True Monsters [Sinistrari + Blonde Panther + Beefish]

Griskin's spirit floundered within his body, he paused, bewildered. The anticipation which was piquing in the dark had very suddenly come reining down as complete mayhem. Men shouted and scurried, hurling themselves around the camp in search of trespassers. The wind-seed's dust devil had thrown them into action. Subconsciously wringing his spear in one hand, Griskin catapulted himself forward; right into the chaos. Silver's whooshing breath encompassed all of them, and while they concentrated on the dragon-winged monster, tried to perceive him, Griskin thrust the wooden middle of his spear against a little cluster of men. They toppled to the ground, but quickly scrambled back into something like a formation. Flinging growls and snorts at them like foreign insults, Griskin jabbed the spear in the air.

Bandits encircled him, steel blades reflected the night's celestial light like windows into the sacred realm. Grudd the Octorok found his way among their feet, and rumbled with rage. Anger turned to terror as one of the men swept it up by a tendril, put a knife to the cephalopod's belly.

"No." Griskin exploded forward, used his size to burst through the circle, tackled the man who held Grudd hostage. He could feel their cold metal hover over his back.

Fortunately, Silver wasn't as blind as the humans were in this poor lighting. Sure, he saw poorly, but his senses of hearing and smell hadn't left him. He heard Grudd squirm and protest, and Griskin growl angrily, and knew something had gone wrong. Well, the Moblin and the Octoroc couldn't keep a hole for him to fly out through with Datura if they were in trouble, so instead of continuing his flight, he dove downwards, spear in hand. He screeched, digging the tip of his spear into the man who had approached Griskin from behind, and took a swipe at another man close by, before flying off again and heading towards Datura's scent.

He found her, but there was something in the way. He sniffed the air again, his eyes narrowing in an attempt to see the man standing between them. That was a very big man, but he could always try it. He inhaled deeply, only for the man to reach forward and grab his snout, holding it shut. "I dun think so, beast. Yer the one going down." With that, he threw silver away by his snout, the Aeralfos landing painfully on his chest and rolling over a few times. Finally, he just lay there, clutching his snout and gasping for breath.

Griskin didn't skip a beat - adrenaline coursing through him. He brought down a fist into the face of the assailant beneath him, there was a sickening crunch of broken bones, before the moblin snatched Grudd from the man's arms. He jumped up from the ground, spear in hand, and saw that the pack of men were torn between himself and Silver. Griskin scowled as two of them approached, snarling like beasts.

Grudd jumped to the aid of Griskin, stones prepared in its belly, huffing in the way it always did before a barrage. It inhaled, white eyes darting between foes, and fired a rock into the gut of an enemy. The moblin went jabbing away with the safe end of his spear, probably rupturing their insides despite the intended non-lethality ; he tried not to think about that.

"Silver, ya got her?" Another wooden jab into a man's chest.

Nothing.

He frowned, the men were groaning all around. But some weren't down yet, they were still hunched around a clearing - one with the unmistakable smell of Datura. They were chortling and cursing. One of the humans was particularly large, maybe as tall as himself. Reptilian wings were splayed across the dusty ground before them.

"Silver?" He saw the little blade winking in the night, high above the big man's head. He was ready to plunge.

A stone smacked straight into the foe's wrist, and he dropped the knife to clutch at his arm. Grudd wriggled in a proud sort of way before scuttling towards the enemy. Griskin followed, his spear righted with the blade trap at the end. He aimed for their limbs.