'They don't drop cores.'
Luca's sword formed a crescent arc through the air– Ego flourished. A golden energy that trailed in its wake.
The ground reverberated with the impact of massive bodies collapsing onto it and a muffled cry tore through the air.
It was like that of a bird of prey. Loud and sharp.
As he brushed his sword through the air, Luca glanced around with a slight raise of his brow.
The creatures he now faced in the third path were called Summermoss Faltrishs.
They were massive beasts with feathers and powerful forelimbs and hindlimbs. The limbs were covered with scales that glistened in the light of the green moss, and their wings were massive–, spanning the entire narrowed passage.
Ordinarily, these creatures resembled Griffin if it weren't for their long ostrich-like necks, covered in a tuft of thick, black feathers and a head of a falcon.
Deep amber eyes, powerful beaks and rows of teeth within.
'the definition of a bird of prey.'
