[hr]
[center][color=6ecff6][H1]Azariah Kravchenko[/H1]
[H2]The Bone Sea[/H2][/color][/center]
[hr]

[indent][indent][quote]"The little white one is their master! End him!"

In a matter of seconds, the young adventurer had made himself a target as several clansmen shifted their bloodlust towards the boy, throwing bone, stone and bronze-tipped implements alike alike from a greater distance. 
[/quote]

Azariah being such a small lad, was a rather difficult target to pinpoint, but in these cramped conditions, the accuracy of the Clansmens' javelins would be somewhat greater than, say, the open field or the desert dunes. He had managed to hear the angry proclamation of the one that looked like a leader of the Clansmen; a rather tall man adorned by numerous bone implements hanging all over his clothes. Azariah would have thought that this person was a shaman or a witch doctor of some kind, but the hatred of the Clansmen towards magic lent that notion little credence. He could be merely a warrior of greater skill than the rest. 

Azariah ducked, taking hold of the clansman that his mechanical minion had murderded with such chill precision a few moments earlier, hoisting the wet, bloody corpse as a makeshift human shield to protect himself from the incoming projectiles. These were not steel tipped spears, and as such, would not be so good at penetrating a human body and then another behind it, as they wouldn't be as heavy. It wasn't like these were paragons of forging and smithing anyway; they were crude implements that barbarian tribes in a desert cobbled together. One of the bronze tipped javelins, however, narrowly struck his hand, instead grazing his sleeve to leave a small cut. The wound stung, but he was not in mortal danger; at least not yet. With the attention of the clansmen directed towards him, it won't be long before more of them decide to throw spears at him, and that would a terrible thing, as there weren't so many corpses at hand to use as shields.

[quote]The rest of the Bonesclanmen were surrounding her, and she didn't know who was gonna attack first. They probably saw her display of raw strength and are... hesitant. However, it wouldn't be long before they realize that they had the number advantage. The first thing that came to mind was never show any hesitation or fear or else it would be suicide (as she learned from the arena).[/quote]

Not keen on losing someone he had just met, Azariah [i]threw[/i] the magishell towards one of the clansmen, a ball of steel and death careening towards the Clansman like a star crossed meteor. It struck him at the face, a pair of claws quite literally ripping his head into several bloody, still pulsating pieces of brain matter and bone. The slaughtered clansman fell backwards, his head rendered practically nonexistent. It was really gross.

The magishell would, at Azariah's command, spring towards the next clansman, blood stained claws and teeth bared. It was hungry for death and destruction, and the clansmen served as objects of its silent wrath.

[color=6ecff6]"You good?"[/color] Azariah drew his sword, though he still winced from the cut in his arm. [color=6ecff6]"By the Maker, how many of them are here?!"[/color][/indent][/indent]