Elizabeth
*Ramlei wakes up in a cold sweat. She looks around and realises she is in the middle of the grassland. She just had a horrible dream. She saw herself living in a mountain cliffside. She then fell down and rolled into a forest, where she went and hunt for a wild boar.*

*The wild boar turns out to belong to the Silnari King, as a royal servant told her when she comes across the servant. She tells him she killed the boar with a barrage of fire spells, and the servant furiously tell her she will be executed by the king.*

*Ramlei does not wish to be executed, and so she killed the servant on the spot. As she find herself covered in his blood, she wakes back up. With a look at her body, she realises that she is alright, and that her experience must have been an awful nightmare. She then gets up and looks around.*
Robert
The dark beast's gaze was fixed on the long-haired figured concealed beneath lush foliage. A piercing and imposing gaze, one could feel almost as if it was haunting them, even past natural cover. Between the lightly rustling leaves and ominous snarls growling louder with each passing moment, one undeniable truth would seep into any unfortunate wonderer's consciousness; the beast had spotted them, and it was getting closer.

In reality, the rugged beastkin didn't need to *See* Who it was. Senses attuned as he'd taken an aggressive stance moving forward, he could feel the scent of cold, brooding sweat start to trickle at his nostrils. *"Fear..."* He muttered unconsiously, that coarse voice sounding closer than before. It was a scent he could remember all too well; he'd been accustomed to it far too many times to ever forget. Whether it was by defeated marks or merely ignorant macen and silnari, that scent was always there.

Then, he heard it. Between the drumming of quickening heartbeats, there was chanting. A low, sharp whisper stuttering in a language he was unfamiliar with. Yet, these words carried power; magic. A power his insticts could warn him for, even if he was never attuned to it. Before the beast had the time to parry, a glimmering knife hissed by him, barely nudging to the side in time to get away with a few singed hair on the side of his right arm, glancing over its trail before turning to face the one responsible for it, bearing his fangs.

Ashnard could feel his blood start to boil, scorching blade having nearly grazed a deep scar across his exposed bicep, where shapely built muscle was apparent, and now tensing beneath rugged fur. The throbbing headache and ringing in his ears drifted back into his consciousness as if provoked by the apprehensive threats and warning shot. Bloodthirsty instincts crawled into his mind, urging him to tear the elf apart, just like he would with any prey. Even more so for a prey that had the audacity to fight back.

And worse yet, the long-haired figure was bold, or perhaps foolish enough to ask why he was hurt right afterwards. For a moment, the dark beast seemed as if he was about to lunge right then and there and give in to his instincts. Perhaps that would make the ringing stop. But the odd attitude only lead him to desperately try and resist, clutching his forehead with his left hand, snarls turning more pained than ferocious. **"Why do you care? You should run... Run and don't look back."** He growled out, his posture wavering as he arched forward, gritting his razor-sharp teeth and glaring at the elf. It was better that way, not knowing how much longer he'd be able to resist.
Scott
*(sjsjsj I wanna hug him)*
Judy
*( __very__ bad idea)*
Scott
*( idc if he kills me, i must protecc )*
Meg
*Sylver flinched instinctively at the increase of growls that reverberated across the forest clearing. He swallowed hard—__Obviously__, attacking first hadn't been the best idea; the near miss of the blade had only but exacerbated the problem. His mind screamed at him to run, to abandon all cause of logic and get away from this towering monstrosity, but his body seemed to be cemented to the spot. There was no point trying to shift another mask across his countenance; the beast could probably smell the fear that seemed to radiate off him like waves of heat.*

*Maybe it was because he'd never seen such a being before, so bizarrely majestic in its canine gait, its teeth razor sharp—teeth that would probably tear through him with little to no restraint. Maybe it's was because he seemed to sense a kind of humanity within the being, possibly mirrored in its struggle to prevent itself from attacking him—because that's what it was doing, right? No one would take an outright attack just like that and continue to hold themself back. Sylvar's eyes flickered, and he withdrew; now pressing his fingers against each other, then, animation slowly returning to his petrified body, they gripped the rough bark of the oak tree behind him as he toed backwards with light steps. He found no comfort there.*

*To remain standing there, meant to die a coward's death. But to flee? Most likely a coward's death too. God, if his his parents—parent, could see him now, a high elf, cowering in fear at the mercy of a foreign beast; they would be . . . He wasn't really sure. Sylvar felt the hackles on the monster rise, and then heard it speak; deadly furiousness lay behind those words. ("Why do you care?") Somehow it pained him to hear that, but he kept his face impassive; his hands fumbled against the hardness of the tree though. The blade in his palm slipped into the ground and vanished. There was no use for the throwing knife, now that the element of surprise was gone.*

*Then—Then the being spoke again. ("You should run . . . Run and don't look back.") And feeling surged back into Sylvar's body as the information clicked into place in his mind. That wasn't mercy that the beast was giving him. It was only buying him time, giving him a chance to run, and for a second Sylvar wanted to walk up to it—him, and show him that he wasn't afraid, and damned was he going to leave the being to hurt alone. But. But, common sense returned again, enshrouded in anxious words, and screamed at him to run. And run he did, turning away, a small gasp escaping his lips as he tore through the endless expanses of trees, foliage and flora. Idle tree branches tore at his lengthy hair, his leather clothes, but he paid little attention to the minor grazes upon his skin.*

*He saw his horse pawing at the earth, a few metres from where he had come to a stop, wild anxiety breaking his coolly façade for a second. " Melicus. " He said, a greater snap in his voice than intended. His horse and the amber eyed furrow both looked at him, and Melicus chirped questioningly before seeming to notice the hesitation upon his features. Sylvar looked back at the shrouded clearing, hoping that he hadn't been followed. He was in truly deep shit, for sure.*
Scott
*( 💀 was this bad? )*

*( Sylvar has a defence spell :)*