[1 v 1] The Boiling Blood... (Kettil & Herryk) (Violent)

[Pales]

Kettil was on the outside of the gym simply doing a series of pushups and simply letting his mind going distant and unfocused on any thought. Endzela perched in a nearby tree quietly napping now that her Reaper seemed to have gotten something to occupy his time. For the most part it was a rather idyllic scene. The boil only paused a moment or two in the upward push of his exercise and seemed to be calmly timing how long he could hold it.

For the most part his life was going well enough other than the occasional bouts of thoughts that wandered toward home or other things.

When his arms seemed about ready to start trembling again he resumed, building into a quiet rhythm.

Up. Down. Breathe in. Breathe out.

After a couple more he finally stopped and flopped over onto his back and stared skyward. A quick break before he moved on.  

[bipolar bee]

Nothing - nothing - was making sense anymore. Mort, being the well-meaning, loyal friend that he was, had been far too hesitant to give any sort of prudent information away. It had taken a few days, but Herryk would have to be an idiot not to realize what had happened.

Not to realize who had taken his place.

Herryk was no fool.

The small, microscopically rational part of him knew that Freya was probably happy with the boil that laid on the floor a fair distance away. That probably, in some way shape or form, Kettil had been able to provide her with something that Herryk hadn't been able to give her. He was broken, utterly and completely destroyed, and she did deserve to be happy. She deserved someone who could give her what she wanted.

That rational part of him that begged and pleaded for control was consumed, utterly destroyed by the deep, ugly rage that welled up inside of him. This was just an excuse, this not-quite-happenstance meeting, for more violence. More destruction. More blood, more breaking. More pain. More hate, rage.

More everything.

He trembled with an unharnessed fury that sat in his chest, thick and clotted and metallic on his tongue.

Herryk approached, slowly. The edges of his vision were black with utter hate for the purple-haired boil that was at the center of his attention. He crouched a few feet away, gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw.

He said nothing. His intent was clear.  

[Pales]

Puffs of icy mist passed his lips as he settled out his breathing. Normally he wouldn't be aware of small things especially in this state but something about the crunch of snow nearby. As shocking to the system as it was to have so much cold against his skin after the exertion, he reveled in it. It made his blood pump just a little faster, a little hotter it seemed.

As he tilted his head his dark green eyes settled on the crouching black boil nearby. He could already tell that this was not going to be friendly or happy. As quick as he could he shifted onto his feet, snow flying into the air from the ground from the quick movement.


He had no reason to strike first, at least not yet. Kettil was clearly on his guard, since Herryk was there within sight.

"What is it you want?" He asked cautiously. Perhaps he was wrong, but he doubted it.

Endzela was suddenly alert and focusing intently on the pair beneath her perch.  

[bipolar bee]

Herryk was beyond words. There was just no way for him to force coherent thought processes into sentences. Everything in his head was so scattered, and all of his focus was directly on Kettil. There was no room for anything else. No room for saying anything that could even begin to describe the emotion that sat in his chest, cold and hard and unforgiving.

He dropped a hand to the ground, fingers sinking deep into the cool snow. He felt invigorated, the chill of the air and the damp coolness of the cold snow only making him that much more focused. The cold was comforting, in a strange sense, though it did nothing to soothe the hellish heat of anger that consumed him.

Herryk merely snarled before rising to his full height, teeth bared.

Everything about his posture, his expression, made it perfectly clear what he wanted.  

[Pales]

The snarl only served to startle him more than it ought to have. His heart gave a sudden thump against his chest as he stooped down and suddenly picked up a handful of snow and hurled it up over at Herryk in response to the snarl. "Oh, cool off!" Kettil snarled back at him.

It seemed Endy saw fit to swoop down and claw at the Draugr's face with talons to further distract him. Kettil meanwhile settled back into a defensive stance, "Endy! Back down, this isn't your fight."

She uttered a wordless upset screech in response.

It was her fight! This boil had just threatened Kettil.

HP: 40/40
DMG: 2  

[bipolar bee]

Herryk was not easily distracted, and it didn't take him long to deliver a hard blow to Endzela. A mere annoyance, the familiar was, and Herryk didn't have the patience. He channeled his Fear into his fists, and with a low guttural sound, Herryk crashed his fist into the bird.

It had been a strong hit, but did nothing to assuage the fury that rose inside of him, devouring everything in its path.

He laughed, then, a mad sound, feet carrying him closer to the reaper boil.

HP: 38
DMG: 10
CHG: (battle cry y2 used, the eye y1 unused)  

[Pales]

It was a hard hit and it landed the Owl right into the snow where she seemed too dazed to move or do anything in response for now. Kettil let out an agonized sound it was as good as hitting the Reaper himself. Fury burned in dark green eyes as he stared over at Herryk but it seemed whatever Kettil was trying to do just then wasn't working.

Rage had built too high in him to get him to adequately gather his FEAR.

"Now you show your face to me? Now you want to face me down?" Kettil called back at the Draugr. Anger, hurt.

His memories flashed to marked wrists and his fingertips clenched into a fist, "Coward," he hissed at the oncoming figure.

Used: The Mind but it FAILED ME. KAJDJKHSFF.
DMG: NONE cause I was wasting a turn trying to be fancy.
HP: 30/40  

[bipolar bee]

Releasing some of the pent up rage, the overflow of fear, had Herryk feeling more capable of speech.

"Kettil thinks," he let out a low growl, eyes sparking with rage, "that Herryk is afraid?"

That ridiculous thought had Herryk throwing his head back in a laugh as he took the last few steps that would bring him close. He made a fist and sent it flying into Kettil's face. It was a glancing blow, nothing too horrible, but would likely be jarring nonetheless.

"Kettil is nothing but a fool," he snarled, chest heaving.

HP: 38
DMG: 4
CHG: (battle cry y2 used, the eye y1 unused)  

[Pales]

His head rocked back from the hit. Kettil saw stars, sparkling and clear for a brief second or two. Kettil tilted his head back to stare at Herryk and narrowed his eyes, "What else do you call a boil that leaves marks on a ghoul's wrists? Certainly not a hero." He growled back.

Kettil had no problems sparring with a ghoul but he would never mark them. Not out of viciousness as Herryk seemed to have done to Freya.

He felt it, hatred forming within him.

"A coward that hides away from his ghoulfriend's problems because he doesn't wish to deal with them. Let others run about trying to pick up the damned pieces," Kettil's face was not the usual friendly expression. Hands reached up and he harshly pushed at the larger boil.

All Kettil knew was Freya's side of the story.

HP: 26/40
DMG: 2  

[bipolar bee]

"Oh, yes? Is this what Kettil has heard? That Herryk ignored Freya's problems, mm? That Herryk did not care enough?"

He pushed a hand, hard, against Kettil's shoulder.

"What about Herryk? Who cares about Herryk and his problems? Why could Freya not take the time to understand that Herryk had troubles, that Herryk needed someone too? Mm? It does not matter at this point, Kettil. Herryk has been broken since the isles - and everyone is too caught up in their own troubles to help - especially Freya. She is too fat, mm? She is eating again? Good, good."

His tone made it clear that he didn't care. He'd given up caring since his talk with Mort. There was no point in hoping, no point in caring.

"It is too late for this one. Herryk has found something better. Something greater. Something that will never let Herryk down."

HP: 36
DMG: 4
CHG: (battle cry y2 used, the eye y1 unused)  

[Pales]

At one point Kettil had wanted to be Herryk's friend. At one point he wanted the larger boil to trust him once more. The bridge had since burned. Burned and the ashes scattered to the wind. It hurt but not as much as it hurt to know that this boil was what Freya looked sad over from time to time.

"Did you expect her to psychically know without you telling her? Did you even reach out to her? Talk to her?" He shot back his body weaved back from the force of the push given by Herryk. "Did you consider maybe it works both ways?" He noted the lack of caring in the larger boil's face but that didn't make anything easier.

"You ******** let yourself down," he hissed back as he finally reached up and punched Herryk in the face his body lunging forward a bit to put force into the hit. The impact hurt. "There is nothing greater for you. You deserve nothing. If the greater purpose is whining and hurting others. There is nothing great about it."

HP: 22/40
DMG: 6  

[bipolar bee]

"Herryk begged."

The words were acrid on his tongue.

Herryk was done talking. He was finished with allowing himself be consumed by thoughts of Freya. Thoughts of Kettil touching that pretty pale flesh, kissing those lips, running his fingers through her hair. No more. He took a moment to regroup, to let that rage build.

HP: 30
DMG: 0
CHG: (battle cry y2 used, the eye y1 unused)  

[Pales]

Herryk begged.

The words fell against Kettil like rocks. If Herryk had begged then that meant Freya had turned a blind eye to her boilfriend? The boil the ghoul had claimed that she had loved so much. Context was missing, but that didn't stop him from trying to figure it out.

As watched the other boil carefully and then spat a bit of blood on the nearby blank snow. "If you had begged she would have stayed," he argued back. She would have stayed with Herryk and Kettil would still be just a friend to her. Now things were different.

Kettil knew she was loyal, despite what Freya tried to turn back on him, the words that angered him and hurt him deeply. Words that had passed her lips.

"Freya does not abandon those that matter to her. She is concerned for you, Herryk." He reached over and pushed at him again. "Always concerned about you."

Was that jealousy in his voice? Yes. Yes, it was.

HP: 22/40
DMG: 2  

[bipolar bee]

"It no longer matters. Perhaps it had never mattered. Herryk does not know. Herryk does not care - and if Kettil thinks that Freya will not run about kissing other boils while professing her deepest love for Kettil?"

He let out a cruel, jaded laugh.

"Herryk pities Kettil."

He lashed out with a beefy fist, aiming for Kettil's stomach.

HP: 28
DMG: 3
CHG: (battle cry y2 used, the eye y1 unused)  

[Pales]

Air left him just then. Herryk's words left him breathless or perhaps it was the punch to the gut. Hands reached up and grasped the giant's forearm and nails dug hard into the black flesh as he glared up at his face.

"It m...matters. To Freya," he hissed softly and dug his nails in a bit deeper, scratching.

His heart gave a heave, a hard clench. Carefully he packed away feelings of bitterness and jealousy for things that didn't matter just then. "I trust her. I trust her to know when to stop. To know that she is ..."

His eyes clenched tightly and then he stared up at Herryk and smiled, "I trust her to know that she is mine now."

HP: 19/40
DMG: 2