Snippet #1496807

Full of ire and contempt the enraged she-beast snarls at the offending creatures. The only denouement in sight is utter massacre to keep her pack safe. In this state Blysse cannot maintain the capacity to fret over what the others must think of her. Back in the clan she was born into with Cassius, werewolves are a disgrace. Revolting hybrids that defile Nature's Law. From her upbringing, unfortunately, it's the only way she can think of herself in the eyes of others from her clan's "wisdom". In feral defense the Dalish werewolf's individual concern is to keep everyone safe. As natural weapons, both claw and fang, shred open a charging hurlock, Blysse howls shrilly from a row of arrows pinned into her right shoulder. Blood begins to trickle amidst her flaxen fur and she whirls around to take down the bold darkspawn who made a remarkable volte-face by trying to flee instead of confront the beast.

He wrapped some of his sister's leftover armoring around his torso and legs before taking up her forlorn weapon; the bow and arrows she left behind after fleeing the camp. Panpipes at the ready Cash followed the others. It comforted him to have the group all on the offense as well as his sister's wild form taking on anything nearby. Readying the pipes he played a song to boost everyone's reflexes, giving them better defense. And in good time as a drake slithers into view. Cash has never seen one in real life but he has indeed heard the stories.

Blysse arches her back and rears up at the sight of the drake. It's perhaps as threatening as Asmara's man-thing. With her young kin in sight her aggression is only heightened tenfold as she displays her teeth to the thing, bristling and inhaling suckled growls. She is not about to let Cash get harmed at the expense of a fire demon.

~~~

Severia had thought it ironic that Antius had hastily expressed wanting to plan something with the group. Perhaps it is because he is not a Grey Warden; when it comes to something as ghastly as darkspawn there simply isn't time for planning during an ambush. Or really any other form of enemy. All she knows is she will use sword and shield to defeat this small group. As she struggled to fend off a few rancid genlocks an earth quaking roar threatened to split the sky open. The noblelady's eyes round in shock at the sight of such a beast. "Drake!" she shouts in alarm.

Few times has she encountered the male species of dragon. Though wingless they do have fire breath and are far more likely to attack than a larger female counterpart. All around the group the darkspawn appear to be falling until only a handful remain. The cave must be a small branch off of the Deep Roads for so few to linger. Severia studies the drake as Blysse unfurls her outward beckoning to the reptile. As she does so she sees a dark blur rush for the drake. "Kujo! Stop!" her voice gives way to a note of panic. She has all the faith in the world for her mabari but not even a wardog could take down a drake.

Kujo, on the other paw, has other plans. He heard his mistress call for him but chose to have selective hearing. The canine barrels for the drake and forms a stocky wall between Blysse and the drake. Staring up at the drake his ears quiver as a faint (too faint for human ears to detect but not for beasts) but anxious cry is sounded from the cave. Kujo stares imploringly at the drake, smelling it has a two-legged companion. He barks gently at the drake, head tilted politely and a paw raised. The mabari is trying to communicate with the drake to calm down and let them through to help those in need.

~~~

The dwarfette shivers lightly in the hovel the darkspawn had abruptly left her. For a few hours they had been forcing the meat of their fallen into her gullet after finding her in the Deep Roads. Until recently they were all around her, some tugging on her hair and others wrenching their claws to open her mouth. Freya made sure to bite a good deal of them to the bone before being drugged by their blood. Now struggling for breath in the dark she shuffles uncomfortably in the metal crate they locked her in.

It stands about three feet high and perhaps two feet wide, forcing her to kneel as a rounded circle at the top allowed her head to be out of the crate. Ankles and wrists chained inside of it she had severely limited range of motion. And for hours she endured their despicable abuse as they attempted to turn her into a brood mother. Freya's body is drenched in aged darkspawn blood and her own cold sweat. She can see her belongings in a chest across from her. The darkspawn left it there to mock her, remind her of what she will never obtain after they turn her. And for some reason they simply ran up one of the tunnels.

She had heard battle; clanging steel, severed flesh, beastly voices and a deep barking. Shivering and exhausted the dwarfette licks her chapped lips. Wincing at the aftertaste of darkspawn blood she collects it in her throat, spitting it out harshly on the ground. "Hhe...", her voice is hoarse after screaming at the darkspawn when she had been captured. But she heard voices, didn't she? She no longer heard the darkspawn. There has to be someone out there, "Hehh...help...help. Help! In here! Guh...get me out!"