[center][h1][color=lightslategray]Ceiran Strivelyn[/color][/h1][/center][hr]

His train of thought was hurtling through the black coffee air surrounding the warehouse. It glared blue against the sinister steel, and violently heaved to a halt at the sight of three forklifts. There were imps on top, too. Oh.

He was facing the rightmost forklift. He wouldn't stop the lift, but both he and the Imp were [i]much[/i] lighter than the lift. He unfurled pearly grey wall off to his right, extending it forward. Waiting... waiting... [i][color=lightslategray]Now![/color][/i]. The wall gave a violent jerk to the right. The forklift rolled on past as Ceiran and the Imp were thrown to the right. They both hit the ground with a meaty thunk, and Ceiran felt his shoulder briefly popped out of its socket. [i][color=lightslategray]"Gah! Fucken... argh.."[/color][/i]
He clutched at his shoulder. Something had torn, and it wasn't just skin.

The Imp was much worse off, though. It had also taken the fall and the momentum, all while unprepared. Not to mention it was smaller, and had weaker bones. It was curled in a tight ball, just whimpering. Honestly, Ceiran just felt like doing the same thing, but he couldn't risk the Imp getting back up. He scrambled over to the incapacitated demon, and choked it to unconsciousness. It hardly put up a fight, and Ceiran couldn't help but pity it.

He sprawled on the ground after this, clutching his arm.