Crescent Lunge Quotes

Allow me to introduce my shepherd,” The Under-King said from the mist ahead, standing beside a ten-foot-tall black dog. Each of its fangs were as long as one of her fingers. All hooked—like a shark’s. Designed to latch into flesh and hold tight while it ripped and shredded. Its eyes were milky white—sightless. Identical to the Under-King’s. Her light would have no effect on something that was already blind. The dog’s fur—sleek and iridescent enough that it almost resembled scales—flowed over bulky, bunched muscles. Claws like razor blades sliced into the dry ground. Hunt’s lightning crackled, skittering at Bryce’s feet. “That’s a demon,” he ground out. He’d fought enough of them to know. “An experiment of the Prince of the Ravine’s, from the First Wars,” the Under-King rasped. “Forgotten and abandoned here in Midgard during the aftermath. Now my faithful companion and helper. You’d be surprised how many souls do not wish to make their final offering to the Gate. The Shepherd…Well, it herds them for me. As it shall herd you.” “Fry this fucker,” Bryce muttered to Hunt as the dog snarled. “I’m assessing.” “Assess faster. Roast it like a—” “Do not make a joke about—” “Hot dog.” Bryce had no sooner finished saying the words than the hound lunged. Hunt struck, swift and sure, a lightning bolt spearing toward its neck.

Bryce rode the elevator up to her floor, mulling everything over in the silence. She’d meant what she said to Hunt—she didn’t think her father was behind Danika’s and the pack’s deaths. She had little doubt he’d killed others, though. And would do anything to keep his crown. The Autumn King was a courtesy title in addition to her father’s role as a City Head—as for all the seven Fae Kings. No kingdom was truly their own. Even Avallen, the green isle ruled by the Stag King, still bowed to the Republic. The Fae had coexisted with the Republic since its founding, answerable to its laws, but ultimately left to govern themselves and retain their ancient titles of kings and princes and the like. Still respected by all—and feared. Not as much as the angels, with their destructive, hideous storm-and-sky powers, but they could inflict pain if they wished. Choke the air from your lungs or freeze you or burn you from the inside out. Solas knew Ruhn and his two friends could raise Hel when provoked.

48)Ichthyosaurus Name means – Fish Lizard Length - 30ft. Weight –91 kgs Diet – Carnivore. Location – Europe Existence– Triassic  till cretaceous age In Greek, Ichthys means fish, and Saurus means dinosaurs. Ichthyosaurs were reptiles that were strong swimmers fully adapted to life within the seas. They were better adapted than the other reptiles. However, they still needed to travel to the surface periodically to breathe air. They had sharp teeth, long jaws and large eyes. They had four crescent-shaped fins, a stabilizing fin, and a fish-like tail with two lobes. They breathed air with lungs through nostrils on the brink of the eyes near the highest of the snout. Primitive Ichthyosaurs swam in a fish-like fashion, moving the tail from side to side to propel themselves through the water. Ichthyosaurs couldn't move about ashore.

And as surely as the Starsword had done, Truth-Teller flew from his grip. He tried to grab it, but even his swift lunge wasn’t fast enough to stop it. To stop Bryce as the knife soared for her fingers.

It snapped for his fingers, and Ithan lunged again. “Lehabah was much more effective—and ate far less. Where does all that food go, wolf?

Azriel lunged for Bryce, but she’d already pointed to the crystal coffin. “Get up, then.” A click, loud as thunder, and the lid unlocked.

No words can convey an idea of the beauty and delightfulness of tropical weather, at least while any breeze from the north is blowing. There is a pleasure in the very act of breathing—a voluptuous consciousness that existence is a blessed thing; the pulse beats high, but calmly; the eye feels expanded, the chest heaves pleasurably as if air was a delicious draught to thirsty lungs, and the mind takes its colouring and character from sensation. No thought of melancholy ever darkens over us—no painful sense of isolation or of loneliness, as day after day we pass on through silent deserts, upon the silent and solemn river. One seems, as it were, removed into another state of existence; and all the strifes and struggles of that from which we have emerged seem to fade, softened into indistinctness.

He couldn’t help it. He took up a defensive stance and swung the blade. Yeah, it was perfect. A remarkable feat of craftsmanship. Ithan pivoted, feinting and then striking at an invisible opponent. Sabine would lose her shit if she knew he was messing around with the blade. Whatever. Ithan struck again at the shadows, shuddering at the beautiful song of the sword slicing through the air. And … what the Hel: he’d had a weird fucking morning. He needed to burn off some tension. Lunging and parrying, leaping and rolling, Ithan sparred against an invisible enemy. Maybe he’d gone crazy. Maybe this was what happened to wolves without a pack. The sword was an extension of his arm, he thought. He slid over the glass dining table, taking on two, three, ten opponents— Holstrom blocks; Holstrom presses— Moving through the apartment, Ithan leapt up onto the coffee table in front of the sectional, wood shuddering beneath him, the narration loud and precise in his head. Holstrom delivers the killing blow! He swiped the sword down in a triumphant arc. The front door opened. Bryce stared at him. Standing on the coffee table with Danika’s sword. “I forgot my work ID …?” Bryce started, brows so high they seemed capable of touching her hairline. Ithan prayed Solas would melt him into the floor and boil his blood into steam. It seemed the sun god was listening. The coffee table groaned. Then cracked. And collapsed entirely beneath him. Ithan might have continued to lie there, hoping some Reaper would come suck the soul from his body,

Bryce moved again. Lunging not for a hidden weapon, but another sort of attack. She punched her right hand low into the nøkk’s abdomen—and dug inside the nearly invisible front fold. It happened so fast Hunt wasn’t sure what she’d done. Until she twisted her wrist, and the nøkk arched in pain. Bubbles leaked from Bryce’s mouth as she wrenched its balls harder— Every male in the pit flinched. The nøkk let go, falling to the bottom.