A drifting Perth stood against two rogue Yao Guai. The stuff of nightmares. Claw fisted, mouths full of shining carnivore teeth, carrying only the desire for a good meal. They moved as a hive, their feet kicking up clouds of dust as they advanced, claws glinting in the sun.
“Alright,” he said, a quiet salute to his dance partners as he wove around a green cloak, coat trailing him like a shadow. He might not walk away from this. But they definitely wouldn’t.
His blade spoke much louder than he ever did, over and over.
He had never brought himself to desecrate a human. Or anything even resembling a human. Beastkin included.
But these were no beastkin. No humans.
He broke their advance like oil parting water, the repeating clash of his steel leading the way. A red, viscous film covered the dirt, dust, and rocks when he was finished.
“Alright.” he finished, looking appreciably down at his aetheric weapon. A trail of demon blood trailed from its tip.
Hard to find a bite, most days.
He wondered what they’d taste like.
(Due to the nature of the post, involving minor combat and lore as a catalyst for character growth, I completely understand if this should be rewritten or removed, and staff can let me know if they wish for me to. Also, its better than a toilet.)
I am The Jagged Shadow, The Ravens Mist, The Blade Dancer, The Spell Sunderer, and the wrecker of your shit.