This is a mess. Explosions and war cries, shots ringing out through the storm, people launching themselves at their enemies... It's beautiful.
A battlefield with corpses only on one side, however, is less so.
Reynard is watching. Of course he's watching. A spirit strolling through the fight, invisible to the mortal eye, bullets passing through him unhindered. A ghost's eye view. The outsiders are forced back, and the mortals rush forward towards their bounty practically untouched. Not a single death for them. It leaves a harsh tang in the air where there should be a intoxicating cocktail. In death all things are equal. Except when there isn't death for all things equally.
The only sign of the spirit's presence might be the sensation of being watched, though that could be the effect of the crows or the adrenaline. Perhaps that too might account for any movement the group sees out of the corner of their eye. Either way, it's gone and they're left alone with their victory once more.
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A battlefield with corpses only on one side, however, is less so.
Reynard is watching. Of course he's watching. A spirit strolling through the fight, invisible to the mortal eye, bullets passing through him unhindered. A ghost's eye view. The outsiders are forced back, and the mortals rush forward towards their bounty practically untouched. Not a single death for them. It leaves a harsh tang in the air where there should be a intoxicating cocktail. In death all things are equal. Except when there isn't death for all things equally.
The only sign of the spirit's presence might be the sensation of being watched, though that could be the effect of the crows or the adrenaline. Perhaps that too might account for any movement the group sees out of the corner of their eye. Either way, it's gone and they're left alone with their victory once more.