[ the only thing jayce consciously knew about hunting was what serph was teaching him, and let's just say— jayce was a greenhorn. the only way he manages with more than average results if he allows instinct to take hold, and that requires a slip in his psych. jayce treads the half-human track of his assault first. the mercury hammer's blast connects, its glitch seizing the demon's frame in static ripples and if it doesn't do damage immediately, jayce knows it will. perhaps it already has. jayce does not exactly move out of the way of the attack; he prefers to guard his hammer's success than his own safety, and that comes with reason. claws slice right through his collar and jugular like brittle paper; only some blood splatters through, clearly not enough from such a soft, succulent spot. prismatic fluid spews from the lacerations like thick slime, as dark and reflective as an oilslick. jayce does not yield.
it barely makes him flinch.
the hammer's image is faulty, hums, crests out of sight and back as he throws the weight of it from one hand to another in a switch, to swing into a sideways arc that aims for the monster's preserved side. if he could make somewhere softer to bite through, its all he needs. if he's to do something proper with his biology, he should take advantage of it. being undead may have its perks afterall. ]
no subject
it barely makes him flinch.
the hammer's image is faulty, hums, crests out of sight and back as he throws the weight of it from one hand to another in a switch, to swing into a sideways arc that aims for the monster's preserved side. if he could make somewhere softer to bite through, its all he needs. if he's to do something proper with his biology, he should take advantage of it. being undead may have its perks afterall. ]