[color=008B8B] Famfrit - The Darkening Cloud [/color]
The Alexander held a deadly river as the Esper's water kept jetting out. Those who had trouble getting their footing were shoved to the earth below. The assailants who were chipping away at Famfrit's armor had finally cracked through, and hot ebony smoke hissed for the cracks. The Esper gave another metallic roar and the torrential waters ceased. The blue assailants started cheering and were attacking at a faster pace. Then the Darkening Cloud dropped his urn, making a solid THUD as it hit the wooden floor.
The squad?s cheers grew louder, acting more certain that the Esper has been fallen. What they didn?t expect was for Famfrit to grab a large chain twice his length, and swing it in their vicinity. Many were knocked over their feet clutching their sides as they felt some vital part of them broken and bleeding. Others more unfortunate were hit by a round gilded hammer that crushed them to a pulpy mess, and shook the ship by its sheer force. The mages who kept their distance from the Darkening Cloud watched in horror as the gargantuan Esper walked toward them, swinging the hammer at ramming speeds.
One more THUMP of the hammer chucked a wayward mage up from the floor. Compared to the other foes who dressed in a particular blue, this mage was different from the others. The Esper took in his surrounds as the fight had died down, and noticed stragglers who were staying behind. His body was almost depleted, and there was little more he could do as the field grew quiet.
One by one he collected them - the unconscious black mage, a white mage who appeared dumbstruck, the odd warrior and archer that was clinging on to life by a nail - and stuffed them in the urn. More black smoke pooled from Famfrit as he continued his collecting, and his grasp on this plane was slowly loosening. With little time to lose, He chucked the massive urn at the other ship where his master fled. The urn shook the deck as it landed before dissipating into mist, with Famfrit alongside it.
Engbyr?
"Stop it." The mage said. His head began to hurt again... Wait, since when did it hurt like that before?
Still, he felt something was worming into his head, filling him with things that hurt to have in there. They felt like thoughts - no, rather they were commands. Things like submission, despair, and depletion. Yet they were not his; they weren't even memories, just a residue. He clutched his wound ever tighter trying to focus on what was around him.
He made another attempt to stand on his feet. Only got as far as one step before crashing into a chair. He thanked whatever providence there was and seated himself on it. There were flashing lights and images on a black screen. Many buttons and a ball were attached to the screen, and with nothing better to do the mage played with them.
The Alexander held a deadly river as the Esper's water kept jetting out. Those who had trouble getting their footing were shoved to the earth below. The assailants who were chipping away at Famfrit's armor had finally cracked through, and hot ebony smoke hissed for the cracks. The Esper gave another metallic roar and the torrential waters ceased. The blue assailants started cheering and were attacking at a faster pace. Then the Darkening Cloud dropped his urn, making a solid THUD as it hit the wooden floor.
The squad?s cheers grew louder, acting more certain that the Esper has been fallen. What they didn?t expect was for Famfrit to grab a large chain twice his length, and swing it in their vicinity. Many were knocked over their feet clutching their sides as they felt some vital part of them broken and bleeding. Others more unfortunate were hit by a round gilded hammer that crushed them to a pulpy mess, and shook the ship by its sheer force. The mages who kept their distance from the Darkening Cloud watched in horror as the gargantuan Esper walked toward them, swinging the hammer at ramming speeds.
One more THUMP of the hammer chucked a wayward mage up from the floor. Compared to the other foes who dressed in a particular blue, this mage was different from the others. The Esper took in his surrounds as the fight had died down, and noticed stragglers who were staying behind. His body was almost depleted, and there was little more he could do as the field grew quiet.
One by one he collected them - the unconscious black mage, a white mage who appeared dumbstruck, the odd warrior and archer that was clinging on to life by a nail - and stuffed them in the urn. More black smoke pooled from Famfrit as he continued his collecting, and his grasp on this plane was slowly loosening. With little time to lose, He chucked the massive urn at the other ship where his master fled. The urn shook the deck as it landed before dissipating into mist, with Famfrit alongside it.
Engbyr?
"Stop it." The mage said. His head began to hurt again... Wait, since when did it hurt like that before?
Still, he felt something was worming into his head, filling him with things that hurt to have in there. They felt like thoughts - no, rather they were commands. Things like submission, despair, and depletion. Yet they were not his; they weren't even memories, just a residue. He clutched his wound ever tighter trying to focus on what was around him.
He made another attempt to stand on his feet. Only got as far as one step before crashing into a chair. He thanked whatever providence there was and seated himself on it. There were flashing lights and images on a black screen. Many buttons and a ball were attached to the screen, and with nothing better to do the mage played with them.