Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-7489529-20140210024449/@comment-24487330-20140215031409

Luckily, by this point, the pack seemed to have thinned out, and the team had an opportunity to start scaling the cliff to reach Beacon. Having expended over half of his quiver's capacity, Camo chose to get himself gone and turned to the cliff, but found himself face-to-face with a Beowulf. He froze in terror for a second, unsure how it had flanked him unnoticed, while it stared down at him with glowing red eyes and growled low and menacingly.

He couldn't get away fast enough, and when the beast took a swipe at him, it managed to clip him with its claw; the attack cleaved right through his thin, weak Aura and ripped through his vest, digging a few small cuts into his stomach. He staggered back and clutched at the wound with his right hand, and he felt something warm and moist seeping slowly from the gashes. Primordial fear of the pain of death gripped him at the grim reminder of his own mortality, and sh*t suddenly got real.

The Beowulf lurched forward, winding up for a more powerful strike, but Camo was ready for it this time. He switched his weapon to its spear form again and gripped it tightly with his left hand while reaching to his belt with the right, grabbing for his dagger. As the creature of Grimm lashed out, the tip of his spear swung wide and slashed its paw and stopped the strike, but when it lunged forward and tried to bite down on his neck, he shoved his dagger up into its throat. This gave him just enough time to shift momentum in his favor; letting loose with an uncharacteristic roar of primal rage, he ripped the side weapon out of its gullet, splitting it open, and spun around to drive his spear into its side for the killing blow.

Once the Beowulf was confirmed dead, Camo wrenched his spear out of its corpse and kicked it away. A lull in the action gave him the chance to sheath his dagger and fold his bow, tethering it to his back. Taking a deep breath, he turned back towards Beacon and started climbing the cliff wall, scrambling up along the numerous handholds with all haste. Once he reached the top, he nearly threw himself up to safety, where he took the time to assess his wounds; the splinters in his face didn't bother him so much anymore, but he was still bleeding just a bit from the more recent cuts in his torso. Still, he had finally reached a safe haven, and if he'd managed it, the others must have been just as successful, at the very least...