Both guys stood back to back, their auras slowly roiling awake.
On their opposite ends, the hoard — though still not visible — was fast approaching.
Trees fell, trampled into splinters, and the hoard finally stepped into the light.
Indeed, these were Viagra Bulls, but they had a factor that differentiated them from their weaker predecessors.
As they marched forward with brutal purpose, the silver light of the moon shone on their lustrous silver scales and glinting horns.
Their metallic hooves trampled against the earth, leaving deep prints riddled with stretching cracks as they rushed with maddened fervor toward their foes.
Their presence alone was overwhelming. If their foes had weaker wills, they would have been broken before the hoard even approached.
What was worse was their numbers — at least twice the amount compared to their bronze-scaled inferiors.
Normally, wasn't the opposite supposed to be the case?
