Mountains West of Blackthorn City | Afternoon
In the afternoon sky, a dark blot lazily rode the air currents. Its heavy, leathery wings were tattered and frayed, enormous in length. Its belly was spilling its contents, split open from decay. Its skull was exposed, half shattered, left eye socket collapsed and worthless. It let out a heavy shriek as it spotted an ancient pokemon down below.
His undead brain recognized a form he had known from long ago…a time he could barely remember. He did not know how or what the other creatures were, nor did he care.
His eyes fixed on the bladed creature he knew from his past…
He had no language, he had no speech.
He just knew of the primal desire to feed…the all-controlling, mind obliterating, need for blood.
The ancient prey below him leaped into the sky, giving him all the opportunity he needed. Nothing could escape an Aerodactyl in the sky; nothing. Tucking in his wings, he dive bombed towards the now falling Kabutops and readied his giant, lethal talons.
Closer and closer he got. Gravity pushed him towards the retreating pokemon.
Within inches of each other, the mighty harbinger croaked loudly as he lashed out and hooked his talons underneath his preys rock-hard armor. The creature had no idea what hit it. It struggled violently in shock.
But he knew exactly where its weak spots were. He had feasted on this kind of creature many times. He expected blood to come spouting out of the large puncture wounds he had just inflicted.
He felt none.
Angered and frustrated, he pushed the creature off its talons, throwing it into freefall. The Aerodactyl used Sky Drop, plummeting the both of them into the ground far below.
As the dust cleared, the ancient harbinger stared into the dead eyes of its prey. Its body was badly hurt from the attack, but it didn’t seem to notice the overwhelming pain it should have been feeling from the impact.
It hissed in rage, mercilessly gazing back at its attacker.
The Aerodactyls’ rage built.
His prey should have been writhing and screaming in agony by now.
There should be blood.
He did not understand.
He wanted blood.
He NEEDED blood.
Crazed, he released a ground-shaking roar as he pinned the large creature and started to shred its dead face.
He hated those dead eyes.
He hated that it wouldn’t give him what he wanted.
Talons as long as knives dug into the chest cavity of the convulsing beast, holding it down with his immense weight. The enemies' blades desperately struck at the decaying body of its attacker with no success.
The harbinger felt nothing.
Razor sharp fangs viciously tore at the neck and head, where dark and coagulated blood flew in chunks, until there was nothing left but an exposed spine, a splintered skull, utterly unrecognizable, and dark spatters covering the decaying head of the ancient tyrant of the skies.
With an enraged roar, he opened its leathery wings and rocketed off into the sky, as quickly as it had arrived, to search for more prey.