// go get your gun, get your gun //
It’s a large mental battle as more take to the skies and he’s reminded of the vortex from the night not too long ago. It’s also reminiscent of when he’d been their buffet. And much to his surprise, or perhaps disassociation, he gives into his fittings instincts as he had with Maea when he’d had his moment of crisis.
The hound knows what to do, as does the ancient’s bloodlust, and his orange eyes take note of the way Isla swats at them to drag them lower and avert their course. As more rise, the butcher both flinches and snarls, angling himself in a more defensive position as one soars toward him. Tail curling, ears pinned, the butcher snarls a smoky warning before expelling fire out at the gore crow. It singes its feathers, causing the bird to lose the ability to gain some height — forcing it to glide low. And while the butcher tries his best to compartmentalize it, he focuses on it, targeting it as he gives chase.
The corvid begins to panic, its glide almost janky as it comes down to the ground, searching for a cranny to slide into. But the fyrhund is too fast, pouncing on it beneath his fiery paws, and he hesitates as it croaks and screeches. A whine of near pain escapes him despite the corvid having no ability to bite him from how he’s pinned it by its wings.
The hound knows what to do, as does the ancient’s bloodlust, and his orange eyes take note of the way Isla swats at them to drag them lower and avert their course. As more rise, the butcher both flinches and snarls, angling himself in a more defensive position as one soars toward him. Tail curling, ears pinned, the butcher snarls a smoky warning before expelling fire out at the gore crow. It singes its feathers, causing the bird to lose the ability to gain some height — forcing it to glide low. And while the butcher tries his best to compartmentalize it, he focuses on it, targeting it as he gives chase.
The corvid begins to panic, its glide almost janky as it comes down to the ground, searching for a cranny to slide into. But the fyrhund is too fast, pouncing on it beneath his fiery paws, and he hesitates as it croaks and screeches. A whine of near pain escapes him despite the corvid having no ability to bite him from how he’s pinned it by its wings.
Astaroth
// and lets find out what it does //
