Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-30014014-20190521030028

"Lamb...your flesh...is weak..." The possessor of Prad's body had extenuated most of its endurance, held to a hobbled state by the gushing vapors pouring out it the armor's gaps. His dominant presence had witheld the worst of backlash at having a average body wielding a copious amount of lightning through it and beyond and would recuperate rapidly.

However, has it is...little could be done from Host-Prad, save for spitting his disdain for his host's body which he considers frail in comparison.

Which had turned to the worst time for it to falter and yearn for recuparation, plummeting to the floor with a knee and an arm deeply embedded on the stone rubble. Barely able to move, even as the malicious sphere now honed in on him.

He clenches a hand towards the sphere zoning close "The boy won't die here" A slight stream of lightning pour on him, this time, stretching and washing over his frame. An energy shield, that would stem off enough of its killing momentum to disavow permanent damage.

HIs hand then close to his two fingers, seconds before contact...but not against the sphere. But Pramool. His Anguished needle made contact with its eye, burrowed on the surface. Now, its dark light began to shine, only to detonate seconds later with a greater potential. By then, Host-Prad was then vivified by the sphere, his diluted shield struggling to keep the fatal inch of power from entering the thunder layer...