03-14-2010, 05:09 AM
[html]
[/html]
|
Word Count: 338 Semyon's large, two-legged form sat without moving, sniffing the air and picking up the vague scents of a fire. If he listened carefully, he could hear it move, as well. As he did so, he could hear the Rosen's howl on top of it, and sprung to his feet in the blink of an eye. So, this was not just a fire. One arm moved out to grab his weapons from the ground; he did not always keep them on him. Moving swiftly, the warrior exited his own den and headed straight towards the inferno ahead. Only now could he behold the true size of it. Hands moved to fasten and ready those weapons that needed it, and every so often he bent down to grab a good-sized rock from the ground, and letting it into a pouch on his hip. Soon, the colors of his own eyes were all around him, and he ignored the cries of other pack members dealing with the fire not too far away. Stopping at a little distance, he quickly spotted the forms how his enemies; Inferni. Nimbly placing a stone in his sling, he started to spin it above his head, and quickly sent one stone on its way to the smaller targets ahead of him. He threw another, and another, not waiting to check if he hit his mark. He would know he had succeeded when one of them dropped to the ground, at which point he would simply move on to another. That was, unless someone approached him where he stood; a sling was useless in close combat. Semyon knew none of these individuals' names, but it seemed that his comrades that he fought along did, as they chose their targets carefully. He focused on one with a strange garment on his head, easier for him to spot in the fiery chaos than the rest. Now, four rocks had been sent that way, but Semyon would not cease his bombardment before that one coyote dropped, or he was interrupted. |