Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180323191751

Perhaps they had embraced the art of flight. Or rather, with the wings they possess, glide. Never the less, by any mean, the young man had attracted a cohort of unclaimed horrors, surrounding him by air or by ground. Once o soon to panic, no word escapes his thought. No expression paints his visage. Nothing but a blank existence.

The foreign presence on his palms and legs that allowed him flight densify, causing him to crash land directly on the soil where most accumulated. Anything standing directly under him were to be squashed by the alien force that dissipated underneath his boots, causing the ground to hollow. Only now was the young man truly surrounded.

His face in blank stasis still, he straightens his palms before joining them in the middle as lightning started striking the land around him. Rare, tiny, weak...

...until he separated his palms, revealing a spec of power rapidly growing to shape a purple spear. One he grab and drives deeply in the earth. A typical spear one could find in some barracks. Typical, save for the tip drenched in the same polluted orchid shade as the lightning that danced around him. The moment the spear was knitted in the earth, skyward turbulences began manifesting directly on the area where he stood. TUrbulences in the form of lightning repeatably bitting at darkened clouds seeping out of nowhere.

The young man simply fixates his newly bound weapon vibrate, a chain reaction reaching the heavens as the clouds, stabilized, growl in a tempest. WIth seconds passing, lightning began falling from the skies, poured out of the jet black accumulations like rain. A rain of thunder, lightning and bolting lashing at anything vampiric, inflicting the same harrowing torment as those electrocutated prior to this. ANd the young man, his head lowered, now had an opened palm under two fingers he watched intently, waiting...