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SLAM.
A dark wedge impacted the earth, casting gravel, soil, and fallen leaves into the air. With a soft pop, the fallen comet cracked and stretched, standing upright and shaking off the dirt from his tightly bound costume of muted purples.
"Bleh."
The titan sighed low, his voice joining the suspended autumn leaves as they twirled around him. A gust blew past, sending the decaying fronds dancing along the deserted carnival thoroughfare: fallen tents, overturned tables, and a confused crowd of concerned adults torn between his heroic entrance and a scene up ahead. Tarvos-...no, the Rolling Boulder cleared his throat, hiking his belt and puffing his chest to address the festive masses.
“Trouble starting to fume and smolder? Make way-!”
“Yeah, yeah,” an elderly ram cut off the Rolling Boulder’s trademark introduction. “Your supervillain flirt is ruining our fair! The kids have kept him occupied, but he won't stop yapping! Get him out of here!”
Tarv deflated, his super strength and size wilting into a sheepish blush. He hoped that, for once, a Howl-o-ween would come and go without any fairy mischief. Never far from his trusty caped costume, he frowned when the call came in. No matter; at least he could right the wrongs to the cheers of all. But that displeased snuff from the old caprine ruined his earnest showmanship. Clearing his natural bovine cleats with several shy taps of his leg, he made the conscious effort to stop fidgeting his hands before swallowing.
“O-of course. Rolling Boulder, rolling...out...”
His hoof falls thudded along the path of destruction. The simple property damage expanded: torn stall cloth, lost costume accessories, mangled wrappers, and countless scratches that married the chilly ground.
“What foul creatures has Metaxi wrangled to wreck such damage?”
Not far from his landing site, Tarv strolled into the fair's central nexus. A show stage, still humming with festive lights, sat empty with folded chairs scattered around the central viewing pit. Instead of a polite audience, a familiar smug satyr, adorned in his autumn-themed costume of super-villainy, leaned against a churning mass of claw, digit, and greed. A kindertide, eyes glazed by minutes of sugarless existence, pined and pleaded at the Prancing Prince’s pilfered treats wrapped around his arms or held aloft by magic. Tarv’s fearful concern ran into the mundane reasoning for the festival’s destruction.
“Oh. So that's-...hm.”
The Prancing Prince, green eyes awash with devious delight, hobbled against the straining masses around him. Metaxi leaned along the costumed crowd like a living wall, the royal presenting his horns in challenge. The bull answered in kind, stepping forward to gaze down down down at the careless goat.
“Well, well, well, just as the river disturbs the soil, so does the boulder roll down from his lofty heights to-”
“Metaxi,” the Rolling Boulder snorted, cutting the prince’s monologue with a heavy stare.
“Oh, come now; it’s the night of tricksters and tribulations. You owe my speech a solid listen, at least.”
Tarv scanned their surroundings. Aside from some overturned furniture and collapsed stalls, not much else struck out. No transformed victims, no ankle ambushing plants, just...a cadre of children? Metaxi blabbered on about the entwining of destiny and horn, of something and other, but Tarv's keen eye notched the trick-or-treaters' focus. Flipping an ear as he processed the Prancing Prince's primed plan, he trailed the kid's gaze to the villain’s hoard of jack-o'-lanterns, sacks, and backpacks crammed with goods.
Tarv rolled his fist, feeling the length of metal plating on the inside of his protective cuffs. With a super-sonic pop, the Rolling Boulder lashed his arm out to hoist the Prancing Prince into the air, the metal immediately counteracting the fae's might.
“HE HAS SEIZED ME! NOW, CREATURES OF MIRTH AND MISCHIEF! NOW!”
The fairy magic gone, the floating spoils fell to the ground. A moment. A grenade pin. A landmine. Tension.
Every manner of skeleton, werecreature, undead, and beyond descended into violent tussles.
The sugar must flow.
"...yeesh," Tarv slid back, unbothered by Metaxi's wriggling as he cursed and waved to his horde to attack the hero, not the hoard.
“M-...mister Rolling Boulder?”
Tarv’s perturbed snout melted into a patient smile at such a quiet alert. Even with a raving fairy prince in one arm, he serenely gazed at the child who inched up to his flank. Eyes wide, hands clasped across her chest, and a voice that nearly drowned in the candy chaos around her stood a young bun, her outfit comprised of mismatched tie-on limbs: a reindeer's antlers, an angel's wings, and a crocodile's tail.
“Yes?”
“C-...can I have my candy? Please?”
His ear twitched in delight. With a single motion, the Rolling Boulder snapped a jack-o'-lantern from Metaxi’s flailing arm. From a moment of terrifying strength to gentle generosity, he leaned down to the child, gingerly offering the treats.
“Sure kid. You deserve it after all the tricks tonight.”
A followup/conclusion to an image from a year ago.
Metaxi aka the Prancing Prince is all mine~
The rapacious Rolling Boulder aka Tarvos is
Hedry
Art by the folksy
FortunataFox
A dark wedge impacted the earth, casting gravel, soil, and fallen leaves into the air. With a soft pop, the fallen comet cracked and stretched, standing upright and shaking off the dirt from his tightly bound costume of muted purples.
"Bleh."
The titan sighed low, his voice joining the suspended autumn leaves as they twirled around him. A gust blew past, sending the decaying fronds dancing along the deserted carnival thoroughfare: fallen tents, overturned tables, and a confused crowd of concerned adults torn between his heroic entrance and a scene up ahead. Tarvos-...no, the Rolling Boulder cleared his throat, hiking his belt and puffing his chest to address the festive masses.
“Trouble starting to fume and smolder? Make way-!”
“Yeah, yeah,” an elderly ram cut off the Rolling Boulder’s trademark introduction. “Your supervillain flirt is ruining our fair! The kids have kept him occupied, but he won't stop yapping! Get him out of here!”
Tarv deflated, his super strength and size wilting into a sheepish blush. He hoped that, for once, a Howl-o-ween would come and go without any fairy mischief. Never far from his trusty caped costume, he frowned when the call came in. No matter; at least he could right the wrongs to the cheers of all. But that displeased snuff from the old caprine ruined his earnest showmanship. Clearing his natural bovine cleats with several shy taps of his leg, he made the conscious effort to stop fidgeting his hands before swallowing.
“O-of course. Rolling Boulder, rolling...out...”
His hoof falls thudded along the path of destruction. The simple property damage expanded: torn stall cloth, lost costume accessories, mangled wrappers, and countless scratches that married the chilly ground.
“What foul creatures has Metaxi wrangled to wreck such damage?”
Not far from his landing site, Tarv strolled into the fair's central nexus. A show stage, still humming with festive lights, sat empty with folded chairs scattered around the central viewing pit. Instead of a polite audience, a familiar smug satyr, adorned in his autumn-themed costume of super-villainy, leaned against a churning mass of claw, digit, and greed. A kindertide, eyes glazed by minutes of sugarless existence, pined and pleaded at the Prancing Prince’s pilfered treats wrapped around his arms or held aloft by magic. Tarv’s fearful concern ran into the mundane reasoning for the festival’s destruction.
“Oh. So that's-...hm.”
The Prancing Prince, green eyes awash with devious delight, hobbled against the straining masses around him. Metaxi leaned along the costumed crowd like a living wall, the royal presenting his horns in challenge. The bull answered in kind, stepping forward to gaze down down down at the careless goat.
“Well, well, well, just as the river disturbs the soil, so does the boulder roll down from his lofty heights to-”
“Metaxi,” the Rolling Boulder snorted, cutting the prince’s monologue with a heavy stare.
“Oh, come now; it’s the night of tricksters and tribulations. You owe my speech a solid listen, at least.”
Tarv scanned their surroundings. Aside from some overturned furniture and collapsed stalls, not much else struck out. No transformed victims, no ankle ambushing plants, just...a cadre of children? Metaxi blabbered on about the entwining of destiny and horn, of something and other, but Tarv's keen eye notched the trick-or-treaters' focus. Flipping an ear as he processed the Prancing Prince's primed plan, he trailed the kid's gaze to the villain’s hoard of jack-o'-lanterns, sacks, and backpacks crammed with goods.
Tarv rolled his fist, feeling the length of metal plating on the inside of his protective cuffs. With a super-sonic pop, the Rolling Boulder lashed his arm out to hoist the Prancing Prince into the air, the metal immediately counteracting the fae's might.
“HE HAS SEIZED ME! NOW, CREATURES OF MIRTH AND MISCHIEF! NOW!”
The fairy magic gone, the floating spoils fell to the ground. A moment. A grenade pin. A landmine. Tension.
Every manner of skeleton, werecreature, undead, and beyond descended into violent tussles.
The sugar must flow.
"...yeesh," Tarv slid back, unbothered by Metaxi's wriggling as he cursed and waved to his horde to attack the hero, not the hoard.
“M-...mister Rolling Boulder?”
Tarv’s perturbed snout melted into a patient smile at such a quiet alert. Even with a raving fairy prince in one arm, he serenely gazed at the child who inched up to his flank. Eyes wide, hands clasped across her chest, and a voice that nearly drowned in the candy chaos around her stood a young bun, her outfit comprised of mismatched tie-on limbs: a reindeer's antlers, an angel's wings, and a crocodile's tail.
“Yes?”
“C-...can I have my candy? Please?”
His ear twitched in delight. With a single motion, the Rolling Boulder snapped a jack-o'-lantern from Metaxi’s flailing arm. From a moment of terrifying strength to gentle generosity, he leaned down to the child, gingerly offering the treats.
“Sure kid. You deserve it after all the tricks tonight.”
A followup/conclusion to an image from a year ago.
Metaxi aka the Prancing Prince is all mine~
The rapacious Rolling Boulder aka Tarvos is
HedryArt by the folksy
FortunataFox
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1982 x 1859px
File Size 694.7 kB
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