She really does choose the absolute worst times to remember she's a child...
Despite the ravening horde below them, Razkar actually rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath when the quasi-demonic shade "eep'd" and then fled behind him like any other little girl. Even her chakram were shivering like frightened puppies instead of spinning death given their own strange power.
Ama snuffled her confusion to his side and Razkar grunted as if he understood.
Then again, you didn't have to be an acolyte of the Green Goddess.
"I know, I know, give me moment."
The Myrian turned to the girl and knelt down, putting a hand on her-
"Hsss, fuck!"
-right, right, he forgot that part. Contenting himself to fix her with a solid stare, he spoke, voice just above a whisper.
"Fubuki? Monsters down there? You think maybe... five, could kill me?" A moment's thought and then she shook her head, eyes still wide and frightened. "Maybe... ten?" Another shake, but her brow began to furrow, sheer curiosity overriding her fear. "How about twenty? That do it?"
A shrug. Well, nice to know he had his limits. Then he smiled, showing her those sharp chompers and pointed dead at her.
"Twenty? Hmm? Twenty demon for one Myrian... and Myrian you beat in two ticks!" He leaned back triumphant... of a sorts, smile strained and deciding that he'd need to swear Ama to silence after this was over. Then again, Fubuki would never shut up, so he was petched either way. "So, what have you in fear of them?"
She seemed to... bloom, in front of him. No, wrong word for a ghost. Swell. Bolster. Some of her manic confidence returned, little by little, and-
"YUKYUKYUKYUK!!!"
-not a moment too late.
Razkar's head whirled and he locked eyes with a screeching creature, misshapen maw wide and horrible, grinding screech issuing forth. Within a tick every pair of eyes had snapped in that exact direction. Razkar felt a slight twinge of unease through the steady pulse of cold rage.
One in many. All in one. What one learns and sees, they all do. When one becomes stronger, they all do. Like a... hive.
No time left for plans, or speeches, brave deeds or complex strategies. Razkar raised his bow without a word, tring pulled back to his cheek by the time he sighted down the arrow, aimed low at the creature's gut-
"For you, mother."
-and he loosed-
-arrow flashing across the hundred feet or so between the two groups and broad head tearing into the creature's chest. The enraged cry became a howl of agony, shortbow's power sending the shaft and it's vicious head plowing through ribs and organs. It fell back into its brethren, mortally-wounded-
-but they were already stampeding over it-
-six-armed giant bellowing, spittle flying as it pointed with both its blades, charging through the horde-
Razkar's hand moved fast, on his knees, fresh arrow notched by the time the first truck creature had fallen back.
Notch. Raise. Draw. Aim.
Four actions, three ticks, one breath to steady his aim-
Loose!
-another arrow caught a charging creature low in the gut, making it stagger, trip-
-trampled beneath the desperate horde, finally finding some victims worth the sport, better targets of their endless raging hate than the dumb beasts they'd been slaughtering for bells. Like a filthy tide they loped onward, a great mass of reaching claws and pumping legs, bent and broken in places, stone and flint glinting in a thousand places-
Notch. Raise. Draw-
The tide surged closer and Razkar fired low, barely bothering to aim. There was no chance he'd miss, not at this range, and he saw the arrow take a creature in the leg, sending it crashing down again. They didn't even slow. No fear, no hesitation, but no concern for their comrade, no... thought.
They exist to destroy, and destroy what exists.
"No more."
Razkar of the Shorn Skulls tossed his bow to one side and drew his blades, steel singing as they were released from their leather prisons. He felt the Malediction runes on the hilts tremble through his hands, dark djed pulsing through his body-
-necklace against his chest practically snarling with the bound spirit of that Night Lion from Riverfall, unearthly growl ripped from his throat-
"Fubuki, use steel," he snapped, stench of the monsters beginning to roll over him like rotting meat and fresh dung, "Not play, girl. Kill fast, kill many. Ama, use light. Blind monsters."
Even those words cost him, Yukmen sprinting closer, but he did not care. He breathed deep, black eyes wide pools of disgust ... and his gnosis... roared. Far from Falyndar and under different, sparser trees, still the eyes and wrath of Myri were with him. Tendrils of pulsing djed coursed through his muscles, lending him that speed and strength he would need to assail his foes.
His lips peeled back and his face contorted in hate, throwing his arms forwards-
"FOR MYRI!"
-and Razkar charged into the tide.