I'll eat your worthless little soul
At the gates of hell tonight

What a bad idea that had been; but he couldn't stop himself. The hunger that suddenly fueled his every move longed for something in order to be sated, and that something could be anything as far as Crowley was concerned.

As he bit into the monster's leg, obviously breaking the flesh, a sea of electrifying blood filled his mouth. With an uncharacteristic squeal, the brindle threw his head back, possibly bringing a scale or two with him as he tried desperately to get away from the creature. Beneath him, his legs trembled and his body quaked against the power held within the blood. For several moments, much longer than he would have liked to think about, he was paralyzed in place until he regained total control of his physical functions; enough time to allow the monster the crush him if it so wished.

With his attack failed, Talbot had slammed on the brakes and could barely keep himself from running full force into the pool of sparking spit formed at the front of the monster. Fortunately for him, only his front right paw had slid into the pool, causing a pained yelp to leave his throat. Quickly he withdrew it, and with the same speed he whirled and sought to exist between the monster's two right legs to join the battle again.

After what seemed like hours, the Weaver found himself once more and shoved his hind legs into the snow behind him, pushing himself into a lengthy canter away from the demonic hellion and keeping ever watchful of the remaining pools of blood collected on the tundra ground.

As he worked at putting some distance between himself and the dragoness, from behind him, he could hear a great mass fall to the earth. Coming to a halt and turning himself back around, Crowley laid eyes on the downed foe, and for a moment his chest bustled with two thoughts; one, their little group had been victorious in defeating the threat to their home, and two... what would fresh dragon taste like?

The latter of thoughts were of course formed by the demon that seemed to be stuck within his barrel, scratching and tearing away, screaming to be saited. But just as Crowley took a step closer to the conquered enemy, who actually had about three demons literally tearing through the flesh of her stomach, Crowley lowered his foot back to the ground. Fuck.

The creatures began their charge, and wasting no time, Crowley propelled himself forward to join the fray. His movements were still slower than they ought to be, due from both exhaustion and the use of his backfiring magic, but the strange, indescribable hunger that consumed him was more than likely helping him press on than it was hindering him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Talbot running towards him, their gazes sharing a brief exchange before locking onto the raptor nearest of them.

Side by side, both unicorn and hellhound charged at the oncoming raptor. Talbot was first to launch an attack, carrying himself several lengths ahead of Crowley in order to leap into the air, his jaws aimed for the throat of the raptor, or anything that he was able to find purchase on. Whether his partner's attack was successful or not, Crowley carried on with his head curled and low, his chin even with the lowest part of his chest. Thanks to the shape of his horns, if his attack went as planned, then he should be able to ram into the raptor and either knock it to the ground, or up and over his back.

[Crowley gets electrocuted by his bite to the leg. After regaining control of himself, he turns to put distance between himself and the dragoness. Talbot's front right paw slid into the pool of spit formed in front of the monster, then he turns and runs out between the two right legs of it. Crowley and Talbot meet up side by side and charge one of the raptors, Talbot jumping and going for the throat/anywhere he can get to, while Crowley drops his head with the intent to throw it up and over his back, or knock it to the ground.]

"Talk talk talk."