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castle_perrault2016-09-04 09:34 pm
[Open] Unreasonable Behaviour
A . (for your character to end up a snack or escape and spread the word; indicate which in your subject line!)
He’s found the underwater lake. It’s nice, for the most part, but just like the fish in the river the fare is disappointingly slimy and unappetizing. Seeing as he hasn’t found the kitchen yet (a shame!) he turns to the next source of food—those wandering about the castle. The first to go is a small white cat lazing about on a chair; tufts of fur remain on the floor, and he continues on. The castle is large enough to send him on af ew circles; but finally, he sees someone down a hall, and makes his lumbering way towards them.
B. (for your character to lay a beatdown on Croc, or for Croc to lay a beatdown on your character….)
He takes to roaming the halls during the night. It’s quieter, the birds are asleep, he has free rein; it’s daresay, nice. He’s still angry. It bubbles up in his chest like a red foam, leads to clawmarks being engraved in the stone, chairs turned on their head or otherwise made into splinters.
Croc is a simple man, sometimes. Sometimes he likes to scheme and plot, and finds himself quite adept at that! Other times… well, other times, someone’s just gotta get their head caved in. Said someone is going to find a big, scaled surprise in the library.
croc: the one thing weak enough for me to kill and it's just bones.
not sickliness.
Fragility.
that clings onto the skeleton. And, granted, he shouldn't be up and walking around anyways! First a talking cat, now an ambulatory skeleton. This castle did nothing but taunt him. He'll rip it up, brick by brick. (Later. He's got a dinner to catch, bones to gnaw on.)
His speed belies that fragility, and Croc wheels around-- tail swinging as counterweight and sending a few books sprawling across the floor. He dives for Sans' throat.
Sans: Nyah nyah!
Sans barely has time to gasp before he takes another very hasty shortcut out of the way. Rather than risk judging distances with those teeth involved, he simply takes another hasty shortcut behind Croc again. He needs some kind of room to dodge, after all - and he's otherwise not being allowed a whole lot of that.
And so, anticipating a repeat performance, he prepares to make Croc regret it. What appear to be two large, floating dog skulls appear on either side of him, their jaws gaping wide. Blue fire blooms between their teeth before manifesting as bright laser blasts, aimed squarely at Croc. Already, this is a guy who strikes Sans as having a fair bit of blood on his claws. And if he's right, then his nature means that the attack should hurt even worse as a result. He doesn't wait to see the effect, tough - just teleports himself back up onto his windowseat, instead.
"was it something i said?!"
croc: incoherent roaring
He'll kill the non-blind one first, then hunt down the one that got away (that he let get away? It wasn't clear anymore) and really take his time.
But first, he's got a bag of bones to worry about. The total of living bones has grown to three, now, with the skulls flanking Sans. And they pack quite more of a punch than he does; Croc is sent head over heels into a wall, through two bookshelves. He doesn't get back up for a good ten seconds; it's rattled his head, sent his tail lashing angrily and destroying even more things. Then, he pushes into his hands and knees-- hands and feet-- up to his feet.
"You'll regret that." There's blood on his chest. Not a lot, but... just as much from blunt force trauma as taking a dive through wooden bookshelves.
no subject
Well. Damn.
"probably," Sans agrees with a shaky nod, keeping his gaze fixed on his foe. One eyelight continues to glow a smoky blue. It's almost as though the castle doesn't think he's busy enough without at least one vengeful enemy on his metaphorical tail. He knows he could stay, and probably finish the job.
But he finds himself much more worried about the people in his life who aren't quite as good at dodging as he is. If this guy is as willing to go for the kill as he seems...maybe those tufts of white fur weren't an accident. Maybe it's better to leave him wounded than to let him come back fresh in three days.
"gotta catch me first, though." He winks. And then he fires again. And then, when the smoke from the blast clears, Sans is gone.