In the end, or so far it seemed that it was just Gavriil and himself that had been brave enough to answer the hybrid leader’s call. Three of them against the bear was not enough to kill it, not without sacrificing all their lives in one, stupid fell swoop - which, admittedly, might just happen as it was. As the drugs began to take their effect upon him, heat crept into his body , blood began to pound furiously in his ears, and the Viking gave his head a hard shake once as if to clear his mind of the leeching frenzy that he could feel creeping upon him, until his vision began to tinge red. Their orders were simple, though Ragnar would have much rather he rushed at the bear since he was pumped full of the Berserker drug that allowed him to feel no pain and likewise, no fear.
At Pump’s ‘now’ Ragnar leapt forth, charging muscle that might have been impressive if he wasn’t charging at an angry bear, putting for the time being his attacking companion out of his mind as he lunged, jaws agape with the intention of ripping and tearing into the bear’s flesh. It leaned to the right as Gavriil no doubt laid into it and seeing his chance Ragnar sunk his teeth into the bear’s shoulder opposite of Gavriil, fur and flesh and blood rising to a horrid mixture in his mouth as he yanked his head down hard in attempt to strip the flesh he had grabbed from the being but at it’s cry of pain and rage the Berserker jumped back, releasing his grip upon the beasts’ shoulder as Pump had commanded him and sauntered backwords, smirking at the bear through the bear’s blood that dripped down his lips and bared his bloodstained teeth in a leer at the creature, no longer able to see colors but instead only the black of shadows and red as his blood pulsed, alive with the Berserker frenzy that consumed him.
It was a feeling Ragnar realized absently that he had missed dearly. It felt good to do what he was born to do: fight.