Corrupted Asset, of broken reality and inconceivable edge 🚫💾
The wind was knocked from his lungs as a large piece of debris struck him in the back, and a jolt of pain shot up from where his knee struck the flagstones below. His blade slipped, bright sparks flying as it slid across from him, towards the thing. What was it? How..? Kavull was the other guard stationed with him tonight, an older man, always had a kind smile and a pat on the back at changeover. He watched as Kavull screamed, reaching towards him, his leg skewered by the creature. His body… changing. Like the shadows were being stripped away from his skin, his silhouette bending, flickering, peeled back like loose onion skin. The colour was stripped from the gash in his throat, the bright crimson stolen away and leaving a milky spill of bright white. Was this even a creature? His eyes couldn’t focus on where he knew it was, perched at cliff's edge, where he could see it ripping poor Kavull apart from his very essence. It was like an impression, a vengeful absence had come to haunt their road. In its pulsating chitin, there were reflections of… shapes, bright lights. Dark ocean, pale trees. His mind raced, struggling to take it in. He scrambled on his arms and knees towards his sword, adrenaline too high to feel the bruising under his skin. He reached the blade, wrapping his hand around its handle tightly. It felt wrong - shifting, fluttering. Rough lines marred its once clean edge, and the way the light fell on it was uncanny. Unfinished. The thing screamed, and all the air rushed back into his lungs. It held Kavull, limp, in two smaller front claws. His body was pale, his form rough, unpolished, unrendered. It dropped the corpse to the ground, and its legs unhooked from the cliff, sending more debris tumbling down. The legs were long, sharp, like an insects, polished like metal. He still didn’t understand how this thing was, how it could be. He held his blade in front of him, hands trembling. The sword flickered again, all the colour draining for a moment, the lines that made up its edge vanishing, reappearing. The creature charged, ground tearing beneath its claws to meet him, sword held high.
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