Ugh.

Kellson took a quick stock of himself. Head—pained, bleeding; limbs—tingling, probably asleep; weapons—somewhere in the mist, ‘cept for a knife; general—not good.

He frantically looked around through the mist. This wasn’t going well. Sword…sword…there!

It lay on the grass, smoking. He scrambled after it.

Something purple shot in front of him.

“Jesus!”

He slid feet first towards the sword as violent violet sparks appeared in the mist, circling around him and shooting at any visible skin, especially his face. He tried to raise his arms to fend them off, but it hurt… He cried out, huddling in a ball ask the sparks got bigger and started hitting his armor. He fumbled with the catch and threw it off. It was better to be open to attacks then sizzle like a hot hamburger. Some of the lightning, still getting bigger, zipped off after it, but most still kept railing his body, scorching his skin. Screaming, he raised a hand and blasted a line of energy through the sparks. The smaller ones disappeared in the golden light, but the large stayed to attack him. He rolled over and over on the ground, trying to catch them under his body and shove them into the dirt. Finally, blessedly, the attack stopped. Kellson was trembling uncontrollably from the charge. Shakily, he got up and staggered over to his sword while recharging a fist with godly energy. Where was that goddamned monkey, he was going to catch it and ram this light down its throat, the bastard…

He heard a cackling through the mist, some growling, and another scream. Ika wasn’t doing well, either. The monkey was out there, as was the wolf. Damn all of them. Kellson turned to leave, to fly away, get out before he got it in the form of spikes in the throat. The monkey probably knew where he was; he’d been yelling loud enough. And he didn’t know where the monkey was. Yes. Time to go.

He extended his wings to their fullest span, preparing to depart. Then he stopped.

Duh. The wings. Idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He flew up into the sky, over the mist, and started beating his wings as fast as he could. It wasn’t his best, far from it; the electricity from the attack had left him barely able to pick up the sword, much less fly for long. The fog cleared a bit under the rhythmic pulse of his wings. Bingo. Heartened, he began flapping harder rather than faster, long, strong strokes that you could hear as a whump, flap, whump, flap. The mist thinned considerably.

“YA-HAAAA!”

The monkey shot out of the lessening fog, nailing Kellson in the side and slicing at his now unprotected chest. Blood spurted over both of them. Kellson screamed in pain and lashed out with a fist, catching the monkey on the side of the head. They both fell to the ground.

The monkey was up a lot faster than Kellson. The young man slowly raised himself up with his elbows. He should’ve left. Thunder boomed again, much louder than before. Too late to bail now…

OoC: I have to say it: Kellson says, "I am SO TIRED of this MOTHERF***ING MONKEY ON THESE MOTHERF***ING PLAINS!"

I couldn't resist. Proceed.

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Kellson (Deceased). Johnny Bones (Only Technically Deceased).A witticism goes here.