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⬣//GROWING WILDLY OUT OF CONTROL.
September 23rd—conference day. In the hours preceding the meeting, beta testers are supplied with information on how to access the virtual conference room and offered a set of conduct guidelines. Testers are urged to read them thoroughly and instructed to sign their name on the bottom of the page to confirm that they’ve read and understand the following guidelines:
1. All questions will be addressed. Do not interrupt speakers or other beta testers when they are asking questions or having their questions answered.Players are generously allowed one hour to filter in and find their seats, review the guidelines, and discuss the questions they’ve prepared with their fellow beta testers.
2. Conduct yourself professionally and appropriately. Do not curse, shout, or otherwise engage in disruptive behavior. Violators will be muted and their speaking privileges revoked.
3. No eating or drinking. Keep your virtual space clean and free of debris.
4. Remain seated. Excessive movement or inappropriate behavior will result in restriction of your avatar’s movements.
5. PvP is disabled in the conference room. Weapons cannot be drawn and your Fragment inventory is unavailable during the duration of the conference.
One hour comes and goes. The room remains occupied only by the beta participants, CyberConnect Corporation’s flashy logo spinning idly on the conference room’s 80 inch display. Restlessness begins to settle in, idle chatter turning to frustration as one hour becomes two. Still, no one from the Corporation shows.
The conference room remains devoid of purpose, some forty-odd people sitting alone in a sterile conference room, a locked room, should anyone grow so restless they try to leave. Any attempts made to break doors and windows will fail.
The door is locked, as are the windows, the world beyond their stark white blinds a slurry of purple and black. Thunder crackles in that dark, endless void. Even if you could leave, where would you go?
It’s painfully evident after three hours of silence that no one from CyberConnect is showing up to the conference, but you knew that already, didn’t you? This mandatory meeting was fishy from the start, some would argue, while others may yet hold out hope.
That ends the instant anyone tries to log out and leave. Everyone who attempts to leave will be met with the same error Shoka was some weeks ago, but this time, the error is permanent. This time, there is no connection between mind and body anymore, and any attempt to “reach” your real self will fail.
You feel no one on the other end. You no longer feel the weight of your headset on your head or the keyboard beneath your fingertips. All your worldly aches and pains have drifted away only to find you here in your new reality, every sensation so real that Fragment no longer feels like just a game. Fragment is reality.
Three hours pass from the start of the conference. The boring white walls and rickety office chairs shudder and shake and give way to the Mac Anu everyone knows. You’re back where you started, more or less. What you do from here is up to you.
Some menus remain online. Players retain the ability to send and receive friend and party requests, access their inventories, spells, and weapons, and so on, but a few notable items are missing.
Players can no longer toggle their pain sensors on and off. Every blow you take is one you’re forced to suffer through, and what’s more, your health no longer automatically regenerates when idle. You’d better keep a stash of potions or a pocket healer handy.
While you’re at it, try not to die. The sharp-eyed among the group may notice that the respawn information nestled in the menus is no longer accessible to them. The respawn counter now reads as a series of zeros instead of the typical 20 minutes. Now is probably not the best time to continue testing Fragment’s death mechanics, but nothing’s stopping you from trying. No one’s going to save you, either.
Good luck, players. The real test has begun.
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Barrett's entire face lights up as he happily takes the snack, a laugh that comes out so lightly it might as well be a giggle. Snack... :D
The handhold is welcomed as the Lord Partizan gently grips Mithrun's palm in his own, having no issue with the other man taking the lead and opening up the keywords. It means he can focus on eating his snack.]
Mn. You look comfortable. And... [Hm. How else does he even put it? Aesthetic isn't really something he thinks of or cares much about, so the words don't come easy. Eventually, he just shrugs.] I don't know how to describe it. But I think it looks good on you.
[A nice effect... He isn't sure how many nice effects he's even run across. Maybe that one special animal they kicked for extra money? He can't really say that made him feel nice, though, so... maybe not that.]
Sure. If it's a good effect, maybe it will make the dungeon easier to get through. I wouldn't want to have snacks after that if I knew I was going to insult you the whole time.
[The skewer is nearly cleaned off, though he does take one of the last pieces to hold it up for Morgan as he works on the keywords.]
Do you want it?
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I can wear it more often. My other one was starting to glitch out a little bit.
( At least, it glitched out once - failed to apply upon loading into Lumina Cloth, letting Fakerun come out to play again. He could swap out his weapon to break the armor effect, but why would he sacrifice a stat boost like that?
Hmmm... Paling Failing should be fine for the first two keywords, right? While the murky forest wasn't exactly scenic, the tower dungeons tend to be relatively contained and cozy once cleared out - decent enough to have a picnic in, and they won't really have to worry about the scenery since they'll be indoors. It makes sense in Mithrun's head.
He glances up at the offer, midway through entering the last keyword. )
... I don't mind.
( He doesn't want it, nor does he have an appetite - a desire to eat. Eating when you're not hungry is always a little odd, isn't it? But he's used to getting fed in Fragment, at this point.
His hands (by Mithrun's standards) preoccupied, he opens his mouth to receive it - a habit Barrett can safely assume comes largely from spending time with Tylor and Hani, given their whole display during that picnic. )
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Well, if it does that again, at least you won't be alone. You said you're wearing your special armor too, right...?
I'll talk to him again, if he shows up.
[He's not thrilled about it, given what happened last time. But if that old Morgan came back, at least Barrett knew how to make him go away. Maybe he'd remember... though Barrett isn't exactly in the mood to test that anytime soon.
As the gate flares to life, Barrett rolls his shoulders with an exhale, tossing the empty skewer to the side so that he can get a better grip on his weapon, squeezing Morgan's hand tight.]
Retreat if your HP gets too low. I can take a lot of hits like this.
[That handhold is squeezed one more time, before he tugs them through, making sure they're both on solid ground with a moment to examine the environment before he finally lets his hold on Morgan go. Brandish activates immediately, the telltale target on his own back as he nods toward the tower in the distance.]
Do you remember what kinds of enemies showed up around here?
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He pauses to consider when Barrett says he'll speak to his past self. He remembers he was real nasty to Barrett. )
... I remember liking you while I was like that. ( Unlike Fakerun, Mithrun always refers to his past self as "I." ) But I think that just made me more irritable. So be careful.
( Be careful; he remembers how badly he'd affected Barrett... He nods at the warning to retreat - though not happily; he's acknowledging it, mostly - and he goes in with him.
As they enter △ Paling Failing Empire... Mithrun unsheathes his great broadsword: a delicate, beautiful thing despite its size; particular and ornate, its edges unnervingly sharp; a weapon that so sweetly compliments the person he was before, and not the person he is now. )
... Dark-type creatures. Usually undead, but those are the least annoying of their kind. ( SHIELD MANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ) We should be able to get through them quick.
( He begins his advance on the tower ahead of them, seeming to spiral endlessly into the gloomy skies amidst the cursed forest. Maybe Mithrun could've done better to pay more attention to the vibe of the surroundings instead of just the interior and dungeon effect, but he sure doesn't realize it. )
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[Liking him like that... he's not sure how to feel about that, but he remembers how the kiss had felt, how Mithrun's face had changed and colored, how he'd started to pout more at the end of it. He remembers the last words he'd said - wishing someone like him had been around sooner. Was that what he'd meant?
It's not as though it matters in the moment. So he lets it settle into the back of his mind, staying on pace with Morgan as they advance.]
Mn. I finally have some elemental skills. Nothing strong against Dark, though.
[What little sunlight that peeks through the clouds shines off the shapes on the sky - the luminescent reflection familiar enough after so many dungeons.]
Sky Fish. [Delicious, but annoying - especially when the sounds of disturbed and shuffling ground starts to erupt from either side of them.] They're going to be focused on me for a little bit. How are you with range?
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Mithrun, for his part, is at least decent at sticking close to Barrett and not rushing off ahead; running dungeons with Sinclair, who'd been frazzled when Mithrun had departed from him, had taught him a little better. (A little.) )
Mm. I only have wood and earth.
( So, nothing good against Dark, either. But it should be fine - he'll make up for the needed damage.
His gaze flicks up as Barrett calls his attention to their enemies up and about as he slips into a stable stance. )
Single target, but I have it. I can multiattack once enough get closer.
( And, with that, his sword comes down in a violent swing, shattering the earth - a crevice splits in the direction of the fish - the shockwave blowing back one with particular force, knocking it straight out of the sky. Like a swarm of bees, the fish launch into a frenzy - toward Barrett, but another arc beats them back— far back, granting Barrett a moment of reprieve to handle the undead breaking earth around them. )
cw: verbal abuse in the italics
It's as he's recovering from the momentum of the toss that one of the faster Living Dead scrambles up to land a bite against his arm. With a health pool so big, his HP doesn't budge much. But Barrett still starts, hissing a breath through his teeth with a strangled sound--
"Do you think I'm an idiot, Barrett? No? Look at me. Say it to my face-- stop looking away, boy, LOOK at me when I am talking to you, are you deaf?? Christ, why do I think you'll ever change when you act like this--"
It makes every muscle go tense, hearing that voice echo in his head from seemingly everywhere. But it also makes the punch that follows crack that much harder, as though the zombie had been the source of the noise, unaware of the dip his SP takes in the process.]
D-damn it... [The blade goes through its face for good measure, even as he whips around to whip out a Thorns Dance at another that slips from Brandish's range on a beeline for Morgan. It's heavily injured, but doesn't stop.]
Morgan! Heads up, behind you-- [He takes another hit from the side, glancing, and yet his entire face screws up as soon as his HP drops, his SP following suit. An angry echoing. It's your fault. I'm not letting you forget this, so why aren't you learning? His blade chases the noise, a breathless strength behind it that shouldn't be needed.
Shut up. Shut up.
Another body goes flying into the trees with a cracking of wood. Good riddance.]
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He weaves brisk into Koranshuu, his multiattack, his blade a ceaseless guillotine as it slices through the fish shooting back for Barrett, drawn into the anglerfish jaws of his Brandish. What remains standing he nails with his multihits and heavy blow criticals - he's efficient at murder when he's not got to worry about his own HP or defense.
Barrett steals his attention fully with his warning - his head snaps back in time to see the Living Dead coming at him as the Skyfish scatter into far fewer numbers about him, and as it lunges for him, he parries its body with his blade, steel grinding against bone as it claws violent for his face.
It's now he notices Barrett's looking a little haggard, and his SP's a little low - does he really need to be spending that much SP? That's inefficient. Is he panicking? (??) (?)
He beats back the Living Dead with his sword and skewers it with a critical hit as Barrett sends that body flying past him. He kicks his heel into the corpse to yank his blade out, and quick. )
I'll handle them. Don't use too many skills.
( The guy with less base defense than he has fingers on both hands (hyperbole) (unless?) should not be volunteering this, but here we are. He's not sure what's gotten Barrett to waste his SP like that (does his armor have a SP expenditure multiplier?) but he can't really dwell much on it - Barrett seems stressed, and they've got enemies on them, so Mithrun will pick up the slack until they're out.
He dives into the Living Dead, getting aggressive with his combos in an attempt to sweep through them fast. It does mean, though, he's competing with Barrett for aggro - and the few that he does peel off Barrett swipe at him something nasty; the lacerations aren't gorey, but they're brutal knocks into his HP. Fortunately, his armor - which he's reinforced - provides a boost just cushy enough that he's not in the red yet.
Mithrun doesn't seem rattled. Whatever hits him, he brings his blade down on, slicing off their arms - just gotta kill them faster than they can kill him. It's always worked before in Areas. )
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I'm fine! I've only used three, it shouldn't be this low-- [He shoves off another couple of the Living Dead, piercing deep as Morgan jumps into his aggro space. It does give him the time to pop open one of the only SP bottles he has, letting it briefly come back to around 90%. Geeze, had he lost THAT much already?
Glancing toward Morgan, Barrett's eyes immediately focus on the HP bar, pushing himself back into motion to try and guide the swarm back in his direction, an allowed swarming to give him control back of the aggro and plenty of hits.
The words just start piling in his head, loud and unignorable. Stupid. Useless. Be glad I didn't sent you to juvi for what you did. Your brothers have nightmares every night because of what you did. Why would any of us trust you to take care of anyone after what you did?
He's not using any skills, and yet his SP still plummets. With a noise of frustration, Barrett sets off a Thorn Dance, enough of a moment to use the trees as cover, downing another SP regain and pulling out an HP bottle as well. When Morgan gets close enough, Barrett's grabbing him by the shoulder and practically shoving the potion into him.]
Teamwork, Morgan. I've only got twenty seconds on this Brandish, so don't get swarmed this low--
[A Sky Fish comes in to clip him, and down goes his SP once again with another cruel yell into his mind's eye, though Barrett's lance rapidly follows suit to skewer the thing out of the air with a look that is quickly bordering rage.
Ten seconds. Five.
Brandish is on cooldown, and the enemies start to run wilder.]
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Regardless, he doesn't fight Barrett for the aggro once he steps in to take it back, approving regard in his gaze once he sees Barrett's HP and SP back up - good. That's all he really intended to do, anyway; give Barrett a chance to breathe and reorient. He's no less aggressive as the aggro shifts back, trying to whittle down the numbers - and meeting some success. But some success isn't quite enough when you only have one multi attack, two mobs, and a broader number of them.
He falls back on his heel as he dips beneath a blow and finally finds a chance to down that potion, his HP jumping back to neat full, considering how little HP he has total. He catches the look of near rage on Barrett's expression, and sees his SP down again. His lips purse and his brows furrowed and he takes up his blade again, knowing for sure there's more amiss than just the strange tick-down in Barrett's SP. )
Barrett— What's wrong?
( Though he doesn't yell or shout, his voice carries loud like a commander's over the havoc - just in time for a particularly nasty Living Dead swipes into his back with a gash, and some great number of sky fish parry up against his blade, straining it back, as another few take its opportunity to slam into Mithrun from the side while his front and back are occupied.
Ah, hell. But it's nothing he's not handled before. He's starting to feel the burn in his HP. At least he has plenty of potions in his inventory, if he can get a second to access it. )
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There's nothing he can do to speed up his cooldown and drag the attention back to him through skills. So with a physical shove of the current Living Dead trying to take a bite of his neck, Barrett crosses the distance, a rush of water as Rue Break cracks forward to break the stance of the Sky Fish closest to Mithrun's weapon, the pole of his staff cracking into the jaw of the Living Dead as he beats it back.]
Hearing things. My dad. [His teeth clench at the swarming of Sky Fish, but he has far more HP than Mithrun can spare right now. He can take it. The words spit acidic and deep. He can take it. It's too many for him to down at once, but he can at least buy some time for Mithrun to regain his footing and manage a multi attack.] It's fine. Making it easier to want these things to stop-- moving-- [Punctuated with him bodily shoving off several of the fish with a wide swipe of his lance to back them further, earning them a little breathing space with Barrett stationed against Mithrun's back.
Stats check Mithrun's HP is back down, and his own SP scrapes near empty again. Damn it. It's either HP or SP... and he chooses the latter, downing yet another potion and letting his health sit at 70%. He won't have enough left to Brandish again at this rate if he doesn't keep an eye on it.]
Something keeps taking my SP. I don't see an effect.
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But he can quarrel later. Barrett takes to his back and beats back what's harrying him for just long enough for Mithrun to knock back a potion in a singular go, nearly choking with the rapacity of it, and sinking down into his stance so he can execute a Koranshuu AoE centered on where they are now - eliminating a few enemies, and making room for more monsters to pick up where their allie's left off.
Using his claymore like a shield and twisting it into a thrust when the tension's just enough, he answers— )
Maybe it's a multiplier. SP skills might be more expensive for you.
( As much as Mithrun would love to watch Barrett's SP bar to test that, his attention is focused forward: he knocks back the most aggressive of the dead on him with a shockwave, and starts focus firing on the Skyfish with the nastiest HP in front of him, even as another dead reaches to grab and drag him to the ground.
He doesn't know what a multiplier would have to do with Barrett hearing his dad, but maybe there's some abstract thematic connection he's not seeing here - but it doesn't matter much. First comes dealing with all these monsters, then they focus on testing the SP drain function. )
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He's not going anywhere. He relies on you too much. Barrett. Are you listening--?? Did I tell you to talk back? Control yourself. If I have to keep you separate until you stop acting like an animal, I will. I'll take your consequences and so will Booker until you learn to listen to your father. Do you understand??
Damn it. Damn it. Though they're still managing to stay standing, the onslaught of overlapping words in his head is becoming unbearable. It's enough that, when Brandish finally lights back up in his toolbar to use again, Barrett isn't even paying attention to the fact that his SP is almost back at empty despite using absolutely no other skills.
The target is painted, and the enemies drawn their attention. Barrett is at 55% health, 2% SP, but he doesn't seem to mind.]
Morgan! Brandish up, start picking them off while I've got them--!
[It takes one wayward bite to tip him over. Stop trying. This is a disgrace to your sister.
HP 52%. SP 0%.]
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A switch flips. The white of his blade rapidly fades, replaced with inky black.
And Barrett -- Mr_Misteaks -- spreads his wings with a guttural, open throated yell, like the roar of an animal on the attack.
Whatever reason and plan he's had before this moment vanishes. All he sees is red. All he feels is pain and hurt and anger anger anger anger, and everything that moves suddenly becomes a target.
Misteaks bares his teeth as his spear starts to rip apart the enemies in front of him with an ease that was missing moments before. Blows against him are glancing, his HP barely budging. But light has left his eyes, and his attacks are hardly efficient. He tears and tears and tears, and when something else throws at him, his hands are just as involved as his weapon, snapping limbs under his grip, tossing enemies into trees.
It's mindless. A ravenous, empty pit left in him of nothing but fury.
Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up--]
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Maybe he would have rethought pressing on if he knew what was meant to happen, but he didn't know, and he drops down just quick enough to miss the haphazard thrust of Barrett's vantablack lance into a body just by him.
Barrett's safe for the moment - a quick glance at his HP confirms that - but the rest of him clearly isn't. He's never seen him like this, even an echo of it - firm as Barrett can be, he always postures like someone willing to bow their head. )
Barrett—
( It's his instinct to grab and reorient, so he does; he finds Barrett's hands, fresh from snapping bones and near red-hot with that same fury (or is that putrid blood?) and he grabs him by the forearm, yanking him suddenly, as if that might snap him out of it.
It's always worth trying, right? )
Barrett, stop—
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There's a grip to his forearm. Sensation, just like the rest, just like the whipping cuts through the air and the bites and claws at his body. His reflex is immediate, a snarling intake of breath as the back of his spear whips around to attempt to punch out one of Mithrun's legs (18). In the same momentum, one hand grabs for his shoulder, twisting and slamming him back against the nearest tree with the crack of bark (16).]
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His breathing shudders, but his mind races quick - beneath Barrett's unfamiliar gaze, not warm but searing, he knows there's no snapping him out of this. He wonders - and he will wonder this again - if Barrett were always capable of such anger, such intensity, or if this were a factor introduced? Could he always find it in him to peel him apart, piece by piece, and tear into him raw?
Fortunate for them just this once, what few monsters remain still follow the lure of Brandish. Three Living Deads take advantage of Barrett's distraction to lunge at him; two to cling, one to attack, as if heralding the arrival of one particularly eerie monster that has come with the mist of the forest: a Magatumkuro of twisted visage and a war hammer to attack.
Whether Barrett engages or not, Mithrun takes advantage of the flicker of distraction to knock back another potion, which takes him back up to 75% - around when Basque would be pestering him to drink another, but he doesn't have that time. He attempts to snap free out of Barrett's grip (15) if he hasn't let go just yet, seeking to put distance between the two of them. Dealing with the monsters could come after he kept himself from death's grip, no matter how familiar its hands. )
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The bite that aims directly for Misteak's face, however, isn't as kind (5).
It's brief, how he falters under the vibrantly sharp and unpleasant sensations - pain, without a name, without a shape. All he knows is reflex, and reflex tells him to make it stop.
Mithrun's shoulder is released as Misteaks grunts in pain, turtling his back as he struggles to brace against the combination of bodies dragging him backwards. One hand comes up to grab his aggressor by the neck, ripping the creature off in a trail of blood and teeth marks as he throws it to the ground with a sickening thud, before following suit with the third in a low sweeping upward stab of his spear, repeated over and over until the creature's grip fades.
His attention doesn't draw back to Mithrun immediately. But his frenzied breathing persists, eyes flicking to the side at the flurried movement of Sky Fish in their remaining clusters, like a rabid and hungry animal. The shine of wings is a more immediate draw than the body at the tree, and Misteaks pursues as though the pain and his 40% health are both of no consequence.]
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He staggers to the side once released from the pressure and the weight and the pain - but the pain radiates back at him like a wave crashing against a wall and returning to shore, and his attempt to move his arm shoots pain sharp through his arm and neck and chest. Fuck. But he doesn't have to care about pain, anyway. A broken shoulder's bad enough, so it doesn't matter much if he makes it worse.
Barrett's HP is erring low, besides, and Mithrun knows he doesn't have the HP or defense to find a way to force a potion into him. DPS would just have substitute as healing.
He hefts up his claymore into both hands, again, setting aside his pain perception and ignoring his faltering grip. The Magatumkuro advances on Barrett while he's distracted with the skyfish, and it's a big enough target that Mithrun doesn't need precise aim - so he dives in, stringing together a combo of every harmful skill he can muster to whittle it down, his gaze flicking back to Barrett's HP with regularity, tracking it.
If Barrett's not done with the fish by the time Mithrun's done with this one, he'll consider joining the fray himself - but he's keeping out of spear's length for the time being, because a max stack of potions won't matter if Barrett knocks him down to zero before he can get one out. )
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Mithrun will see Misteak's HP hovering around 35% by the time he's doubled back into the heart of the forest, a full speed charge - not at him, but at what remains of the Magatumkoro, wings buzzing in an almost piercing frequency as he takes a flying leap to stab the creature in the shoulder. Its current low health due to Morgan's efforts don't seem to make much difference. This large thing is upright and in his way, a threat, a menace.
He will repeat the stab as many times as he can before the undead bodily tosses the Partizan to the side, crashing through tree limbs and hitting the dungeon wall hard enough to blow the wind from his lungs. Misteaks staggers, health creeping into the red. But he's not down yet.]
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He sees the red and he dives in while Barrett staggers, still not yet shaken from the anger possessing him. He runs knocks the warhammer from its grip with the hilt of the sword, the impact running electric up his arm and feeding directly into the bone-split, but it doesn't stop Mithrun from following it up with a brutal slash. It claws at Mithrun with a grip that rends flesh, and that knocks his HP down again - but he's undeterred, the pain unrelenting but unimportant. That was Calamity, and now: Death Bringer. He swings his blade back around for one horrifying sweep into it that slices it right in two, given Barrett had left it already with so little HP - the critical Mithrun lands is enough to dispatch it cleanly.
He stumbles back, breathing hard, and turns his attention fully to Barrett - recalling only at the last second to grab another potion. He has to shift his claymore into his good hand and search with his bad shoulder because he refuses to sheath it - one eye trained on Barrett - and that grits his teeth and fumbles his grip; it's going to take him too long to extract a potion like this.
He could just quit the Area - but would he leave Barrett like this? His weight on his heel as he attempts to rummage, he's like to run if Barrett recalls he exists again. )
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As he stumbles forward with the world coming back into a reddened, furious focus, the creature in his immediate vision collapses. No longer a threat. No longer moving.
All that remains is the howling, and the rustle, and the cold, the mud, the brick, and--
The stumbling motion of only one other left snaps Misteak's head forward. Gaze sharp and vibrant.
The status has not stopped.
With a scrape of metal against dirt, Misteaks stumbles forward, intent on pursuit, like a cat chasing a mouse. Whether he attacks or not depends on whether his quarry starts to run - though he's starting to charge just as before, Lord Partizan are nowhere near the fastest class.]
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If there's one thing Edge Punishers can boast besides DPS at the expense of all else, it's speed. He sees Barrett coming and he's poised to run, so he kicks back the second Barrett starts his imposing advance. It's reminiscent, almost, of their romp as a lion and rabbit; one bad move and Mithrun would probably die.
He doesn't intend to, though.
He darts away behind a thicket of trees not unlike how he'd darted behind the Telophoroi furniture, keeping an eye on Barrett through the branches but not slowing his pace so long as he's being pursued. He swaps off his blade to his other hand; the weight hurts and the pain radiates, but he ignores it. He shoves a hand into his inventory and extracts a potion, bringing him a little up beyond 50%, and lets the glass shatter into the red-barren earth. He'll try again for another potion as he goes, but his priority remains keeping out of Barrett's grasp. )
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At the pause in motion punctuated by the crash of glass, Misteaks pinpoints on the sound to make a mad rush through the thicket despite the damage it causes. The spear is momentarily forgotten as he reaches out with an open hand to blindly grasp for any part of his prey's body that he can reach (12).]
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It's not a bad strategy, until there's not an obstacle to dart behind and pivot his path off of; there's a soft patch of decay at his heel that catches his step, and Barrett's already on him by the time he realizes why his footing's stuck.
He slams quick into a tree to avoid Barrett's grasp (19), but the sharp crunch and curt hiss that follow suggests he rammed his body directly into his broken shoulder, the shockwave of injury awful enough that it dizzies him and forces him to slump, and he drops his weapon in pained reflex. No time to retrieve it - Mithrun looks pale; the broken bones still swelling and taking a toll on his body even as he ignores it, injury worsened by the way he force his body to use what was already broken.
He tries to snap out of it. He kicks off from where he is haggardly - but his heel sinks into the thicket he's in again, still stuck, and his brows furrow in grim annoyance in the shadow of Barrett's raging form. Fuck. )
Cw: strangulation
cw: strangulation
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