skill: warrior

Mist and sand swirled together like a tornado during a sandstorm. Something which Ezra had never before seen in his life. As he drew nearer it made his eyes sting further, his nose, his throat! Far different from the icy winds which made his eyes water and his nose drip so much it might slip off his muzzle.

Red eyes squinted, he decided to only open them briefly before his attacks. Simple enough - his targets were great big and blue. As he came to notice, those who he might consider ally were mostly all white, easy to distinguish in the haze. Then, a flying of hooves and horn. During the fight, Ezra did not quite realize there was some sort of deer (?) fighting at their side.

"Teeth" sunk into the back of Ezra's neck at his nape, as his own jaws met the lower portion of the blue-beast's neck. Stinging pain that burned like fire. Ezra battled on.

Skill: Warrior

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Draugur Baal

idk if any of this makes any sense... I am getting over being very sick... LOL

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Voices raged in his head, a new sensation compared to the silence and echoing of his own voice bouncing around crevices that twitched with pure evil. Blinking his ears pressed backwards as the trio raced into the fray, bodies flashed as blue beasts raged against them. They turned and twisted like the clouds as they bent towards the trio and pressed down on them.

Massive beasts didn't scare the big boy as he pressed forward, his eyes narrowed as he pulled himself upwards and pushed against colds blue bodies like they didn't fall apart like sand under his paws. They wrapped around them, bit them, scratched at them, with frozen icy gusto as they raged.

He also raged, eyes flashing across from bodies in front of him to his brothers, wondering how they were fairing, but only for a moment before he continued to slash with his jowls. Abaddon opened them and snapped them closed on blue sands, punching with feet as he fell to the earth with a loud thump. His mouth slashing and twisting as he boxed his way into the massive mess further.


More! He shouted as pale jaws laughed and tossed themselves backwards. Abaddon was not skilled in fighting but he certainly had instincts that kicked in and set his body into motion. He could feel the icy burning against his skin as claws ripped at his body, could feel sizzling of fur and skin in frozen jaws as they bit back and tried to push the grouping of animals off them.

Skill — Warrior

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.

Take me back to when laughter was endless, and my dreams were bigger than my fears.
3-3-3 OC
Warrior

6/30

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Speech Emotional Actions Thoughts

Brynhild stood in the shade, staring at the beasts that stood within the fog and sand; each breath burned from the sand wafting into her nostrils. Soon a burning anger settled in her chest; these things had to go and had to go now. With a low growl and her legs launching her forwards, Brynhild charged for a bear, teeth snapping for legs and claws reaching to wrap around the throat of the being.

She could feel the burn of claws, but no wounds opened, only the burn and tingle of it. She was curious about this, why they left no wounds, but nonetheless, she appreciated the lack of wounds for now. Scars were always fun, but not fun to heal, so the Suneater twisted, digging her teeth into the shoulder of the beast. Ripping her head backwards before snapping around throat, teeth digging in, hoping to taste the metallic taste of blood but was quickly disappointed.

A pain shot up her torso, feeling claws hit skin but not break it; she was launched to the side with a swipe of the bear's leg. Everything ached as she skidded across the sand, feeling the hot sand build up under fur. She grumbled lowly and scowled a bit as she pulled herself to stand. She'd been thrown before; this was nothing. If anything, it was fun, feeling the adrenaline rush of being thrown, expecting injury, expecting it to hurt, and it only stinging a little in her joints. Brynhild quickly turned to the bear, her tail wagging with excitement, and in seconds she was launching herself for the face of the beast.

Her legs stretched out, teeth digging into the face of the beast, right where its vacant eyes lay, ripping what she had ahold of away and dropping down to the sand once more as it burst into sand and slowly became one with the earth again. With a sharp huff, the dame turned tail and stalked off to find shade, to cool off, and to observe to see if anyone needed help of sorts, her tail curled tight, and she folded over to chew and pull sand from her sides and stomach.

Stupid sand, always sticking to my fur..So fucking annoying.

Skill - Warrior

Many and more joined the fray, and Nakhtmin was glad for their foe's consistency of colour and scent — elsewise it might be difficult to tell friend apart! He charged another spirit-beast, and bucked hard when its fellow lunged atop his flank.

He threw his head back with a bellow, dislodging them with a well-aimed slash of his horns, and rounded on the braver attacker. Let them come, let them all come! He was Nakhtmin, and this desert would be his claim when he sent them fleeing in terror!

skill: warrior

Heat of the desert around him met with burns like fire at his heels each time one of these blue, bear-sized beasts struck him. Adrenaline fueled the yearling but even in this, he felt his head spinning. The oppressive heat heavy as hell on the norseman.

He swung wildly, stumbling, frothing in his rage and at last he would seize the throat of one of these creatures which hissed and cursed in some unknown tongue from his heinous, unrecognizable face. And then it fell to sand.

It was in this moment, between confusion and unrelenting anger did he hear the bellow of Abaddon. Yes, more! And so the barbarian hunted down another.