Dynasties

The Storm's Dragon

Circling.

Circling, they were.

Testing and debating, searching for weakness.

Weakness that the Bull hid well, but not well enough.

It was useless to hide the scent of blood, the scent of torn flesh, even in the downpour of the storm. The grassy knoll began to swell with muddy waters, swirling and churning in the flows of the forcing winds and pounding rains, trembling under the power of the surge. The water rolled and sloshed around the Bull's feet, diverging to make way around his form. The sideways rains pelted his hide, illuminating his scales under the dark skies when a flash of light struck a nearby tree, the zap of the bolt being heard as the tree burst into wooden shrapnel and fire.

The Spinosaur's emerald gaze fell upon the three Metriacanthosaurus: One blue, the second green, and the third, black.

The Bull towered over the wolves, rain racing down his gaping, broken maw in a waterfall mixed with red, his taloned hands gripping and grasping at the air, clawed fingers cracking in preparation. A guttural, almost crocodilian hiss escaped his scaled throat. A warning. A threat. Sorna's Spinosaurus briefly craned his neck towards his quarry, towards Nublar's Queen. She was struggling to get up. Struggling, and so far failing. The swelling lake that was once the knoll was growing, the mud and damp earth making it difficult for Roberta to get proper footing with her injured foot.

The Spinosaurus then turned his gaze back towards the wolven pack.

No.

They were not getting her.

Not unless he died.

She was his prey, and no one else's.

Once more, the lighting struck in the distance, alighting the sky as the strong gales battered the island and churned the sea.

The three Metriacanthosaurus did not know what this large beast was. All they knew was that the monster came from the sea, and with it, served as a harbinger for the coming storm. For when it came, the storm came.

And just like the storm, the sailed predator was force of nature.

And just like the storm, he would see these parasites drown in his wrath and fury.

'Twas then that a wolf-the black one-struck. It moved to charge head on, seeking to use the dark of the storm to is advantage. It was a mistake that cost it dearly.

A sudden forceful strike of jagged talon raked through its scales and flesh, bones breaking as the Bull struck with force and rage with his well arm. The Metriacanthosaurus twisted with the raw power of the blow, getting knocked off its feet and into the swelling waters and viscous mud. No sooner had the smaller predator found itself drenched in water and mud, it soon found itself trapped within the gripping earth. The animal struggled to regain its senses, struggled to rise to escape the looming beast above it, struggled to keep its neck above the grueling surf.

Water appeared to be rupturing and dancing all around the fallen animal as it fought to regain its footing, the pounding of the rain upon the water nigh deafening. A sudden, dominating weight forced the wolf under the swirling waters and rising mud, Sorna's apex predator having pressed upon the Metriacanthosaurus with a massive foot.

The animal struggled and thrashed underneath him, yet the Spinosaurus merely held the smaller carnivore down, gaze fixated upon the movements of its struggles. His jaded gaze darkened with a glint of malice, his toes curling, digging into the flesh of his opponent. He felt the wolf writhe and tense underneath him. Felt it weaken as it began to lose consciousness, or perhaps fully drown.