Deepwood Weald Fruit punch

The sea king battled with the beast as long as his limbs would allow him. The pain that scored along his shoulder was blinding, but so was the wicked sensation of rage that had latched to his soul. The wraith thought of his homeland and the crashing of the waters. He was the shark; he cast fear into the depths. Skellige would not allow for the beast to claim victory. As she thrashed about in her attempt to free herself, another arrived on the scene with the same mindset as the swarthy wolf of the water. He cast his gaze to the dark brother of Deirdre. The wolf of the wood lunged at the bear in an attempt to latch to her nape. Skellige sought to hold her, but in her fear she had tossed him away. Her strength was difficult to battle. The leviathan felt his body ragdoll against the earth with a few sickening crunches. His skull struck against a stone and he felt his flesh tear away from his crown. Warm blood trickled down his head. 

The wraith was dazed, and he struggled with his limbs in an attempt to rise upward once more. His dark gaze settled on the mother bear and he swayed. He wished, for a moment, that the tides were washing him away. He longed for the embrace of the swell. As the beast roared once again, he was jarred from his thoughts and cast back into reality. Pain sliced through his skull, but he gathered his strength and rushed forward. He aimed his fangs for the underside of her throat.