Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-25808351-20190417221129

(Everyone) Pramool again gains his bearings and demonstrates his godlike strength, waiting till he can plant his feet. Finding his opportunity, the old god touches down to the ground and takes a strong footing. Grimgarl’s strength is daunting enough to cause Pramool’s legs to dig deep the earth, shattering the rocky crust. His freehand cuffs under Grimgarl’s stomach and with another ferocious roar he lifts Grimgarl high, body slamming the giant crocodile hard, shattering ground on impact.

Pramool raises his hand high and his crimson blade is conjured. “You will make a fine leather cloak....” The old god growls as he points the blade to Grimgarl’s exposed underbelly. Marcus denies the final blow and tackles Pramool from the flank. Pramool is forcefully rushed from Grimgarl, now missing his arm left in Grimgarl’s mouth. Pramool looks to his missing limb and sneers furiously. He crashes the hilt of his blade down upon Marcus and as the Wardog hits the ground hard, Pramool repeatedly stomps on Marcus’ head.

Marcus fights hard to maintain consciousness, but it is beyond him. His body falls limp and Pramool’s capacity for mercy is continually proven to be nonexistent with each blow. Marcus is driven further into the ground, and before long, red can be seen coating his jet black hair. Pramool grips Marcus’ scalpe and lifts the Wardog up, a stream of crimson pours from Marcus’ nose, brow and mouth. His eyes glazed over and completely unresponsive.

Like trash, Pramool tosses Marcus to the ground and turns his attention to his regenerating arm.