@fortunefeather liked for a starter
The Dark Urge was in full effect tonight. No matter how they tried, Caedes had felt control slipping throughout the day. They had lost it, on the battle field; the enemy was downed - blood splattered everywhere - they couldn't think, the Urge roaring in their head. It was too much. There was one, the last one, swinging their way in, screaming to revenge their fallen comrades. Had he known it was futile? Only magic didn't leap to their hands, no. Caedes had thrown themselves across the field, landing on their chest. Claws, fangs; sinking into his throat; tearing, ripping. Blood and gore, tattered rags that were once armor, hands sinking past the ribcage as they laughed, laughed, delighting in the viscera splattering their face, panting and snarling, snout burying down into it all -