The Ockler's shield of feathers cracked and unveiled the pink pulpy flesh underneath. The beastkin threw his wings around his naked body, bending his legs to hide his crotch.
Mark couldn't stop it anymore, he burst into an uncontrollable laughter, crackling and drifting as he hovered. As if Mark was a catalyst, a stifled laugh came from one of the soldiers and then another till a whole bunch of them erupted into laughter.
The Ockler was beyond embarrassed, he couldn't stand his men mocking him, and he turned and ran away into the trees, wailing with his arms flailing in the air.
"Hmmm!" Mark's countenance changed. He watched the beastkin take hurried steps into the bush. He hadn't achieved the quest, blood needed to be spilled, and Mark was more than glad to spill the beastkin's blood.
