Even to a lover of fauna such as himself, the worm was a ghastly thing to behold. Wriggling, filled with fangs, tendrils waving to a fro…and worse off they were the aggressors in this situation. “Friends, the ship is not too far off. If we could just-“ began the Ithorian in a worried tone as he gathered his wits, appealing to his comrades to simply retreat. After all, they were on their property. But it was too late.
Tox had already began striking at the beast, vamblades gashing at its hard, armor-like hide. Neelig had never seen such a creature; certainly not on the herdship and most certainly not on Nar Shaddaa. As the battle commenced and Brin’s words fell on his…where are his ears? Anyway, as he heard Brin’s cheering a second shadow lunged from the dust, enveloping Khaine in its wriggling embrace.
Click. That’s all it took. In that instant, as blaster fire sprayed like a hose from his incapacitated friend, Neelig threw off his hesitation as if it never existed. There was no serenity in his movements, no resistance or thought for the creature they had instigated. Instead, there was a quick, angered sprint towards the underbelly of the monster, as Ithorese rang out from his four throats; the usually flowing and peaceful language expressed in such a primal cry.
Taking his weapon in both hands, with a horrid crack the gnarlroot staff, so beautiful in craftsmanship, met its target. It was in turn gifted with a shower of chitin, a spray of viscous liquid, and a piercing screech. His mask had fallen, his rage set loose. Never had the others actually seen anything less than a controlled smack on the occasional thief’s back swing from his hands. Neelig would’t be pleased afterwords, shame and self loathing would overtake him for such brutish actions…but he wasn’t thinking right now: One of his own was in danger. No one hurts his own.
Edited by Weedles and Fries