Sparks flew with reckless abandon amongst the vines, as the occasional vespoid carcass drops, twitching and agonized from the sudden charge. The wild current continued until one particular strand struck a vine containing unpoisoned scatternuts. The perpetrator soon followed to the ground, the volts surrounding it dissipating into the ground.
This wyvern was silver from its head to its incredibly long tail, dragging across the terrain of the forest. Tobi-Kadachi, or as hunters from afar call it, the flying thunder wyvern, basked in the salty taste of the vine's bounty, reinvigorated from this rare snack. That pain of a poisoner was always licking every single scatternut it could fly to, and it would even scoop up the ones on the ground, the glutton. Tobi-K would always try to strike it down, but the coward fled. Every. Single. Time! It would even wave its tongue at it, along with the annoying sound it made each time.
Yet that was then. Now, he could enjoy them all to himself. Tobi-K paused mid-chew as it realized something. 'So what's in the area now? And will it affect me?' Curiosity building, the lightning squirl-viper wrapped the rest of the scatternuts into its tail, before trekking towards the Poisoner's nest—just a peek before it resumed its journey upward. A vile smell was starting to invade the lower level. It didn't know what or where it was coming from, but its fur always stood on end whenever the stench grew strong. Moving had become a necessity to relax.
*AughPhrew!*
Tobi-K paused at the sound. It was wet and revolting, making the wyvern recoil in slight disgust. The newly registered slime under its paws wasn't comforting either. The squirrel-based monster clamored up the tree to get a better viewpoint of the nest. Instead of the expected googly-eyed Gecko, Tobi-K found a large pink lizard. The creature was lying down, barely focused from what it could tell. The reptile also had a viscous, purple liquid leaking from its lips and a runny nose that constantly poured down to the...forest floor...
Tobi-K felt sick. It almost threw up the scatternuts it recently ate, but held it down, knowing that food shouldn't be wasted in an area like this. It must find the nearest river to wash this horrid mucus from its limbs. The tree it was latched onto suddenly shook, the unprepared wyvern dropping onto the floor below.
The Great Jag, having just tossed aside a tree that was in its way, was beyond peeved. Those lackies of his, bless their gluttonous gaze, had run off to chase down a wounded aptonoth. When he finds them, he will put them back to the basics with the younger jagarases. That aside, where was he anyway? The Great Jag observed his surroundings, his tongue flickering in and out. His eyes soon landed on a certain someone. Semi-large? check. Pink? in spares. Boogery? more so than usual, but hey, that's their problem, not his.
The Great Jag immediately felt his blood boil as he had found the target. And the best part? It was weakened. 'Look upon me, ancestors! for I shall avenge the pack here and now!' With no need to be stealthy, The Great Jag Barrled in, its large physique supplying all the momentum needed to flatten this pink pain. He could already see it now-the blood spilling from ruptured arteries, the delicious heart pried from the ribcage, the following FEAST for days to come! The forest will-the glutton felt something ram into its side, forcing it off course, and rolling into a large tree.
The ball of biomass teetered before rolling back to its feet, looking for what had hit it. Before it stood a wyvern that it hadn't come across before. It was a mixture of green and silver, a strange pattern that made it look ridiculous. The Great Jag would have laughed if not for the rapidly increasing thunder spewing from it. And from its face, it could see that it was...mad? 'Why are you mad!? You're the one who ran into me!'
The wyvern lunged, fangs poised to puncture the flab of the Great Jag. He rolled as the creature passed above it. A green fluid fell from the sky, landing on the crest of the Great Jag. The smell made it wretch. 'By the tree's leaves, this thing stinks!' The wyvern seemed to grow more agitated, as if it were reading the Great Jag's mind. With a viper's hiss,It leaped once more, but this time, not wanting a second helping of such a foul stench, The Great Jag lashed out with its tail, sending it back to the ground.
The two fanged wyverns brawled like this for an hour. The Slimed wyvern leaped with speed and aggression. The great Jag batted and dodged. Both were becoming very tired and injured. It was the icky wyvern in silver that was the first to yield. With a hiss too vulgar for any monster to translate, the silver spark jumped into the canopies above, out of sight, and out of reach. The Great Jag remained in its tensed stance for a while longer, eyeing the leaves for any surprise ambush. Sure that it was gone, The Great Jag finally dropped, its weight shaking the area slightly. That might have been its toughest fight to date. Who knew a slimy sheen would make it harder to leave a gash?
The Great Jag pushed itself to its feet, knowing that it would have to return later. He limped beyond the undergrowth, yet before he left, he took one last glance at the thorn that lives for another day. The flowing green ooze soon entered his sight. The Great Jag couldn't help but twitch its eye. He looked back towards the direction the wyvern had fled. 'What a vile thing! EUGH!' Now it had two scores to settle: the snot roller and its mucus-filled supplier.