...Help? He doesn't know if he can, but he knows that he can't turn away. He needs to face whoever it is, so that he can tell them what he can do for them, so they don't have false expectations.
His other hand holds onto his Chef Ladle (why did writing that take me out so bad). He's not just a med student who couldn't even finish his first year. He's a cleric. He can offer that help.
And so he picks up his pace, moving toward the sound.]
[ HIS CHEF LADLE. surely this will protect him from the darkness.
he moves toward the sound. someone is in pain, he - can hear it, it's always just outside his reach. they're calling out. Help me. Help me, why won't you help me? and choking sounds. the darkness gets worse. crawls up his legs and winds around his arm before wisping away. then, silence, and...
and then there's a different voice. Are you kidding? a voice, familiar. Why would I ever trust you to do this for me? If something goes wrong with this surgery, it'll be your fault. I promise.
-- but if he turns to look, luke isn't there. it's getting harder and harder to walk. his legs feel like lead. each step he takes feels mired. sticky. like something could just drag him under the ground. isn't that where he should be? six feet under? why is he still here?
Really! I should just leave you to handle all this alone if that's what you want so bad. Why would I waste my time worrying about something like you?
the voice is harsher than you're used to, but... that's... ]
[These voices are newer, fresher. They shock him in a different way, but no less painfully. His legs feel so heavy, and he wonders if they'd feel this heavy if he was walking downwards, towards the ground, where gravity can just take hold of him, where he can fall into another makeshift grave, like all the ones he's dug for others..
He shakes his head. Or tries to, he just moves it slowly from side to side, as if trying to control his actions could somehow repress the fear already so high inside of him.
That was Jisoo. Luke. Dahut. Then, who else? Who next? Who else is on his mind? Who next does he need to --]
Shu.
[Just someone else he's lost and couldn't save.]
-- Shu.
[what if he hears his voice screaming, in pain? dying? he doesn't know. but calling to the darkness feels like the only thing he can do right now, short of collapsing.]
[ anyway i lied and i’m doing a ‘hello i’m awake throw shu’s ass back in the game’ tag here gently because eunhyuk is crying and that makes me sad :( ]
you take a few steps forward, lantern in his hand - the light suddenly spits, violently, the candle flickering and shivering in the oppressive, miserable darkness. you look down to check your lantern. you look up.
and then eunhyuk is gone, and shu... it's just you.
you stand alone on the left path.
it's still eerily silent, but now, eunhyuk is gone. the fog has risen up to your knees, and it feels like you have to wade your way through it. of course it's just you, right? what else is new? aren't you used to this - a life full of emptiness? or maybe not. maybe for you it's that you have clarity, you know what goals you need to complete... but what comes after that?
there's still a path forward... you think. at least your lantern is still lit. ]
[ he pauses, looks around with his lantern held up — looking for any sign of eunhyuk in the darkness, thick and all consuming as it is. is scarecrow still with him? or is he gone as well? ]
…
[ sound didn’t carry — is there any point in shouting? not as far as he can see. there are two options: stand still, and wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. or keep moving forwards and hope he finds something, someone further down the path.
shu will move forward. to him, this is better than just waiting. ]
scarecrow is still with him, yes! scarecrow, in fact, does not like this. he shivers a little, huddling closer to shu, and mumbles, "Hey, I'm... I'm right here. We'll find him again." it seems like maybe he's trying to be reassuring.
the light in shu's lantern flickers, the oil wick starting to look low. but he holds up the lantern and continues on. the ground under his feet is starting to turn from dirt to stone - the pavement is old and crumbly, and he might have trouble keeping his footing. the further he walks, the darker and darker it feels like it gets, as the purple fog begins to rise, up to his knees. it's cold and wet, a miserable feeling, and the worst part is that it's oppressive. shu naturally has a good danger sense as a hunter, but that's what's so odd here. there's not any danger. at least - not as far as you can tell. what use are you, shu? how can a sniper be any good when there's no target to see?
maybe you should just hide. a voice says. that's all you're good for and you couldn't even do that. ]
he raises a hand to rest on scarecrow’s back, like a little anchor in the darkness. he can at least feel that, right? the tremble of feathers under his skin and words only he can hear. it might not be the biggest reassurance in the world, as much as scarecrow is trying, but it’s something.
his eyes flicker to the lantern and he sighs. ]
Well, we’ll be wandering in the dark if we don’t find something soon.
[ that’s not a comfort. he’ll keep walking despite the oppressive urge to stop, give up, stop moving. because he doesn’t know what else to do, otherwise. teach dies, he keeps going. yang flees, he keeps going. the world keeps turning after crumbling down around him — it keeps going, so he keeps going.
you keep going. you keep going. you keep going until you drop dead. ]
Where am I meant to hide in a place like this anyway…? [ it’s half out loud. half just to himself. ]
[ scarecrow can feel it, yeah. his feathers ruffle slightly under your hand, puffing up to try and get warm.
not like you could hide right then, either. the voice repeats back to you. it's bitter and unhappy. you feel like you need a cigarette, but you have none. you feel like you could just use more light, but there is none. the darkness starts to build further, the fog rising, purple and cloying, up around your stomach, now.
teach dies. yang flees. but there were others, weren't there? other people. you were walking with someone just before. can you even remember who?
another voice, softer, but a little hysterical - on the verge of laughter. family? family-ish? us? are you crazy? why would i ever want to be anywhere close to you?
something rises up behind you, but you are distracted. you don't notice it quite yet. ]
he digs his fingers into scarecrow’s feathers, partially so the bird knows he’s still there and partially because— yeah. his hands itch to light a cigarette, but he knows he doesn’t have any on him. he can only keep going, despite the darkness and the fog rising up. he raises his shoulder slightly, so scarecrow is a little higher. ]
You might want to go on my head in a minute. Higher vantage point.
[ colder though. but if he’s talking to the bird, he’s not focusing in on the voices he can hear around him. don’t focus. don’t think. just keep walking.
but whether he’s failing and being distracted by the familiar voices saying unfamiliar words, or whether he’s so focused he can’t sense anything else — it does mean he doesn’t know he’s not alone, yes. ]
[ scarecrow does not seem like he wants to do that. like at all. he burrows in closer to shu and shakes his cute little bird head.
all you ever do is lose people. the voice says. that's teuta, you think. maybe? it might be someone else. don't come home. says another - a softer voice, more recent. the smell of rotten apples intensifies, thickens in the air, swirling. i don't want you here.
as you take a step forward, you feel something grab onto your ankle. it's a gooey, sticky grip, whatever it is, and it is sharp - it snags you tight and pulls, hard. the grip is clawed and sharp and whatever it is burns like frostbite. it digs its claws into your ankle and tears into flesh.
turn out the light, says a voice, desperately - hopeful, maybe, searching. it sounds a little bit intense, like a woman you know. blue haired, someone who helps. i can't find you if you don't turn out the light.
[ he doesn’t get a chance to give the little bird a reassuring pat, before there’s something digging into his ankle — searing and painful, both freezing cold and burning all at the same time sending pain lancing up his nerves in a way that makes him swear out loud.
he stumbles, but manages to keep his hold on his lantern and his balance — just. ]
…
[ fuck. ]
No way. [ it’s low, and mumbled slightly rather than out loud. he might not be able to see or hear or sense anything, but he sure as hell can feel something so he knows he’s not alone and he knows whatever is there is hostile. ] Nice fucking try.
[ the lantern is staying on. in fact he’s going to shift his weight back onto his captured leg and try to drive the heel of his non-grabbed foot into whatever’s clawing onto his leg ]
[ the lantern dangerously bobbles as shu jerks backwards, but the light does not go out.
he is able to successfully ram his heel into whatever that is, but it makes no noise. in fact, his foot just feels like it goes straight into the mud, pushing through something putrid and wet, like dead old flesh. the smell is awful, and the claws in his ankle release. does he look backwards, or does he keep trying to push on? ]
[ you thought you were done BUT IT WAS ME, SISI (jojos voice)
anyway. he could just fall into a grave, if he really wanted. he could just drop here and die. the world is miserable - it's a dark, cruel, awful place. you already knew that, though. what awful things have you done? didn't you harm someone else, recently? your hands were supposed to be that of a healer. why couldn't they be? you were never meant for it.
eunhyuk, you call out to the void, desperately, shouting, holding onto the grip of reality.
you hear nothing. your voice echoes in the darkness as the cloying fog begins to overrun your chest, your neck, up to your mouth. you hear your sister, you think. she's screaming. she's screaming at the top of your lungs, screaming your name, but you've already decided, haven't you? you're a monster. you have to die. you want to die.
there's a flare in your chest. something bright - something that says no. it's blue and fierce and protective, it's loving, the instinct of a big brother, the instinct of someone who cares, who cares so much. you might not be good at showing it, always, eunhyuk, but the sacred flame chooses those whose hearts are golden. look out, it whispers, the voice like a familiar clerics. scolding, almost. stay alert --
-- and with a 17, eunhyuk, you realize that you've stopped moving.
it feels like a hand - actually, it feels like two. three. in your miserable, awful haze, you were being grabbed at and dug into by these monstrous, shadowy black and purple hands. they're holding you at the ankles, by the back of the cleric's cloak, tearing into the fabric and marking flesh. there's one wrapped around your throat, one clutching your waist, dragging you down, down, down, down - ]
His lantern might be dim, but it feels like there's a light in his chest. small, but there -- warm in a way that he never usually feels. it reminds him of a statue, an offer extended. stay alert --
Eunhyuk holds up his staff and aims the end at the hand wrapped around his ankle, desperate because he wants to live, he doesn't want to fall here, dragged into darkness. darkness. darkness?
He presses the lantern right up against the hand wrapped around his throat, uncaring of the heat, then lower, hoping that the light will do something, as small as it is now --]
oh this was a good move. eunhyuk's versatility with unusual weapons serves him well here. the hand on his throat recoils when the lantern touches it, almost immediately. it burns...less than you'd expect? at least on you, but the fingers on the hand that were nearly choking you (and you didn't even realize, how didn't you notice) release. you'll have those purple magic marks on your throat, but oxygen floods your lungs and you inhale a deep, amazing breath.
and that gives you enough strength to point your chef ladle staff, and call inherently upon aelfric's magic. holy light, illuminate the darkness. the words of the spell rush through your head, and you see it, brilliant, coalesce inside the ladle and then - explode outwards, a smiting, fiercely bright white light that smites down on the hand that grabs your ankle from above.
something shrieks, and recoils backwards. it leaves tears in your clothing, and you can feel the claws at your back rake in like they're trying to cling onto you to avoid that - you will have awful, magical purple burn marks and deep gouges, and they're still holding on. but for a second, all the voices stop, and you can breathe. ]
[pain tears through him, burns and gouges all, but more importantly he can breathe now -- he pulls in the air, desperate and greedy, and uses his now free leg as leverage, leaning forward and trying to yank himself free, swinging his ladle-staff behind him this time for BONKS!!!!
there's still the hand on his waist, so he tries using the lantern there too. let go let go let go]
it's time for bonks! he brings his lantern in and whaps the shit out the hand on his waist, and it does not like that. but it's still holding fast, and --
well - there might be someone coming to your aid...]
IN THIS ONE SHU MATERIALIZES OUT OF NOWHERE? the claws are still digging in his back, but he's ignoring the pain, he'll try another spell to blast them off him]
he jumps out of the shadows - a head comes rolling out after him? hmm, concerning! but there's not much time to waste because shit is happening. shu, as you slam your leg into the hand, you will release that maybe physical combat is not the way to go with this thing, because it grabs onto your leg, lifts you in the air, and just slams you down into the ground. the force is tremendous - you feel something crack - and a clawed hand grabs your arm, pinning it into the ground.
however i rolled a 1 so eunhyuk, your next spell - again, holy light, is bright and blazing. it seems these things really do not like your light spells. perhaps they are weak to them. maybe it's the fact that you are smiting them like god.
but your holy ladle summons aelfric's might and hits a huge branch of the shadowy hands right at the root. it explodes, sending awful purple shadow glop everywhere, across both of your bodies, and the resulting feel is like, not great! it's not great. but, it does take care of a huge chunk of the hands. three remain - one is grabbing onto shu and trying to drag him downwards into - to something.
eunhyuk, when you look up, you see that shu's eyes are pitch black. doesn't that look familiar? ]
[ don't look at the head, eunhyuk. it's not a great time.
well. does he have his hands free? he might not be able to do much seeing as physical combat seems to be a bad idea and something is definitely, probably broken now, but he's a hunter not a cleric so he doesn't have much choice. and he's not sending scarecrow in there because he's just a lil guy.
so if his hands are free enough he's going to try and get an arrow loose and stab it into the hand grabbing hold of him. sure, he might get wreck again but that's going to at least make it flinch. hopefully.
[Eunhyuk staggers, feeling winded, but the hands clearly aren't because one of them just whipped Shu to the ground like they want to absorb him there and then,
Eunhyuk raises his staff -- and freezes. He can't look at any rolling HEADS right now because his attention narrows in on the black in Shu's eyes,
and the panic immediately makes him loose another spell, aimed at the hand coiled around Shu's arm.]
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...Help? He doesn't know if he can, but he knows that he can't turn away. He needs to face whoever it is, so that he can tell them what he can do for them, so they don't have false expectations.
His other hand holds onto his Chef Ladle (why did writing that take me out so bad). He's not just a med student who couldn't even finish his first year. He's a cleric. He can offer that help.
And so he picks up his pace, moving toward the sound.]
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he moves toward the sound. someone is in pain, he - can hear it, it's always just outside his reach. they're calling out. Help me. Help me, why won't you help me? and choking sounds. the darkness gets worse. crawls up his legs and winds around his arm before wisping away. then, silence, and...
and then there's a different voice. Are you kidding? a voice, familiar. Why would I ever trust you to do this for me? If something goes wrong with this surgery, it'll be your fault. I promise.
the flame in his lantern falters. ]
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His eyes dart around for where the voice is coming from, for why it sounds so much like Jisoo, except she'd never said those words... Had she?
It's all wrong. The flame in his lantern flickers and he immediately steps back. Shu is still out there. He needs to...
He takes another step back, back away from the voice that's coming from a direction that he can't even tell at this point,]
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This was your only chance. You wasted it.
-- but if he turns to look, luke isn't there. it's getting harder and harder to walk. his legs feel like lead. each step he takes feels mired. sticky. like something could just drag him under the ground. isn't that where he should be? six feet under? why is he still here?
Really! I should just leave you to handle all this alone if that's what you want so bad. Why would I waste my time worrying about something like you?
the voice is harsher than you're used to, but... that's... ]
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He shakes his head. Or tries to, he just moves it slowly from side to side, as if trying to control his actions could somehow repress the fear already so high inside of him.
That was Jisoo. Luke. Dahut. Then, who else? Who next? Who else is on his mind? Who next does he need to --]
Shu.
[Just someone else he's lost and couldn't save.]
-- Shu.
[what if he hears his voice screaming, in pain? dying? he doesn't know. but calling to the darkness feels like the only thing he can do right now, short of collapsing.]
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you take a few steps forward, lantern in his hand - the light suddenly spits, violently, the candle flickering and shivering in the oppressive, miserable darkness. you look down to check your lantern. you look up.
and then eunhyuk is gone, and shu... it's just you.
you stand alone on the left path.
it's still eerily silent, but now, eunhyuk is gone. the fog has risen up to your knees, and it feels like you have to wade your way through it. of course it's just you, right? what else is new? aren't you used to this - a life full of emptiness? or maybe not. maybe for you it's that you have clarity, you know what goals you need to complete... but what comes after that?
there's still a path forward... you think. at least your lantern is still lit. ]
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Ah.
[ he pauses, looks around with his lantern held up — looking for any sign of eunhyuk in the darkness, thick and all consuming as it is. is scarecrow still with him? or is he gone as well? ]
…
[ sound didn’t carry — is there any point in shouting? not as far as he can see. there are two options: stand still, and wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. or keep moving forwards and hope he finds something, someone further down the path.
shu will move forward. to him, this is better than just waiting. ]
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scarecrow is still with him, yes! scarecrow, in fact, does not like this. he shivers a little, huddling closer to shu, and mumbles, "Hey, I'm... I'm right here. We'll find him again." it seems like maybe he's trying to be reassuring.
the light in shu's lantern flickers, the oil wick starting to look low. but he holds up the lantern and continues on. the ground under his feet is starting to turn from dirt to stone - the pavement is old and crumbly, and he might have trouble keeping his footing. the further he walks, the darker and darker it feels like it gets, as the purple fog begins to rise, up to his knees. it's cold and wet, a miserable feeling, and the worst part is that it's oppressive. shu naturally has a good danger sense as a hunter, but that's what's so odd here. there's not any danger. at least - not as far as you can tell. what use are you, shu? how can a sniper be any good when there's no target to see?
maybe you should just hide. a voice says. that's all you're good for and you couldn't even do that. ]
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he raises a hand to rest on scarecrow’s back, like a little anchor in the darkness. he can at least feel that, right? the tremble of feathers under his skin and words only he can hear. it might not be the biggest reassurance in the world, as much as scarecrow is trying, but it’s something.
his eyes flicker to the lantern and he sighs. ]
Well, we’ll be wandering in the dark if we don’t find something soon.
[ that’s not a comfort. he’ll keep walking despite the oppressive urge to stop, give up, stop moving. because he doesn’t know what else to do, otherwise. teach dies, he keeps going. yang flees, he keeps going. the world keeps turning after crumbling down around him — it keeps going, so he keeps going.
you keep going. you keep going. you keep going until you drop dead. ]
Where am I meant to hide in a place like this anyway…? [ it’s half out loud. half just to himself. ]
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not like you could hide right then, either. the voice repeats back to you. it's bitter and unhappy. you feel like you need a cigarette, but you have none. you feel like you could just use more light, but there is none. the darkness starts to build further, the fog rising, purple and cloying, up around your stomach, now.
teach dies. yang flees. but there were others, weren't there? other people. you were walking with someone just before. can you even remember who?
another voice, softer, but a little hysterical - on the verge of laughter. family? family-ish? us? are you crazy? why would i ever want to be anywhere close to you?
something rises up behind you, but you are distracted. you don't notice it quite yet. ]
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he digs his fingers into scarecrow’s feathers, partially so the bird knows he’s still there and partially because— yeah. his hands itch to light a cigarette, but he knows he doesn’t have any on him. he can only keep going, despite the darkness and the fog rising up. he raises his shoulder slightly, so scarecrow is a little higher. ]
You might want to go on my head in a minute. Higher vantage point.
[ colder though. but if he’s talking to the bird, he’s not focusing in on the voices he can hear around him. don’t focus. don’t think. just keep walking.
but whether he’s failing and being distracted by the familiar voices saying unfamiliar words, or whether he’s so focused he can’t sense anything else — it does mean he doesn’t know he’s not alone, yes. ]
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all you ever do is lose people. the voice says. that's teuta, you think. maybe? it might be someone else. don't come home. says another - a softer voice, more recent. the smell of rotten apples intensifies, thickens in the air, swirling. i don't want you here.
as you take a step forward, you feel something grab onto your ankle. it's a gooey, sticky grip, whatever it is, and it is sharp - it snags you tight and pulls, hard. the grip is clawed and sharp and whatever it is burns like frostbite. it digs its claws into your ankle and tears into flesh.
turn out the light, says a voice, desperately - hopeful, maybe, searching. it sounds a little bit intense, like a woman you know. blue haired, someone who helps. i can't find you if you don't turn out the light.
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he stumbles, but manages to keep his hold on his lantern and his balance — just. ]
…
[ fuck. ]
No way. [ it’s low, and mumbled slightly rather than out loud. he might not be able to see or hear or sense anything, but he sure as hell can feel something so he knows he’s not alone and he knows whatever is there is hostile. ] Nice fucking try.
[ the lantern is staying on. in fact he’s going to shift his weight back onto his captured leg and try to drive the heel of his non-grabbed foot into whatever’s clawing onto his leg ]
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he is able to successfully ram his heel into whatever that is, but it makes no noise. in fact, his foot just feels like it goes straight into the mud, pushing through something putrid and wet, like dead old flesh. the smell is awful, and the claws in his ankle release. does he look backwards, or does he keep trying to push on? ]
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anyway. he could just fall into a grave, if he really wanted. he could just drop here and die. the world is miserable - it's a dark, cruel, awful place. you already knew that, though. what awful things have you done? didn't you harm someone else, recently? your hands were supposed to be that of a healer. why couldn't they be? you were never meant for it.
eunhyuk, you call out to the void, desperately, shouting, holding onto the grip of reality.
you hear nothing. your voice echoes in the darkness as the cloying fog begins to overrun your chest, your neck, up to your mouth. you hear your sister, you think. she's screaming. she's screaming at the top of your lungs, screaming your name, but you've already decided, haven't you? you're a monster. you have to die. you want to die.
there's a flare in your chest. something bright - something that says no. it's blue and fierce and protective, it's loving, the instinct of a big brother, the instinct of someone who cares, who cares so much. you might not be good at showing it, always, eunhyuk, but the sacred flame chooses those whose hearts are golden. look out, it whispers, the voice like a familiar clerics. scolding, almost. stay alert --
-- and with a 17, eunhyuk, you realize that you've stopped moving.
it feels like a hand - actually, it feels like two. three. in your miserable, awful haze, you were being grabbed at and dug into by these monstrous, shadowy black and purple hands. they're holding you at the ankles, by the back of the cleric's cloak, tearing into the fabric and marking flesh. there's one wrapped around your throat, one clutching your waist, dragging you down, down, down, down - ]
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His lantern might be dim, but it feels like there's a light in his chest. small, but there -- warm in a way that he never usually feels. it reminds him of a statue, an offer extended. stay alert --
Eunhyuk holds up his staff and aims the end at the hand wrapped around his ankle, desperate because he wants to live, he doesn't want to fall here, dragged into darkness. darkness. darkness?
He presses the lantern right up against the hand wrapped around his throat, uncaring of the heat, then lower, hoping that the light will do something, as small as it is now --]
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oh this was a good move. eunhyuk's versatility with unusual weapons serves him well here. the hand on his throat recoils when the lantern touches it, almost immediately. it burns...less than you'd expect? at least on you, but the fingers on the hand that were nearly choking you (and you didn't even realize, how didn't you notice) release. you'll have those purple magic marks on your throat, but oxygen floods your lungs and you inhale a deep, amazing breath.
and that gives you enough strength to point your chef ladle staff, and call inherently upon aelfric's magic. holy light, illuminate the darkness. the words of the spell rush through your head, and you see it, brilliant, coalesce inside the ladle and then - explode outwards, a smiting, fiercely bright white light that smites down on the hand that grabs your ankle from above.
something shrieks, and recoils backwards. it leaves tears in your clothing, and you can feel the claws at your back rake in like they're trying to cling onto you to avoid that - you will have awful, magical purple burn marks and deep gouges, and they're still holding on. but for a second, all the voices stop, and you can breathe. ]
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there's still the hand on his waist, so he tries using the lantern there too. let go let go let go]
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it's time for bonks! he brings his lantern in and whaps the shit out the hand on his waist, and it does not like that. but it's still holding fast, and --
well - there might be someone coming to your aid...]
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leave their omega alone. ]
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IN THIS ONE SHU MATERIALIZES OUT OF NOWHERE? the claws are still digging in his back, but he's ignoring the pain, he'll try another spell to blast them off him]
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he jumps out of the shadows - a head comes rolling out after him? hmm, concerning! but there's not much time to waste because shit is happening. shu, as you slam your leg into the hand, you will release that maybe physical combat is not the way to go with this thing, because it grabs onto your leg, lifts you in the air, and just slams you down into the ground. the force is tremendous - you feel something crack - and a clawed hand grabs your arm, pinning it into the ground.
however i rolled a 1 so eunhyuk, your next spell - again, holy light, is bright and blazing. it seems these things really do not like your light spells. perhaps they are weak to them. maybe it's the fact that you are smiting them like god.
but your holy ladle summons aelfric's might and hits a huge branch of the shadowy hands right at the root. it explodes, sending awful purple shadow glop everywhere, across both of your bodies, and the resulting feel is like, not great! it's not great. but, it does take care of a huge chunk of the hands. three remain - one is grabbing onto shu and trying to drag him downwards into - to something.
eunhyuk, when you look up, you see that shu's eyes are pitch black. doesn't that look familiar? ]
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well. does he have his hands free? he might not be able to do much seeing as physical combat seems to be a bad idea and something is definitely, probably broken now, but he's a hunter not a cleric so he doesn't have much choice. and he's not sending scarecrow in there because he's just a lil guy.
so if his hands are free enough he's going to try and get an arrow loose and stab it into the hand grabbing hold of him. sure, he might get wreck again but that's going to at least make it flinch. hopefully.
the holy light's nice though. more of that. ]
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Eunhyuk raises his staff -- and freezes. He can't look at any rolling HEADS right now because his attention narrows in on the black in Shu's eyes,
and the panic immediately makes him loose another spell, aimed at the hand coiled around Shu's arm.]
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