544 CHPT 544: Set in Stone

Fighting was different for the Silver Cursed. So too was spectating. It wasn't just a gladiatorial grudge match fueled by raw Octolepid. It was a nerve wracking battle of impulses and restraint.

Marcel was an adept and explosive fighter. As a WereLion he made use of his powerful quads and back muscles as he pounced and slashed on his Crocodilian opponent. A large man of dark scaly skin and a flat nose.

The two swallowed up the space— demanding more or less depending on who was attacking.

Marcel flipped and dashed around the ring, his collar and chain jingled deafeningly before snapping taut from the boulders weight. As it rolled, he cut and kicked the massive shifter.

The sound was like a knife on chain mail as his claws grazed layered scales. Sparks flew, illuminating the pale dark with bright red.

In it, he could see shifters. As the battle went on, so did their forms.

"[The smells…. The actions— the tension. The movement.]"

Just as Arne finished speaking, the Crocodile Shifter caught Marcel and threw him into his boulder. He charged, curled toe claws clicking on the floor.

The circle of spectators moved— spun, as a way to appease Prey Drive and not descend on the combatants.

It all became an ugly primal dance fit with a cyclone of fanged supporters and the main act tearing into eachother front and center.

Claude felt sick at how hungry he was becoming. As he watched and moved with the crowd, he could almost see the glowing outlines of Marcel and his opponents wounds. Like red candies. Or steaming pot roast on a sheet of of white—

"ENOUGH!"

The fight ended with Marcel on top of his opponent covered in his blood. Even so, his opponent didn't look any worse for wear.

"[Crocs defensive abilities often greatly overshadow everything else. It can make non-kill combat scenarios quite odd.]"

Alpha dragged them both back into the circle to join their respective packs. Immediately he grabbed the next fighters. It wasn't so seamless.

The fighters being thrown back into the fray were met with snarls and bites as everyone moved to both study them for injury and get closer to the blood. They were so starved it almost had a Vampiric feel to it.

Claude shoved aside and weaved around the shifting circle, watching as glowing ravenous eyes blurred past him like lightning bugs in an open field.

"I wonder how similar Maris will be…" He managed to think before a pair of eyes settled on him— never passing.

When the hand wrapped around his arm he had to fight to keep Gil and Ashe from exploding out of his skin.

He stumbled into the center, only slowed by his boulder.

Alpha grabbed another Wolf. He knew by the smell before anything. Wolves smelled more like the wind and outside air…. Maybe a hint of rot from rolling in death on full moons. Frosty had a similar scent.

His heart ached as the WereWolf sized him up. Alpha's apeish hoots and hollers fell to the wayside. The moving circle of shifters created a hypnotic effect from the glow of their eyes and fangs. Each blink sending a cacophony of flashing lights.

Claude felt weirdly dazed.

The WereWolf looked weirdly similar to Aeron. Or maybe Aeron looked like all WereWolves after imprinting himself so thoroughly on Cla—

"RAGGH!" The Wolf charged him with its claws extended in something between a jab and a knife handed stab.

Claude didn't even know the chain connecting his collar to the boulder was in his hand.

Instinctively he must've grabbed the nearest weapon he knew best.

He sidestepped the stab and threw out the chain in a wide loop, ensnaring the male WereWolfs wiry and hairy arm so tight blood squirted where the chains bit like jaws.

The Wolf went wild, twisting and yanking to get free before Claude pulled him in, shoulder checking him so hard a tooth flew into one of the WereTigers flanking him. From there he turned heel, heaving the WereWolfs arm over his shoulder and throwing him onto the ground back first.

CLANG!

The noise shook the whole tower. Somewhere the floor split. He could feel the hot air beneath rise through the cracks. Growing even hotter as the Dragon replied to his ruckus like an agitated neighbor.

Wild Magic poured like rain.

Suddenly the circle of shifters grew more violent, given the energy of the hunt.

Claude's muscles stretched his skin. Fur bloomed across his expanding back and arms and his jaw thickened.

The Wolf moved a singular inch—

Claude's foot slammed into his chest.

The Dragon roared again.

A trigger for Wild Magic. A trigger for power. Call and response. As a Beast Tamer he knew all about that.

That was his way out.

He looked down into the Wolfs eyes. He found his own reflection looking back at him.

Something he didn't recognize. Relief filled him when the Wolf looked downward. He rose back to face the other shifters growling and snapping at him like mindless animals on imaginary leashes.

He returned the favor. Peeling back his lips to show his teeth. Opening his fists to stretch his claws like an old muscle welcomed back into use.

The other Shifters whined and croaked in confusion as he did the same.

As he finally escaped his hypnotic predatory stupor and took in the environment. No more future escape plans or urges. Curiosity.

Them, for his seemingly complete transformation into something many of them hadn't ever seen. And him, for many of the Wolves bizarre half-states.

Their skin was grey and hard. It almost looked like stone. Statues with light fur. When Aeron transformed he ripped away his skin like a flesh wrapping. Theirs followed the change.

Aggressive growth in their arms and back stood out like their eyes. Cords of muscle beneath the stone skin. Many gained an Orcish underbite but that paled in comparison to the last thing he noticed.

Alpha ended the fight slamming him to the floor, sniffing and picking at his fur as he pulled the shift back into himself. All the while he stared at the Wolves feet.

"They have hands…. For feet. Just like Alpha. Why do WereWolves have StoneApe traits?"