#and rhulk got put in bottom storage

[thvndersnow]

open starter ;; rhulk

the room is large, and dark, and an atmosphere of utmost malice hangs in every atom, the sort of tension one could cut with a knife. in the center is a wall of something clear, separating out a hexagonal section and denying access in or out. in the center of that glorified terrarium crouches the disciple.

his ruff is flared. his now cracked mask only half-conceals his bared, flat teeth, the one elongated canine protruding from his lips the only sharpened one among them. there is wild ferocity in his sharp eyes, which dart around the room looking for any sort of weak spot, anything he might use to break his way free. hung from his neck is a collar-like device, one made from hive chitin which digs into his skin, leaving welts where it has touched. the green glow from beneath it paints his black skin and red armor, and there are visible veins of an even darker black protruding out from beneath it.

rhulk’s shoulders are heaving from his heavy, angered breathing, and the moment the door to the chamber opens, there is no stopping himself – he launches at the wall separating him and the interloper, screeching and screaming his rage. claws, hooves, even his head meet that clear material – and once his energy has been sapped, helped along by the device he’s been made to wear, there is not a single dent to show for it. for a long moment, he stares at where there should be scratches. then, when he’s had his second to process, the subjugator screams.

“what?!” he snaps when that is done, fists clenched at his sides. what composure he had had in that pyramid has been melted away, burned off from rage and desperation and the weakness from the witch’s curse. “what do you want now?”