Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-25808351-20180715053032

(Everyone) Armata, Acheron and Barnabus stand by the edge of the ramparts of the prison. Acheron’s are wide with disbelief, his perceptions of strength called into question.

“Incredible. That is the true power of the scaled one? Everything, is gone in a blast of molten ground.... if anyone can defeat that beast it is her.” Acheron watches on in shock.

“Yes, Tirush has nothing but fury for her enemies. Same as the mutt. They were destined to clash here and now. Tirush, the last warrior of her tribe, wielder of The Great Flame. Her thuum toppled the strongest walls. Her flame scorches the earth. Yet she is a devoted mother and wife.” Armata shifts his gaze from Tirush, to Marcus. The Wardog’s aura flares. His cobalt flames ignite once more.

“Marcus Jaghund. A man of many names. The Hound. The Destroyer. The Wardog. Invincible. His path is that of a slayer. All things that draw breath, he is skilled at dispatching. He has laid low everything that has walked or crawled at one point or another. His strength is immeasurable, his will unbreakable. A dark force lay dormant in his soul, the force his heritage cursed him with. Son to a Hellbeast and Goddess. Marcus was born with a duel nature. One half father, husband and protector. The other.... a monster.”

“We cannot stop what is about unfold. It is now up to Tirush now. Her strength alone is only thing that can bring Marcus back, or destroy what is left of him.” Armata sounds almost sad. He had hoped it would not come to this, but even he had not the strength right now to stand between these two titans of raw fighting prowess.

Marcus’ flames expand and flare like a great beckon amongst the pillars of magma. His cold flames actually solidifying the pillars closest to him. They slow and harden to dark stone. Tirush notes the growth of hair on Marcus’ body, the slowly forming bone mask of a dog’s skull on his head. As the skull is completed, Marcus’ blue eyes ignite like candles in the black sockets of the skull. His head rears back, the mouth opens. A loud echoing roar of acceptance to Tirush’s challenge bellows out.

Marcus had transformed to his primal form.