<span style="color: #FF0000">Fenharel snarled at the oncoming beasts, looking like an animal himself. He had never set foot on the eerie island before, and everything about the creatures here seemed unnatural. A mork charged at him, spear brandished, and he heard a gin rushing at him from behind. He steadied his breath, waited for the right moment, then did a flip in the air as the Mork tried to stab him with its spear. With a slight knudge from his foot, he redirected the spear towards the gin rushing him from behind, and it embedded itself into its eye as he vaulted over its buckling body. He then backflipped onto the mork and tried to slice its throat, but it bucked and threw him roughly on the ground.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">Ellaria was surrounded by a whilrling dance of spears, tusks, and claws, fending them off with her blades as the creatures closed in onto her. They sensed her growing tired under their onslaught, and just as she felt she would be unable to fend off any more of their attacks, she threw a smoke bomb down onto the ground, losing herself in the tendrils of it as she snuck away. A loud boom sounded out as a second bomb she had left went up in bits of flaming shrapnel, leaving most of the creatures that had surrounded her dead or severely injured.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0000">Fenharel rolled limply on the ground, trying to break his fall but not entirely succeeding. The edges of his vision clouded up as his stray hand brushed a bit of the river water unintentionally. He barely noticed as he struggled to get up, feeling sluggish and relaxed by a jarringly beautiful song he almost felt he was imagining hearing. His sore body wanted him to look for it, and he pushed himself closer to the edge of the water, looking into its depths...</span>