As you look down on the gang, you can't help but smile. A proper fight. it's been too long.
You crouch down, a lifting a fist size chunk of lose concrete, toss it into the crowd. It lands in the centre of the fire, startling the gang more than anything, and they look up towards you.
The first to move is a mortal, a shaved man in bikers leathers. As he runs towards you, you leap from your ledge to land on top of him, his neck skewered on your freshly formed claws. His friends bunch together and draw firearms, only to turn around in horror as Surma airdrops Carver into the fray, where he lets off both barrels of his shotgun before pulling out his knife and finishing off the two men he hits. As the other three begin to back away from Carver he glances up, grinning as he sees your claws emerge ones stomach whilst the others head falls burning to the ground, with Surma standing over his corpse with flaming sword in hand. Carver winks at him, before he ducks as a hellhound flies over his head, landing at your feet, where Carver swiftly empties his shotgun into it's head. Whimpering, it gets to it's feet, only to have itself pinned to the ground by it's neck, before dissolving into aether. The other hellhound remains only as a bloodstain on Surma's blade.
You look down then upon the aftermath. Two hellhounds and six mortals dead, two of which are horribly mutilated - Carvers handiwork. He sees you looking and grins.
"Don't call me Carver for nothing now do they?" he laughs. Regardless, you feel a little stronger after the battle. The mortals didn't give you much strength, but the hellhound certainly did. Then your attention is caught by a small, ornate box in the corner, which is engraved with carvings you cannot quite make sense of. They appear to show the ocean, and some sort of ritual. But to the victor go the spoils, and you were most definitely the victor you think with glee.
Primal - Ancient tribal spirit - (Primal Warrior Lost)
One of the lost gods of a South American tribe long gone into extinction, he remains. He was put to rest and only awoken because of the mad commotion of the world of late. He has a mans body with a thorn through his tongue and many tattoos. He has been known, however to take the form of a reptile with feathers, sometimes still remaining humanoid, sometimes closer to a serpent. He is thin and clad in wooden and copper armor. He represents the warrior spirit of men, a son of the spirit of war. He was sealed in a mountain after consuming the blood of the spanish and slowly being put to slumber by the death of his people.
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Power:8/10
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Followers:
John Carver, Hobo. (Prevents power loss below 10)
Shotgun, Dual carving knives
Power:3
Health:5
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Allies:
Surma, Fallen angel.
Flaming sword
Power:6
((Anyone got any opinions on my writing and how I can improve?))