by The Kingpin » Wed Nov 26, 2014 10:34 pm
In the shadow of the forest, a sprawling river carved a path through the heart of the island towards the ocean. Trees hung over the sides of the river, so tall and wide that their branches almost overhung the entire river, only a narrow gap between them allowing light to pass through. The afternoon sun was veiled by a thick sheet of clouds spreading across the island, the rumble of thunder in the distance heralding darker weather. Over the mountains that snaked their way across the vast island, a thick haze had begun to spread. The air was heavy with humidity, and many of the island's native species of birds had already taken to the tree branches high in the canopy.
Alongside the river, a large tyrannosaurus slowly stalked amidst the trees, gleaming yellow eyes glaring through the forest of living pillars, pushing through the thick green curtains of foliage. Vines and branches bent to give way for the tyrant, the scarred rex tracking the marks left by another predator. A sick, repulsive monstrosity whose very existence was an affront to the natural order. It had entered land that had not belonged to it, and Crusher knew all too well the danger of letting one of these distorted creatures get too close.
The scent of blood and decay was heavy in the air. He had been tracking it for a while now. Prey of the Acrocanthosaur, or of something else, he could not say. But he did know that it would be a magnet to the repugnant carnivore he currently hunted...What better way to catch it than use its hunger against it?
The Irritator wandered the edges of a river further North. He had known this day would come. Thrasher's recklessness and arrogance had brought about his downfall. But Rake was nothing if not cunning. He had planned contingencies for an incident like this. Means through which he could safeguard himself and continue his schemes. Contacts, paths, safe spots he could use as shelter, he had thought of everything. He was also no stranger to the over-reaching powers that influenced the island. The rumours. The myths that, day by day, seemed to be proving themselves to be more than such, and he, perhaps more so than any and every creature on this island...was perfectly positioned to take advantage of it. Hissing lowly in self satisfaction, the Irritator pushed on into the trees, leaving the riverside behind him. Thrasher's companions that lingered would be looking for him. Looking for revenge. The Scarred Rex's scent was in the heavy, humid air. Danger surrounded him, and he knew that staying by the river would be to invite an untimely death. No. He would stay in the forests. In the dense treelines, out of reach of those powerful enough to do him harm...
Farther West, another predator roamed the jungles of Sorna. A giganotosaurus. An older beast with a legacy spanning nearly four decades. He was one of the progenitors of his kind; a father to many of the gigas that roamed this island, many of them ignorant of his identity or existence. At one time, he had been considered by many to be the most powerful and dangerous creature the island had ever seen. But that was long ago, at a time when the island wasn't littered with disfigured abominations with more strength than sense, when his only foes were natural beasts with natural flaws. Early on, he had attempted to use their strengths against them, his body warping and expanding to proportions that he had not dreamt were possible at the time. He had not come out of it unscathed however. With the power and size had come a terrible cost; He could feel this poison, this sickness, eating at his mind. He was wise enough to stop before he could be ensnared, saving himself from a fate worse than death. But the damage was done. Forgetfulness was a growing foe, and his mind frequently drifted into reflection. He had long since chosen to abandon the fight for territory or title. His stature and reputation still afforded him enough respect that many gave him a wide berth. Now, in the later years of his life, he wanted little to do with violence aside from the obligation of hunting. Let the young and the foolish fight over this rock. In the end, what difference did it make who held the title? What difference did it make whose name it was that terrified all who heard it? In the end, nothing changed. The dark brown, grey striped giant pushed roughly through the jungle, bitterness making him irritable, and irritation drawing his ire upon his surroundings. His horribly scarred hide told the tale of a predator who had fought many a battle and slain many a foe. His head alone was more scar than intact flesh, five different sets of Spinosaur claw slashes criss-crossing his muzzle, obscuring most of whatever patterns he once had adorning his snout, little more than the glimmering amber eyes glaring into the darkness that started to spread across Sorna, the first drops of rain beginning to dampen the canopy above...
"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!"
–William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG