Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-19164168-20160925203247/@comment-25073873-20161023145009

Krysaiel smiled and raised his hand, clicking his fingers, as the lightning didn't even reach him. It just fizzled out inches before it could touch his body, like there was some sort of barrier that devoured the lightning itself. It was quite obvious that the difference between him and the Thalmor wasn't something a human mind could comprehend.

"Seven Thalmor. Seven dead people" noted Krysaiel quietly, as he simply blinked his eyes, not even moving his hands. White threads formed around each Thalmor, then their body parts started contorting, breaking, ripping off. Whole bodies twisted, broke and tore apart, before the remnants exploded from the forces applied to them.

Krysaiel just stood, unaffected, his hair swaying in the wind that his explosions generated.

Freya instinctively brough her arms up to shield herself from the massive change of wind pressure. She didn't want the body parts to go flying into her face either.

"Seriously, Krysaiel, why are you getting so ... extreme with your methods?"

She didn't get an answer.