Grim thoughts had been clashing inside his skull ever since he promised to retrieve Vladimir. For once, Beck was concerned over the safety of his peers, with it being blatantly obvious that many of them had no idea how to fight or even defend themselves. It would be embarrassing to charge headfirst into a raid only to have the spineless creatures around here end up slaughtered and blaming him. Surely, they were worrying along with him. If they failed, they were all going to join him in the afterlife sooner than anticipated. A dark chuckle trembling with anxiety slipped from his lungs as he sulked through the overgrown town, uprooting up tufts of moss with every childish kick in his step. The problem at hand was an easy one to solve: his members needed to be trained. Except they didn't have much time, now, did they? Vlad could be dead by the time they wrapped up their last-minute training montage, and it would be a tragic waste.

    Well, any preparation was better than nothing. The poltergeist decided to say, "to hell with it," and spent most of the morning within the neglected junkyard's fencing, hauling and sculpting piles of garbage into saggy heaps, and clearing away enough trash for room to actually stretch one's limbs. It wasn't perfect, and flies still buzzed in his ears at any chance they got, but it would have to do. After rounding up as many people as he could catch the attention of with whistling shouts, Beck led them beneath a shredded section of the junkyard's fence, having to wrench back the bristly wire to extreme lengths in order for the larger creatures to slip under. He followed last, nonchalantly phasing through the barrier without acknowledgement of the seemingly impossible feat and stalked towards the front of the crowd. Swatting away at particularly annoying bottle fly, the boy hurried through his expected speech about what exactly was happening, hooked claws curling into the spongy earth. "I said not too long ago that we were supposed to be goin' on a raid or somethin' to get Vlad back. But then I realized that most of y'all dunno how exactly to fight. So, guess what, losers, we're gonna learn." Clicking half-exposed teeth together in a nervous tic, a clammy paw waved behind him to gesture at the multiple pillars of appliances and trash. Crude targets lined up like a deranged city planner had designed them. "I want y'all to pretend that these hot stacks of garbage are the pirates we're gonna hafta fight -- just show me what exactly ya can do and I'll give ya tips on how to not end up a war casualty. Hell, ya can even fight with each other if ya think you're real fancy." With that, the mangy commander side-stepped out o their line of fire, a split brow quirked in interest to see if they weren't all as wimpy as they seemed to be.

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

Fenris watched the others and tilted his head, while there were any number of ways to conventionally bring down an opponent without resorting to powers, might as well show what he could manipulate in case specific talents were needed hm?

the wolfish creature hummed to himself before blue fire engulfed his target, the flames that left his mouth licking at the edges of his teeth lightly after he'd directed it and incinerated said target.

/low muse.

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