Honeyed Pasture one false prayer wielding blasphemy

He bent with her, sparing her any opportunity to wrench away from his grasp with bloodshed. She did not relent—panic flooded her actions instead. He delighted in this, though it was a brief thing. It was prey that panicked in moments like that, and Solpallur did not see her as prey. A competitor, perhaps, a woman worthy of holding a title like drengr, but not prey.

Yet he held on for several more moments, even as her maw grasped at empty air so very close to his own. She was a limber creature, but even he knew the contortion only added to the panic, to the discomfort. He pulled away from her, his grip lessening as he moved to snap and worry at the flesh further along her spine.

It was a tactic geared to make her run, to fear him.

She may not have been prey, but he would play on her panic like the predator he was.

rolled a 2