Nissa was almost too shocked by all the transforming creatures around her to focus on the bandits attacking them, but thankfully her survival instinct was stronger than that. As the leader of the bandits attempted to grab hold of the evidently-distracted Nissa, he could only manage to secure one of her wrists — the other swung around quickly and grabbed the man’s arm, her talons sinking into his flesh as he cried out in pain. The bandit’s grip released, she tossed him to the side before crouching on top of him, her talons on his neck. He shot her a terrified look, begging for mercy — but she’d lived by the law of the wild too long to grant him such. Her claws tore deeply into his throat, ending him as quickly as possible. 

By this point, the bandits’ will to fight had suddenly reached severely low levels. Any one of them that had attacked one of the shapeshifters was already either dead or injured, and the rest were growing terrified of the unpredictable mutants. Even their leader had been cut down in almost no time. They were only petty bandits, after all — only used to fighting foes weaker than themselves. “Let’s get away from these freaks!” one of them cried out, agreement spreading through the group like wildfire. “Retreat!” others yelled, all of them scrambling to escape.