Comrades Before Hags

"Power... over... WHELMING!!!" 

A stream of crackling lightning shot forward from the Thunder God's fingertips, obliterating the thick cloud of assumedly flesh-eating insects. 

"Hm," Tycondrius nodded, pursing his lips. The warmth of satisfaction bloomed in his heart. 

The encouragement he gave the Thunder God seemed effective. 

That was good. 

If even a single one of his companions were to fall, he was fairly certain they would all be killed in the minutes following. 

Tycon caught the Thunder God's arm. With the way the shirtless fellow's knees buckled, it was a wonder he was still conscious. 

"You did well. Now, rest," He commanded.

In response, the Thunder God managed to eye out an indignant, "I'll do as you wish."

As there was a lull in combat, Tycon he popped a piece of pork jerky in his mouth.