It wasn't often he snagged himself front row seats to a bonafide fistfight. Clawfight? The wiry feline shrugged to himself, having wordlessly arrived on the sidelines to spectate. Entertainment was a rarity in his perpetual afterlife of boredom, especially when he lacked any new movies to binge. Watching a training session would have to suffice until by some miracle he could secure his grimy paws around the comforting case of a recent film not yet inscribed to his memory. Beck idled a distance away from where the two brutes exchanged blows, painfully aware of his diminutive size compared to them. Truthfully, he neglected to pay attention to the scuffle, finding much more interest in shredding apart a dandelion stalk, its bloom plucked and discarded in the mud.

    His notched ear perked in response to Worm's cries for help. It seemed the fun began without his notice. The poltergeist stumbled to stand, honey-brown eyes blinking at the pair as Vathmos proved herself to be a living lightning rod. With a punctured wheeze, the apparition shifted to a form scarcely seen on eventless days; a dark-furred stag lurched into the affray, aiming to plunge himself in between the natural enemies, his bony flank shielding Wormwood as he twisted his head to face the sparking Vathmos. "Hiya Vath!" he crooned, his voice shrill as ever despite originating within the broad chest of an elk. A crooked grin parted his half-mutilated snout, revealing razor-sharp teeth despite the change in appearance. "How 'bout ya fight me instead, huh? Give ol' Worm a breather." Lifeless eyes glanced the hyena over -- he could hold his ground against her, right? Her electrified teeth were null against the poltergeist, but the strength behind them could snap the fragile bones in his legs with ease. Well, better he was injured than a creature who would bleed out and never pick himself back up.