Sevan heard the sickening crack of bone as the counter-balance end of his Ordynka-Khegart struck his opponent. With a curse, the Moogle stammered backwards and out of Sevan's reach. Feeling evermore cocky (no thanks in part to Mortalia's magic), he stood his weapon upright, hoping to goad his opponent into another attack.
"What's the matter little Moogle? Feeling a bit tired?"
He felt his cheeks stretch back into a sadistic smile.
"Thankfully, I'm just getting started."
Sevan twirled his spear in wide and extravagant circles in an attempt to intimidate his opponent. Half-way through his taunt, Sevan heard Mortalia mumble off another spell.
A moment of silence, followed by a peculiar sensation under Sevan's feet. Looking over the graveyard around him, he saw a few mounds of dirt begin to form. The ground erupted as dismembered lumps of rotting flesh rose out of their burial places. Even under his current stupor, Sevan realized the implications of what was happening. Sevan stared blankly at the ensuing horror, his Ordynka-Khegart spiraling out of control and landing on the damp grass.
Oh God.....
Each corporeal form struggled to stand, but all were incomplete. Instead, they managed to constantly sway under their own weight; a sight which sunk deep with Sevan's nerves. His eyes widened.
How could I let this happen? The villagers won't forgive this.....EVER...
His jaw fell open slightly. He put his hands over his face in desperation.
...I'm so fired...
A second tremor gave way, and another row of necromantic beings emerged and began struggling with the first group. Each mass struggled desperately to bite, punch, and kick their way through the other, but their bodies were too frail to handle more than one or two hits. What felt like minutes to Sevan only turned out to be a few seconds; within those few seconds, a mound of defeated, decrepit, and bloody reanimated corpses spanned most of the surrounding space formed as a result of the two clashing forces.
Each exposed organ and bone seemed to pull at Sevan's focus until his senses caught a series of streak black objects rushing at him at full speed, piercing the night air with a loud whistle. He immediately positioned himself into his defensive pose, but quickly realized that his Ordynka-Khegart was still on the ground out of quick reach, especially with his armor.
"Damn it..."
Sevan braced himself for an impact, but Mortalia's remaining magic had other ideas. Sevan felt a burning sensation in his throat. Grasping his throat with his right hand, he felt a terrible heat rise up from within as the cold metal around his knuckles chilled his throat. He felt his neck spasm, and with his left hand instinctual closed his snout tightly. However, the heat continued to build as a deep purple seemed to bellow out from between his lips and his nostrils. Sparks flew out of the crevasses of Sevan's mouth as the pressure continued to build. Closing his eyes, his body labored to release the dark magic that had built up.
"Ugh-"
With one final push, Sevan bent forward and felt his gag reflex activate, and he opened his mouth at the oncoming black streams. A deep, smoking, purple magic shot out like a spewing flame. Before it made contact with the black streams, it separated into seven streams of its own, neutralizing the Moogle's attack in a luminescent flash of purple and black. A sullen cloud seemed to settle over the few remaining wisps of magic that remained.
Sevan gazed on at the destruction of charred earth that lay before him, his mouth still open from moments before. He felt his voice stammer in relief at the cool night air. A steady puff of purple haze wafted out of his mouth. With a large sigh, the remaining haze vanished. The purple aura that had covered Sevan's body had disappeared completely, along with any trace of Mortalia's magic.
Wooh...That hurt like hell...
He massaged his throat for a bit, letting out guttural sounds to help him get feeling back into his voice. He stared at the cloud of magic and dirt that sprang up at the place of impact. Reaching down, Sevan picked up his weapon, only to discover that it had returned to the same weight he was constantly used to wielding it at. With a slight heave, he hoisted the weapon up off the ground, feeling the dew that rubbed off against the pole.
I guess I'm out of Mortalia's death magic...
The first thing that hit Sevan was the overpowering smell. Clenching his nose, he felt his gag reflex almost activate for a second time as the stench of burned and decomposed flesh wrecked his senses. It seemed to haze his focus for a second as he stumbled, but he tried getting used to the smell by breathing through his mouth. Sadly, the smell was so strong that he could even taste it. Coughing madly to get the taste out of his mouth, Sevan eventually managed to settle himself down enough to take on the next encounter.
Before Sevan positioned himself, a thought came to him. He spoke as clearly as he could so the Moogle could hear him.
"Moogle, what's your name?"
Sevan looked on at the thick blanket that blocked his sight of the Moogle from across the way.
"And on top of that, what the hell are you doing here that makes all this necessary?"
"What's the matter little Moogle? Feeling a bit tired?"
He felt his cheeks stretch back into a sadistic smile.
"Thankfully, I'm just getting started."
Sevan twirled his spear in wide and extravagant circles in an attempt to intimidate his opponent. Half-way through his taunt, Sevan heard Mortalia mumble off another spell.
A moment of silence, followed by a peculiar sensation under Sevan's feet. Looking over the graveyard around him, he saw a few mounds of dirt begin to form. The ground erupted as dismembered lumps of rotting flesh rose out of their burial places. Even under his current stupor, Sevan realized the implications of what was happening. Sevan stared blankly at the ensuing horror, his Ordynka-Khegart spiraling out of control and landing on the damp grass.
Oh God.....
Each corporeal form struggled to stand, but all were incomplete. Instead, they managed to constantly sway under their own weight; a sight which sunk deep with Sevan's nerves. His eyes widened.
How could I let this happen? The villagers won't forgive this.....EVER...
His jaw fell open slightly. He put his hands over his face in desperation.
...I'm so fired...
A second tremor gave way, and another row of necromantic beings emerged and began struggling with the first group. Each mass struggled desperately to bite, punch, and kick their way through the other, but their bodies were too frail to handle more than one or two hits. What felt like minutes to Sevan only turned out to be a few seconds; within those few seconds, a mound of defeated, decrepit, and bloody reanimated corpses spanned most of the surrounding space formed as a result of the two clashing forces.
Each exposed organ and bone seemed to pull at Sevan's focus until his senses caught a series of streak black objects rushing at him at full speed, piercing the night air with a loud whistle. He immediately positioned himself into his defensive pose, but quickly realized that his Ordynka-Khegart was still on the ground out of quick reach, especially with his armor.
"Damn it..."
Sevan braced himself for an impact, but Mortalia's remaining magic had other ideas. Sevan felt a burning sensation in his throat. Grasping his throat with his right hand, he felt a terrible heat rise up from within as the cold metal around his knuckles chilled his throat. He felt his neck spasm, and with his left hand instinctual closed his snout tightly. However, the heat continued to build as a deep purple seemed to bellow out from between his lips and his nostrils. Sparks flew out of the crevasses of Sevan's mouth as the pressure continued to build. Closing his eyes, his body labored to release the dark magic that had built up.
"Ugh-"
With one final push, Sevan bent forward and felt his gag reflex activate, and he opened his mouth at the oncoming black streams. A deep, smoking, purple magic shot out like a spewing flame. Before it made contact with the black streams, it separated into seven streams of its own, neutralizing the Moogle's attack in a luminescent flash of purple and black. A sullen cloud seemed to settle over the few remaining wisps of magic that remained.
Sevan gazed on at the destruction of charred earth that lay before him, his mouth still open from moments before. He felt his voice stammer in relief at the cool night air. A steady puff of purple haze wafted out of his mouth. With a large sigh, the remaining haze vanished. The purple aura that had covered Sevan's body had disappeared completely, along with any trace of Mortalia's magic.
Wooh...That hurt like hell...
He massaged his throat for a bit, letting out guttural sounds to help him get feeling back into his voice. He stared at the cloud of magic and dirt that sprang up at the place of impact. Reaching down, Sevan picked up his weapon, only to discover that it had returned to the same weight he was constantly used to wielding it at. With a slight heave, he hoisted the weapon up off the ground, feeling the dew that rubbed off against the pole.
I guess I'm out of Mortalia's death magic...
The first thing that hit Sevan was the overpowering smell. Clenching his nose, he felt his gag reflex almost activate for a second time as the stench of burned and decomposed flesh wrecked his senses. It seemed to haze his focus for a second as he stumbled, but he tried getting used to the smell by breathing through his mouth. Sadly, the smell was so strong that he could even taste it. Coughing madly to get the taste out of his mouth, Sevan eventually managed to settle himself down enough to take on the next encounter.
Before Sevan positioned himself, a thought came to him. He spoke as clearly as he could so the Moogle could hear him.
"Moogle, what's your name?"
Sevan looked on at the thick blanket that blocked his sight of the Moogle from across the way.
"And on top of that, what the hell are you doing here that makes all this necessary?"
