"Shu-'
Axel's seemingly unbothered, stoic presence that was so typical for a Turelim suddenly became something so more violent. He snatched the Dumahim before he could even escape the iron-clad talons puncturing into his shoulders and chest. There was an attempt to fight him. One fist managed to slam against the Edenborn's chest, it sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a meaty wall and his throat was already torn.
The sputter of questioning angry gurgled into horror, black blood squirted and gushed from the exposed inner throat. Axel's face barely changed to be nothing but a tight face, his ears angled back.
"Silence. Silence..."
Axel sighed, crushing the slab of meat and bone fragment and licked it as the vampire gurgled and grabbed at his throat. It was almost a bliss he haven't felt in a while before his bloody hand popped like grinding stone in its knuckles. Then he slammed those hands and throat, over and over again while Caspian, Acelot, and a couple of the Dumahim's pack-mates watched in shock as the restraint blacksmith crushed the offender's face deeper and deeper in.
All of his frustrations, more than this insolent bandit's constant rambling and peacocking, fueled every musclebound punch. Vampiric ichor splashed on his tabard. His neck. His face. No one stopped him. No one dared to stop the mastiff, his eyes glowing under his tinted goggles.
Even when those hands and head was nothing but gore on the ground, another slam sent a web of cracks around. Flesh withered and body becoming ash.
Slowly grinding his fist at the cratered floor, Axel stood up and rubbed his face. Another sigh and whimper,