Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-24416658-20151002030554/@comment-26571677-20151007074614

The rest of the Grimm had surrounded them. Perfect.

He said to the boy next to him, "get down"

Without waiting for an answer, he unlocked his Zeracts, the razor-sharp spikes glinting with menace, and he turned on the Dust-ejecting holes between each spike.

As spouts of fire emerged, looking like a dragon's breath, he twirled in place, sending the spinning discs into their dance of death.

As they whirled in the air, Amilanthior kept twirling, making sure that the friction and resistance didn't slow them down, for that wouldn't do enough damage to the Grimm. He was conscious of the feeling of motion-sickness, something he hated, but that was swept away when he saw what the Grimm were suffering.

Those that weren't cut into pieces were on fire, those that weren't on fire were cut into pieces. It was enough, so he slowed down, and upon stopping, retched on the ground, dangerously close to Hafleikr's feet. He could only manage a weak, "sorry" before more of the disgusting liquid came out of his mouth.

"This was not a good day", he reminisced, starting to feel the pain and fatigue of being rammed head on by a Boarbatusk and having his aura broken.

With weak and wobbly legs, he said to his associate next to him,

"Wake me up when I don't look like shit anymore" With that, his vision started to blur, and he fell face-down on the ground.