A disembodied voice commands for the death of the faceless beasts. It was Taliba's purpose to carry out the will of the gods.

And so death would be dealt.

Frenzied streams of sand whip through the air and attempt to deter the half-ogre in her charge forward. She has lived with grit in her eyes and lungs since she could walk. Nothing could dissuade the medjay from burying her teeth into the thick neck of the beast closest to her. The monstrosity bellowed, opening a hidden maw to set upon her with eerie teeth. Its kin circled with the raging wind to flank her.

She can hear those that have gathered against the beasts rally themselves forward. A bugling call that was not in a wolf's voice, but in the wolf's tongue, declared themself a comrade against the beasts. So the gemsbok was blessed by the gods, how fortuitous.

One of Jakten's youths calls for more in his bloodlust.

The teeth that raked the medjay's pelt left not wounds but lines that burned as though fire was set under her skin. A furious snarl rose in her throat as she threw the weight of her body forward and up. Her own teeth working to sever the abomination's throat. She can feel the beast bleed sand into her maw. It only fuels the half-ogre's resolve.