309 CHPT 309: Born from the Belly of the Beast Known by Many....

Claude felt his spear arm slowly begin to bubble with the growth of muscle and harder bone.

"Come on.....come find out...come try it..." He snarled while holding his Spear in a shaking grip. If his eyes could shoot flames he would've burned two holes in the Alpha already.

He already knew the others would skin the Hound alive. The other two were the combat specialists-- despite the Hounds speed.

Instead of going in on a rampage, the Alpha Gnoll remained still and the Hound-Gnoll speedily sprinted back to the others.

The two began circling their leader, speaking through the movements of their bodies, tails and quieted barks...the Hound even managed a couple points in their direction.

If they weren't here to kill them he would've found it fascinating...something his Father would've described in great detail over dinner.

But, they were-- here to kill them that is. And now it was simply unsettling. They couldn't pinpoint his pack's location, but they knew they were near. The Hound-Gnoll continued its search, like a trained dog following the orders of it's inhuman handler.

As if in response to his thoughts, the leading Gnoll stepped forward at an uneven pace and ripped off it's cloak.

FWSH!

The black shroud fell behind the beast as it roared at the forest they hid within from a wolfish face made gruesome by unnaturally massive facial muscles and teeth like daggers that flung heavy globs of saliva everywhere.

If it wasn't for the two pointed ears laid flat against it's skull, it would've looked more like a wiry furred Bear than a massive wolf monster.

In between the earth-quaking roars, the dented and rusty dark silver armor covering it's upper body and shoulders shook over it's bulging muscles, ruffling the wiry black shining fur that wrapped it's body.

He found himself looking back at the face. So grotesque, eyes like two laterns, skin almost ripping from the intensity of the muscles in it's head and jaws. The smooth texture of the fur on it's face didn't help in highlighting the hideous sight before exploding into it's natural wiry mess everywhere else. Even if they were all mildly different in a number of ways, he could see the similarity. The leading Gnoll was the father of the others.

The roar subsided, bringing with it an even deeper silence before it began barking again while swinging the battle axe held in it's right hand as if it were a toy and not a twelve pound metal device of destruction.

His innate ability to understand the language of one's physical body began screaming at him as he watched.

The way it puffed out it's chest, flexed it's arms and swung the weapon wildly. Even it's almost comically deep barks and the flair of it's eyes.

It was trying to provoke and intimidate. Every action it had made so far was for that very reason. Establishing dominance, instilling fear.

Not a simple Wolf trait. Not at such a high level.

The understanding hit him like a truck. The Gnoll wasn't a normal one by any means.

It wasn't born from the belly of a basic canid. Somewhere in it's horrifying snout and wiry fur covered muscles he could see it. He could see PitWolf, as clear as day.

The imaginary leash he held Frosty on snapped and the PitWolf let out a territorial roar at it's somehow horrifyingly distant cousin, announcing his relative location and will to see them bleed.

The Hound-Gnoll that hovered much closer to them still in search, jumped and attempted to return to it's leader.

Claude and Gil's Prey Drive didn't tolerate runners., which meant the battle had just begun. The possibilities for what was to come were endless. But the path would always be doused in blood...

FWOO!

SPTOO!

SHLCK!

"AARP!"