Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-25808351-20180906030337

Pramool’s eyes shift to Jorge, who strategically maneuvers behind. He then looks to the giant blade sunken in his gut and sneers. “How absentminded of me. What is a knight without his weapon?” The ancient plants his own sword into the ground and then places both hands on Jorge’s sword. Bit by bit the old one pulls the sword from his flesh.

“THERE, we are.” Pramool emphasizes as the last of the steel leaves his gut. He then grips the handle and takes a few practice swings with it. “Well balanced, not too cumbersome....”

Armata in the back rises to his feet, regenerating the last of his shattered parts. Pramool meanwhile turning to Jorge, wielding the knight’s sword. Pramool quickly launches a flaming sphere of destructive magic at the silent duo, then charges Jorge. The old ones feet never touch the ground, with single step he glides over the ground and straight to Jorge.

Within that moment Armata appears at Jorge’s side, scowling in fear and yet fury. The Vampire slams his hands together and a pyromancy glyph charges up. “Contributing, tin-man?!” Armata shouts.