Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25146201-20140108121051/@comment-11457306-20140111155531

The changling was frustrated by the Mithril, there was no tearing through it with his claws. At most he could only break a few links, so he was unable to disembowel her as he intended. She struggled violently, unable to pull even a dagger. The werewolf went for her throat and she raised her forearm to fend him off. The Mithril only went just below the elbow here on her arm, since the gauntlets were supposed to cover the rest--gauntlets that she had removed so that she could prepare and eat her meal.

Sharp, long fangs sunk into her soft flesh. She screamed in agony and pounded his head with her other hand, then grabbed an ear and twisted. The werewolf loosened his hold and twisted his head, trying to bite the other arm. He sunk his fangs into that one as well.

The sun came up over the horizon at that moment, casting bright rays over them as they writhed on the ground. The wolf lifted his head and roared. Anwen watched in amazement as the creature began to change, not due to the sun, but because he'd reached the end of his time. In moments he was no longer a werewolf, but a man. Anwen threw him off of her and scrambled to her feet, drawing her remaining axe.