Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-27950421-20190610231744

Grimron lays on the ground, bleeding heavily but his wounds are visibly knitting themselves back together, "Heh... sucker."

The Grimrons blood, spattering over the blade and Pramools body begins to glow, then slowly seep in and evaporate. Everywhere the blood touches suddenly feels like acid to the god, eating away at not just his body, but his very being the concept that he is founded on. While it certainly isn't enough to do any lasting damage, it is debilitatingly painful. Just touching the greatsword feels much the same and the air polluted by the blood feels as if he is trying to breath acidic an acidic sludge instead of air.

Grimron casts a healing spell on himself, quickening his recovery, "Like it little God? A gift I received from Kereska. The dragon goddess of magic and creativity, in case you're uneducated in that particular pantheon. Aeron and Grimgarl can't do mutch with it, but once I'm complete, I can make new spells on the fly."

"Forgive me if it seems a bit presumptuous, but I know I can't overpower you," says Grimron, "So I had to borrow a bit of your strength. When you use your power, an equal and opposite force will be generated and when a God is hit with his antithesis, well... I understand that hurts like hell. So the harder you hit me, the more you suffer. Neet huh?"