[center][h3] [/h3][/center][h3][hr][color=#657499]Branna Naves[/color][/h3][hr][sup][i]Lothian Empire: Alymere Fort  ||  Midday[/i][/sup][indent] [/indent][table][row][/row][row][cell]
The nonrider finally emerged from the shadows, giving Branna a nod. He would follow her lead, then—or, rather, take note of what she did and do in turn since there was no reason for both of them to head for the same target. As a fellow opportunist, she could respect his craft. 

Reaching for her wound, she touched it, let the stinging pain ebb as she retracted her hand, which was only faintly wet with blood. It wasn’t bad, but Branna didn’t like being wounded. Injuries were a nuisance that carried on until after the battle, a reminder of something dead, gone, and eaten by Mors or otherwise. She’d forget about the axe-wielder Mors was working on soon enough, but the nick he’d made on Mors? That, she’d remember. Though his skin was tougher than hers, covered by scales that overlaid each other like armor, he was no less mortal than her, and he bled all the same. As the person leading him into battle, then, it was her responsibility to take care of him, to keep him at flying weight and in hunting condition. Injuries were inevitable, yes, but there was a difference between scrapes and actual [i]injuries[/i]. For scrapes that only required a few drops of the vulnerary, Branna wasn’t too concerned. Offended, but not concerned.

Scanning the battlefield, she spotted two more targets available: A swordsman engaged with the lance-wielding mercenary in good graces with the mage, and an axe-wielder heading for the cute little archer girl, who was now backed up by one of the group’s healers. Of the two mercenaries, the lancer seemed like he had things more under control, so the axe-wielder it was. No reason to let Mors’ wingspan go to waste. 

[color=#657499]“Mors,”[/color] Branna croaked, peeking over the wyvern’s shoulder to gauge how far along he was in his meal. [color=#657499]“Axe.”[/color]

Still chewing, Mors raised his head to look at his next target, straightening as he spotted the axe-wielder. Opening his wings, he boosted himself up, Branna grinning on his back. How many bandits would it take to fill him up, Branna could only guess. Keeping count of how much he ate could be done after the battle—after they tore through the axe-wielder and the rest of the bandits in the fort.
[/cell][cell][img]https://i.postimg.cc/RC3pL2vV/branna-final-2.png[/img]
[center]_________________________[/center]
[color=#657499]Status: [/color]Scathed
[color=#657499]Class: [/color]Wyvern Flier
[color=#657499]Exp: [/color]30/100
[color=#657499]Inventory:[/color]
[list][*]Iron Spear (3/3)
[*]Vulnerary (3/3)[/list][hider=Stats]
[indent][color=#657499]END: [/color]D
[color=#657499]STR: [/color]C                         
[color=#657499]MAG: [/color]E
[color=#657499]DEX: [/color]D
[color=#657499]SPD: [/color]C
[color=#657499]DEF: [/color]E
[color=#657499]RES: [/color]E
[color=#657499]LCK: [/color]D[/indent][/hider][hider=Skills]
[list][*]Voracity
[*]Fortune
[/list][/hider][hider=Actions]
Attacking the Brigand
[/hider][/cell][/row][/table]