Pure Fighting Kaiju RP

[Blizzard Ghost]

Clover screamed in agony as Zilla's jaws clamped down on its shoulder, teeth piercing deep. His body shuddered with pain and fear, eyes wide from it. Despite the agony, he thrashed violently, trying to break free. The monster's skin stretched with each struggle.

Fueled by desperation, he managed to get himself free from Zilla's jaws with a violent twist. Blood poured from the wound, but he ignored the pain, focusing all strength on retaliating. With a powerful lunge, Clover swung its massive arm, striking Zilla's face!

Zilla tried to keep a hold as best he could as Clover thrashed in defiance. He tasted iron on his tongue when his teeth had sunken deep and the taste only grew stronger as the thrashing made his teeth slice through pale flesh more. A hand raised up and tried grabbing onto the deep sea creature's small head, yet proved difficult with the target's size and the constant movement.

He managed to perfect it this time of another go. But as soon as he nearly accomplished his goal, the opportunity was torn straight from him. The Terror of NYC stumbled forward when the Cloverfield Monster successfully managed to break away. Zilla caught his own footing and his foe's blood stained his teeth and lips. Immediately after, white hot pain lashed across the side of his face, just barely missing his eye. His head snapped away and he released an elephantine cry of pain.

Shaking his head, he caught his own footing again and raised up a hand to his skull's flank. His palm pressed on stinging grooves and he immediately pulled away his hand.

Clover, with a burst of raw power, shoves Zilla hard, watching as he sends the smaller kaiju reeling backward. The impact is heavy, Clover's eyes are filled with a wild, untamed fury, and he doesn't let up. Continuing to push forward with a strength that seems to come from the very depths of the ocean.

Zilla was caught off guard by the shove, nearly sent head over heels. But, said heels managed to dig into the soft sand, carving deepening furrows. He strained against Clover’s continuing push and let out another howl.

This time, however, it was a signal of a move that was one of few connections he coincidentally had to the King of Monsters. Jaws opening wide, he exhaled a stream of combustible, clear gas into the face of the sea monster. There was an orange flash at the back of his throat and the gas was quickly set alight, a wave of flame now washing over the sea monster’s face.

[Gojira1604]

Zilla tried to keep a hold as best he could as Clover thrashed in defiance. He tasted iron on his tongue when his teeth had sunken deep and the taste only grew stronger as the thrashing made his teeth slice through pale flesh more. A hand raised up and tried grabbing onto the deep sea creature's small head, yet proved difficult with the target's size and the constant movement.

He managed to perfect it this time of another go. But as soon as he nearly accomplished his goal, the opportunity was torn straight from him. The Terror of NYC stumbled forward when the Cloverfield Monster successfully managed to break away. Zilla caught his own footing and his foe's blood stained his teeth and lips. Immediately after, white hot pain lashed across the side of his face, just barely missing his eye. His head snapped away and he released an elephantine cry of pain.

Shaking his head, he caught his own footing again and raised up a hand to his skull's flank. His palm pressed on stinging grooves and he immediately pulled away his hand.

Clover, with a burst of raw power, shoves Zilla hard, watching as he sends the smaller kaiju reeling backward. The impact is heavy, Clover's eyes are filled with a wild, untamed fury, and he doesn't let up. Continuing to push forward with a strength that seems to come from the very depths of the ocean.

Zilla was caught off guard by the shove, nearly sent head over heels. But, said heels managed to dig into the soft sand, carving deepening furrows. He strained against Clover’s continuing push and let out another howl.

This time, however, it was a signal of a move that was one of few connections he coincidentally had to the King of Monsters. Jaws opening wide, he exhaled a stream of combustible, clear gas into the face of the sea monster. There was an orange flash at the back of his throat and the gas was quickly set alight, a wave of flame now washing over the sea monster’s face.

A low, guttural rumble escaped from deep within Clover’s chest, an instinctive, pained snarl. The searing heat licking across its face burned through the haze of rage that had driven it forward. The wild fury in his eyes faltered, replaced by something more primal, survival. Its massive claws scraped against the ground as it stumbled a step back, the roar of the flames still echoing in its hearing.

The ocean… he needed the ocean. The water, the cold. Away from this. A shuddering exhale rolled from his maw, and his posture shifted, no longer pressing forward but bracing back. He turned slowly, ready to find the safety beneath the waves.

[Beast Blood]

(I was told OCs are fine, so here's my wolverine feller if anyone wants to bother his beauty sleep.)

For all its howling winds and fearsome blizzards, the storm-wracked tundra would be considered peaceful against the innumerable battles raging elsewhere.

Wulvar was no longer on his world, but the way this new wind ruffled his fur made him feel at home just the same. His great head lay on enormous forepaws, from which claws like curved blades splayed out like fans of knives, their metallic sheen glinting even in the dark of winter. His eyes were closed in quiet slumber, his breaths slow and steady. Each thunderous exhale lost itself to the blowing winds, carrying each resonant rumbling as far as the mournful howling of distant wolves until they mingled together in lonely echoes.

It remained to be seen whether shouts of battle would join these cries, for the great wolverine warrior could be as fierce as the winds seeking to tear his thick pelt when roused to anger.

[Cryptid_Liker]

That peace the downy wolverine has so far treasured isn't long for this world, however. At the base of a mountain in the general area, the aftermath of a great avalanche slowly comes cascading down the rising visage of a fellow giant. A clean slice made through the cloud blanket above tells how it got here, as seemingly does its chimeric anatomy how it came to be. Under that resting veil of snow lays armor comprised of a material foreign to this planet, itself coating a beak that wouldn't be unlike that of a native bird were it not for the conical protrusions wedging it open from either side. With a resounding screech, Bolga unleashes wings of flickering gold that finally bring to its icy cape and the ground cover directly surrounding its position the smoldering heat its arrival should've logically provided. The sentinel takes three steps forward before finally rocketing forth at speeds just shy of breaking the sound barrier. Its destination? Any indigenous lifesigns unfortunate enough to be the closest nearby.

[Beast Blood]

The low visibility of the blizzard did little to obscure Wulvar from the alien's senses. And just the same, the wolverine easily picked up his presence, waking to behold glowing wings piercing the pall of wintry fog. The great mammal sat up on his haunches with a shift of thick fur and even denser muscle, casting a wary glare upwards. Snow long settled upon his previously slumbering body fell from his flanks. Nothing to him felt natural about this flying thing - it seemed a sort of bird, its unique wings piercing through skybound snow like blades of light, but it appeared more a creature that tried to imitate rather than being, its shape so similar and yet so wrong. Nothing about it bode well. His instinct instantly labeled it a threat. An invader, here to threaten his world - or so Wulvar believed.

In that case, he would deny it.

The wolverine warrior reflexively sunk his bladed claws into the snow just as he would flesh, slavering jaws laced with stone-crushing fangs poised to fight back. His bulky, low-slung body coiled tight, ready to pounce at the alien's approach.

[Cryptid_Liker]

The contrast of an earthy coat amidst the white void of the tundra fails to escape Bolga's watchful eye. Its flight path curves in response, though not enough to create a straight beeline for its new neighbor. No, far too early for that. Better to scope this thing out before anything rash is done. For starters, the Earthling looks to be a fair deal shorter than it. Maybe 20-30 meters shy, to be specific, and that's also depending on whether it's sitting or standing. The winter bed under them both makes that unclear, as is the beast's weight. What is certain, however, is more of that weight just got pressed into the ground in front of him through his forepaws. That makes it clear: Bolga and the Earthling have the same intent for each other.

At this point, its trajectory is nearing a full 180 that would slot it to pass right next to Wulvar if it continues on its merry way. Convenient. Bolga disengages its wings and pulls its lower half upwards, carving feet-first through the snow and fluffing up a massive curtain of it in the air. A perfect smokescreen, thick and opaque enough to completely obscure the other side from the view of the naked eye. Its only caveat is the fact it's already soon to resettle, but that makes little difference when the beam weapon now exposed from between Bolga's jaws is already primed and ready to fire...

[Blizzard Ghost]

Far behind the looming silhouette of Bolga, a bulge snaked its way beneath the bleach white, smooth terrain. It left behind a trail of disturbed snow in its wake and was rapidly moving, as if pulled by an objective. The maker of this bulge ripped through packed layers of powdered white with large claws, a ring of tentacles around a lipless mouth twitching and flicking. Their blue tips pricked the environment for heat and had picked out a red splotch amongst the deep and cool blues making up the Frost Vark's sight.

They had long grown large, pushing by past records set by members of their species previously thought to be champion heavyweights. This hadn't happened because of a long life, it was only a trick by gorging on the energies of the Earth's blood. At current, they were the shortest kaiju in the locale, 60 metres at the shoulder. But, it hasn't discouraged them from what they were about to do.

As the extraterrestrial built energy within a toothless mouth, the icey burrower erupted out of their hiding place once they were in good range. The explosion of snow was quickly dispersed as their scaled bulk climbed high into the chilly air, rushing to Bolga's back. Their forelimbs stretched out in front of them and their claws pointed forth as they sought to crash into their chosen prey and keep ahold with those terrible weapons.

[Cryptid_Liker]

Sent searing into the snow just shy of Wulvar's claws, Bolga's laser misses dearly. The eyestalk from which it had shone quickly retreats back into the alien's throat as it jettisons its wings, blasting the Frost Vark off its back in retribution. Dealing with two resistors at once is far from an experience Bolga is unaccustomed to, although this would definitely be a harder battle than it would be with just the mammal. No matter. It spreads its feet across the ground and brandishes the scythe capping off its right arm before dashing forth, swiping diagonally to aim for both opponents in one fell swoop.

[Beast Blood]

(Edit: RIP I'm slow. )

The sheet of snow, however short-lived, gave well enough opportunity for Wulvar to strike. In a burst of speed and power, slinking low and fast, the wily wolverine closed the distance separating them in mere moments, noting the light that pierced the veil like an evil glare. Thus did the Beast avoid the beam heralded by that unearthly brilliance, paws skillfully weaving around its scorching path. In all the abrupt chaos, buried beneath the sound of the blizzard and his own attack, Bolga lost track of Wulvar, the mammalian warrior rendered unheard and invisible long enough for it to be fatal.

With a predatory pounce and a blur of dark fur, Wulvar hurled himself onto Bolga's chest. His metal-coated claws shone in the haze as they flashed upward and hooked deep with a faint chime. Taken by surprise under a sudden force that jarred his entire being, the invader lost his footing, pinned beneath a body rippling with strength far dwarfing its size. The lance of light he had been channeling swung wide overhead, then stopped alongside the realization he was obviously not hitting his intended target - he never had. Two full sets of steel-strengthened claws tore into him, raking nearly a dozen gashes over his front, followed by dagger-like fangs brutally piercing through his shoulder. Shaking his head viciously, Wulvar savaged the alien without mercy, fangs chewing through squelching meat, claws burrowing through alien armor and into flesh beneath. His savage growl thrummed through his throat and into the wounds themselves as he worked in a frenzy, rippling the blood drawn forth by his vicious mauling. Flakes of peeling metal lay in the wake of his claws' bloody trails, left to stab into skin long after their passing, while bacteria from the monstrous mammal's maw slicked his open shoulder.

With the wolverine blocking the movement of his neck, Bolga could not remove him with another blast of power; rather, he was forced to use his own weaponized hands. But Wulvar, with his strength and claws, proved incredibly difficult to try and pry off. The more he pushed, the more of him that was torn, even as his own claws drew fresh beads of blood from all the force he was mustering into that effort.

The Frost Vark unexpectedly helped him in that regard.

For with a burst of snow and ice, the creature joined in the fray suddenly, sailing over the tussling giants. Huffing in surprise, Wulvar finally relinquished his otherwise iron grip, hopping from the blood-slicked Bolga to size up this new opponent; tearing a final chunk of flesh as it loosened with a wet rip. He circled slow, swallowing whole the hunk of meat he had ripped from his first foe. He could eat most of anything - a little unknown meat would not hurt him. One ear remained turned to Bolga; the other toward this newcomer...

[Blizzard Ghost]

A yelp left the ice-carver’s throat when they tossed off by the blast of energy, their underside singing orange. They fell to the snow once again, tumbling across it, and eventually came to red, covered in a disturbed sheet of white. Steam curled from beneath them and they looked still. However, their sides still rose and fell, their tendrils twitching with life. They arose, shaking themself off, and swept their head from side to side, recalculating where Bolga was.

They caught the sharper signature of warm blood, flowing generously out of a new wound on the alien’s body. The culprit was one they knew the presence of but hadn’t focused on. However, they were on the move again when, supposedly, a slash of energy came to cleave them in two.

Muscles bunching and belly pressed to the exposed, more packed layers of snow, the Frost Vark would make a great leap out of the way, leaving the slash to gouge the land further. They landed onto the alien’s left but had not made any further move, trying to get their wits straight after thrown off like that. Their tendrils pointed in either direction of both Wulvar and Bolga.

[Cryptid_Liker]

Bolga's slash at least strikes true on one of its targets, its bladed hand freeing a horizontal swath of Wulvar's fur from his side and carving a trench just barely deep enough in the flesh underneath to draw blood. Nowhere near payback for the still-leaking gashes in its shoulder and torso, but there's always time. Another error behind that recent failure takes priority, however, as a downwards swoop of Bolga's wings propels it into an overhead arch well off the ground. That golden energy kicks out once more, disrupting the itself-disruptive jump to rocket the sentinel's trajectory instead down to-

The Frost Vark had pulled another fast one just now, a reflexive leap out of the alien's path proving loud and clear their wits more than make up for their humble size. Regaining a hold of its bearings while the two larger opponents are sure to square back off seems like an equally-effective strategy after a misdirect like that. Even still, no matter if their thermoreceptors managed to catch onto Bolga's sudden maneuver, to process information and act upon it simultaneously is a task impossible for all but the most advanced intelligences of the wide cosmos. And, unfortunately for the thermovore, the armored fist plummeting down upon the beast's back provides too short an instant for them to even try.

A small crater now surrounds the two, snow and sediment displaced by the meteoric impact alike. But, Bolga isn't going to wait around and let Wulvar get the jump on it. The blood still trickling down its wounds, and even moreso that ever-persistent sting where his claws had penetrated its ventral armor, taught well enough the risk. And thus, the same fist that had just punched the Frost Vark into the ground now uncurls and latches a firm grip onto their scruff. A subsequent leap into the air plainly reveals Bolga's position to the wooly juggernaut, a gesture which actually makes him just as much of a target as the alien wastes no time in fulfilling its current prerogative: launching its captive at him like a vaguely-humanoid trebuchet.

[Blizzard Ghost]

(OOC: Given it's been a month since this forum post was last active, I wanted to try to revive it again. But how will I? Well...have a look!)

Skull Island, Pacific Ocean 20XX

The island's king was long dead. The people he protected, the Iwi, had been forced from their home decades ago. Now, all that remained of the island was scraps of land, where the wildlife were forced closer together. As consequence, blood was spilt to an absurdly frequent degree; there would be no day without the screeching of two monsters tearing each other apart.

The island had now been split into fragments, as if a giant shattered it with their fist. Some fragments were at risk of being eroded entirely by the waves. However, the larger ones still held on and provided refuge to dwindled populations of beasts. Amongst these populations was a loner, a relic that had been dormant up until the old king left his homeland. An old enemy of the great ape, the emerald carnosaur Gorosaurus had proclaimed himself the new sole monarch of the largest fragment. He had proved himself worthy of his own proclamation, beating back and crushing opposition.

Now, he slept on the spoils of his countless victories: a bed of bones crushed into harmless fragments by his constantly shifting bulk. His sides rose and fell steadily, while his thick tail gave careless flicks to a bus-sized bug annoying it. His tongue had given up on licking off the last bits of blood caking his lips. Right now, he didn't feel like doing anything except sleeping. He had shown his might thus he felt deserving of a long nap.

...Unfortunately for the upright theropod, he'd not be granted such a luxury. A distinct smell caught in his nostrils forced his eyes to snap open. It couldn't be a pungent flower or a lick of metal diluted into a stream, otherwise his reaction would not be so prominent. It also wouldn't have forced him to rise. With his legs, he peeled himself off his crude bed, flecks of rib shedding off his green scales. Bones popped when they were put into use after so long. Taking long strides, he left his cave in a matter of seconds and was bathed in warm sunlight, filtered through soupy air. The air was filled with a chaos of smells but Goro's smell had long become acute enough to discern the identities within that noise.

He followed the scent trail. It took him from densely forested cliff faces out to the lowlands of his home, where things were far more open. Shoving aside two overgrown mangroves, the full extent of the sunlight finally illuminated his grand form and cast a long shadow over the plain of reeds and puddles. Smaller prey scattered in his presence, not knowing themselves lucky to spared of his attention. His narrowed eyes rolled left in their deeply-set sockets to catch any movement. He found nothing.

He didn't move though. He knew the scent didn't lie for it was strong and still fresh. Meaning now he would wait for this trespasser to rear its ugly head and face punishment for intruding upon kingdom.

[Beast Blood]

As his fellow denizen of the frozen wastes hurtled his way like scalebound artillery, Wulvar thought it best to roll out of its way - not only for his own, obvious sake, but for that of the creature he thought may be ally to him at least against this invader. For his body, small and furry though it was in comparison to his foes, was wrought of naught but dense muscle; practically a pelt-covered stone. And thus did the Frost Vark struck softer snow instead, bouncing a few times over deep banks and icy patches but finding itself far less stunned than it would have been tumbling upon the muscular wolverine.

But Bolga had seen Wulvar’s speed for itself in their earlier exchange, and its mechanical mind had thus prepared for this possible outcome. For before the Beast could regain his balance after his barreling to spare himself the Frost Vark’s thunderous impact, the weapon in its maw glowed through the seams of its beak and fired upon the unsteady wolverine. Like the flames of a cybernetic dragon, the alien blast washed over Wulvar’s chest and front paws. The Beast snarled as his fur curled and flesh seethed.

Mercifully, the Frost Vark’s enraged charge towards Bolga caused enough of a distraction to stop the searing assault. A jagged glacier in the shape of a wolf, the creature bared its fangs like icy daggers and stampeded forth, frosted scutes glinting.

And for Bolga once again, taking his sight off Wulvar would prove perilous.

For as his nostrils flared filling with the terrible tang of his own being burning, the wolvering burst into action, burly body bounding forward into feral lopes, powering through powdery snow, drool-flecked fangs flashing in the dim light before slamming shut around the cyborg’s ankle. Pointed teeth sank in with a horrendous crunch, squelching and spilling alien blood into and around his savage, foaming maw. Thrown off kilter, the weaponized scythe arm of the invader swung wide off its intended arc, the attack meant for the blue beast thoroughly ruined by the monstrous mammal.

Like a set of steel jaws meant to incapacitate a great bear, Wulvar’s maw held on stubbornly, neck and shoulders bulging to nullify attempted escape. Then like a furred crocodile, the mammal twisted his body into a savage spin that leveraged his low-slung mass against the alien’s taller stance. Against this toothed torque, Bolga found itself ragdolling, unceremoniously slamming his side to the snow. The twirl wrenched his ankle worse, tearing fangs shearing it into borderline unusability.

While his teeth were a vicious affair of their own, it was the bacterial effect of Wulvar’s bite that would perhaps prove worse - assuming the alien’s system worked similarly enough to that of organic prey for it to be affected...

[Blizzard Ghost]

Bolga's slash at least strikes true on one of its targets, its bladed hand freeing a horizontal swath of Wulvar's fur from his side and carving a trench just barely deep enough in the flesh underneath to draw blood. Nowhere near payback for the still-leaking gashes in its shoulder and torso, but there's always time. Another error behind that recent failure takes priority, however, as a downwards swoop of Bolga's wings propels it into an overhead arch well off the ground. That golden energy kicks out once more, disrupting the itself-disruptive jump to rocket the sentinel's trajectory instead down to-

The Frost Vark had pulled another fast one just now, a reflexive leap out of the alien's path proving loud and clear their wits more than make up for their humble size. Regaining a hold of its bearings while the two larger opponents are sure to square back off seems like an equally-effective strategy after a misdirect like that. Even still, no matter if their thermoreceptors managed to catch onto Bolga's sudden maneuver, to process information and act upon it simultaneously is a task impossible for all but the most advanced intelligences of the wide cosmos. And, unfortunately for the thermovore, the armored fist plummeting down upon the beast's back provides too short an instant for them to even try.

A small crater now surrounds the two, snow and sediment displaced by the meteoric impact alike. But, Bolga isn't going to wait around and let Wulvar get the jump on it. The blood still trickling down its wounds, and even moreso that ever-persistent sting where his claws had penetrated its ventral armor, taught well enough the risk. And thus, the same fist that had just punched the Frost Vark into the ground now uncurls and latches a firm grip onto their scruff. A subsequent leap into the air plainly reveals Bolga's position to the wooly juggernaut, a gesture which actually makes him just as much of a target as the alien wastes no time in fulfilling its current prerogative: launching its captive at him like a vaguely-humanoid trebuchet.

As his fellow denizen of the frozen wastes hurtled his way like scalebound artillery, Wulvar thought it best to roll out of its way - not only for his own, obvious sake, but for that of the creature he thought may be ally to him at least against this invader. For his body, small and furry though it was in comparison to his foes, was wrought of naught but dense muscle; practically a pelt-covered stone. And thus did the Frost Vark struck softer snow instead, bouncing a few times over deep banks and icy patches but finding itself far less stunned than it would have been tumbling upon the muscular wolverine.

But Bolga had seen Wulvar’s speed for itself in their earlier exchange, and its mechanical mind had thus prepared for this possible outcome. For before the Beast could regain his balance after his barreling to spare himself the Frost Vark’s thunderous impact, the weapon in its maw glowed through the seams of its beak and fired upon the unsteady wolverine. Like the flames of a cybernetic dragon, the alien blast washed over Wulvar’s chest and front paws. The Beast snarled as his fur curled and flesh seethed.

Mercifully, the Frost Vark’s enraged charge towards Bolga caused enough of a distraction to stop the searing assault. A jagged glacier in the shape of a wolf, the creature bared its fangs like icy daggers and stampeded forth, frosted scutes glinting.

And for Bolga once again, taking his sight off Wulvar would prove perilous.

For as his nostrils flared filling with the terrible tang of his own being burning, the wolvering burst into action, burly body bounding forward into feral lopes, powering through powdery snow, drool-flecked fangs flashing in the dim light before slamming shut around the cyborg’s ankle. Pointed teeth sank in with a horrendous crunch, squelching and spilling alien blood into and around his savage, foaming maw. Thrown off kilter, the weaponized scythe arm of the invader swung wide off its intended arc, the attack meant for the blue beast thoroughly ruined by the monstrous mammal.

Like a set of steel jaws meant to incapacitate a great bear, Wulvar’s maw held on stubbornly, neck and shoulders bulging to nullify attempted escape. Then like a furred crocodile, the mammal twisted his body into a savage spin that leveraged his low-slung mass against the alien’s taller stance. Against this toothed torque, Bolga found itself ragdolling, unceremoniously slamming his side to the snow. The twirl wrenched his ankle worse, tearing fangs shearing it into borderline unusability.

While his teeth were a vicious affair of their own, it was the bacterial effect of Wulvar’s bite that would perhaps prove worse - assuming the alien’s system worked similarly enough to that of organic prey for it to be affected...

Bouncing off hills and slopes like a scaled skipping stone, the Frost Vark eventually found peace once landing into a shallow valley, digging a deepening furrow of snow. He wasn't still for long and let out a short exhale from his lipless mouth, blowing a cloud of snow. Digging icepick like claws into the substrate, he lifted himself up onto all of his fours and arched his back. A series of pops travelled down his spine and he shook himself afterwards. The scales covered in a thin layer of frost he couldn't remove were the main reason he was alive in the first place, proving to be quite the armour indeed.

He tossed his head in the direction of the other two and twitched his tendrils. With a twist, he began bounding towards the two, leaping over the hills and slopes he skipped off over. He ended his bounding with a delve into a disturbed, snowy dune, like an arctic fox spelunking for hidden rodents. Halfway in through the pile, he dug himself deeper and began to tunnel towards the two, fast. Within a few tens of metres, he slowed his re-arrival and carefully dug upwards. Poking his head above the snow, he focused in on the writhing splotches of warmth. For all his animalistic tendencies, he tried his best to form a plan of ambush. He came up with one quickly due to its simple nature.

He had no idea if this would work. These were strangers in his land. The armoured burrower could at least try. While they were distracted with one another, he pulled himself further out of his burrow, though stayed halfway in it. If need be, he could just retreat and start a new simple strategy. Flaring his tendrils out wide, he began to inhale deeply. Cold, bitter air was drawn into his throat and temperatures began to drop lower than they already were. Spilled blood began to freeze with the icy claws of cold trying to creep over his two foes and freeze them both solid.

[anomali111x]

*appear destroyah* *he use his mirco oxygen breath attacking both* hi hello guys

[Blizzard Ghost]

((Gee I’ve turned old and this place still hasn’t been used in months.))

Salty sea air was ejected out of flared nostrils, while a sloping hill of emerald scales split the bay apart. Near the hill’s apex, where its peak was flat and bumpy, was a thick brow where fiery eyes sat below, giving a consistently angry expression. Down the smooth posterior slope of the hill, the jade land retained its rough texture though amongst its peaks and tops were great amethyst structures, maple-leaf in shape though cruel by design. Foam bubbled and frothed, rolling in the gaps between the neat rows, and spilled out into the churned seawater.

The bay would begin to incline soon enough. It forced the colossal kaiju to heave himself, popping vertebrate in a loud crescendo, and plant his paws onto the soft sediment. Foam and drops of water dribbled off his glistening hide and a deep exhale removed the last salt stuck in his sinuses.

A fanged snarl surveyed the maze of skyscrapers and lower-level buildings laid out in front of him. A vile sight indeed to the green dragon. And the crowds of the feeble mankind, responsible for his fate and stirred ire, ran in terror. He snorted. Their fears would be silenced under flame; a fair decision, as payment for laying waste to his new home.

Between bared teeth, radioactive flames lit and clawed at oxygenated air between the enamel bars of his locked jaws. Sights set onto the nearest and most concentrated block of buildings, preparing to unleash fire.