// with our one foot in the grave //
He snarls more, sluggish and slow as the ice starts to wear on his volcanic body, permeating the metal and hardened exterior, watching through bright hateful eyes as the fire singes and burns and the curse is aired aloud, and its finally time he has to shift back. But it takes a second in order to do so, a second that has the Maverick joining him and the butcher’s beloved cane, such that when the rest of the group starts to realize what’s happening, Astaroth leaves Danta to utilize his flame as he snags the cane and tries to get a bit of warmth in his blood again. “Can I kill them?” He asks through clenched, sharp teeth.
He bares them next, flipping the cane so that the hooked end faces out and he aims to hook around one of the ice mage offender’s neck to pull him in and lose his balance so that he might slip on his own ice or trip over his knocked out buddy, while Astaroth prepares a strong punch to break the other man’s collarbone, well versed enough in human anatomy to pinpoint the location.
He bares them next, flipping the cane so that the hooked end faces out and he aims to hook around one of the ice mage offender’s neck to pull him in and lose his balance so that he might slip on his own ice or trip over his knocked out buddy, while Astaroth prepares a strong punch to break the other man’s collarbone, well versed enough in human anatomy to pinpoint the location.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
