The guardian's attack was courageous and unpredictable. Sometimes bravery didn't pay off.
Everything was red. Chaos energy had warped all around him, taking away any other sense of awareness. With everything he had he launched himself out of the fourfold attack from the patriarch of the order. Oz flew out like a cannonball being fired, leaving an explosion of force in his wake. So disoriented was he that he slammed into the ground quite a distance away, bouncing like a pebble across a still lake. Finally lying motionless on the ground, he tried to get up, to move even a little. Everything hurt or felt numb, he couldn't see and his ears rang. But he was still alive.
Oz refused to die. Even caught in that by such a powerful being.
After what seemed like an eternity he finally managed to get some light to his eyes. Everything seemed red as he stared at the torn sky above. He reached up to the sky with his left arm. Except, there was nothing left to reach up with. His heart dropped as much of the numbness stuck in his body started to fade, leaving sharp pain all across his skin. He examined his right forearm. His skin was pink and blood was welling up in random places. It was like someone had tried to use a fine device to flay him. Most of his upper clothes were consumed by the attack or torn by the landing. He drew on berserker strength to tear the remainder off and use it to triage his nub of an arm. In the wake of his landing he'd even left a trail of blood splattering every time he slammed into the ground.
Hyperventilating wasn't what he'd expected to do. Oz started to panic. He pushed that out and decided to be pissed instead. There was no way to try meditating or thinking when everything hurt this bad. It was all real. Not some illusion. He fumbled for the pouch which was thankfully still there and pulled out a power pill. He popped it in his mouth and tried to stand. He stumbled. More than once. Determination burned just as badly as the pain and he just kept trying. His body did not, however, agree with him. Oz blacked out and collapsed on the sand.
Everything was red. Chaos energy had warped all around him, taking away any other sense of awareness. With everything he had he launched himself out of the fourfold attack from the patriarch of the order. Oz flew out like a cannonball being fired, leaving an explosion of force in his wake. So disoriented was he that he slammed into the ground quite a distance away, bouncing like a pebble across a still lake. Finally lying motionless on the ground, he tried to get up, to move even a little. Everything hurt or felt numb, he couldn't see and his ears rang. But he was still alive.
Oz refused to die. Even caught in that by such a powerful being.
After what seemed like an eternity he finally managed to get some light to his eyes. Everything seemed red as he stared at the torn sky above. He reached up to the sky with his left arm. Except, there was nothing left to reach up with. His heart dropped as much of the numbness stuck in his body started to fade, leaving sharp pain all across his skin. He examined his right forearm. His skin was pink and blood was welling up in random places. It was like someone had tried to use a fine device to flay him. Most of his upper clothes were consumed by the attack or torn by the landing. He drew on berserker strength to tear the remainder off and use it to triage his nub of an arm. In the wake of his landing he'd even left a trail of blood splattering every time he slammed into the ground.
Hyperventilating wasn't what he'd expected to do. Oz started to panic. He pushed that out and decided to be pissed instead. There was no way to try meditating or thinking when everything hurt this bad. It was all real. Not some illusion. He fumbled for the pouch which was thankfully still there and pulled out a power pill. He popped it in his mouth and tried to stand. He stumbled. More than once. Determination burned just as badly as the pain and he just kept trying. His body did not, however, agree with him. Oz blacked out and collapsed on the sand.