My fists are fine, it's just my soul's a little bruised

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us Different strategies, different methods; all in all as long as the rats ended up carcasses, Deimos didn’t much care. These weren’t cunning disciples of warriors; they were creatures influenced by drive and necessity. So while Colt’s arrow plunged into the second rat, leaving it momentarily stunned, stupefied, and now sporting a massive wound its side, it kept going – a consideration that might bog things down a bit. With one electrocuted, and two with arrows sticking out of their forms, any onlooker might believe this would be a heady impact – in some proportions, perhaps. But they kept coming, and even as the Sword sent his lightning gaze straight into the fourth rat’s frame, it still maintained life. With a vague huff of irritation and a click of his beak, his eyes narrowed, fully intending to maintain the distance and power between the group and himself. But that left Colt at a disadvantage, for they were heading her way, limping and gimping. Granting himself some time and space, he swooped downwards, plucking the first rat entirely off the ground and into his talons. There was a surprised squeak before he was into the air again, already striving to alleviate its breath with the crush of his grasp. Rat 1: 356/356 (Deimos has a hold of it) Rat 2: 326/356 Rat 3: 326/356 Rat 4: 144/356 the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left