Well, this was spiraling out of control. That was fine, everything was fine. So much for your lousy plan, Becky. Now was not the time to bicker with his own thoughts, as multiple creatures stepped from the shadowed foliage and readied themselves behind him. It was enough to snap the boy from his horrid shrieking, claws still hooked around the bell's cord as panic swelled in his burning chest. He bit back a hiss, wanting to tell them that it was supposed to be an ambush, that his killers did a better job at surprising the enemy then they did. When Argus and Guru slipped up like the eels they are, Beck offered a defeated smirk towards everyone present and yanked his claws form the bell. Despite their early failures, they weren't the main threat. Unlike Pincher and his selfishness, he wasn't willing to send his followers to their demises. No, Beck fully anticipated a retreat, and as soon as they provided a long enough time slot for others to retrieve Vlad, he would back down from the pitiful distraction. It was a functional strategy, and it would have worked, too, if it weren't for the unknown fact that Vladimir was dead.

    He squinted at the two females as if attempting to pinpoint their reason for existence. Just to be annoying, he supposed. "An example? Thought that the mighty bad-ass pirates would've already had that handled. Or are y'all yellow-bellied?" the poltergeist hoarsely giggled in his infamous deranged manner, vocal chords akin to crickets rubbing their scratchy wings together. All the yelling had taken a toll on him; his unnecessary breathing was ragged and gasping, accompanied by worsening coughs. By the time, Guru spoke down from her imaginary throne, Beck's matted flanks shuddered with his struggle to regain air. He couldn't have a coughing fit right in the middle of a fight, that was just stupid. They must have thought he had asthma or something. He hardly noticed the suggestion of her words, nor even answered. Instead, he hunched despite his efforts not to make a scene of his coughing, hacking and wheezing and eventually retching, as disgusting as it was. All the screaming had irritated his feeble lungs, sloshing around with a centuries-old mixture of inhaled river water and tar-like blood. So his recreated system reverted to the primitive instinct of forcing the fluids out, resulting in his awful gagging. Before Guru could recoil from the coughing poltergeist, he sputtered up the diluted blood from his lungs. Swishing the solution as well as he could in his half-exposed mouth, Beck crudely spat at her feet, presumably spattering her dainty paws. The blood writhed as if its own entity, and with globs of antifreeze joining the chemical cocktail, the faintly blue spit staining the earth and Guru's paws. He himself seemed disgusted by the blood-and-toxin-tinged phlegm, but he supposed his mind just had to roll with it and catch up to his impulsive actions. Stumbling back, he smeared away the residue dripping from scarred lips with the back of his arms and twisting his features into a particularly nasty grin, he rasped with a fading rattle, "Hope ya like that, too, ya sicko."

    Then the man of the hour arrived, the notorious bitch of the high seas. Or at least Pincher wanted to be well-known, apparent by his snobbish demeanor and rambling words. He could tell that Pincher was lying. He hadn't seen Vlad or assisted in his apparent beating because of one small detail: Vlad didn't have any eyes -- a fact Beck was keen to notice the first time he glanced at the cougar. The way the fabric lay on his face revealed to subtle folds where eyelids should have been lifting it up. It'd be difficult to mistake a gouged socket for a nose unless you were that intoxicated by rum or a poor liar. As soon as Pincher waltzed into nearsighted view, Beck nearly lunged at him on sight, saving any challenging words for when he was standing over the doberman's corpse. But really? Monologuing? The commander's face screwed up into an expression of disgust and confusion, electricity bristling down his form as if itching for punches to be thrown and not just pointless jargon. "Do ya even hear yourself when ya talk?" he mumbled, to more himself then anything, but immediately forgot the conversation when an opening appeared. Girls' night out! Go wild! As soon as [member=66]PINCHER[/member] uttered his typical nonsense, the poltergeist lurched forward, apparition gladly molting its feline disguise to take on the shape of a coyote. A rather practical trick up his sleeve, to not own a body and instead have free reign over his form. Jaws lined with razor-blade teeth posed to clamp down on Pincher's throat just beneath his chin where he would hang, the shapeshifting entity would not only just bite down hard enough to feel his own teeth through the tissue, but he would also violently shake his head with fangs hooked into flesh in order to tear, shred, and sever. He was aiming for arteries, and he wanted to see the captain gush crimson from his jugular. By the time Pincher managed to throw Beck off, his neck would look like it had been mangled by a chainsaw.

✯ — BOYS LIKE US DON'T SHINE SO BRIGHT

khaol was entirely against capturing others, he hated it with every fiber in his body, and yet, he showed none of that hatred upon his approach. in fact, it was amusement that brandished the black panthers bright hues. pinch-bitch? a goofy grin slipped across the panthers maw, what a funny name to call their captain. although it wasn't all that smart, or original, and if they were seriously going to just stroll up here like they owned the place, well, they really must have death wishes. "pinch-bitch," it was murmured amusedly beneath the panthers breath. the way his lips remained curled into a grin was almost sickening, then again, that's what they were right? sick fucks. he may as well look the part. he didn't know where these guys came from, and, nor did he particularly care in that current moment.

no, in that current moment, he was more focused on the idea of a fight. he hadn't fought in ages, and yet, he found his skin crawling with excitement at the prospect. it seemed they were going to go straight for the captain, to khaol, that was a stupid idea. to take someone out you were better off taking away their protection first, focus on those with them and then go after the leader, after that, everything was likely to fall into place. they were stupid and irrational, and they had also rather clearly either underestimated the typhoon or overestimated themselves. the weird cat to whatever the fuck he was thing had shifted and then he was charging at pincher, and without thought, the panther was suddenly in motion. [member=67]beck.[/member] he was launching himself forwards, shoulder aimed to knock the ghost thing out of the way, the panthers build up of muscle hopefully enough to send him a good distance and allow for the panther to balance himself. if succesful, he'd try to launch himself at the creature and tear his hooked claws across its throat.

✯ — MALE. THE TYPHOON. HARD. REF. BIO. — ✯

▼ — when the weak court death, they find it.

/Luci won't be in this raid since Fenris is here, I'll have to rotate  em or smthn for each raid.

well six on five now, slightly more even odds it seemed.

Fenrisulfr did not roar or bellow or howl his way onto the scene as one might expect a war deity might - no he simply strode after Amunet's own impact, the nine foot canine-draconic like creature appearing out of the smoke hurled up from the fire and fighting in a quiet menace, eyes hidden behind the mask gained from beck's little flight of fancy, glanced around - he did not care for being recognised but an intimidation tactic was an intimidation tactic whether it worked or not, despite it he was found of the idea - little sister Lillith had done such a thing once wearing the skulls of her enemies - the fire light caught on his obsidian grinning mask, the lone glowing 'eye' flickering as the metallic indent caught the light.

he did spare a thought that fighting beside Amunet and her more draconic form was reminescant of days gone by fighting beside his brother or his father - both in their chosen skins a dragon - but it passed, his eyes instead finding another about to attack another of his fellows he yet to have a name to place for.

Fenrisulfr's eyes narrowed and the much larger beast aimed a swift swipe [member=83]Papercutter[/member] in hopes to intercept the jackal from attacking and maybe cause the other to stumble back from the force behind it, the other already had their own opponent to deal with and another aiming for them - if the war wolf could lessen the dogpile, he'd settle for that.

/bleh I haven't raid posted in ages aha

▲ — MALE. TANGLEWOOD. VERY HARD. REF. BIO. — ▲