[ the dirt smeared across his face was wiped and carved quickly enough to make his vision doable, though jayce was struggling, being ganged up on wasn't much of his strong suit. the hammer was too slow moving a meelee weapon, even if he could fire long range— there were simply too many opponents gathering for him to effectively keep up. if it weren't for serph, he'd be torn apart; a mass of blood and entrails on the forest floor.
the zolom's blood splatters in brief deluge and jayce can feel the sizzling drops poking holes in his flesh, but little blood of his comes out of his wounds to begin with. the pain continues dulled. he can still move and react accordingly. jayce retreats and puts the hammer into a long distance defensive, cocking its handle and opening fire on the serpent. the blasts that hit its hide do little but agitate the thing. aims at the head opens its current wound to bigger holes, suspending beads and buckets of flesh in the air, more easily avoided, but then— the monster's organs in serph's teeth grabs his attention and fills his nostrils like sprays of a meal freshly cooked in the face of hunger.
not now— his panic tells him they must leave this place. the now quiet whispering drumming against his eardrums brings chaos. the bloodshed, hunger. he tries to ignore the strain that grinds his teeth and twists his inactive gut to vigor, because the zolom still strikes at them with its coils and armored scales. he's bat at because of the distraction that could've been avoided— a lack in sharpness— the thick tail of the snake cracking a disk in his spine as he's thrown and lands at a terrible angle. a terrible, unnatural, mortal angle. his antler snaps, and burries, bloodied, into earth and root.
and still, not a second after, he moves— with a forceful press against bodily resistance to lift because he has no limits to hold him back, the misplaced bones tear through skin and crack back into place horridly like fireworks. he could still feel it, pain begins to click and spark his recoil, but just enough to do something about it. if jayce makes a sound at all, it's out of pure startle. his hammer has clattered against the base of a tree that he must retrieve, now vulnerable to what remains of the zolom and a second, approaching bull gorgon, stomping its hooves and fuming through its nostrils.
jayce manages to stand once his back aligns enough to do so, hobbling— ]
cw: more gore (of the zombie variety)
the zolom's blood splatters in brief deluge and jayce can feel the sizzling drops poking holes in his flesh, but little blood of his comes out of his wounds to begin with. the pain continues dulled. he can still move and react accordingly. jayce retreats and puts the hammer into a long distance defensive, cocking its handle and opening fire on the serpent. the blasts that hit its hide do little but agitate the thing. aims at the head opens its current wound to bigger holes, suspending beads and buckets of flesh in the air, more easily avoided, but then— the monster's organs in serph's teeth grabs his attention and fills his nostrils like sprays of a meal freshly cooked in the face of hunger.
not now— his panic tells him they must leave this place. the now quiet whispering drumming against his eardrums brings chaos. the bloodshed, hunger. he tries to ignore the strain that grinds his teeth and twists his inactive gut to vigor, because the zolom still strikes at them with its coils and armored scales. he's bat at because of the distraction that could've been avoided— a lack in sharpness— the thick tail of the snake cracking a disk in his spine as he's thrown and lands at a terrible angle. a terrible, unnatural, mortal angle. his antler snaps, and burries, bloodied, into earth and root.
and still, not a second after, he moves— with a forceful press against bodily resistance to lift because he has no limits to hold him back, the misplaced bones tear through skin and crack back into place horridly like fireworks. he could still feel it, pain begins to click and spark his recoil, but just enough to do something about it. if jayce makes a sound at all, it's out of pure startle. his hammer has clattered against the base of a tree that he must retrieve, now vulnerable to what remains of the zolom and a second, approaching bull gorgon, stomping its hooves and fuming through its nostrils.
jayce manages to stand once his back aligns enough to do so, hobbling— ]
Fuck—