Break of Insanity (OPEN)

Krayto stands, befuddled and admittedly unnerved, at the sight he has just witnessed. A greater demon, powerful and present, threatening him under the light of the stars. While Krayto certainly is a powerful individual, should he fight a demon, there is a better chance of him losing. And if this one has decided to pick the Saurial freedom fighter as his next target, he has much to prepare for just in case.

The barbarian lumbers forwards through the snow, trying to get the ringing voice of insanity out from his ears.

Slumping down onto the ground after hitting a tree, Krayto grumbles in annoyance. His armoured and spined back feels a new pain that it hasn't felt in decades. A blunt pain. And the cause of it is this cackling menace who walks on wind and whose very shrill laughter pierces the cold winter's air.

"I have never been much of a fanatic of the arts," he leers as he lifts his head.

Krayto raises himself off of the ground with the javelin upon his back and brings himself to stand at his full nine-foot height, his impressive tail swinging behind him, and his spiked crest nearly scraping the bark of the tree against which he was thrown. Demon or not, this thing has done something very grave indeed by making a Saurial angry. And with Krayto being the extremity of rebellion, things are sure to get ugly soon.

"Demon!" he calls out, raising his axe. "You think I fear you because of a few magic tricks and a cackle?! I have beheaded witches and monsters more threatening than you, and that was in my inexperienced days!" He raises his javelin offensively. "You are nothing but a coward who would sneak up on his prey. If you are truly a predator as you say you are, you would fight me. Head on!"

As he says these words, his red cloak billows and his eyes twinkle with bloodlust. This new land had so far been unpromising, but now he sees an opportunity to feel alive again. He lets out the mightiest roar he can muster with the strength of a bull, the sound of a hurricane, and the scent of rot.

His opponent is ruthless, quick, and certainly mad. First, two daggers attempting to pierce his spine, although easily blocked by a swing from his bearded axe. Then, an attempt to strike his chest; even if Krayto had not worn his armour, the daggers would never have pierced his thick hide of scales.

But still, Krayto now knows just how twisted this 'greater demon' is, and how much he wants to hurt the innocent. Surely, he had seen him only slightly stable earlier on before being greeted with a sharp grin, but even so, this creature should not be allowed to come any closer to civilisation than it already has. It could spell potential doom for all of the innocent lives nearby, despite the grand majority of them being disgraceful, oppressive humans.

He blocks another strike, this time by rearing upwards and bringing his maw down on the demon's left horn; he lets it go quickly enough, but not before shaking it around in his mouth a tad.

"You are fighting Krayto, Blutige Retter der Unterdrückten, and I will not allow you passage to this city!" he cries, readying for another blow. Even if his cloak is stained with more blood, he will not give this creature the satisfaction of killing anyone else. Then, with a mocking eyebrow raise, he adds: "Unless you'd like me to show you just how this cloak got so red, Teufel?"

The barbarian looks up in shock to see the monster that he had been facing previously now sobbing and choking on his own tears, and places his right talon on his scaled throat, feeling it throb slightly from the forceful attack. Despite having scales as hard as boiled leather, the surprise of the attack is enough to cause him some pain.

The lavender tears fall from his eyes and onto the white snow, staining the crystals of ice that they lie upon. Despite the cold, Krayto feels immense pleasure for a moment with being on something cold while he cools down, only to then feel the burn of something too cold.

He shuffles out from underneath the beast and pulls himself up using his battle axe, looking down at his pathetic opponent. One moment, ready to stop the Saurial's breathing with his own bare hands, the next, blubbering like an infant who just lost his mother.

This is the kind of pain that Krayto knows well enough. He has felt this lonely and hurt before, and that is the reason why he no longer wishes to see other people suffer from it. He removes the obsidian dagger from his armoured chest and removes a strip of red fabric from his cloak before handing it to the man.

"Take this," he offers, his voice softer than usual but no less rough. "Wipe those tears, yah?"

He wants to feel something for this pitiful lump of sobbing mess. He wants to feel hatred and anger that he nearly took the Saurial's life. He wants to feel a sense of duty and heroism to stop it from hurting anyone.

All Krayto feels is sympathy.

He leans down and looks at the demon, now back to looking much more calm and human than his bestial form before. The barbarian still can't believe that a psychotic master of darkness and fanatic of grizzly art has become so docile.

"You," he mutters, placing his hand lightly on his shoulder, but not doing anything; rather, not knowing what to do once getting this far. "What is your name?"