Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-25808351-20180714190426

(Doc/BT) Marcus grits his sharp canine like teeth as his arms begin to blister. He doesn’t back off though. Violetta’s influence on his mind is steadfast, fueling strong will to remain in the fight. He pushes hard against Tirush, exerting strength few foes could ever hope to combat. But Tirush is not among that sort. The Wyvern’s situation maybe a good one, but she fights with the strength and fury of her people, and thought of seeing her family.

Marcus’ mind was clouded, gone. His relationship to those around him lost to the toxic powers of the Twins, and the horrific force that stains this place. Marcus was acting on the instincts his father warned him of before. The duel nature that rages within him. The raw instincts of carnage and hunger he inherited from his father’s side were in complete control. Lost in his berserker rage his cobalt flames came back to life, combating Tirush’s own raging inferno.

Tirush did not feel a burn on her skin, or see her skin blister. She felt, cold. Her arms feel as if she had stuck them in a frozen lake. She could also feel the one power Marcus commanded. The power to take. She could feel her Demonic Energy being consumed. Like a misquote drinking it’s fill of her soul. A disgusting power passed to him from his father. One Marcus in the right state of mind would rarely use.

Just then a red cloud of smoke envelopes them, and Armata springs forth on Marcus’ flank. The Wardog jerks to confront the new assailant, but Tirush’s Hold is absolute. She digs her claws deep into Marcus’ blistered arms, making sure he won’t escape his impending damage.

Armata swings hard a kick that slams Marcus across his eyes. The Wardog slides backwards away from Tirush, Armata standing between them, giving Tirush time to regain her strength. Before Marcus has time to right himself, Barnabus and Acheron are upon him. Dealing out a flurry of blows.

Armata looks over his shoulder at the proud Wyvern, a chill gripping his heart. She was hurt. Her mantle covered in her own blood, her nose broken, and her horn broken off. Armata could never admit to Tirush what he felt toward her, or the respect he had. It wouldn’t matter anyways. Tirush saw nothing worthwhile in Armata anyways. But that would stop him from seeing her home go home.

“Tirush? You should take a moment to regain your strength. Let us lead the charge for now.” Armata turns to face her. The breeze shifting his cloak, it’s lengths swaying around her, almost enveloping her.