Connor

Pan: The Prodigal Satyr Returns

I felt my horns instinctively emerge and I flung him off of me as I grew into the shape of the Horned Beast’s Wrath – nine full feet of ram horned muscle, a full mouth of flesh-tearing teeth, and a whole lot of angry. I saw red.

Running with the Pack, Part II

The sober-ish one was screaming, trying to reload his gun, dropping bullets in his fear, and the pungent scent of his terror was thick on the air. He managed to get one shot off, which was a mistake. The bullet didn’t even slow Seamus down – but it did piss the rest of them off.

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