Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-25808351-20190512170834

(Everyone) “It’s a simple deal. We’re gonna force this guy on the seal....” Marcus lets his greatsword’s blade drop to the ground and charges forward toward the giant beast. His greatblade drags across stone and rock, sparking and kicking up either/or. Pramool looks to Marcus, his glowing golden eyes a haunting representation of his capacity for destruction.

The Destroyer runs hard, at full speed, leaps into the air, sailing like a well flown kite, and faces his sword forward. He lines up perfectly with Pramool’s heart, only to be caught mid-flight. Pramool’s great clawed hand wraps around Marcus, crushing, gripping, condensing.Marcus is But a moth, in the great grip.

Pramool rears his hand back, and throws Marcus straight into the rubble of the destroyed city.

Herja, Armata, Acheron, Barnabus, Cerberus, Isadore, all watch struck, as Marcus at blinding speed tears through solid stone, earth and steel. The Wardog driven into oblivion. Pramool’s monstrous form grins with concept, as Marcus is buried under tons of debris.