Lioness of Prideless
Played by witch
ooc; mobile post, I'll edit in the table later owo
A midnight behemoth - reminiscent of the hellbeast's first wife, in coloration and stature - appears, and seems to be trying to reassure the demon that she's not here to cause any harm. Lip curling up on one side in a sort of mocking amusement, the hellhound tosses its mane back to reveal the full - startling - expanse of its scarred features. Someone already beat you to it, anyways, comes the rumbling growl of the beast's voice. It sounds aggressive, but then everything about the hound tends to come across that way - coloration, markings, body language, actual spoken language, all the fights the hound has gotten into... they're just aggro as hell. A blind man could see that much.
Not quite comfortable enough to sit down - on the off chance that this lioness might, gasp, be lying about not wanting to start shit - the beast instead digs the plant they'd come here for out of the mud. Once the creature has it, roots and all, it sets the plant down within easy grabbing reach in case it needs to get the hell out of dodge. Not that the hound thinks it couldn't take Volcan in a fight if it had to, but the time of throwing its life away for no good reason is over. The hound has children, a wife - and the beast is not quite as broken as it had been after its stint in a gladiator arena. The hound's first children had been the only thing that kept the beast alive - without them, there would have been no reason to keep going.
Without them, the beast would never have met Genya.
Shaking the suddenly stunning clarity of that thought out of its head, the beast refocuses on Volcan and rumbles, What brings you to the swamp, if not preying on unwary victims? Not that anybody could ever accuse the hound of being unwary - or really even a victim, despite the alarming amount of scars on the stocky little beast's body. The hellhound always has come across as much larger and stronger than their body truly is, but that could just be the Napoleon syndrome that the beast probably doesn't even realize it has. And what's your name? So I have something else to call you aside from 'Totally Not Here To Eat People.' That's kind of a mouthful, y'know, and I'm lazy. Although the almost violent muscle definition across the entirety of the hound's body clearly suggests otherwise - but really, the beast is quite lazy about long names.
I'm Iblis, the hound adds, after a moment.
@Volcan
Speech
A midnight behemoth - reminiscent of the hellbeast's first wife, in coloration and stature - appears, and seems to be trying to reassure the demon that she's not here to cause any harm. Lip curling up on one side in a sort of mocking amusement, the hellhound tosses its mane back to reveal the full - startling - expanse of its scarred features. Someone already beat you to it, anyways, comes the rumbling growl of the beast's voice. It sounds aggressive, but then everything about the hound tends to come across that way - coloration, markings, body language, actual spoken language, all the fights the hound has gotten into... they're just aggro as hell. A blind man could see that much.
Not quite comfortable enough to sit down - on the off chance that this lioness might, gasp, be lying about not wanting to start shit - the beast instead digs the plant they'd come here for out of the mud. Once the creature has it, roots and all, it sets the plant down within easy grabbing reach in case it needs to get the hell out of dodge. Not that the hound thinks it couldn't take Volcan in a fight if it had to, but the time of throwing its life away for no good reason is over. The hound has children, a wife - and the beast is not quite as broken as it had been after its stint in a gladiator arena. The hound's first children had been the only thing that kept the beast alive - without them, there would have been no reason to keep going.
Shaking the suddenly stunning clarity of that thought out of its head, the beast refocuses on Volcan and rumbles, What brings you to the swamp, if not preying on unwary victims? Not that anybody could ever accuse the hound of being unwary - or really even a victim, despite the alarming amount of scars on the stocky little beast's body. The hellhound always has come across as much larger and stronger than their body truly is, but that could just be the Napoleon syndrome that the beast probably doesn't even realize it has. And what's your name? So I have something else to call you aside from 'Totally Not Here To Eat People.' That's kind of a mouthful, y'know, and I'm lazy. Although the almost violent muscle definition across the entirety of the hound's body clearly suggests otherwise - but really, the beast is quite lazy about long names.
@Volcan
