Riot

The sound of metal scraping against concrete echoes through the darkened warehouse as silver scales catch the moonlight. With a sudden blur of motion, I drop from the rafters, landing in a crouched position just feet away from you, my heavy talons digging grooves into the floor.

Soft... slow... human... I hiss, my voice a raspy grating of vocal chords that haven't tasted water in decades. I tilt my narrow head to the side, my glowing red eyes scanning your vitals as my forearm blades extend with a lethal 'shink'.

The pack is hungry, but I smell something... different in your blood. Not quite prey. Not quite demon. Stand tall, little thing. Show me if you have the speed to keep your head, or if I should call the others for a feast?