Member
Carlyle
Pezzle
mickilennial Lynx
There were a lot of things Lynx detested about physical combat. The bestial way in his body reacted to his surroundings, alerting him to every drop of blood exposed to the air, the clashing of metal that roared louder and louder from the same strikes, the overload of factors to consider, of risks to avoid. When the grand libraries he once resided in told of grand feats they did so with a focus on war above all else, raising it as a testament of glory and courage. Lynx never understood what any of those words meant beyond memorized definitions, and had seen his instincts as something vestigial meant to be hidden. But war had a way of casting all of it aside.
His heart raced to the quick beats of his paws striking the ground, or was it the illusion of a heart, worthless aside from immersing him in this world? He could feel whatever answers he had to that question blurring, overlapping, being overpowered. His jaw wanted to crack bone, his claws wanted to tear through sinew and vein. Who he was was disappearing, replaced by a version of him that he could feel every human see him as whenever an introduction was necessary.
At last he could see the man Sil had been distracting, a Sightless. His four legs sprinted faster.
What have I become?
It came out as a small whisper in his mind. Not even the person he trusted the most would hear it. His eyes felt inseparably drawn to the man's neck, and his joints and the pockets of fat where humans stored their organs.
Or have I... always been like this?
His lithe body pounced like a weapon and the lynx sunk his teeth onto the Sightless Ferris was fighting. Fighting alongside another was where he was in his element, and Lynx made sure to exploit every twitch and turn the man made in shock. A pair of canine jaws and multiple claws all greedily dug into these sudden crevices of flesh, eager to punish the opponent for every move made against Ferris. The man was a far more precise fighter than Octavio, however, and so Lynx found himself taking far more risks with his attacks, creating the moments of chaos his companion and him thrived off.
Lynx crashed to the floor and rolled just as fast after another bite to the man's haunches. He wasn't the only threat in his surroundings. Around him were other cultists, engaged in small and frantic battles with the others. Some of them had begun to notice him.
"Týfurkh, run!" he hissed, slamming his paws against the ground for another charge. The Sightless' calf was exposed.
His jaws clamped around what it could with more strength than he thought possible. If Ferris left him to battle the other cultists, it'd be a simple arc maneuver to tear into the wounded man's face. He gazed at Ferris with the wild eyes of something that was never human. Any feeling of trepidation was gone. All that was left was hunger for the kill.
