Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20191120203148/@comment-30014014-20191220140422

@Carric

In the darkness of the alternate plane, the drifter holds control. The arrows, he sees them. And remains without movement, unworried.

For when they come close, screeching in their gemini lights, harrowed shackles plunge from the dark, ensnaring the the dualities midway. They rattle in suffering, some of them, cutting the binds in half, keeping their momentum straight for the blindfolded entity.

HIs response? One blade pointed toward Amal, the current wrestler to the helms. It slames its phasing un-metal to the ground, sending forth a fin of amethyst propulsion. Jagged and serrated, it screams in his direction, smashing the projectiles away and driving on to Amal.