What felt like years, had only been minutes as the dynamic duo finally appeared over the ridge, signify the end of the plant demons. Marschal raised a hand and drew one more magic circle, to summon the icy swords of a knight's coldest storm. The swords fell from the sky and damaged one of the two corn cobs, leaving one open to run to Marschal and attack him. Despite its feeble attempts, the mage easily dodged the attacks, narrowly being missed by the final body ram. While one was busy though, he faced to the one that was attacking him and landed a few blows to the face on it. He struggled to keep it back though and not ram him more, which limited him to his attacks being head on and quick. Quick enough that it slowed down the second corn cob demon, tripping him the ground a few times that helped deal damage.
A few minutes later, and Marschal had the beast pinned to the ground, where he grabbed a pitchfork and began to repeatedly stab it. Many times over, it ripped the fork from its body and stabbed into it again and again until he was satisfied. By the time he was done, Marschal dusted his hands off of the corn seeds and stood back to his feet to stare at a severely injured demon. In spite of struggling to its feet, its injuries were so severe that Marschal watched as it finally gave into death. He snorted and turned his attention back to the single remaining creature, frowning as the swords continued to pelt it. While those swords did so, the mage snatched up the pitchfork and launched it at the corn demon plant. It landed fairly easily into the plant's body, slicing a few bits off of the creature and landing on the ground.
He would then run at it and slam his fist into its side, which sent it tumbling to the ground, as it was weakened by the swords. Marschal took his pitchfork and stabbed into it, twisting a few times, so as to take chunks of the beast out at a time. He released the farming tool from its victim, then jabbed into the creature again, creating another large hole. The beast did wiggle and scream in pain, kicking and flailing its limbs, as it was trying to get away from him. Marschy, on the other hand, ripped the fork from its body for a third time, and slammed it down into its body again. By the fourth time, the beast was weakened even more and barely moving, and at the fifth time, it passed away. Everything was done. He was free from having to do this job again, and Marschal was sure as hell he would not do it again.
WC: 469
A few minutes later, and Marschal had the beast pinned to the ground, where he grabbed a pitchfork and began to repeatedly stab it. Many times over, it ripped the fork from its body and stabbed into it again and again until he was satisfied. By the time he was done, Marschal dusted his hands off of the corn seeds and stood back to his feet to stare at a severely injured demon. In spite of struggling to its feet, its injuries were so severe that Marschal watched as it finally gave into death. He snorted and turned his attention back to the single remaining creature, frowning as the swords continued to pelt it. While those swords did so, the mage snatched up the pitchfork and launched it at the corn demon plant. It landed fairly easily into the plant's body, slicing a few bits off of the creature and landing on the ground.
He would then run at it and slam his fist into its side, which sent it tumbling to the ground, as it was weakened by the swords. Marschal took his pitchfork and stabbed into it, twisting a few times, so as to take chunks of the beast out at a time. He released the farming tool from its victim, then jabbed into the creature again, creating another large hole. The beast did wiggle and scream in pain, kicking and flailing its limbs, as it was trying to get away from him. Marschy, on the other hand, ripped the fork from its body for a third time, and slammed it down into its body again. By the fourth time, the beast was weakened even more and barely moving, and at the fifth time, it passed away. Everything was done. He was free from having to do this job again, and Marschal was sure as hell he would not do it again.
WC: 469
