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King Corpse[@Estylwen]
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Sirens, shouting, the faint crackle of gunfire and artillery seemed to perforate his surroundings. Then, the taste of warm blood and fresh meat arrived among those senses, nourishing a programmed [i]demand[/i] that poisoned his consciousness for every waking hour it was denied. Clancy’s jaws sank into the mobster’s sleeve, fingers tightening a little more around the elbow joint, coming close to outright snapping off the man’s forearm like a brittle branch. The boy had meant to tear the arm off, to let him bleed out, to crack bones beneath his teeth and gorge on the marrow-

[i]Had[/i] being the key word. Someone else, a man wielding a chainsaw, had distracted him - momentary enough for the mobster to pull his remaining hand free and make a gesture.

A surge of energy coursed through the boy’s body, the black electricity dancing across him; the man was far from [i]done[/i], and the brief spasm induced by an electrical jolt brought the boy to his knees as the ground yawned open beneath them into a stygian abyss, threatening to swallow both in its black embrace.

But Clancy for his part was deceptively strong, far from weak, even as patches of clothing smoked from where the lightning had seared the fabrics enough to burn away at the facade of flesh beneath and leave pockmarks of missing skin. The boy proved [i]unwilling[/i] to descend, one foot, a free palm and sheer strength pressed into the lip of ground surrounding the portal, preventing either from immediately escaping, for a moment.

Had the man thought he'd pull [i]him[/i] through? Maybe, if he were just a kid, but not him. Instinct told him to pursue, chase, [i]devour[/i]. But the others-

Adora was winded, facing down the corpse-king, The others were still occupied with the lizard-thing, or recovering yet from other blows sustained. 

In other words, [i]not good.[/i] 

In his periphery, Clancy felt more power surging forth from the steepled figure ahead while the others continued to wane, cold winds gusting down the tunnel. Frost formed across every surface, and for a moment he was almost half-convinced that the wisps of fog rising from his body were a sign he was breathing for the first time in decades, until he realised it was a product of the frigid air making contact with his smouldering clothes and the mobster’s warm blood smeared across his jaw.

In the wake of those pressing matters, Clancy relinquished what little grip he’d maintained on the mobster’s shattered wrist and pulled free, leaving the dark-haired man to sink into the depths.

The boy was left to survey the damage left behind. Luca was [i]dissolving[/i] the lizard-thing, the others at his side in enough strength to keep [i]him[/i] from getting killed, but the corpse-king remained the greatest danger here, slowing them down, keeping them from getting where they needed to be and, he realised almost too late, rendering the tunnel uninhabitable. Clancy pushed the mobster out of mind, pulling himself past the portal, moving past the chainsaw-wielder, his gaze set on the towering carcass as it wrought icy storms upon the tunnel.

[i]Cold[/i] had no hold over him, no pain it could enact on his senses, nor the shivering that would induce most into a stupoured huddle. [i]Too long in the woods.[/i] His sleeves  grew encrusted with frost, each movement giving forth a crunching sound as ice formed, dissipated and reformed with each motion. 

Sluggish steps became paces, the boy driving fingers into a section of wall coated in ice, raking gouges in the surface, and pushing off against that surface for more leverage. 

Half-charred and spattered with blood, the boy looked half a revenant himself as he burst through and vaulted over a layer of ice to lunge for the undead monarch’s lower torso, hands clamouring to grasp, tear and smash at whatever exposed bone and rotting tissues he could find.

If nothing else, it would pull attention away from the others long enough to do some damage. His only error, as he'd realised moments later, was that Britney's stake was primed to punch through him on the way to its target.