[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/HX9chmu.png[/img][/center]
[b]“Rimebeasts!”[/b] Atzi shouted back. [b]“Azral Suralng’s spawn!”[/b]

As Vamessa’s bolts of flame fizzled out against the wave of incoming cold, Atzi drew her cloak out in front of her, the soft leather hardening as frost formed over the surface, the ambient cold seeping deep into her bones. Her head swam at the sudden sense of fatigue, the woman stumbling forward one step as her vision swam. Magic? Or just the natural effects of a sudden change in temperature. Whatever it was, it became a moment of weakness.

Weakness that was taken advantage of. Weakness that was temporary.

Her left hand snapped out, snatching the leaping beast by the throat. Fatigue was nothing she wasn’t accustomed to, and Atzi was even more accustomed to working past the fatigue, maintaining deathly focus through the long hours that her craft demanded. Immediately, she could feel her fingers stiffen, her blood retreating away from the terrible cold that coursed through the Rimebeast’s body, but what matter was that? It will break before she did.

With the entirety of her body weight behind it, Atzi slammed its skull into the floor, then set the saw-edge of her club against its neck and ripped at it, intent on beheading the Rimebeast in a singular stroke. And as for the ice spikes…well, what of it?