Beyond his focus, a wolf howled loudly and the echoing gust of wind tore at his jacket. Scholomance jerked backward in surprise; his gaze scanned the area and came up with the source - a gargantuan dog paired with the Jupiter knight. Not a youma, certainly.
But that relief was short-lived.
He looked back to the general, and found him already with the eternal senshi spared through the back. His mouth ran dry, his lips struggled to make words of the numbness that suddenly settled over him. He felt as though his own blood drained from that unfamiliar back, where all the lover's touches and traces it ever knew would forever fade from its capacity to feel. That wound, he could have prevented it - the sword would have passed harmlessly thorugh the boy's body had he not distracted himself with the knight's summon. Briefly, the thoughts tried to pass through his head - that he should have known better, that he should have reacted more quickly or stayed on them until someone stabbed him themselves. He could have prevented this. He could have stopped this senshi from getting impaled on the end of a Negaverse blade, like he pledged to do so long ago now.
But those thoughts were far from him, still - for he saw no Obsidian. He saw no Hy-Brasil, no Scylla, no Remus or Sessrumnir. No, he saw the ever-split face of the green general, alight with glee and armed with a gigli saw. He saw the red general seated upon him, the weight of her muscle and scale pinning him to the floor. He felt the nausea wrenching, the neural network of his arm keening, and the blood draining from his face. He tasted bile.
Time did not stop, much to his chagrin. The seconds marched on. The bodies moved and danced to their own rhythm. The general twisted with the boy on his blade, turned toward the slowest of their lot. He thrust forth once again. Scholomance looked on with his whip frozen in a tetanus-tight grip. Again, the blade pierced. Again, a cry rang through the air. Hy-Brasil this time. Looks like the ex got what was coming to her.
While he could no longer draw, Scholomance remembered his anatomy lessons well. In the mid-back, two kidneys guarded the large intestine. The spleen on the left side, the liver on the right. He couldn't tell the location or depth of the wound, but he didn't have to for his worries to start. If either one was stabbed through the mid-back, they'd face lowered kidney function for the rest of their lives - assuming they survived. Upper right and they'd lose a liver, and if the name meant enough, they wouldn't live through that. Upper left and they'd lose a spleen - a bloodbag that Isaiah knew no use for. Further than that, though, and a lung would be punctured. Their precious, desperate air would leak into interstitial spaces. They'd drown in their own blood. They'd gasp and drag on the slowest, most tormenting death of all - suffocation.
And he doubted either of them found interest in autoerotic asphyxiation.
The numbness did not pass. Schörl's haunting, singsong tones never lefth im. He only started to remember how to manipulate his body, how to react to the life echoing around him. The screaming never stopped. The general never stopped. The blood never stopped. And while he found no voice with which to respond to what unfolded before him, he found enough sense to eye that blade and wonder - would he be sealing their deaths by sloughing them off of that blade with his magic? Medical professionals warned of removing the knife from a deep wound; was this any different?
He stumbled, weak-kneed and desperate, uncoordinated. Sharp hazel darted from blood to the blood-haired wretch that enacted the damage. "Don't you ******** power down," he added, breathless. The whip coiled back, rolling aclatter against the ground, and he snapped the length of bone at the offending officer. The gesture felt weak. It felt empty next to the heavy cost claimed by the general.
A whipcrack would not save them if they bled to death on the general's sword. A score across Obsidian's back couldn't prevent infection. It wouldn't stave off bloodborne diseases, or wholesale rejection of incompatible blood types. It wouldn't prevent the wounds from gaping when he dismissed his weapon. So he left the full assault to Scylla, beautiful Scylla, who could channel her desperation into twisting hunger and roiling fury.
He never once tested Zalmoxis' travel speeds before, and he didn't want to test them with blood running out from two beleaguered souls. Yet he felt the burden to do so, as heavy as he felt the lapse in his sole use as a knight.
Self-doubt was always an untimely little devil.
Quote:
i am so sorry everyone, i did not expect to get a bad infection and lose my study abroad possibility
guine
kolina
tsunake
kuropeco
infinities
Posted: Sat Jun 03, 2017 12:52 am
The wolf didn't much notice the rock hurdling at it, but Obsidian did one better - he stabbed the knight's friends and left them to bleed out together, which in turn drew the knight's ire. And while Ochre himself could not move much closer to the scene, not without attracting the attention of the tentacle senshi and her knight friend, Ochre felt pretty confident that the general just shut down any further retaliation against both of them.
Which was good, because his head ached in a way that made him want to chew glass - if only so the pain radiated from elsewhere for a while.
And in that murky ache, Ochre felt a pang of guilt for how the two victims were laid out. Maybe they'd survive? He didn't know; he kinda hoped they did. Sure, they were on the wrong side and all, but they didn't actually need to die for it. Maybe Obsidian could've handled that better. Or, like, called in a General Sovereign to correct their issues. Something. Anything. But bringing that up now wouldn't do any good, especially with the remaining parties all enraged and ready to tear them in half. With tentacles.
So Ochre stepped tentatively toward the other redhead, and called out to him with hesitance in his tone. "Uh, maybe you should stop while you're ahead? I mean, it's not gonna look great on me if you get yourself killed while I'm around?" Hesitantly he looked from Scylla to Scholomance to Sessrumnir. His head pounded with such a vengeance that he couldn't trust himself to walk the few feet toward the general in a straight line. His nose bled profusely, and with it came a wanton dizziness. He needed to lay down, to treat his wounds and maybe sleep for six days, and he expected that dog had something to do with it. A certain clarity threatened to creep back into his mind and he feared it in a way - its unfamiliarity felt dauntingly comforting.
"Come on," he tried again, and held out his hand for the man if he could not himself teleport.
guine
tsunake
kuropeco
kolina
infinities
Strickenized
Garbage Cat
Offline
Tsunake
Territorial Friend
Offline
Posted: Tue Jun 06, 2017 2:23 pm
His laughter still escaped in wheezing little breaths as the bodies slipped from his blade, landing on the pavement with a limp thud. They hadn't expected this s**t, that was for sure There was sudden movement--one of the knights (you know, out of the remaining two) was sprinting past him towards the fallen, and Obsidian readied himself to ram him through, too. Only problem was, it wasn't just a weapon this guy was packing, but some sort of godforsaken spirit wolf, too.
Teeth clamped down on his forearm hard enough that he felt the bone starting to strain, and the sounds coming from the creature were born of pure, animalistic fury. His flesh tore like wet paper underneath teeth specifically designed for such a thing. He swore, his entire body being snapped too and fro even as he dug his heels in so the beast couldn't drag him to the ground and work at his throat. But fortunately for him, the fun was just beginning.
He was suddenly bound tight, squeezed by slimy, muscular appendages that threatened to make his eyes pop from his very head. The general couldn't spare the breath to speak, grunting with pain as the tentacles tore into his flesh with suckers that felt more like razors than anything. They pierced his skin and held, ripping rivulets through him whenever they finished.
Something cracked against his back with enough force that he roared out, feeling cloth and flesh split under the bite of the whip. Who knew, he thought dizzily to himself, that they only needed a little bit of blood and carnage to really get them going? Why, he'd have started with that, if he'd realized.
His muscles strained as he sought to free himself from different sets of teeth. At this point, the wolf was threatening to do permanent damage if he couldn't pull free, and, he couldn't even stop it thanks to the tentacles' tenacity.
And then, the senshi, his saving grace. The words fell on ears deafened from the blood roaring through them, threatening to drown out everything else. Still, Obsidian managed to grin at him, all white teeth and manic energy. He struggled, ripping his currently not mauled arm free from the grip of the ravenous tentacles.
His hand snatched Ochre's, squeezing tight. In an instant, they were both gone.
((Possible fin! Hit me up if you want me to edit this so people can do whatever they want!))
kuropeco
kolina
guine
Strickenized
Sorry for godmodding with your boy, let me know if that's not what would have happened!
