[h1]YEAH THAT MAKES SENSE[/h1]
It is difficult to tell what expression [b]Krü[/b] wears, simply because his face is so alien. His nostrils are vents upon his torso, his mouth is a triangular of mandibles that all move independent, and his eyes were close in shape to those of an owl than a human. Still, the way he lowered his face towards Beramode… It resembled a cruel, cruel smile.

“[b]Do the enemies within your branches reveal all through monologue?[/b]” [b]Krü[/b] inquired, cocking his head to one side before his four eyes blinked. “[b]Or are you simply irate because things did not go your way?[/b]” [b]Krü[/b] drew one card, looking at it for it a few seconds.

“[b]Very well, I shall tell you something about myself.[/b]”

[b]Krü[/b] plays four cards. First of all is Seeping Parasite, a zombie type spell that is in theory incredibly powerful but it relies on chance. Firstly you must roll a six sided dice, which [b]Krü[/b] drew from his pouch of of mysteries.

“[b]I believe not in chance, nor fate. I know that they, and probability, are abstractions of all the trillions of factors that come into play in each single moment. I know that I can manipulate the factors to get the result I want.[/b]” [b]Krü[/b] rolled the dice in one hand, a slow and rhythmical roll that he then released upon the tapestry of fate that he refused to believe. The dice tumbled and rolled, pulled down by the planet’s gravity before it bounced and jostled into its final position. “[b]And I know that even then, something may alter the course in a way that I do not want — and that I must act accordingly instead of getting [i]mad[/i].[/b]” (Author's note: This is a lie.)

[b]One.[/b]

Compared to the devastating curses that would Beramode would have to endure had [b]Krü[/b] rolled high, this seemed to be an utter failure for him. Rolling a one means that a [i]Pitiful Zombie[/i] is created. With the [i]Grave Mass[/i] activating, this raises the count to three.

“[b]I play Spiteful Zombie and send it to attack your Pack of Dogs.[/b]” With [i]Suppressing Fire[/i] active, the [i]Spiteful Zombie[/i] loses this fight quite handily. “[b]Thanks to the Unholy terrain type, its death will allow me to draw a card. It will also perform its normal function upon death, creating another Pitiful Zombie in its wake.[/b]” The count of [i]Pitiful Zombies[/i] increases to four.

“[b]I then play Zombie Horde. This card sacrifices all Pitiful Zombies upon the field this turn, increasing its strength with each one sacrificed. More than a match for your Pack of Dogs, whom I send it to attack.[/b]” But wait, there’s more!

“[b]Finally, I play Parasitic Corpses, which lets me draw a card for each zombie destroyed within the past turn.[/b]” [b]Krü[/b] draws six cards. Four Pitiful Zombies, one Zombie Knight, and one Spiteful Zombie.

His hand is now back to exactly six.

“[b]Your move.[/b]”
[h1]SHAME ON ME FOR TRYING TO USE DEEP QUOTES[/h1]
Cavalerio never stood a chance. Rodrigo toyed with it like a dog toying with a cornered chicken, but it was never meant to be a fair fight. It got back up when it was kicked, attacked again when it was parried. Each movement kept it between Roderigo and Hector, and each moment it did was time bought. But it bought time for both parties, for a shot was lined up to punch through Hector’s shield— 

And turn David's brain into a fine red mist.

His body collapsed as his head went from was to wasn’t, bone and brain and blood splattered just about everywhere not protected by armour. The body convulsed as it died, trembling as nerves fired in rapid response thanks to the lack of brain to order them. David’s body trembled, and trembled… And trembled. It trembled for longer than a body was meant to tremble, hands suddenly sinking into the earth as a long and kaleidoscopic something burst out of the neck stump.

[color=702963]"Ugh. I should have seen that coming."[/color]

[color=0054a6]"You are—"[/color]

[color=702963]"Alive, yes. Use this body if you wish, I will find another."[/color] The wispy kaleidoscopic shapes poured within the amulet once contained in the suitcase, forming legs upon the talisman which promptly skittered into the dark.
 
Hector nodded, flicking his wrist to puppet the headless corpse. [color=0054a6]"Together? You could never step out of the limelight, amigo. I would have always been in your shadow. Now? I shine on my own terms, from my own merits. I make my own allies."[/color]

The gaunt figure rose up, bones spurting from the body before it turned and barrelled through the exit, aimed for the perimeter. It punched itself through the bullet fire, taking shot after shot that embedded themselves within the bony thorns that covered this new body. This zombie was fast, much too fast, barrelling into the awaiting swords that sliced through its flesh with ease— Until it exploded.

Razor-sharp bones and sinew and flesh jettisoned from the zombie, spraying everywhere and cutting into everything in its path. Of course the soldiers would’ve been ample protected against such a biological attack, but then the spines went high and the flesh went far, much further than anticipated. They were never the true target.

Groaning. Shuffling. The sounds grew and grew in volume, the containment breached as the densely-packed favela was suddenly turned into a killing ground for new flesh. One scratch could turn, and so people turned and turned and turned.  The zombies that came to the perimeter from the outside numbered more than should have been physically possible, a wall of meat that descended upon the Black Dogs who were now outnumbered one score to one soldier.

[color=0054a6]"My associate does not seem content to lay down and die, and I have no plans for it either. Adios."[/color] Hector turned in an about face, following the trail of ether as he tried to use the chaos of the horde to escape.
[h1]WHEN I DON’T KNOW ANY[/h1]