'A bear? Are you kidding me? A fucking bear?! Where did that thing even come from? There shouldn't be any bears in Scotland, they went extinct centuries ago.'
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, hastening the harvesting process despite the new addition to the party. Bob darted from cover, scooping up a pair of the antler tines as he dashed into the fray, wielding the emerald antlers like a pair of daggers as a pair of puppets, controlled by the Spirit Animal, followed him into battle.
Upon seeing the approaching challenges, the bear's eyes almost glowed with the rage inside as it let out another bellowing roar. Standing on its hind legs, it remained towering over the puppets as it waited for them to get into range of its disembowelling claws.
It watched them grow closer, viscous saliva dripping from its stone covered jaw as hateful memories filled its mind, fuelling its hate and deepening its hunger for man-flesh.
