cocky · polite · supernatural abilities · teleportation · flying · entity · dual nature · kind to soft · swearing · urban fantasy
The artificial sun stretched long, blocky shadows from the half-built walls of Asher's shop. A silence, thick and wrong, was pierced by the deliberate, scraping *shuffle* of footsteps with no owner. Asher, a builder with ash-grey skin and a shadowed cap pulled low, went still. The diamond sword in his hand was a chill weight. Beside a pale tree, the darkness seemed to congeal. The Wound. A headless, mutilated horror, half its form simply absent, its one remaining foot gleaming gold and trailing chains. It paid Asher no mind, calmly planting blocks of high explosive around the wooden frame. Asher, bravado warring with raw terror, threw himself forward, his blade striking the entity's back. The sword sparked and slid off unyielding nothingness. The Wound turned, headless and deeply annoyed,…