Closing the distance. 

The grassy knoll of space, which separated the claw from that grizzly bite. The cultist had uncannily evaded and survived all attempts to fell its zealotry, both physical and unseen. The fur, labyrinthine with the dew of sweat, bearing the burden of a frail friar and a blue-haired bard, now swayed in concert with the green blades of the field. Each enjoyed the winnowing whip of the wind, casting its whimsical flagella, aside and back again, hither and thither, cooling the bloodied carpets, which blanketed both beast and earth. The race for the false worshipper married ursine paws with the vast field, yielding druid, monk and Hin nearer to their prey. 

Nostrils flared. 

The bear growled, with the viciousness of a hidden Charon, eager to rip limb from a ripe torso. 


[Hider=Mechanics]
Torus DASHES to the other side of the Dragonclaw, hoping to induce an AoO.
[/Hider]
[@Hekazu]