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[b][u]Cuttersbury – Trail towards Drych Lake[/b][/u]

The varren, asides from the occasional raking, also had the ingenuity to throw rocks at the Pride. As expected, Lute wasn’t taking that well. He had his free arm draped over his face as a shield of sorts, while he swung his sword above the suspicious patches of soil where the creatures might pop out. It goes without saying that sound attacks were pretty useless against their current enemies. 

The flat of his blade struck against something hard, and when he turned to look, Lute realized that he had just knocked a fedora off the top of a random varren’s head. The creature turned to cast a baleful glare at him before burrowing deep into the ground, disappearing in a spray of pebbles and earth. “All right, this isn’t good,” Lute snapped as a few bits of sand got into his eyes, courtesy of a flying boulder thrown by a couple of their enemies, and he stepped back. As his foot sunk into the earth, the soil itself seemed to collapse and the virtuoso tumbled back. The very same varren he hit earlier was now snickering at him with its upper half exposed out of the underground tunnel. “Why you-,” Lute grabbed his sword and whacked the varren on its head like it was one of those arcade hit games, and since it was too busy sniggering it barely had any time to react to the virtuoso’s onslaught. “HA! Who’s laughing now, punk!?” He snarled and got up after the varren was forcibly pummeled back underground.

A quick look at his surroundings informed him that while the skirmish wasn’t very fair, at least nobody was bleeding out or anything. “Oi! You going to keep like that until later or what?” Lute rushed towards Jett, swinging his sword downwards at the rolling varren as if they were in a golf competition. Unfortunately, he didn’t expect that it was quite heavy and only managed to move its trajectory by a few inches, not to mention that he staggered back when its spikes pretty much clashed with his blade.