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Snippet #2380604

located in ARC I: A Clash of Souls, a part of No Dominion, one of the many universes on RPG.

ARC I: A Clash of Souls

The beginning of our tale- a place where souls adjourn with a common goal but not at all the same heart.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: THE NARRATOR Character Portrait: Desken Farraday Character Portrait: Makali Va'rush Character Portrait: Sullis Character Portrait: Aurelia Declan Character Portrait: Aemus Meia Character Portrait: Nela Seph'Ila
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The creature writhed on its’ back for a moment as it was assured that it had managed to dislodge whatever nuisance had taken to the top of it. Yet its’ eyes seem to churn and whirl in rather uncomfortable discord- unable to make out its’ opponents anymore. Another shot from the bow sent it attempting to scream through an organic cavern of destroyed bone and flesh. Then the piercing pain into its’ gut made sickening gastric juices ooze through the bullet hole; and so it attempted to find its’ feet again. Anger broiled and rolled through the creature and the plates on its’ hide seem to bristle in feral infuriation. Yet by the time it managed to get to its’ feet it no longer found the ground pliable.

In the volley of attacks Desken had managed to conjure up enough concentration and control to unleash thermal magic upon the beast before him, or namely the ground below it. Losing traction it thumped against the cobblestone street once again and flailed aimlessly against its’ lack of footing. Its belly tore more as if its’ skin was drawn taught against its’ hulking mass, and inevitably its’ innards began to burst out like an over-boiled sausage. These froze as well with contact to the ice. It attempted to scream in agony but its’ shattered throat inevitably collapsed on itself.
Suffocating and bleeding out- the creature didn’t offer up much more resistance until it flopped to the ground in utter defeat. Of course what it left behind might have been more devastating than its’ colossal might- a rank odor that permeated from it that seemed sulfurous in design.

Desken released his magic somewhat suddenly only to cover his nose and mouth. “Ah- seriously,” he commented- his tone nearly muted from his fingers over his lips. Slowly he pulled himself from the fountain, and one could note the drop of water level in it. He was near about coated in the stagnant fluid from his waist down, but seemed less worried about that predicament as he was with the toxicity of the creature’s organs. “Everyone alright?” He asked. While the battlemage had no medical skills himself- he could at least tend to some minor wounds if there were any to be had. “And does anyone know what that thing is?” It was probably a silly question considering that this creature was an enigma to the world, but he figured that he would prod. These were members of the Army of the Dead, and they had seen things that many a mortal would find unbelievable.