the outsider.

Aw, isn't it a shame?

The Order has its hands full once again with a monster, which seems to have been the case for the past few months. Monster after monster, corrupted mage spilling into the lands and shifting into massive monsters. This one might be a rather bad one, compared to the others. Of course, the one at the tournament had been a problem, but not a lot of people were actually hurt. The crone hadn't really hurt anyone all that much either, and had been stopped quickly. This one is dragging on, setting fields alight on a trek towards the north. 

Mindlessly wandering, it seemed. Would it make it to the borders? If it did, wouldn't that be a horrible consequence? The royals would have to figure it out, so would the Order. It seemed they were struggling here, slipping up when they should have had this heathen monstrosity already six feet under the ground.

"Tch." 

Warrick shifts his weight a little, heavy frame causing cloven hooves to dig into the ground a moment, picking at it. Even from here, he can see the corrupted puddles sinking into the ground. The puddles were disgusting, thick and almost tar-like. The ground might be frozen, but with the heat from the damned monster, it made it easy for mud to form and absorb whatever the hell it was dropping off of itself.

They couldn't do a god damn thing right, could they?

Pierced ears jingle as he flicks them back a moment, contempt showing in the slight motion. He can't express annoyance, but he can sure as hell show it in other ways, and this is no exception. Another "tch", and he's moving forward, building a confidence as he walks towards the beast. 

His magic would hurt, it always did, but he could do something, couldn't he? 

It's a monster, so by his own morals, he would do something about it. Shame the Order couldn't get their shit together, in this case.

A swallow, and Warrick pulls at the magic that dances at the edges of his being, the resolution building up in his chest as the magic begins to activate. 

Pain races over him, dragging claws down his body as he leans forward slightly, head dropping and shaking as he exhales a loud breath. He wouldn't scream, not this time. He's come a long way, and it doesn't mean a damn thing to do this, and he swallows down the pain, limbs shaking as the bones literally break and shatter in his limbs. It causes him to fall over, panting against the hard ground as his body shifts with the help of the magic. It ripples over him, causing him to grow longer, his tail ballooning at the end, the hard scales rattling together like stones clattering down steps. 

His skull shifts, bone moving and rearranging to grow teeth, antlers turning into horns that sweep back over the back of his neck, which extends quickly, bones growing larger. His ribs shudder, heart racing in the cage of bone as his chest grows. Everything grows, until finally, the wind is knocked out of him and he can feel the pain subsiding.

Newly formed claws dig into the earth, his legs shifting slightly to drag his long body upward, neck rattling and hard scales standing on end as he heaves breaths. While he looks dragon like, with thick claws on every limb, there are no wings to grace his body. No, he's more like a grounded dragon, long and loaded with nothing but brute force. Sharp teeth, claws. His thick scales will shield him from the heat of the monster, and a long tongue curls out from his skull, flicking a moment in the air with a forked end before slipping back into the depths of darkness as he finds himself following the scent of burning and the sound of screams.

They would stop this monster, here and now. It wouldn't reach the borders it so desperately sought. 

His body moves quickly, for something twenty-hands in height and so long. Slithering along the ground almost, he picks up pace, all four legs working in synchronization as he aims for the Pyre, jaws parting and chest shuddering with a new anticipation that he's learned is the bloodlust for the hunt.