RP Snippets: The Ritual
Kurel’s fight was not yet done. He was never done. Whether sane or not the instinct was there, from the very moment Mavas had clapped the shackles around his wrists. Survive or die trying. He saw nothing clearly, heard nothing clearly, not outside the private whispering in his head and whether the movement from Mavas triggered some auto response or not, Kurel whirled. He could not go far. Mavas’ error was in not moving away at all and a horn gouged him like a violent bull through the back and out of his chest.
“MAVAS!” Shouted Demytrya.
Mavas couldn’t breathe, the sudden onslaught of pain that ripped through him, he felt his ribs shatter, felt something pierce his lung, but then there was a horn embedded out of his chest. His eyes narrowed, and he breathed in a staggered grunting breath.
“I’m…I’m sorry..” he said brokenly, to the air? to Demy perhaps? He hissed, and clenched his fists, a biting snarl in demonic ripping out of him in a single word.
Korregan would frown as one of the ice shards pinged against his chest. He would watch Kurel whirl on Mav and he raised his hands again. He attempted to grip ahold of Kurel’s very being, the energies that coursed through his veins, and then force him to stop moving before he would rip back with his hands violently. Attempting to rip the very soul out of the man.
One word was all it took to kill a man. In more ways than one. Two incidences collided in a most catastrophic way. The grip of Kurel’s soul and what was the death of it, perhaps. Korregan felt something, but his draw was empty. Too late perhaps? Kurel went still and he collapsed, motionless. Not breathing. Not even so much as a pulse of power from that which was infused with him.