps readying to pounce. The wild mans right ear twitches as the being behind him draws in a deep breath. This was not a beast used to hunting truly wild game. The only sign of what is to come is a swift grin that flashes over Dreizehn's face as the wind whistles between his adversary's quickly closing teeth.

At the last possible second there is a moment of distortion and where there was one there is instead two. A man with a sickle rolls to the left while a wolf with a mace clenched in its teeth dashes to the right. They both rush behind the looming monstrosity without a moments hesitation and leap, joining together in mid air like two drops of water. This all passes in much less time than it takes to tell, thus it comes as no surprise that when the beasts fangs clip together they close on nothing but empty air.Well, thats almost true, except for the chain threaded through its jaws like a bit on a horse.

Dreizehn, standing atop the monsters head, hauls back on the 'reins' with all his strength. It's somewhat shocking to see the look of surprise on the feral mans face when the chain doesn't easily slide through the delicate flesh. Beneath shaggy hair, eyes take in their adversary clearly for the first time. The sheer size re-enforces the thought that the beast is a troll...or at least of similar stock. But if the chain cannot pass through the beast, then there can be only one explanation.

"Verdammt!"

"So...you are not of this world."

These words sound entirely different from the ones that came before, yet are hauntingly familiar. 'Words' isn't exactly the right way to describe them...its more like thoughts, feelings, emotions. In a way the voice speaks clearer than words ever could, but it's wrong to call it telepathy. It is as if Dreizehn's very soul communicates with the beast now, pregnant with disappointment and remorse.

"What a waste of my time. I can't eat you but you can eat me. Well demon/devil/hellhound why don't you eat this?"

The voice starts low, pitched somewhere around the area where it makes one uncomfortably aware of ones bowels. It then swiftly moves through the range of human hearing and out far beyond the point where crystal shatters. A sonic howl of such incredible force easily levels the surrounding forest, expanding the clearing as trees topple and blades of grass flatten from the shear noise.

It might not be able to kill the monster, but it would hopefully disorient him enough to buy Dreizehn time to come up with a real plan.

[Ghost]

The beast let's out a hysterical roar.
He understands his attacker all too well.

"Well, it appears neither are you; if not all, in part..."

The Donkere locks his razor-sharp jaws shut over the chain.

"A troll? What an ignorant little boy you are."

His eyes flash a brilliant orange and the gold lining on his armour begins to shine.
Thrashing his enormous head like a rabid beast he viciously shakes the chain.
This weapon seemed to have been brought to earth from the same plane of existence as the Donkere itself. It's physical form and genetic make up was one that held comparable with that of the Donkere. Were it not for the mans steady footing atop the beasts head, he'd have toppled into the mane just behind him and would surely be convinced, via severe gouging, into dropping his hold on the chained instrument. Alas, this man was resistant. How appetizing!

The Donkere halts it's incessant thrashing and stands up to maximum height, stretching out it's back legs and straightening it's arched back. His peak is now among the pine trees' lower branches.
The needles around the Donkere's neck would make the uncomfortable sting of the pines' resemble a tickle, in comparison.
This man was a strange one. Rarely did the Donkere have to think about his actions; but this one required intricate planning, and what a show the Donkere had in store.

The thrashing continues, this time much more violent. At the same time he prepares his hands to catch the falling man when his footing gave way, as he was positive it finally must.
Were the man to let go of the chain his balance would be completely lost and he'd be toppling towards the earth in no time.
Likewise, if he tried to jump off, he would almost indefinitely be thrown aback, or at least land awkwardly, giving the Donkere time to strike.
Finally, if he held on too long, he would eventually be thrown forward over the Donkere's head and either straight into his mouth or right into his palms; both an unpleasant end.
For the Donkere's mouth was designed to maim and torture during it's digestion. Uneven, jagged teeth ensured that the victim would live through the majority of the meal, until he was finally ground into a thick pulp.
Alternately, resting in the Donkere's ruthless palms promised a surprise. From that place the beast had limitless options to choose from, be it tearing it's morsel into pieces to impaling it on the hidden spikes buried within it's monstrous forearms, and everything in between.

"I plan to."

[Anomaly]

The sonic howl that had aided the beast warrior so many times in the past seem to have little or no effect on this vicious creature. Writhing and bucking like this, Dreizehn had little hope of holding on to his footing. Digging his claws in only seemed to cause him to scrabble over the beasts helm and it was impossible to get the proper leverage now with his chain to remain in this position long. It was the creatures arrogant voice echoing in his thoughts that made him choose his next course of action. Right or wrong, he was going to make this monster pay for his words, even if it cost him his life.

"Sie wollen rau spielen? Fein!"
"You want to play rough? Fine!"

Dreizehn crouches down and smashes his into the creatures dark brown head plate. At first it seems he may try to beat his way into the creatures brains, but then he suddenly lets go of the sickle portion of his Soul Sting and takes a flying leap from the Donkere's head. As he drops he holds tight to his mace. If the beast opens its mouth to try and snatch him from the air, he can recover his sickle, if it doesn't then the blade does have the chance of removing this abomination from this plane of existence in thirty minutes. If only Dreizehn thought he'd live that long. All he had going for him was his parting gift.

Any moment now, the beasts head plate would be reacting to the maces destructive effects, preparing to explode with incredible force. He had no way of knowing if this would remove his enemies head or merely give him a headache, either way he was at the mercy of the moment, sailing through the air, literally at the end of his rope. Or chain in this case.

[Ghost]

An eruption of dancing flames bursts from the Donkeres head. Crimson-gold light drowns out the accents made to the area by the now rising sun.
His head rings lightly from the vibration.
Smoke, dust, and flame shroud the beasts upper half, cloaking it from sight.
The chain that had been held so tight between its jaws falls limply from the depths, a sickle following suit shortly afterwards.

Enormous hands react instinctively to the situation, springing upon the falling body.
Suddenly the matter expands out into a perfect spherical shape and stops moving. Purple sparks jump from the cloud like an electric discharge. The curtain dissipates and reveals the Donkere; it's head-plate in pieces, all attached to their base with the same purple bolts. He is looking straight into the sky, as if indulged in deep concentration.
The bolts lick the surface of the plates and begin to slowly retract, pulling with them the pieces and placing them perfectly back in the shape of his complete head-plate.
With a sigh and a grunt the beast looks down once more towards his clenched fist, expecting to find the body of the fallen Dreizehn between his massive fingers.

His eyes react slowly to the changed light. He cannot tell whether he does or does not hold between his fingers his next meal, but the presence of something is apparent. He can feel it, and the man smells close.

Regardless, he thrusts his hand towards his open mouth, attempting to throw in whatever it was that was clasped in his palm. Hopefully for him he would momentarily taste flesh on his tongue.
___
EDIT: Sorry for the wait dear friend.

[Anomaly]

There's only a limited time between the shock of the explosion and the mayhem that follows, but it seems that it is all for naught. Grasped at last in the beasts claws, the young man sees only one possible outcome. For the first time, fear tinges his pale eyes. Each individual hair stands on end as, in one smooth motion, the abomination thrusts Dreizehn into its gaping maw. Its unlikely that the Donkere notices the effect this mortal fear has on the beast mans physiology.

What would it matter to him if his prey were to grow slightly larger or hairier at this point of victory? All the more flesh to consume.

There is but one problem. Dreizehn slips past his enemies sword like teeth. A second pair of jaws closes on a moist and tender tidbit dangling at the back of the Donkere's throat. Sharp teeth clamp on the monsters uvula, as a much more bestial Dreizehn clamps down for dear life. Using his hands, he frantically tugs his Soul Sting fear of the monsters teeth from this side, and with both weapons back in his hands, he begins to rip and tear frantically at the back of the monsters throat, its tongue, and all of the soft flesh he can reach.

[Ghost]

A horrific tickle of pain confuses the Donkere, and in reaction it clasps shut it's incredible jaw. Not only should it be experiencing a much different sensation of taste, as opposed to physical agony, but there was now fur where fur had not entered only moments before.

The Donkere seemingly had taken too long to consider these odd shifts in cirumstance, as there was now a gaping hole straight through the back of it's throat and out it's neck, opening up in the middle of it's sharp mane. With the final gash an explosion of violet blood bursts from the Donkere's wound.
Although horribly painful, the Donkere simply kept its composure and examined the physical torment it was currently undergoing. Something caused this impossible pain; a pain it had never dreamed of feeling.
...It must taste such an incredible morsel!...
At that ie realized that Dreizehn was trapped in its mouth between clenched teeth and a bloody gash, protected from every angle by hundreds of sharp bone-like hairs. And now, having lost its uvula to this terrificly gory onslaught, there was nothing left within it's mouth for Dreizehn to grasp. With a quick backward toss of it's head the Donkere could feel the man moving about in his living prison.

Would he finally taste that which he so desired?

(OOC: Sorry for the intensely long wait.)

[Anomaly]

OOC: (Not a problem, had some down time myself)

Body twisting and turning, thrashing with all his might, the were-beast tries desperately to gain a grip in the blood slicked gullet of this brutal monster. However, as the monsters uvula snaps off in Dreizehn's mouth he begins the slow steady slide down the creatures throat, claws scrabbling uselessly down the sides. With a sudden movement from Donkere, the wolfman slide the rest of the way almost blocking the mucus filled passage. Now only a last hand hold on the back of the creatures tongue kept him from sliding into the acid pit of the monsters stomach.

Did this thing not have a gag reflex or what? Ripping the uvula was probably not the best idea. Now there was only one possible chance...

The fur grows thick and fast, muscles writhe and churn beneath flesh. As Dreizehn's mass expands, he completely fills the creatures throat. This would be enough to kill any other creature, but it was not likely that a creature of the netherworld would need to breath air. Despite his growth, he could feel the muscles of the esophagus trying to pull him down. There would be only one shot at this.

Slowly, each individual hair covering his body begins to glow. The fur begins to dance as if caught in a wind, emitting an intense amount of heat. The glow quickly passes from a dull red, through bright yellow and blue, and into an eyeball searing white. Dreizehn becomes a howling ball of light. The flesh within the Donkere's throat does not so much cook as evaporate. The exterior armor melts to slag as a wolfen shape explodes through the gash in the back of its neck.

A creature somewhere between wolf and man momentarily burns too brightly to behold as trees and grass all around instantly burst into flames. It is not long before the forest is a raging inferno in a ring around the two supernatural entities. Slowly, the light fades, and only a very obviously exhausted warrior stands with steam rising from his body.

"Hier ist ein Tipp. Töten Sie mich, bevor Sie mich essen, oder ich Sie offen von innen reißen werde!"
"Here is a tip. Kill me, before you eat me, or I'll rip you open from the inside out!"

He drops into a stance that clearly says he's ready to continue the fight, despite the hell he has been through and the fresh hell that rages all around. With flames dancing behind him, the savage warrior gives a truly terrible smirk, filled with violet blood stained teeth.

"Oder haben Sie Ihren Appetit verloren?"
"Or have you lost your appetite?"

[Ghost]

"SHREEEEEEEEEEEE!"

A high pitched scream from deep within shatters the Donkere's collected, confident state. Whether the scream was borne in reaction to it's terrific pain, or the scream of it's searing flesh itself cannot be determined. The Donkere's skin begins to boil out into puss filled pockets. More violet blood begins to pour from it's eyes and mouth, drenching it's entire front-side in the thick liquid.

A bolt of light bursts from within the Donkere, escaping through the open wound and soaring through the mane, cracking the protective spikes like toothpicks. The skin stops boiling, but instead begins to erode due to exposure to this horrible light. As the man lands the entire clearing bursts into flame, and the Donkere is thrown aback by some unseen force. Were it not for the layer of blood covering its eyes, it would have surely been made blind by such horrible energy.
What is this I feel? I almost want not to approach this being. That is absurd! I hunger and so I must be fed, but what internal mechanism forces me to concern myself!? No matter; it is one to be ignored, for we are invincible, as we have been created. Invincible, but what of my flesh? It is very apparent that it is in less supply than it had been mere seconds ago. No mortal could do what has been done to me, no abysmal beast either; only those 'creatures' from above can damage my physical self, even still suffering my incredible wrath. However, I do not sense that this man is of the heavens, for he is far too brutal. Yet in front of me the proof sits, energy of a celestial proportion sears my being. A confusing predicament in and of itself. This is the most dangerous being I have ever been faced with...
As the beasts monologue comes to it's close, the light dissipates, revealing the man who he had tasted just moments before, only more bestial than he had remembered. The Donkere licks his eyes clean. Steam rises up from the man's wet, bloody, shoulders. He seems to be panting, much less breathing; like a creature.

At that the Donkere's recovery system sets in. The same purple bolts as before surround him, only in a much greater mass than was required previously. A stream of purple energy bursts from his eyes, mouth, and the wound on his neck.

The Donkere bellows a mighty roar as the purple bolts dance around him once again, repairing his broken self. They would also prove defensive did his opponent get too close; but why not bring the danger to his opponent instead? Roaring once more the Donkere extends his bony weapons from within his arms.

"HAHAHA!" the Donkere laughs at Dreizehn, "I've already educated you on my hunger, so I will not proceed to do it again; but your offer intrigues me. Tear me up you may, but where do you assume I will go after that? Right back home, where I can escape from once more, with a brand new shell; and if I don't kill you now, who do you think I'll be coming after once I've returned? Our lives are unending; and those who engage us meet their demise. Even if in this form I fail, I will come back, knowing your weaknesses, and perfected to destroy you. Even if you win this spar, you can never defeat the Donkere!"

At that the beast jumps into a run, reaching the man in mere moments. He jabs both sparking weapons towards the mans midsection. Perhaps not the most intricately clever attack, but in the mans evidently fragile state, perhaps he would react slower. The Donkere's agility was of course unmatched. Even if Dreizehn dodged, as long as the Donkere maintained a constant barrage of attacks, it should buy itself enough time to fully recover.

"Your heavenly nature has made this quarrel personal. I hate you."

[Anomaly]

Dreizehn struggles to keep his eyes focused, trying desperately to hold on to his sanity and not let the beast take him completely. A berserker's strength might be valuable, but if it came down to matching strength the end of the battle was a fore-gone conclusion. No...he had to stay sane, had to think, even in the face of such an unforgiving monstrosity. The roar of the Donkere doesn't help...every muscle vibrates with stored energy, waiting to spring.

So it's not enough to just obliterate him down to dust. He's escaped his realm...I need to find another that can hold him...

The rapidly healing beast charges forward, cursing him. He bellows something else, but the wolf-man is too preoccupied with dodging the monsters lunge. It's not really speed that saves him, but rather dexterity. Dodging to one side of one bony spear, he leaps over the second, and continues to bob and weave to try and avoid the sudden onslaught of piercing bone and popping energy. He has to buy himself some time.

Catapulting himself backwards through the wall of flames, there is a scent of scorched fur, but aside from that Dreizehn lands safely in the cooler side of the forest. He doesn't pause a second, but lets loose and ear shredding sonic howl. The already damaged trees topple easily in the wave of sound, the burning timbers falling like twigs caught in a tornado. The deadly flaming spears threaten to crush and impale Donkere, while the remaining trees in the circle of flame being to fall in apparent sympathy. Would this be the monsters funeral pyre?

It did not seem likely.

What was it that the beast had howled as it struck out in pain and hatred? His heavenly nature? What was he talking about? There didn't seem as though there would be much more time to dwell on this. He had to come up with an answer, fast.