“ROAR!”
“ROAR!”
One claim for dominance birthed chaotic streams of dust that half danced about itself in concentration or half loosely in the DamageRoom.
And the other disputed the draconic creatures’ dominance in layers of different voices that sounded like strange music.
Seemingly unhurt by the waves of dust that seemed to make only cracking sounds on his skin whenever they came close where it should have drawn muscle deep injury instead, Rashta Micko was able to crouch and build his jump that distorted the currents of dust which were supposed to be dancing about randomly while they sporadically reached at him to violently rub at him in their deceptively, thoroughly tender caresses.
*“Terrible Talons.”*