Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160726175355/@comment-28358106-20160802231857

The Herald shakes its head, trying to dislodge Praetor. It rolls over onto its back, writhing in agony, its wings flapping, its tail whipping. Praetor jumps clear before he is crushed, running for cover.

On its side, the Herald throws its head back and emits one last, screeching cry. Its head crashes to the earth, its rotting tongue lolls. It gurgles its last putrid breath, and is still.

Lucida remains curled up in a little ball, then peeks up. Dee stands up slowly, gripping her axe. "Well, I'll be..."

The flesh of the beast unravels. It spirals off, twisting into an enormous knot of writhing,  violent energy...the Echoes it had collected. They rise into the air and dart off, dissipating in the sky. The bones turn to dust.

Silence grips the remaining Elves as they watch the display. The field is silent,  but for the distant inferno. Melandil shoulders his bow and draws his sword, pointing to the blaze, shouting.

"To Hrungnir!"