The End 2: Parts 1-3

This, is a story of tragedy. This, is a story of perseverance. This is a tale of a demon. This is a tale of a legend.

The End 2

Part 3: Relics of the Past

Claw and Talon, two brave beasts—are in a situation that tests their courage. A large tsunami two-years ago decimated an entire portion of North America, rendering all of the trees, and animals—to dust. Claw placed one of her feet down, her three talons impaling the mud, and kept her sickle claw hinged back—while her son analyzed the flood’s path. It flowed for hundreds of miles, leaving brown and dirty water—of which algae floated atop, for what seemed like an eternity. This was worse than the Western Interior Seaway for crossing beasts. It looked as though there was no way across—not one! No boulders floating atop the water to leap across—no fallen trees, to trot upon.

Claw began to look around, hunger pangs ringing her body—disorienting her calculating brain. Tornadoes wrecked havoc thirty-miles east, whilst ferocious winds tore apart trees, and blew water away from the flood path. Claw and Talon needed shelter, and quickly flocked over to a large mangrove, and clawed their way in using the sickle-claw; a single swipe from the claw opened up the mangrove, allowing them to hide within it. Talon released an annoyed, angered snarl—for their journey was halted to a stop; the weather was only getting worse, and a mangrove tree was practically useless against a tornado—or even a hurricane.

Talon bared his teeth in an angered manner, his voice reverberating through the back of his throat—blowing a rolling snarl into the windy world. He wanted to escape quickly, no matter what it entailed—being in this tornado riddled area would only get them killed. Claw, however, wanted to calculate the situation; her son has always been impulsive, and impatient—which has annoyed Claw deeply. But, family feuds were not important now—escaping was. Claw cooed that they could perhaps float atop a tree—but Talon rebuked this, as it was too dangerous with the wind. If one of them were to fall off, it would mean certain death within the rapids.

Nonetheless, Claw, being the alpha over her son—insisted with using a tree as a float. Her brain was smart, but not that smart. The two Dakotaraptors left their mangrove covering—the wind now tossing their feathers around and unbalancing their strive for survival, the rain soaking their coat and melting away their chances. Claw fought through, and made it to a nearly collapsed cycad—Talon following her closely. The two raptors battled against what felt like one-hundred miles per-hour winds to knock over the cycad, continuously ramming into it, and slicing its base with their sickle claw.

Little did they know, the wind was doing most of the work for them—but they still clawed and rammed the tree. With a final massive gust of cold, sickening wind, the tree collapsed—and rolled off into the flood path. Claw and Talon climbed atop the tree, barely making it; they dug their claws into the trunk bark like a lion would—their sickle claw being the only thing still hinged. It seemed as though the wind was unrelenting in its quest to kill these raptors, and the land—for it tore trees from their roots, and flung pterosaurs out of the sky. The cycads palm-like leaves shielded the Dakotaraptors from a good deal of the rain, but was helpless against the wind.

Water from the rapid splashed up and onto the raptors, nearly breaking their hold onto the tree—this was a nightmare. It felt as if one of Talon’s claws were about to break, as he held on for dear life—the wind thankfully blowing the fallen tree towards the other side. Fear and pain filled the gap of emotion for these two—they already despised water, but now they had to deal with this. Another tree was flung from its root, and hurled into the rapids; the tree was guided on a path directly towards the raptors—why these two? The tree’s speed picked up as the wind did—and like lightning it was about to ram them.

Claw and Talon bellowed in fear, as the tree rammed into theirs—shattering off the lower piece of their trunk, and spinning their tree out of control. A piece of sharp wood had sliced Claw’s tail, sending blood trickling into the ferocious waters. The tree had stopped its spin in the opposite direction, but the winds trajectory still drove it towards the other side of the flood—where the two raptors wanted to be—even though Claw and Talon were now looking at the side that they were previously on. Claw held her tail firmly against the tree, as to not get it wet—Talon did not really care about it though.

It took a good deal of time, but the tree did reach the other side of the rapids—much to the delight of Claw and Talon. The two raptors yanked their claws out from the trunk, stood up, and leaped off of the tree onto the beach; two Deinosuchus were resting twenty-feet away from them. Claw looked at the crocodilians with one of fear and intrigue, for she had never seen one before. Its green snout was long and wide, with conical brown teeth revealed—not sheathed by lips. The closest one was massive, nearly sixty-feet long—most likely with a bite-force of sixty-thousand pounds. Claw averted her gaze from the beast, for it stared back at her—and with a relaxed coo, her and Talon hiked out of the beach and into a rocky desert, of which arid mesas and arroyos dominated.

As these two continued their perilous journey, the beginnings of an earthquake began to unfold—they need to escape this desert. Not that far away, about twenty-miles North-West from Claw and Talon—Earth, and his three Mapusaurus, are faced with a conundrum. Within a most and viscous algae-watered swamp, there is a fork in the road. One path looks as though it leads into a gorge of some sort, while the other lead towards a volcano. Neither is a good choice, for a volcano is never a good place to be. Besides lava, various lakes and streams near the volcano can start limnic eruptions—a terrible eruption of CO2 that stops all breathing, instantly killing any animal.

A gorge on the other hand, can be just as bad; gorges can house a variety of unpleasant events, such as rock avalanches, fissures, and also limnic eruptions. The only bright side of the volcano is that it is not going deep into the earth, and for that reason alone—Earth bellowed to his pack to go right, through the swamp and towards the volcano. When they made it towards the palm tree ridden tropical landscape, the massive volcano revealed itself to be no more than a mountain—a massive, mountain. Three elongations made the mountain iconic, for it was the towering snow-capped guarding entity, Trinity Peaks. Earth knew this instantly, and chirped in glee that finally there was some peace.

The four Mapusaurus hiked through a clearing, of which palm-trees stood parallel to for miles. Earth and his three trotted through the clearing, sand and greenery clinging to their rough footpads; at the edge of the clearing lie a precipice that fell down what must have been four-hundred feet into a vast jungle. Trinity Peaks stood at the far side of the precipice, dozens of miles away. Earth snorted, for he knew that Trinity Peaks lied right next to the middle of the Golden-Land. The alpha-female of the pack trilled that there was a downward slope just to the left that could lead them down into the jungle; Earth snarled, signaling for them to move out down the slope—to which they did.

Birds flew from their tree perches, knocking down some leaves, of which plummeted down the precipice, as the three Mapusaurus trotted down the cliff, and into the vast unknown. Two-miles East, Tyria has made landfall atop the waterfall of Corinae. The orangish-red feathered rex sniffed about her surroundings—instantly recognizing them as the center of the Golden-Land, where Taghia-Sakhra lie. The Queen of the Dinosaurs trekked down the waterfall, through some dense vegetation, and around the river of Corinae, before reaching a fissure.

Tyrance was not that far away, about a hundred yards; large rocks were atop each other at the bottom of the ravine, and the opposite cliffside looked as though it had collapsed within it. Tyria snorted, and lifted her lips to reveal her teeth—something was disgustingly off about this gorge. It smelt as though an enemy, some sort of creature, or predatory rival was at the bottom. Tyria slowly turned around to continue her stroll around the ravine, for she could smell Tyrance on the other side. The first smell she could identify had the unmistakable scent of a carcass, while the other connected with Tyria’s olfactory bulbs as living.

Lightning hit a tall tree, setting it ablaze not that far away, whilst rain soaked her coat—assuring that it was definitely not a pleasant place to be. Just across the ravine, the legend himself, Tyrance—has been a bit disturbed. Besides being separated from his mate, a strange, unidentifiable scent has been pummeling him—like a boxer to a punching bag. Tyrance’s brow squinted into a look of angered confusion—for the scent smelt near identical to that of Nequit Dominum. Traumatic memories of that battle flooded his brain; Tyrance’s rage took hold of him—his dewlap swelled with air, as he released a menacing bellow—before ramming his skull into an oak, knocking it over with ease.

Tyrance closed his eyes and panted rapidly—this gradually eased into a normal breath, but his feelings of rage and disgust did not. They were, however, mitigated—for to his upper-left, Tyria, his mate who he would die for—lie ahead. Tyria trotted through the right side of the gorge, before arriving at a rocky outcropping; there was no vegetation in sight—strangely. Large three-toed footprints ran in circles, as though a big theropod had been moseying around here quite often.

Tyria’s fears spiked, as the loud movement of an animal filled her ears. She looked back, teeth bared, to see her mate, Tyrance. Tyria closed her maw and cooed in joy—Tyrance did the same, before the two wrapped their necks around each other. Their feathers were soaked in water, doubling how cold their bodies were—but neither minded, for they hugged for five-minutes. When they did break the affectionate gesture, Tyrance swayed his tail left and right, assuring that it was time to continue North-West towards Taghia-Sakhra—they were so close. Tyria had killed a juvenile Edmontosaurus on her venture alone, and blood from the beast still clung to her snout.

Tyrance stared at her with one of juvenile envy—he had hunger pangs, and hadn’t been so lucky with a kill—but Tyria’s survival meant much more to him than his hunger. The two tyrants hiked through the rocky outcropping, and into a sort of marshlands—now only a mile from the end of their journey. Little did they know, that at the bottom of that cursed fissure—a being, of unimaginable predatory might, was digging. Maledictus Dominum for hours has been clawing through rocks—lifting them up and hurling them aside; an undeniable scent was beneath this mass of dirt, clay, and rock—a scent that smelt too familiar.

For his whole life, Maledictus has never been able to find a mate; when he reached maturity, at age three—there were no female abelisaurs that would even stand near him without running away. With his near sentient level of intellect, this bothered and traumatized him; from that point, he has lived with Verendus—not experiencing anything new, which for the average animal is luxury, but not for a sentient being. When faced with a new scent that smelt identical to him, you can imagine how irresistible the pull of curiosity was. Lightning struck in the background, whilst rain plummeted from above and onto the featherless back of Maledictus Dominum, as he tore through the rubble—throwing rocks that weighed nearly a ton aside with ease.

Nothing was stopping his insatiable thirst for knowledge—he had to know what secret lie beneath the destruction, he had to. For hours he dug, shoveling with his hands deep within the fallen cliffside—before the relic of the past slowly revealed itself. Maledictus made a final push for the relic—he was now inside the collapsed cliffside, and if it wasn’t for his night vision, he would be in pitch black. The scent grew closer, and closer with each dig—before the world stopped; it seemed as though the rain halted its plummet from above, and the lightning refused to make landfall—for a single, claw, poked out from under the debris.

Maledictus’s curiosity peaked, as his maw snarled, and he pulled away even more rock and debris. A sharper image came to view, a pale-white arm—half-of which was skeletal, the other still contained flesh. Maledictus, with a final pull of rock—revealed what never should have been—a rotted, half decayed corpse of a demon. Half of the carcass was a deformed skeleton, with long arms ending in four jagged claws. The lower-half had dissolved to near dust, leaving behind the faint etherial image of long legs. Its tail was long, far too long to walk like a theropod—this struck Maledictus more than anything.

Maledictus stared with his mouth agape, at the skull of the beast. It was barely decayed, in-fact—it was still covered in flesh and scales. A skull that sloped down just like Maledictus’s, and teeth bared through lips—also the same as Maledictus. How, could this be; Maledictus Dominum stumbled back, and began to breath rapidly as though he was in a panic attack. He knew exactly what it was—the dreaded demon, the unstoppable lord, Nequit Dominum. So many stories had his mother told him—she had spoken of his exact bodily image, pale-white scales, walking upright.

It, was an identical picture, of him. Maledictus Dominum began to shake and bellow madly; he roared a deafening screeching roar to Verendus, beckoning for her to come to his location. After years, he had found the reason for his outcasting—for him being the outlier and the one scorned; he, was the demon. This is not good, the bloodline that could not be tamed—has arisen—the demon within, is shedding his shell. Maledictus Dominum, is becoming the Cursed Lord.

Part 3 end.

Part 2: Perilous Journeys

Thunder filled the air, as rain awoke those who were not—but this only stimulated Tyrance and Tyria further, who ventured up through a rocky passing. With each step, the massive tyrannosaurs sent rocks plummeting off the mountain; Tyrance clucked to Tyria that they needed to watch their step, for this rocky path between two mountains could crumble at any moment. The passing was visibly worn by the events of extinction. The rocks had lost their color, most likely because of over exposure to acid-rain—and the cliffside was filled with moss and thousands of cracks and holes.

This was no place two tyrants should be. Quetzalcoatlus and other pterosaurs soared high above the sky, as Tyrance and Tyria trotted through the passing. A min-earthquake was running by, shaking the land—damaging the passing. Tyrance was very worried about this quake, if it were to worsen—even a little—it could decimate the passing, and kill Tyria. Tyrance’s fears came to fruition, as the earthquake rattled a cliff high above them—sending boulders plummeting to the ground! Tyrance released a high alert bellow to Tyria, signaling for her to run as fast as possible to the other side. The rex lumbered their muscular and massive bodies to the other side, each step crackling and destroying the rocky mountain passing.

Luckily, for them, they made it to the other side—just before the earthquake were to worsen. They hiked around a ravine, before reaching a creek within a lush, heavily forested woodland. The two hiked through the forest, as leaves fell onto their feathered backs—and the avians chirping irritated their alert ears. Tyrance stopped his stride, and cooed to Tyria what could be translated as a need to eat. Tyria released a guttural vibration, signifying that she agreed. The two thrusted their heads up and began to sniff around—hoping that the scent of an herbivore would fill their olfactory bulbs. Tyrance lowered his snout, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath; Tyria did the same, for they had caught a scent—the scent of Triceratops.

Tyrance’s overall dissatisfaction is because trike’s are a bothersome prey—unyielding in their fight for survival, even against the two most powerful predators to ever exist. Tyria began to pant like a lion on the savannah, as Tyrance’s cooing sack expanded and shrunk—expelling a loud vocal vibration even though his mouth was closed, signaling that they would take on the trike. Rain trickled down the oak leaves and down onto the rex’s feathered backs—as Tyrance and Tyria trotted through the forest, leaving giant theropod footprints in their wake, and scaring away the Thescelosaurus and Troodons on the forest floor.

Acheroraptor males wrestled for dominance to the far left, inside a buildup of fallen leaves—as the females watched from a distance—instinctively choosing their mate. Tyria stared off to her right, now looking at Tyrance, and his regal stroll; his head bobbed back and forth slowly, such as modern-day birds—and his down-like feathers clung to his body unrelentingly. A mile away from Tyrance, turkey-like Thescelosaurus, whose blue gobble necks were almost as visible as the red and yellow long plumes on their tails—hung onto tree branches by their three-taloned feet, chirping with fear at the passing tyrannosaurs. Pteranodons soared high above, releasing echoing trills and coos—as Tyrance and Tyria jogged down a grassy hill, through more woodland, before coming upon a vast grassland.

Luckily for these two, the grass was high—and near perfectly concealed them from sight. Tyrance stopped his trot, and crouched down low; Tyria did the same, for directly ahead—a ten-foot tall, and thirty-foot long adult male Triceratops lie. The beast was alone, and grazing upon the tall grass—completely at peace, and unaware of the predators that surround him. Tyrance swayed his feathered tail to the right quickly, signaling to Tyria to flank the beast. Tyria prowled around the trike, the tall grass irritating her face, as she prowled as high as she could on her footpads—this act completely quieted the usual sound that a tyrannosaur walking would make, and is a common tactic in predators during a hunt.

The alpha-female snuck around the Triceratops, until she was directly behind it—not all she had to do was wait for Tyrance. The Tyrant King, the one dinosaur—the one animal who was capable of killing Nequit Dominum, sprung from his hiding to face the trike—a deafening bellow silencing the land. The Triceratops lifted its head from grazing and released a guttural parrot-like coo in return, but Tyrance had plans other than facing him for now. The Tyrant King continued to terrify the trike, who backed up in horrific fear—as Tyrance smashed his feet into the ground and bared his thick teeth through his lips.

Tyrance opened his maw and closed it, in order to clamp his jaws—for he knew it sent shivers down the herbivore’s vertebrae. The trike was dwarfed by Tyrance, but it was a male, and like modern day bulls would not backdown without a fight. The Tyrant King desisted his terror-attacks, for from behind the ceratopsian—Tyria leaped. The Tyrant Queen pounced onto the back of the trike, clamping onto his spinal column—sending him jolting his head back in pain—but this would be the end, as Tyrance ducked down and clamped onto the bottom of his neck; with ease, the Tyrant King enacted his full bite-force of twenty-four thousand pounds—shattering the neck of the Triceratops.

Tyria released her grip of the beast—blood dripping down her maw—while Tyrance moved his grip over to the jugular vein of the herbivore, and yanked his neck back in order to be certain he was dead. Tyrance then dropped the trike to the ground, lifeless; blood trickled down bother of the rex’s maws, as Tyrance placed one of his theropod feet onto the corpse of the trike, and dug his talons deep into the flesh, before hurling his head up and bellowing a territorial, victory roar—and Tyria soon did the same.

The two then tore into the carcass, with Tyrance tearing off an entire leg and tossing it into his mouth; in a series of four loud crunches, the leg was gone—now falling into the Tyrant King’s stomach. Tyria sank her dagger-like teeth into the belly of the beast, sheared through, and pulled away—now with a three-hundred pound piece of flesh in her mouth, of which she swallowed quickly with a toss of her neck. The two feasted in intervals for hours—taking breaks, and then eating again constantly. It was amazing how they maintained their relatively lean and muscular builds, considering how much they ate and how easy food came.

When they had their fill, Tyrance dragged the carcass back into the woodland, and underneath a tree—in order to shield them from the rain. Tyrance sat underneath the tree like a resting rooster, his thighs hinged next to his pelvis, and two arms on the grass; Tyria had fallen asleep underneath the trees and amongst the tall grass, leaving Tyrance to defend the carcass—a job he couldn’t have loved more. For three-hours Tyrance guarded the carcass, patiently awaiting his mate’s awakening; of course he moved around every now and then, stretching his muscles—and yawning. The tree shielded his body from a majority of the rain, although a good amount still soaked his feathers.

Like the lightning that struck in the background, Tyria’s softball-sized green eyes opened—but before she could stand up, a nightmare took hold of the land. Tyrance bellowed in fear, as an earthquake suddenly came—shaking the land with fierce prowess. Small trees collapsed, and the sounds of tree-dwelling beasts being crushed filled the air—as Tyrance struggled to his feet, bellowing with all his might for Tyria to get up. every time the alpha-female tried to stand she was rocketed back to the ground, this was not good! Tyrance carefully ran back to Tyria and attempted to drag her over, but it was too late—as like a sword slicing the earth, the land began to crack and crumble, as a colossal fissure widened its reach.

Tyrance trilled in fear, and watched, as the land separated him from his mate. The trike carcass fell into the depths of the Earth, such as the tree they were resting near; Tyria luckily made it to the other side of the fissure. The family was now separated—it couldn’t get worse could it? Tyrance cooed to Tyria, sort of asking if she was okay—as the fissure’s reach became longer, stretching across the entirety of the woodland, plain, and into a chapparal—creating an immense ravine. The earthquake came, and went—but its damage did not leave. Tyrance and Tyria, are now separated—an act by fate? Perhaps—could it have happened at a worse time? No.

Tyria cooed to Tyrance, releasing a deep chirp that she will follow his scent around the ravine—until they meet up again. The Tyrant King chirped back in agreement, before beginning a fast bounce-walk off his toes to his left—he had to find Tyria again as fast as possible, vice versa. Being alone in this cruel world was a nightmare even for the greatest predator of all time—but Tyrance did not fear for himself, but for his mate, and with random events like this earthquake happening—he couldn’t be more afraid for her safety—she for his.

Five-miles South-West, Difference, the Abelisaurus—is on his way through an eery, deciduous redwood forest. Many leaves have fallen, signifying it was fall—maintaining the balance of nature, despite the destruction of it; various redwoods have collapsed, clinging diagonally to other trees, whilst corpses of a variety of species—mostly Thescelosaurus and Acheroraptor, littered the mud. Thimbleberry bushes were in abundance, so were laurels, and magnolias across the ground. Difference’s stocky body jogged through the forest—tripping frequently on a log or carcass.

If he had been hungry, there was a feast upon the ground—but Difference’s overall fear at his surroundings had quenched his appetite for him. The abelisaur hiked for days, stopping and drinking from creeks and streams along the way—before he reached the end of his relatively peaceful forest trek, and the beginning, of the end. Difference trotted through a final muddy road, of which fallen redwoods littered. He used his theropod feet to clamber atop one of the massive trees; he used the tree to take him up onto a high vantage point, of which led outside of the forest—finally.

He placed his gray and blue three-taloned feet onto the mud, before lifting up his stocky head, and staring off into a dead forest. Such a far cry from the beautiful redwoods—what lied ahead were dead trees, and this accompanied by the gloomy, debris-filled, gray sky—was most undesirable. Difference’s face suddenly filled with fear, his jaw slightly open, and brow squinted. Difference had always been a skittish beast, always choosing the way of least pain, and avoiding any form of confrontation—besides the hunt.

Despite his naturally frightened demeanor, he still had courage—and with a menacing snarl, the abelisaur trotted off into the dead forest. Little did he know, in this very forest—Tyrance and Nequit Dominum battled, for the second time. Perhaps the reason why the redwood forest was so eery, was because it was connected to a lifeless echo—a dead glare, of what once was a forest. Difference, nonetheless, ventured through. Mud clung to his thick and rough footpads, hindering his speed—but not as much as the atmosphere of this “forest”, did.

You could almost hear the echoes of Tyrance and Dominum’s battle—almost feel the blood splattering on to you. The bellows from the Tyrant King, the hisses from the Demon—it was as if you could feel and hear all of the bloodshed, and the misery. Leafless trees stood in order on the left and the right—as Difference stopped his stride, and analyzed the road ahead; a tree was collapsed next to a hill that fell off into a semi-arid arroyo. Large prints lay in the mud—one unmistakably as the underbelly of a T.rex, and another the side torso of something strange. It was unmistakable—this was where Tyrance knocked Dominum off the cliff, supposedly killing him. Difference felt a looming presence around the forest, and quickly added some speed to his trot—now moving with haste through this dreaded forest.

Difference walked down a path that was littered with theropod footprints; one seemed more like a standard theropod, with deep prints in the mud—the other, had deeply set in the mud, but looked different—as though the animal that had created it was struggling to run horizontally, and its tail was dragging across the ground. Difference snorted in disgust at the battle that must of taken place, and with a final burst of speed—exited the forest, now atop a barren plains that stretched outwards for miles. There was no vegetation, not a single strip of flora, but there was a rather large fissure—one Difference knew very well. Yes, yes this was the fissure that the different lizard had knocked rocks off of—to help kill the demon of whom terrorized the World.

Difference remember it as though it was yesterday—even though it did not look the same. Moss grew from the two cliffside walls, and the once blood stains that littered the floor were now gone. Rubble filled the once battleground, covering up the corpses of two legendary beasts. It was unnoticeable, but a Spinosaurus skeleton, and a mutant’s skeleton were still there—underneath the rubble, forgotten to all who walked by. Difference stared down for a few moments, his hazel eyes analyzing the ravine—before his left foot twisted to the left, and soon followed his right, before he marched off into a newly sprouted forest that hung close by the gorge.

The atmosphere was choking in its eeriness; it felt as though the spirit of Nequit Dominum still terrorized the world from beyond the grave. For the dinosaurs that knew him, they could still feel his long forgotten presence—as though it was five-years ago. A few Quetzalcoatlus soared through the cloud cover, whilst a partnership of Edmontosaurus grazed the grassy plains right outside the ravine. Difference ducked his head down, as he burst within a thicket of vegetation—and into the vast unknown. The avian and terrestrial beasts made many sounds, filling Difference’s ears with a jungle-heavy ambience, as he treaded carefully—each footstep imprinting in the mud. Something strange was annoying the abelisaur’s olfactory bulbs; the scent was confusing, for it was one of neither a predator nor an herbivore. The abelisaur, with a hardy snort, halted his stride.

He lifted his stocky skull into the air, and breathed in deeply—the smell of flora and feces was overpowered by this neutral smell. It was weird, for it did not seem like it was the scent of an enemy—this was truly strange. Only Nequit Dominum carried a scent like that, but he was dead—who else could possibly release the same? Difference stumbled back, shaken, and unmeasurably scared. The scent was practically the same as Dominum’s—and Difference, with his limited intellect, viewed it that Dominum had survived.

The different lizard, like lightning began to run, his two theropod feet switching places with near un-seeable speeds. The mud, unlike the redwood forest and forgotten forest, was very sticky here—and actually hindered his movement—but Difference did not desist, for fear fueled him. After five-minutes of unbridled, adrenaline filled running, Difference slowed to a light jog—his torso expanding and shrinking, for he was panting nonstop. A lone Thescelosaurus was feasting upon some vegetation on the forest floor—and Difference was famished, perhaps a free meal was in his future.

Pure instinct took hold, as Difference crouched down low—and prowled his thirty-foot long body around a few ferns, within some vegetation, before being directly behind the feasting herbivore. Difference placed his left foot back and slightly opened his maw, before pouncing the unsuspecting herbivore—releasing a menacing snarl just before. The Thescelosaurus chirped in fear, as Difference planted his six-tons of weight onto the beast’s diminutive body via one clawed foot, before clamping onto its neck and pulling—dislocating and breaking the neck in the process.

Difference lifted his head up from the carcass, and looked to his left and right—making sure no predators were around to steal his kill, before lifting the corpse into the air and carrying it to a large fern. The abelisaur squatted down, hinging his thighs next to his torso—before releasing the Thescelosaurus from his maw, dropping it to the ground with a loud thud. Difference began to pluck away the feathers from the herbivore, like a leopard to an impala, tearing out the fuzz and fluff—in order to reach the delicious red meat beneath. His eyelids were only slightly open, as he took his time—carefully shearing through the black and blue feathers and scales, of which stuck to his teeth—forcing him to stop and adjust his maw every now and then.

Once he had plucked the feathers from the torso, he finally began to puncture the flesh; blood started to splatter and coat his snout, as his teeth impaled through the scales and into the flesh. He clamped down and pulled, tearing out a fifty-pound piece of the animals stomach, and swallowing it with ease. The wondrous-lizard carcass was relatively small, so once Difference had eaten the guts and heart of the beast—and repositioned himself, clamped onto the skull of the herbivore, and flung the entire body into his maw—his neck expanding like a crocodile, as he inhaled the whole thing.

With a final jolt of his neck, the tail and feet of the beast fell into darkness—never to be seen again. Difference’s neck turned back to normal, as he swallowed a few more times—but his pleasure had come to an end, as from fifty-feet away, a loud booming sound filled his ears. The abelisaur quickly crouched down low, placing his head out of sight; his eyes widened with fear, as from directly ahead of him—a, a demon appeared. Difference could do nothing but watch, as a pale-white beast—at-least twenty feet tall, stomped directly passed him, walking entirely erect.

Nequit Dominum was dead, what was this? The creature’s tail dragged across the ground in a unique motion, turning left and right with every step. It stopped, directly in-front of Difference. The beast crouched down, its face—now revealed. The snout was sloped and thick like that of a Tyrannosaurus, but it curved upwards and narrowed at the end—sort of like modern interpretations of a dragon. Lips covered the teeth, but this did not last long, for the creature bared its daggers—releasing a spine-chilling crocodile-esque snarl, of which nearly killed Difference with fear. It was looking for something; The creature stood back up, now staring directly at a grouping of bushes underneath a tree.

The beast acted as though it was uninterested, before walking back the way it came. Difference’s body shook in fear, as he tried his hardest to not move. The creature came back, but this time with a large log. Silence, before a scare. The creature, with expert precision, lifted the log into the air, and smashed it into the grouping of bushes. A loud chirp of dying animals filled the air, as the beast tossed the log aside, and reached within the bushes—pulling back with the corpses of five Thescelosaurus.

Birds flew off from their perches, the sounds of flapping wings emanating through the forest—as this, demon, released a spine-chilling, screeching bellow—before trotting back the way it came. Difference waited for the creature to leave, before springing from his hiding place—and dashing as far into the forest as possible. He could not believe it, but it was true—Nequit Dominum lives! As Difference bolted as far as he could away, the demon hiked back through the forest, before reaching the infamous fissure. The creature stopped his stride and took a moment to analyze the ravine. A weird, alluring, familiar scent filled his snout. The being’s red eyes blinked rapidly, for confusion rung true in his brain.

It smelt, like a relative. The creature slapped his snout with his four-fingered hand, assuring himself that it was nothing—before lowering himself into a theropod stance, and running into the distance. After forty-minutes of running, the beast arrived within a forest—generic in its vegetation. He seemed to be sniffing, homing in on a certain scent. The creature walked a few more miles, before reaching a clifftop. Atop the cliff, a green, featherless theropod sat. The twenty-foot tall animal walked to the top of the cliff, and shockingly—the theropod at the top cooed in welcome. What was this? The theropod was an abelisaur, and by her distinct scent and coloring—it was Verendus, an Abelisaurus who had lost her three children to the demon, Nequit Dominum.

What was she doing with a creature that looked identical to Dominum? The creature sat down like a theropod, and released the five carcasses from his grasp. Verendus cooed in happiness, for her son had been successful in the hunt. Five-years ago, she found an egg, a strangely colored one. Normally she would have either eaten it, or ignored it—but the scent of the egg was identical to the ones of her children. My, how the lonesome beast was fooled. Sealing her fate, she nursed and raised the infant—turning a doomed spawn, into a living hell—for she had raised the son of Nequit Dominum. The child, whose victims have called Maledictus Dominum.

The clifftop was barren for the most part, but it overlooked a forest—and gazed into the far distance; a swamp, mesa, and massive mountain were the most visible past the cliff. The mountain held three peaks, giving it the name, Trinity Peaks. Maledictus and Verendus feasted upon the five Thescelosaurus. Verendus was only able to swallow one whole, for Dominum stuffed the other four in his six-foot long maw one after the other. He did not throw his neck back and expand his neck to swallow, as all theropods do. No, he used his arms, whose wingspan was twenty-four feet—to crush, and then break down with his jaw.

This was so strange. He looked, and stared around frantically like that of Nequit Dominum—but, he was nowhere near as violent, and psychotic. Who, what was this? Maledictus was completely pale-white, no feathers, solely scales. Lips protected his seventy jagged, and crook teeth. Like an albino, his eyes were pure red, with black pupils. Like Nequit Dominum, he possessed two extremely long arms, with four sharp talons on each one. His underbelly, or just belly—since he walked erect—was gold, with spots of black and gray.

Ever since he was a child, Maledictus has acted like an abelisaur—being relatively skittish, and hunting medium-sized to small prey. An obvious distinction from his father, he ate what he killed—and only killed to eat. Although every now and then he has had psychotic outbursts, where he would tear down trees, and kill a few helpless beasts—he has respected his mother, and acted mostly normal. I just cannot believe, that the lineage, the bloodline, of Nequit Dominum has passed on—this peace just can’t last. The only difference between Maledictus and his father, is brain power. M.Dominum has an intellect nearly doubled that of N.Dominum—truly, not good for a beast related to the most theropod, ever. Something was on Maledictus’s mind today—something he could not resist cooing to Verendus.

The mutant’s neck expanded massively, for he released a series of eight coos to his mother—asking if she knew of the scent by the fissure. Verendus shook the end of her tail back and forth, signaling that she did not. Maledictus pressured, and with his extremely advanced vocal capacities—chirped, making sure she did not know about the scent. Verendus snorted, not truly understanding the reasoning for Maledictus’s interest—nor understanding his advanced vocalization. Dominum could smell that his mother was beginning to get stressed—and snorted, asking her about a different subject—who, the demon, was, in their dinosaur language.

Verendus gave an answer to the best of her knowledge. She blinked her eyes three times, before opening her mouth and closing it; this could be translated as, the demon, was a pale-white beast who killed countless. She chirped that he had killed her children, besides him—but that he met his end at the hands of a Tyrant King. Maledictus closed his eyes and began to pant—a universal signal of stress, or sadness. He released a loud bellow, wanting to know whether or not the scent was of him. Verendus cooed that he was dead, and his body decomposed—he could not possibly still carry a scent, could he?

Maledictus had heard all that he needed to—and resumed consuming his meal, hurling the rest of the Thescelosaurus into his throat. Once he had finished, the beast trilled to his parent that he would return—before walking down the clifftop, and back into the forest. He was headed somewhere he should not be—he was headed back to the fissure. This can’t get any worse.

Part 2 end.

Part 1.

A world, once governed by the largest, strongest, and most unique collective of beings to ever exist—is being torn apart. An asteroid, from the depths of the universe, is rendering all of the peace and prosperity of the land to bone. However, not all are dead yet—many dinosaurs still walk—some not even bothered by the extinction, once they get passed the dreadful debris covering that coats the sun—shielding all light from glazing the land. It has been five-years since the meteorite ended the peace—and my, how worse have things gotten.

Half of North America, is covered in an endless flame—of which acid-rain strives to extinguish, but only worsens. Thousands of boulders still ram into the Earth every day—creating spontaneous showers of death, who seldom allow anything to survive. The only beasts who are not affected are the dinosaurs who have taken to the skies—the avians, birds. Pterosaurs, sadly cause of their large size—are going extinct, suffering the same fate as their non-avian friends on the ground. All of the world is dying, all except the single most important last grouping of dinosaurs in North America—the ones in the Golden-Land.

Not very many made it there, approximately being a population of four-thousand individuals—but those that did were set for awhile. It’s funny—how most believe these natural disasters and tremors have been the only cause of extinction—when it was not. Five years ago, when the meteorite first hit—a demon prowled; the savage dragon, whose name alone could kill—Nequit Dominum. He killed thousands in his life, and ate about a fourth—but he met his much needed end at the hands of the greatest animal to have ever walked the Earth—Tyrance, the Tyrant King.

The regal Tyrannosaurus, who had been through so much in his life already—suffered the loss of his family at the talons of Dominum. After a year, he enacted his revenge, with the help of Egypt, a legendary Spinosaurus—who sadly happened to be Nequit’s final victim. He reunited with the only known surviving member of his family, his mate, Tyria—and together they took back the Golden-Land. For five-years they have lived there, unopposed, unrivaled in their dominance over the land. Free to enact the balance against the only surviving herd in North America—the three-thousand member Anatotitan, Triceratops, and Alamosaurus one. It is strange though, how Tyrance has not returned to the mountain that he called home for years, Taghia-Sakhra; it looks as though he will have to—for this fool’s peace seems to be fading.

Three-fourths of the watering holes across the Golden-Land are drying up, and not just for a seasonal drought—they were drying up in spring, summer, fall and winter—signifying, that they were gone. Only five remain, one in the waterfall of Corinae—beautiful rapids that splash down into a river—and four others few and far across the land. The herds too, are dying—with only four-hundred being left of the main herd—it really doesn’t look good. Tyrance, the Tyrant King of the Dinosaurs—knows this, and so does the Tyrant Queen. The Tyrant King is coated in majestic reddish-brown scales throughout his body, all except the underbelly—which is cream white. His back, running up to the nape of his neck, around the torso, and all the way down his tail is coated in brown downy feathers, of which cling to him like fur to a lion.

Because of his now age of twenty-five, which is old for a T.rex, his skull bones have become denser—which has increased his bite force, making it now twenty-four thousand pounds—but decreased his quickness when opening the jaw. He looms over the world at eighteen-feet tall and fifty-two feet long. Tyrance’s amber eyes glanced at Tyria—she was a magnificent tyrannosaur, and if not for Tyrance—she would be the strongest ever. Her eyes were a light green, and they connected to her orange skull—which matched her deep orange body scales, and deep-red feathers—which were located in the same areas as Tyrance’s. She was seventeen-feet tall, and forty-eight feet long.

Both of these rex have a small cooing sack hanging from their submental triangle to their delphian—a trait in all theropods. As the golden nature of the Golden-Land begins to die, these two are beginning to worry. The Tyrant King and Queen perched themselves atop a hill abundant with flowers, and grass—before Tyrance cooed aloud, as acid-rain clouds approached in the distance—that it was time to head towards the center—and reclaim, Taghia-Sakhra.

Another theropod, Difference—the Abelisaurus, the last of his kind, made it to the Golden-Land.  He aided in the destruction of Nequit Dominum—having sent a flurry of rocks tumbling onto the demon’s feet. There was one thing that Difference always wanted, and that was a mate—but with his species going extinct, it really doesn’t look good. Difference is nine-feet tall and thirty-feet long, with a grayish blue feathered torso, and pale white underbelly.

The area of land within Dhahabi’ard, another name bestowed to the Golden-Land, that Difference had conquered—the South-West—was beginning to deny those who trotted upon it luxury—for the rivers were reduced to a puddle, and the vegetation to tumbleweeds. Redwoods, maples, willows and sycamores once stood tall—but they are now gone, with only a few still intact—most left with half a truck as their remains. Difference was fifteen when the meteorite first hit, and he is now twenty—which is nearing peak age for an allosaur—but he might not even make it to his olden-years. The Abelisaurus knows this, and as the sun sets on the southernmost portion of Dhahabi’ard—he is preparing to venture out for the final time. It seems I was wrong in him being an Allosaurus, for Difference is indeed an abelisaur. His stocky black and blue skull details it.

Another survivor of the end, Claw, the now fifteen-year old brave Dakotaraptor—whose sole will to save her unborn child was enough to activate her burning desire to live—of which took her to the Golden-Land. Even though she did not face Nequit Dominum, she encountered him—and knew of his horrific deeds prior to her arrival at the South-Eastern sector of Dhahabi’ard. Claw’s child, named Talon, is now five-years old—a stunning achievement too. Eight-feet tall and coated in a thick coat of brown downy feathers—if he could carry on his genes, he might be the next step in dromaeosaurid evolution. Sadly, there is no more dromaeosaurid evolution. It seems a few things were wrong with my interpretation of Claw five-years ago. He was actually a she, and she was a Dakotaraptor not a Deinonychus—I was confused by her relatively small stature.

Claw herself is eight-feet tall, sixteen feet-long, and covered black and white downy feathers—except her tail, which end in red and blue turkey-like plumes. The cave that her and her son have nested in for five-years is beginning to be taken by the end, for acid-rain encroaches in the far distance—and short but bitter debris showers happen every twelve-hours. Talon chirped to Claw in their dromaeosaurid language that they needed to leave, to which his mother cooed back in agreement. A leftover Thescelosaurus carcass sat in the back of the mossy, and wet cave. Claw and Talon devoured what was left of it—tearing off strips of fatty flesh and hurling it into the backs of their throats.

When they had their fill, and blood had stained their facial feathers—the family hastily began a trot outside of the cave, hoping to find the center of the Golden-Land—it is their only shot. Fifty miles North-West of Claw and Talon, one of the bravest and most honorable survivors of the extinction, Earth, and his pack of three Mapusaurus—still dominate the niche that Tyrance doesn’t. Even though their species is originally from Argentina, they have acclimated to North America. Earth faced Dominum; Nequit had killed four members of his pack—and the rage and pain that filled Earth after was insatiable. Him and his pack of three knocked over a boulder atop the fissure that Tyrance, Egypt, and Dominum did battle within.

The boulder broke Dominum’s foot—and even though he regenerated, it gave Tyrance and Egypt the upper-hand. Earth himself is sixteen-feet tall, forty-feet long, and covered in a very, very, light coat of orangish-red downy feathers. His three other members are fifteen-feet tall, thirty-five feet long, and coated in yellow downed feathers. Their feathers and scale colors are the same. The location that him and his pack chose was suitable for five-years, before the end took hold of it. Land-splitting earthquakes are now normal, whilst limnic eruptions and acid-rain are as common as animals at a watering hole. Small, but deadly tsunamis ravage the hilly, grassy landscape of the Eastern Golden-Land; Earth knows it his time for him and his pack to venture out, towards the last salvation—the only place that, as far as his knowledge has told him, is safe—the central Golden-Land.

As Earth and his pack of three hiked down a hill, and into a vast sticky swamp—Claw and Talon hiked North-West, around a river, up a grassy hill, and into a rocky canyon—Difference trotted North-West outside of his sycamore grove,and into a redwood forest that lied eerily next to the infamous fissure, of which within Nequit Dominum and Egypt met their end. Tyrance and Tyria, as a mated pair, a unit—hiked outside of the willow outcropping, and across a rocky plateau before reaching a mountainous region. A small diagonal pathway led up and around the mountains. Tyrance believed he had crossed by this region at one point in his life, but he was mistaking it with another mountain passing in Hell Creek.

The two tyrants hiked up the pathway, and into the vast unknown—guided only by their noses, and knowledge of terrain. As the sun sets upon the world, and only one place remains holy within the Golden-Land—that being the middle—these eight beasts, Tyrance, Tyria, Claw, Talon, Difference, Earth and his pack of three, who persevered through the worst, are fighting against the odds for survival; but, as the extinction is a dominant force of fear—something else is brewing within the once sacred Golden-Land. Five-years ago, a green-scaled Abelisaurus female, named Verendus, had gotten hold of something that should have been forgotten.

An egg, colored pale-white, and spotted blue, gold, and red. Verendus, having lost three of her children to Nequit Dominum, took in the egg—for it strangely mimicked the scent of an abelisaur egg. It was strange though, for Verendus did not catch the scent of the egg at all—until she placed her snout upon it. The female Abelisaurus took in the egg, unknowingly raising the son of a demon. Now, five-years later, as lightning strikes in the background, and normal rain plummets from the heavens—the spawn of hell walks this planet.

The child, whose existence, no matter who raised him—was one of pain, and discord. The child of Nequit Dominum.

 Part 1 end.