My clothes were smoldering, and the smell of ozone and burnt hair wafted into the air of my vicinity. This was unlike any backlash I've ever experienced: it was very powerful, and more than enough to have sent me to my grave. But here I was standing tall, completely unharmed.
At first I could not wrap my head around the fact that I just shrugged off nature's backlash like it was nothing more than a tickle, but a skeleton swinging its bone club straight for my head brought my attention back into focus.
I stepped back, then I kicked forward, smashing my foot through it's ribcage; as it's entire form shot backwards like a soccer ball. At this point I was right at the rear of the divided skeleton division, meaning we were cut off from the rest of the army. And we still haven't figured out a way go permanently kill this things, unless of course we focus on draining them of their soul flames.
