>>6088126>>6088127>>6088149>>6088150>>6088151>>6088155>>6088435An impact.
The lights of the world dissipated. The cold skin fluidified into gas and boiling liquid.
No amount of cock, of sweat on the face, of testicles regurgitated, of aboriginal orifices; no amount will ever recover The Horner from the sensorial absence of this moment.
The weight of the entire body landed on his jaw, dislocating it beyond crack and relief. And the trumpets refuse to sing his tragedy, because as long as the feats become myths, and the miserables have their epics usurped, and the bitches howl, and the jaw irreparable remains, dogs without god won't have second chances on the face of earth.
<span class="mu-s"> [WEIGHT OF THE WORLD]
You don't have to, and yet you can.
You are bound to the cement by the soles of your shoes. The motion was eradicated by the eruption of the clash. The legs won't take a single step forward until gravity forgives you. You remain unbalanced on one leg, without support, without solace. Turn your back and destroy him, and then you will run.
[CHOICES] – The Lard has turned to you and taken the first step towards a tackle.
>Recover your balance and continue running forward. The Lard will never catch you with his gut dragging him back through the world's gravity. >Gnarl upon the bones of The Horner. Decimate his existence with violence. >Ask a question and be granted the right choice. [Free action]</span> 