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Snippet #1981165

located in Hell on Earth, a part of Survivor Slayers, one of the many universes on RPG.

Hell on Earth

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lysander James
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The last luster fell in a spray of blood, two sets of fangs buried deeply in its neck as it crumpled to the ground. The two attacking dogs landed lightly on either side of the demon, wasting no time before biting down again, simultaneous jerks of their heads further tearing into the already gaping wounds the demon sported. The larger, a brown and black dog, was the first to release his grip, prompting the smaller tan and cream dog to pull back as well, lips curled back in an attempt to get as much of the blood as possible out of his mouth. Demon blood was, without a doubt, one of the nastiest tasting things around, which was saying something nowadays. Shaking himself and glancing up at the bloodied sky, the larger dog’s form began to elongate and change, almost seeming to blur until a human was standing where the dog had been previously. Shaggy brown hair falling over his eyes, he wasted little time spitting several times off to the side, doing his best to get expel as much of the foul liquid as he could, uncorking a flask at his side to swish lukewarm water through his mouth before spitting again, the already somewhat brackish liquid coming out almost black.

The actual dog at his side, he headed over towards the nearest shell of a building, poking through the rubble to come up with the tattered knapsack he had previously stashed there. Rifling through it he came up with a stained and torn section of cloth. Pouring a little of the precious water on it, he knelt down as Bo approached, jaws obligingly open as the man quickly went through, wiping the blood off of his teeth as best he could, before tucking the rag back away to clean later. Neither one of them allowed the blood to remain on them for very long after a fight, unwilling to find out what would happen should they fail to clean away the liquid. There was a possibility of his healing powers dealing with that, but he wasn’t about to risk his only true companion for a theory, no matter how confident he was in it.

Slinging his knapsack across his back, he pulled out one of his switchblades and moved forward to make sure the demon was dead. It was, and the blood-tipped blade was slipped back into its hiding place. The blood would serve as a decent deterrent at the very least, if he ran into any other hostile survivors. There was something particularly intimidating about a bloodied blade in favour of a clean one, and it was a crude blade at best as well, not one he bothered to worry about cleaning and sharpening.

Straightening up, Lysander let out a short whistle, the noise bringing Bo back from where he had been nosing about in the rubble to trot at his side as he started away. The reek of the dead demon was hanging heavily in the air, and he had no wish to see what else it would attract. As if summoned, a single bloodbird landed on an outcropping of stone next to them to let out a rasp of a caw. Baring his teeth, both Ly and Bo unleashed identical snarls to scare the offending bird away, back to the flock that was beginning to gather.

Rather worse for wear sneakers silent against the rough ground he headed off, not needing to look to know that his dog was right at his side where he had been without fail for several years now. No bunch of demons was about to change that.
They walked aimlessly for a while before Ly deemed them to be far enough away from the torn body to take a break, though neither was winded. Dropping down to recline against a half-destroyed wall, he lowered a hand to rest atop Bo’s head as the wolf-like dog curled up at his side, eyes the same shade of Lysander’s own gleaming watchfully in the shadows cast by the rubble.