Snippet #1547704

Though he brought up the lead, trying to cut down a path for the exhausted dark elf, during his many times he turned to look back she seemed to be moving slower and slower. Barely ducking a stroke of the sword, he gutted and lobotomized his opponent before looking back. Talae's pace had slowed to something a little faster than a crawl- there was no way they would reach Sarish and his saving light. They had jumped out of the freezer and into the fryer- they could have retreated and made a more tactical approach if they had backed out while they were still in the outskirts- but now in the thick of it all Kisikoni could think about was killing the next zombie and protecting his partner. His comrades were all locked in battles of their own- he was especially surprised to see the minotaur dueling with the beserker Caine.

He couldn't take it anymore. Forfeiting his path forward, he doubled back to Talae, who looked like she was about to collapse. One could see it in her eyes, the only thing keeping her conscious was the drive to reach Sarish's sphere of protection. He honestly didn't have the heart to tell her in this state that it was next to impossible- if not completely impossible. He felt desperation setting in, as he forced another zombie back. A multi-directional attack was something he could handle on his own, but with Talae in her decrepit state, he was forced to give her some protection. As tired as she was, she was still swinging her sword- but clumsily. Not like the assassin that she would be at her peak.

As the horde began closing in, he felt a familiar desperation set in. It wasn't like the first time he drew on his power had exhausted him, it sickened him- like nausea after watching a mad scientist torturing a helpless victim to death. He had no desire to return to it, but even as the wall of bodies began to set in closer, he felt he had no choice. He could touch the "evil" in his gut, something that was with him all along- but years of lenient peace had sealed it away from him until he felt the feral desperation he did now.

Once again, he let the feeling in his stomach unravel, and this time, without the pressure of dying he could feel his body changing. He convulsed once, sensible enough to take the split second beforehand to sheath his short blades. He felt parts grow and shrink, though at this point he wasn't too sure what was what. His vision seemed to flicker and take on a new tone- red tinted. His hands felt thick and unfit for wielding weaponry. He didn't dare look at Talae, but the zombies were something to worry about. He had taken a slightly altered form. Incomplete. Uncontrolled. His face had sprouted multiple eyes, and what looked like fingers seemed to be wriggling out of his left ear and left eye. His teeth had morphed from fairly set and clean to a yellowed set of razor-sharp fangs. His arms seemed to thicken, and his hands were sharpened into katar-like blades that could separate at will to slice innards after stabbing. His legs had shrunken slightly, leaving him in a hunched form. He was coiled like a spring, and he leapt at his first opponent just as spines began jutting from the back of his neck to wrap grotesquely, like roots, around his armor, clothes, and body. He couldn't think. Just react. Instinct. Protect his partner. Outlast the horde.

Left. Two. A swinging slice gave him the momentum to cleanly cut through their midsections, and a double overhand crushed their skulls. Behind. Leaping over Talae, he brutalized the head of another deep human, leaving nothing but a stump and gorey skull fragments. Left. A horrible snarl erupted from Kisikoni's wretched mouth, seeming starting to spew a disgusting stench that overpowered even the dead flesh of zombies. His hands swing together, crushing the head and turned to meet the next threat- slicing off all the limbs in two swoops. The zombie flopped to the ground where it's head gnashed against the dirt. His eyes had changed- the iris becoming sharp and beast-like. It was hard to think properly. Last time he had reined it in before it exploded out. However, this was a little different. He must stop the horde. He was briefly aware of a rod of lightning that shot past him, heading toward a battlefield further away. Not his problem. His tongue felt thick and gummy- he couldn't speak. He couldn't even form words in his head. Just instinctive growls as blades sunk into the root-like armor that encased him, doing no visible damage other than trapping the blade in it's wood-like frame.

---

She landed away from a battle in the midst of another battle. She swore, untangling herself while attempting to rub her breasts against the elf's face to embarass him before straightening up. She still had her armor, potions, and her body was still intact. She sighed once over the clamor. At least they had some distance from the castle- the scent of spicy Children did not hang as thickly here.

But something else did. And just as General Nhil Derenthi greeted the motley task force that had rescued her, she looked up with fury gathering in her slightly doped form. The General seemed to be wincing and struggling as he ressurected wave after wave of his undead army to fight the Children. Good. She didn't have the slightest sympathy. She completely dismissed his stupid excuses.

"You! I'll tie you up and suck you dry!" She screeched, stomping her legs in anger, "I'm going to do what that sacc'lavi Mantis did to me ten times over on you!" She considered smashing him off his vantage point right then and there, but while he commanded the forces she couldn't afford to. Mercy knew she desperately needed rest. "You want a report? Here's a report: I was strung up and had my innards eaten for a couple of days until I was rescued. I hope that makes you happy, you sadistic sub-human!" She bitched angrily, turning away and storming toward the camp. She knew next time she probably wouldn't be able to restrain herself from giving the Deep Human a nice left-hook to the jaw.

She retrieved some armor, some supplies, and the same weapons she had taken from the Armory back at the previous camp before the rigged teleporter brought her into the hands of the Black Dragon. She stuffed everything she could, threw it onto a tent that was unoccupied, and went to the bar to drink herself stupid. Entering the mess tent, she sat at the empty bar. She realized the barman might have been soldiers on shifts- so instead of waiting for a waiter that would never come, she took fifteen bottles of strong spirits and began downing them greedily. She felt herself calm. Being forced to be sober always made her more high-strung.