Peraga



The Bull's untempered rage, unquenchable by even the lowest depths of Hell.





In an empty gym, many floors beneath the ground, stands a woman massive in height and build, standing at a towering 14'5" stature, darkened skin against the pale light of flourescant bulbs. Her muscled figure holds up a set of weights seemingly improbable for any mortal to be lifting, though it doesn't stop her from movements that seem to be routine. Even with the dim light shining on her, there is a glow on her bull-like horns and her oddly shaped tail that seems to contrast what she seems to be, even though it is tipped with a furred end like a cow's tail. Her top covers very little of her midsection as well as her chest. her main coverings seeming to be her military-style jeans, though even though fall only halfway onto her massive waist, her hooves covered by a set of similarly-styled combat boots, though the design is obviously based with her foot shape in mind. Her shoulders are adorned by a set of spikes on each tat protrude from her skin, in a similar texture and material to her horns, which are ashen black with glowing cracks, tough one of the horns has been severed. Her elongated ears twitch at the sound of a new arrival. She turns to face whoever has just entered the door with an angered snark.


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ From a Young Age ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬



Peraga was a bull, in every sense of the word. Living in a modern world where her kind are needed less and less. Her mother was a taur, while her father was a hermaphrodite, a demi like herself. She was raised on a constantly developing farm some short distance from a major city. Her early life was spent enjoying the world around her for the first time. She was young, naive. She got into fights with the local wildlife at a very young age, being arrogant and always wanting to be the strongest in the room. She devoted herself to fitness training, to always become stronger, even dieting herself to make sure she was always getting the best. Her parents somewhat supported her, but knew she was on a dangerous path from the start.


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Growing Up as a Bull ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬



Of course, Peraga would be homeschooled. She was expelled for picking fights almost anywhere she went, she was a bully. Thinking her strength would always get her out of tough situations, she stayed arrogant and egotistical. Her parents had a hard time teaching someone who always thought they were the best. Her young teenage years were spent getting out of the house and going to fight pits and getting into trouble. She was arrested more than once, though charges were always dropped for unknown reasons. She didn't stop, either, not even when she reached adulthood. Especially not when she joined the military.


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Life as a Marine ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬



It would be unsurprising to know that such an arrogant gal would join the military the first chance she got. The day she turned 18, she didn't bother finishing her homeschooling, running off to join the Marines as soon as she was legal and able. The physical areas of boot camp were laborious, and she had a hard time following orders, it wouldn't be long before evveryone started calling her by her nickname 'Tsar Bomba', from a wisecrack another Marine told, the Bull was always looking for a fight, waiting to explode on something with the force of a nuclear bomb. She was put in a squad with a few other demi's of her type, the kind of lot to joke about the fighting, the killing, thinking they couldn't be hurt. She was the group's heavy gunner, armed with machine gun and heavy equipment to match. She spent the rigorous PT drills with her gear on, even when they would run with no equipment, stating it was better for her strength. When she finished her training, and she finally graduated, she had been disappointed. Her parents never showed up for her graduation. In fact, they were so close to the end of training that they had held a letter for her until she had graduated. Her parents had been murdered some few days before by an unknown assailant. She was furious at her inability to protect her family, and at the officers for keeping the letter from her. She used what little money she had, as well as what her parents had saved for their funeral. Her entire unit came to the funeral, as arrogant as she was, she was a part of their new family, brothers and sisters in arms. After their funeral, she signed on for active duty, to fight in some place to the south, some highland area where the fighting was the worst.


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ The Fighting ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬



She can't recall much from this time. She spent her time in trenches with only her gun keeping between her and the enemy. The ground was unstable for vehicles, meaning that it became foot warfare, with no tank support whatsoever, only supplies being funnelled through the trenches behind them. This was a terrible supply system, as the people behind them would take anything good before it reached the front. She led more than one charge to take the trenches from the enemy, getting into combat with her fists, which is what she was used too, though she wasn't used to killing people, the amount of blood on her hands or on her blade. Some months after the fighting had been going, Peraga had been shot by a sniper while her squad was taking a town. The sniper had shot her right through her liver, and she had crawled into the cover of the buildings are her squad and unit were forced to retreat from the town. She tore her uniform off just to try and staunch the bleeding. The next few days were hell for her, as she had to keep herself quiet, or kill anyone that came within her striking range. She had to hide more than a few bodies. Soon enough, her unit took the town once more, Peraga was sent back behind the lines with a nasty wound, discharged with a purple heart as the wound was deemed too severe to continue fighting with.


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ "Home" ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬



She had returned back into her own country, with what pay she made from the military. She found some work at a local gym, making a decent chunk of cash to support her new home, training every day to keep her strength up. Soon enough, however, trouble found her, as it always does. She got word of an illegal fighting pit somewhere deep in the city. She made her way there some dark, raining night, the bouncers taking one look at her and already allowing her to sign up for the fights. It was really good money. But, that wasn't her. She was there for the fight, to dominate, not the money. This wasn't wrestling, this was fist-fighting, a fight to knock the other flat out. And she belonged. Her first night, she won her entire bracket, netting a good set of winnings, but she wan't the best. There were a few other huge guys and gals that managed to knock her flat on her back, but not before she put a few good dents in them. Enraged with her lack of strength, she trained harder, until something in her body finally gave in. She tore a ligament in one of her arms, rendering it useless. She was hospitalized for a couple of days, finally released as she went down to the fight pits to resign with a fit on anger. However, there was a woman there. She was extremely average, as average as one might expect, there was nothing that really stood out about her, until she asked:

"Do you want your strength back? What if I told you... I could give you that, and more."

She told her she would do anything to have her strength back, and that she wanted to continue to become stronger. The woman led her to a back office, sitting down as she took out a book.
"Just sign here."
The woman handed her a quill. Peraga noted she had no ink, but she insisted she write anyways. As soon as she wroe her name on the page, she felt a stinging in her index finger. When she was finished writing her name, her fingers were covered in blood from a wound that had opened. Peraga demanded to know what she had just signed onto.

"It's nice to meet you. My name... Is Wrath."


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ An Unquenchable Rage ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬



She couldn't understand her own mind. She felt the desire to destroy anything and everything she could find where she had been taken to. The bull felt her body in searing, heavy pain as her blood boiled and she smashed anything she could find. It was always hot, and it was always painful, as she felt her body was not her own. She wasn't sure how long it took her to become self-aware, but eventually she awoke in a very nice room, though dark, as the Wrath was sitting next to the bed. Peraga looked at her for a moment, before Wrath took her to a mirror in the next room. Her body had changed, become more... Demonic. Her horns glowed, er ears were weird, and her tail felt larger than before. She even had these odd spikes coming from her shoulders. Wrath instructed her that she was required for a very specific purpose, that she had the potential to kill an Archangel of War, if she would simply train. Peraga heeded her words, using everything she had at her disposal in this new place she learned to be Hell. Her body felt faster, stronger, less limited, as her muscle and skin were strengthened. Though, that was not the only feature she gained. Some days later, Wrath tied PEraga down as she took a slave from her holding chambed, forcing the minotaur to devour the slave whole. Peraga was unaware she had earned any ability like this, until her body began absorbing the tissue and using it to fuel her own training, as she was set back to training with her gut churning at its occupant, until they were completely gone, the hellbull could feel the tangible increase in strength.


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ The Angels ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬



If you asked her now, she would tell you she doesn't really mind angels. But, in blind faith to her new mistress, she was sent back to the city of her birth, and she wreacked havoc and destroyed entire buildings an skyscrapers, as the holy sensed the disturbance, only barely knowing the bull's power as they sent the Archangel down upon her, not knowing just how powerful she had become. The angel came down to smite her with her great mace, the womanly angel bringing the mace down upon her as the bull tapped into her dmeonic strength, gripping the mace as it came down upon her, surprising the angel as the angel brought down her other hand, in which formed a holy blade that cut into one of her horns, crudely lopping it off as Peraga became enraged, the bull letting out a heavy roar that terrified even the archangel of war into attempting to pull back as the bull grabbed her legs when she tried to run, picking her up as she started stuffing the angel (and what little armor she wore) into her maw, swallowing, swallowing, until the angel was in her gut, stewing away to fuel the bull's rage, though heaven would send even more powerful after her, who then drove her into hiding finally, the angel barely holding her form, taking the ride with the bull back to hell, as Wrath congratulated her on a job well done.

Now, Peraga spends her days back in the town, picking fights and generally living her life to the strongest she can muster, while also making quite a few easy meals along the way.




Name: Peraga Brackton
Age: 37
Height: 14'5"
Weight: All she needs to know is she's heavy enough to hold down someone bigger than herself.
Race: Hellbull
Sex: Hermaphrodite