As Simple As We Make It (Daniella vs. Hellhound)

Day number six. Food was getting scarce for the big Houndour. Volcanic activity was spotted yesterday, and there was quite a tribulation present in the wind. What could have happened to his fellow comrades? Since the lava flowed in, they were separated. Unfortunately, Houndour had to view the horrendous death of his beloved mate, Skitty. What a sweet girl. She was a tiny thing but ever-so gentle and caring for his nature.

In the past few hours, he had been wallowing in pity. Even his children died in the lava. He and his family originally lived in the volcano area. The space was a rather pleasant spot; and, if the earth was soft enough, one could dig into the soil and just imagine the heat of the volcano flowing to their feet. Houndour could not say if it was true that he could feel the heat of the mighty structure, but his children did. His children did, and that was all that mattered.

Perhaps he was a fool to act so emotional, but Houndour really loved his family. He would teach the boys how to properly kill food - clamp once, then twice, then thrice, and repeat until the target died with pieces flying all over- and the girls how to do the same, but nicely. Yes. Skitty just tended to getting the food on the ground, just like a good mate did. Houndour always wanted to get involved with his family, though. That was what he said to his own parents - but not like they cared. They just thought that was nature. Then he would let them go, they said.

Houndour looked all over the field. The hot stream of water rising up naturally was also a sight to behold. Why did he never have the time to take the kids here? Little Wailmer would have gotten a kick out of the stream, and sweet Poochyena would have lapped up the water - only to get hurt. This would have been the perfect spot.

Now it just seemed like the perfect spot to die.

The Hellhound continued to stare at the water. If he were to so jump, perhaps the burns would be so horrible that his heart would give out. So far to his knowledge that there was no other Hellhounds in the entire world - made up of the Arena, of course. What would stop him from not doing so? There was no other mate; there was no hope to repair the family lost to Nature's wrath; there was no resolve to keep going. Houndour was always an emotional Hellhound, much to his chagrin among others, and was weak to having no food. It was hard these days to have the mental and emotional energy to go hunting or foraging; he just felt like lounging around all these days. Due to that, he might as well not have physical energy either.

Houndour perked his ears and twisted his head to the side. Not far away was a being. Beings were a part of a Hellhound's food - and sometimes a complete breakfast with water. Just the presence got his lips smacking. He was so hungry, and no other mutt or being had been this close in a long while.

This would be a fun way to kill yourself, right?

Houndour reared himself and ran straight at the being, exposing his very sharp teeth. If he was lucky, he would have food.

And perhaps give some to his family, though they would not be eating.

[Attacks Daniella (Knife/Teeth)]
[dice=200+2000]
2098 - Stabbed in Stomach - 9.5

Skitty would have been proud, Houndour knew. Digging his teeth into the being's stomach area, it was such a wonderful feeling. Oh how the blood flowed in his mouth! He could taste the love of his mate when she caught the family a feast. Such the ecstasy of her biting, of her ripping, he could just pretend they were all there. Houndour imagined all of his family and friends there, at the dinner ground, enjoying the time passing in the Arena. His mate was always a good hunter, his comrades would say. She just had that gentle touch that preserved the tender muscle but strong enough to bring back the kill with such ferocity.

Oh Skitty... Oh Wailmer... Oh Poochyena... Oh Diglett. Oh everybody. Along with the euphoria in the blood taste, Houndour remembered the gruesome pictures his family killed - or murdered - by Nature. He could not blame any of them for tripping in such a situation. They were feasting on yesterday when the volcano erupted, after all. Except for Houndour. At the time, he was tired from teaching Pooch a new tip in hunting. He was more exhausted than hungry, and thus was eating slower that day.

Houndour could have sworn he smelled trouble in the area. He was confirmed when he saw mutts running away, screeching and flailing past them. Skitty had looked at her mate, concerned. She was lapping up the crimson essence of a kill as the children dug into their meat. They had all stopped upon seeing Houndour's expression. Something was definitely wrong when the man of the family started to back away.

The lava flow was coming in quick. It basically consumed all that was in its way. Hot colors bathed the section, turning brown and green into reds, oranges, and yellows. Tall trees were relatively safe from the top, and the birds might have been also proportionally secured; however, the ashes coming out would not have done anyone wonders. Destruction, chaos, and the hostility of a natural event were thrown into a vat and labeled as 'fear' for many of the mutts. Even the mightiest would not have been able to withstand that fiery onslaught, Houndour thought back.

So the whole family ran. They ran as fast as they could. Houndour made concerted effort to not trip. Oh gosh. Whatever he did, he better not trip.

But that was what happened with his family. First, Pooch tripped on a giant root. Diglett was following fairly closely behind him and tripped as well. Houndour had looked back, making sure they were all keeping up with him.

Sometimes, he wished he did not whip his head behind him. That way, he would not have to see his children being eaten by lava, followed by his mate and Wailmer when they tripped on separate objects. Why? Why?

Pain came in into the heart and in the face. Houndour roared as he heard a crack noise emit when the being smacked him across the face with some object. Both inflictions hurt. The Hellhound would not say which was a malaise, as they equally hurt his soul and pride. Death. Death did not want to come to him so easily, did it? Houndour was rather displeased that his precious jaw was practically wide open, broken. He would not be able to use his tools without hurting more.

Good thing his claws were pretty sharp. Houndour lunged at the being, letting out gurgling roars as the blood entered his throat. This definitely not the taste of love.

[Attacks Daniella (Knife/Claws)]
[dice=200+2000]
2078 - Stabbed in Back - 9.0