and he answered, saying, 'my name is legion, for we are many.'
ooc. leggie is hunting a wounded caribou. i figured there'd be caribou since this is a tundra biome, but if not i can change it to something else! also making it open for legion to be interrupted so everything is worded as attempts.
skull-crowned beast wanders the whitened lands with barely-leashed hostility, thick fur preventing the cold from pressing too deep into their bones. sharp fangs glisten, tangerine-and-viridescent gaze bright and cruel as miniature bodice floats on sturdy paws across the snowfall, following barely-there tracks. low rumble escapes, virulent impatience evident in every line of the flaming musculature - the demon has little time for games, and the quarry is trying what little patience the creature possesses. they require sustenance, and they know the rest of the horde will need it too once they arrive. the knowledge drives the demon forward despite their frustration, blood-born lines slinking low as they catch sight of their prey.
jaw slips, maw gaping in anticipation as they launch themselves up and out of the frigid sea which had helped hide them from view - aiming to land on their quarry's rear and dig in with all the strength in their body. elongated claws seek purchase in meaty hindquarters, attempting to bring down the already-wounded creature as quickly as possible. if they can get it on the ground, it will be much easier to kill. they've never hunted one of these creatures before, but prey is prey - and legion isn't one to look a gift meal in the mouth. throughout the attack, they are utterly silent, a disorienting and unnerving thing for the already disoriented and unnerved caribou beneath their claws - as far as it's aware, this assault has come out of nowhere, and the poor thing has no way to even identify what's trying to kill it.
long, thick fangs seek to sink into the caribou's back, over the lower spine - seeking to crush and paralyze the lower half of its body. a cruel, but in legion's mind, necessary action if they are to bring down this prey as quickly as possible. they aim to shred through the spine with as much efficiency as possible, razor fangs attempting to rip through muscle and bone. assuming they have success, they seek to scramble further up the caribou's body as it falls into the snow, attempting to sink their fangs into its throat and tear outwards. the resulting blood, should they be able to do this, sprays their bone-colored mask red and stains their petal muzzle and neck to match their pelt. victorious, should all this occur without interruption, they release a pleased rumble and begin cleaning the blood from their thick pelt.
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Frigid winds spilled against his coat and reached down into his flesh in an unpleasant manner. Chills rose in the spots where the wind broke through his fur and once more he wondered why he had to come here. Of course the prey were plenty of prey here, and the herds of caribou had recently gone this way. Cloven hooves littered the ground of the open tundra where they had been gathered before their move this morning. He followed along the trails without duress, apart from a little biting cold he knew that his journey into the tundra would not be long lived this time. He would be here long enough to catch prey and bring something small back to the pride lands. Shoulders moved back and forth as his paws coordinated beneath, the cold crackling against his toes caws his claws to knead into the earth with each step forward, crimson gaze set upon the distance to watch for when the herd would come back into his line of sight.